Vulpix walked calmly back through the escape tunnels, a cold fear coursing through his veins. After Austin spared him, he had wasted no time making his escape from the castle. He got through the maze of escape tunnels without much trouble, save for a few stray enemy soldiers, and had camped out on a hill far away from the fighting. When the battle ceased, he crept back into the castle to fulfill his curiosity.

The escape tunnels remained as confusing as they had ever been. As he wound another corner, he was greeted by a most harrowing sight.

Maker was dead on the ground, blisters and sores blemishing her skin. Her expression, however, was peaceful, her face disturbingly blank as she looked up at the ceiling.

Vulpix stifled a gasp and walked over to her side. Kneeling, he brought his hand over her eyelids, closing them as a final sign of his respect.

"Ah, Maker," he said sadly. "My dearest friend. I hoped that perhaps you would survive, but now I see I have deceived myself. Be at peace, Octavia, and enjoy whatever peace you find."

He remained at her side for some time, remembering old times. His dearest friend, gone. Probably to the same man that had spared him, or if not, then one of that man's friends.

With a heavy heart and a tear-stained face, Vulpix stood up and gave a final bow to Maker's body. He continued walking through the tunnels, intent on discovering the fate of his other two allies.

Jokey woke up and noticed two pains. First, he noticed a pounding headache. To prevent the headache from getting any worse, he decided to remain lying down. Second, he noticed a burning pain on his right cheek. He raised his hand to touch it. It was a fairly deep cut and would probably leave a scar. He traced the cut and noticed it had a particular shape. A capital letter.

The letter Q.

He tried to sit up, but his pain was too great. He groaned in agony and let himself fall back down onto the ground.

"Come on," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You've overcome worse wounds. Stand!" With one monumental effort, he peeled himself off the bloodstained floor, grabbed his tonfas and stood.

"Come on, Jokey," he muttered to himself as he shambled towards the door. "For Celtic. You have to find out what happened to him. You have to! It is your duty!"

As Jokey walked up the stairs, the throbbing pain in his head became less severe, and his focus gradually returned. He was soon limping through the castle halls with one purpose: to get to the throne room.

Hearing footsteps, he quickly placed a hand on his tonfa and readied himself. He dove out from behind the corner and pointed his blade at the intruder.

Vulpix yelped and stepped backwards, only for both of them to realize that the other posed no threat. Vulpix breathed a sigh of relief, and Jokey collapsed on the ground in a fit of coughing.

"Thank the goddesses it's only you," Jokey sputtered in between coughs.

"I agree. You damn near gave me a heart attack." Vulpix smiled dourly. "I'm glad to see you're alive, Jokey."

"And you too, my friend." Jokey looked around the hallway. "The place seems intact. Were there no looters?"

Vulpix shook his head. "Not that I know of. My guess is that ANGQ told their soldiers not to. They're noble that way."

"And naïve," Jokey grunted. He coughed a little. "What about Celtic and Maker? Are they alright?"

Vulpix sighed, and a tear formed in his eye. "Maker is dead. I found her body. I don't know what happened to Celtic."

"Oh, dear Maker." Jokey looked down at the ground sadly. "But Celtic… he could still be alive."

Vulpix frowned and shook his head. "Jokey. Do you really think that they'd let him live?"

"I have to have hope." His voice cracked. "I have to hope, Vulpix, that everything we've done, everything we've sacrificed, wasn't in vain." He wiped away a tear and began running as fast as his legs would carry him down the hall to the throne room. Vulpix sighed sadly and picked up the pace.

Jokey barreled through the doors to the throne room. On the ground, he saw a discarded hand cannon, the device that trickster Gwydion created. The blade of Celtic's axe lied next to a pillar near the door, and puddles of coagulated blood laid around the room. Then, Jokey saw him.

Celtic lied on the ground in front of his throne, his head not far away. Jokey gasped and rushed over to his master's side, while Vulpix walked in and solemnly stood near the doorway.

"No. No. No!" Jokey screamed. "Those bastards! They killed him! They defiled him!" He gasped, barely holding back tears.

