Johannes Volkner bid farewell to a life without wonder. The city of Tenochtitlan had clearly differed very much here from its historical place in the real world. While some things seemed to be similar, the sprawling city being made from chiefly heavy mud and stone blocks to hold up against the weather better than wood for instance, it was truly astounding how different it was. The massive city had gigantic tracts of land cleared as what seemed to be a runway, and Johannes could see that the huge, undulating aircraft from earlier had been stationed on that very same runway, some of its weaponry already offloaded. Perhaps, if one of them could get closer, this could be their chance to destroy it?

  The city streets were busy, yet not overcrowded, with native citizens in all forms of clothing from the rich to the poor. Most of them had no idea what crime their leadership had committed, and indeed, no connection at all to it. What would happen to them when this was all done? Were they even real? He glanced down to Bellende Hunde in his hand, the doubts from seeing their 'allies' treatment of captives only further magnifying in his mind. If it meant stopping this unknown ritual, and getting the strength needed to save Jessica, could he help with hurting the lives of so many? He took several seconds, lost in thought, before he realized he was shaking again. He had been doing that a lot, this was all too far over his own head. He was out of his depth. Perhaps the most surprising thing about Tenochtitlan, though, was the amount of water.

  He'd heard that the city was supposed to be floating, practically built over a lake, and yet the water canals were clearly carved but almost empty. They hadn't been going through a drought, had they? The surrounding wilderness had shown no such signs. All that water had to have gone somewhere, and yet there was no sign of it at all, as if it had truly disappeared. The 'Venice of the Americas' looked more like an ancient London or Berlin or Rome, with plenty of streets carved but water only among a scant few paths.

  He finally pulled out of his head enough to glance at his allies, many of whom were similarly entranced. He'd heard countless little gasps and mutterings about the state of the city, both its beauty and the precarious nature of its present self. Yet, he couldn't help but notice something was wrong. Tenochtitlan should've been more well lit than the slightly grainy, dark film that seemed to cover the entire city. The sun had been rising as they traveled, and was firmly in the sky by this point, so why did it still look like dawn was only just arriving?

  As if the heavens themselves had seen fit to answer him, the world echoed a thundering boom, and whiteness filled his vision. A wave of heat washed over him, and even by the time that he had activated his coat's protective array, at least some of that burning pain had hit him. He practically hissed as he threw himself to the ground, a dumb move in retrospect but the only thing his body would let him do in such a sudden moment. Once he could see again, he saw that most of his allies were in similar circumstances, except for a few. Takahashi and Melion were still reeling, no doubt because their senses were far more sensitive than his own, and...

  Tadakatsu, the one who had managed so incredibly well during the first bout with Boudica, was still standing, his spear-butt having pushed Wilhelm several feet away sometime during the event. In his chest was a single, gaping hole, straight through his armor. There was no blood, only traces of slightly reddened steam and a smell of burnt flesh and metal emanating from him. He had died standing, wordlessly. They lost a Spirit just like that. It wasn't really possible to kill even a Spirit that easily, was it? Surely, he still had to be alive. Yet, he didn't move, even as Johannes inwardly pleaded for him to somehow brush the fatal wound off. Pleaded that it wasn't that simple to kill even the valiant warriors and protectors their Callers had been organized to work alongside. It was no use, the evidence was in front of his eyes; Spirits were powerful, but they were ultimately as mortal as himself.

  Yet, where did that attack come from? There were no enemy Spirits nearby, and the aircraft was clearly still docked on the runway. It was as if heaven itself had seen fit to smite Honda for going against the people of Tenochtitlan. He could worry about that later, but Flash of Inspiration panged, and he knew he needed to leave the city's vicinity immediately. They all did. Pedro had already turned and began running, he realized, and he tried to follow suit. Someone was screaming, and he didn't know if it was himself or one of the other Callers or maybe even Pedro barking orders. He could barely hear anything, just putting one foot in front of the other as he desperately tried to keep up, drawing Bellende Hunde from its sheath. A swift casting of 'Raidho', the Rune of the wagon that symbolized travel and movement, helped him to keep up better than some, but even then, he lost Pedro from his sights soon after.

  He didn't know how long they'd been running, but he heard someone thud onto the ground, and turned to see that Pádraig, of all people, had collapsed. Was the armor's extra weight taking more out of him in such a retreat? Either way, his instincts weren't panging at him, so he turned to help, wrapping both of his arms around one of Pádraig's to help haul the younger man to his feet. A second thud resounded through the clearing they found themselves in, and Johannes could immediately feel one thing before he even looked up. A Spirit, and not one that he knew the presence of. A blade rasped against the ground, a low note that should have barely been audible, but seemed all the more significant to his adrenaline-filled senses, as he looked upon the new enemy.

  An older woman, at least forty or fifty, in a black robe with yellow accents. Her hair wasn't visible, covered by a white mantle that seemed to cover most of her head in a manner similar to a nun's habit. Yet, as made obvious by the long-bladed polearm she held with both hands, tip still resting slightly in the ground, it was abundantly clear she was no nun. Or, if she was, she was from a religion that certainly did not practice a complete rule of nonviolence in their clergy. It was Yoshinaka who stepped forwards first, his voice low. "Lady Tomoe, I'm surprised to see you here. You aren't coming to plead to die by my side once more, are you?"

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The woman's eyes narrowed, as if testing the waters, before she slowly raised her naginata, pointing to Yoshinaka with the tip. "I have come to serve under you as a warrior once more. Yet, fealty to my summoner still calls. If I am to join you, I must provide them the worth they are due." Johannes had no words for what he was hearing. Did every Spirit have a few screws loose? He understood that there were many honor-bound castes and people throughout history, but this was blatantly excessive. Yoshinaka began to speak as if he was ready to object, but Pedro casually stepped forward, his rifle held back against his shoulder in one hand.

  "So you want to kill some of us off before you run with your tail behind your legs, is that it? God, you Orient bitches can be annoying. How about this then, I'll duel you for it, and once I have you on the ground, you'll be mine." Johannes couldn't tell what Yoshinaka had thought in that moment, but he saw him reach down for his own blade, and he frankly couldn't blame him but so much. He and this 'Lady Tomoe' seemed to have at least some familiarity, and the implications of Pedro's 'duel' were abhorrent enough he was wondering if even the Governor would blame them for striking him down.

  Wilhelm placed his hand on Yoshinaka's forearm, shaking his head. "Yoshi, I get it, but please let them fight. It's awful, but we need to at least decrease the enemy numbers." There was a loud sigh as the samurai acquiesced, stepping aside and pulling Wilhelm along. Soon enough, it was only this Lady Tomoe and Pedro Cabral left on the interior of the clearing, a sort of makeshift arena wherein the two could battle. There was no countdown, and no warning, when she shot forward like a blur. Even watching from a distance, her movement was swift enough that Johannes found himself having issues tracking when she accelerated, before a crack resounded through the air. She skid to a stop after Pedro fired his gun, and Johannes's first thought was that he'd shot her dead. That the battle was already over.

  It was soon after that he realized why she'd stopped, as she adjusted her footing and blade to avoid the bullet, before shooting off once more as Pedro drew his saber in his free hand. If the two were going to fight in close range, it seemed obvious enough that Lady Tomoe would have the advantage, given the difference in their weapon reaches and the fact that she seemed to be a more skilled and potent combatant overall. Neither of them seemed to possess any mystical capabilities similar to Boudica's flame or the mist Jill used; a powerful artifact that could shift the battle easily in their favor. Weapons clashed dozens of times in an instant, and Johannes saw that Pedro had in fact stepped back under the unrelenting whirling dervish of Tomoe's long blade. Using a weapon with such a short range kept him on the defensive, unable to step in without guaranteeing his own death.

  He suddenly lowered his other arm, and for a second Johannes thought he would finally discharge his rifle to decrease the excess bulk he was carrying around, or use it to block Tomoe's blade, if only briefly. Rather, he fired a second shot, and Johannes finally understood. The original owner of all those magical energy-based rifles was none other than Pedro himself, the workshop in the other village was likely his own. Once more, Tomoe evaded the shot, even at such close range, but a whirl of motion saw her blade pushed to one side by his saber, as he stepped in and clubbed her over the head with his rifle, sending her to the ground.

  Briefly, Johannes thought the battle might have been over once more, yet she seemed to roll with the impact, getting back up and using her own weapon's butt as a stand to push herself to her feet. If the two continued like this, it could be several minutes before a decisive winner was announced. Of course, if neither of them had an Artifact, that meant they were still both holding back their real trump cards; their Aristeia. Pedro did not seem content with the slight advantage his maneuver had earned himself, and Johannes could see the anger on his face, alongside the light drips of sweat from the continued exertion of their retreat and subsequent combat.

  "Four Worlds Unification -- Expedition of All Seas!"

  With those few words, the tide of battle and the land itself changed. As if the world was obeying the metaphysical impact of his own legend, Pedro and Tomoe found themselves in the roiling waters of an ocean, though Johannes couldn't say which. Thankfully, they were still atop one of the six ships that had appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Yet the very replacement of the world, while an impressive feat, seemed to be unstable. Johannes could see the seams where the Aristeia's effect and the world's balance met point to point, and the way that the Aristeia seemed to waver and slightly distort, as if it was under an immense pressure. Perhaps, it was because Pedro had failed to properly fulfill the scenario of his own Aristeia? Earlier, it had seemed as if such a powerful feat had requirements before it could be properly utilized, but it was possible that Pedro had risked forcing it to activate early in his haste to achieve victory.

  In contrast, Tomoe seemed entirely content with the fight, and though sweat had begun to collect on the older woman's face as well, she showed no discomfort, holding her naginata aloft as if it were no issue at all. Even as Pedro's speed magnified, and he appeared already in range, striking for her heart, she seemed entirely calm and collected, and Johannes could understand why now, even as inexperienced with these battles as he was. She had yet to use her Aristeia, and its prerequisites had likely already been fulfilled in their entirety. The next few moments decided the entire battle, as she spoke in a low, tired voice.

  "Battle of Awazu -- The Beheading of Musashi!"