"All our years of work and sacrifice, for naught. All our efforts, all our plans, all our work, wasted. Our friends, dead, and in the end, it amounts to nothing."

Vulpix placed a hand on his grieving friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jokey. But what's done is done." They stayed that way for a while, and Jokey finally sighed and stood up.

"We failed." Jokey looked down in disgrace. "I failed."

"It doesn't matter now," Vulpix said. "Come on. We must make our way out of here."

Jokey reluctantly nodded and stood up. The pair walked through the walls of the castle, eventually coming out into the courtyard. With a little help from Vulpix, Jokey walked up a staircase and onto the battlements. From there, they had a prime view of Team ANGQ's camp, and of the last rays of the setting sun.

"Vile scum," Jokey coughed. He leaned on a merlon and wheezed a bit. "They are pathetic, ignorant, barbaric fools. We offered them a path to salvation, an alternative to the corruption of the old ways, and they rejected it. And there they stand, reveling in their victory, condemning themselves to the stagnation of the old system. We cannot allow this."

"Jokey, please." Vulpix placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We fought. We fought hard. We gave everything we had. Our nations. Our power. Our friends. Our loves." He swallowed. "But we must accept that we lost. There is no point in continuing this war."

"No," Jokey growled. He turned to face Vulpix. "We cannot give up. The fight isn't over just yet. There are still sympathizers. There are still believers in the cause. If we find them, if we can get them to join us, then we can take our revenge and recognize the vision that our friends were martyred for. Yukon, Greatness, Maker, Celtic. Do their deaths mean nothing to you?"

Jokey turned back to the camp below, hate and disgust blazing in his eyes. "We must continue the fight. We must."

Vulpix looked down sadly, feeling a realization that he ignored for so long finally washing over him. He turned around and picked up a broken sword of the dead body of a Ladybug soldier.

"Jokey. Celtic was doomed to fail. This system, through which we would create order, is flawed. He ruled on fear. He ruled on total obedience. It only takes one free thinker, one brave man, to tear the whole thing down. We would be at war for eternity. The cause is flawed. The cause…" He trailed off, the last shreds of his worn-down idealism burning away.

"The cause will never bring peace. The cause is wrong."

Jokey sighed and looked down at the ground.

"Then I'm sorry, Vulpix." He turned to his friend. "But you are a trai-"

A sharp pain in his abdomen cut him off. His hand fell away from his sword and clutched Vulpix's shoulders. With tears in his eyes, Vulpix slowly lowered him to the ground, cradling him. Jokey was too broken, too damaged from injuries received over the years to recover from this.

"Vulpix…" He gasped, looking hatefully at his old comrade. "Backstabbing bastard…"

His breathing grew shallow, and the hatred in his eyes faded away. Tears formed in their place.

"But…I feel…" He failed to finish his sentence and grew still.

Vulpix didn't need to hear the end of his sentence to know what he had felt. In Jokey's eyes, he saw a peace he never thought either one of them would find. With a sigh, he closed his former friend's eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, Jokey. May you find the peace we sought on earth with our friends in the world beyond."

He pulled the sword out from Jokey's stomach and tossed it aside. With a final bow, he began walking away.

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the ANGQ camp. Haggard and dirt-stained as he was, the soldiers, drunk and cheering, failed to notice him for who he was.

Eventually, he found a large tent, a sigil of Crosshares on the side. A commander's tent.

He pushed aside the tent flaps to see Gwydion and Nitesco sitting sullenly in the tent. Gwydion turned to see who had shown up uninvited. Upon identifying Vulpix, Gwydion gasped, grabbed his sword and stood.

"You! You are awfully bold showing up here!" Gwydion raised his sword, but Nitesco grabbed his wrist.

"Hold. He's unarmed. He clearly doesn't mean us any harm." He turned to Vulpix.

"General Vulpix. What brings you here?" Despite his passivity, Nitesco remained on edge. Vulpix raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I just came by to say thank you to your friend Austin. Is he here?"

Gwydion looked down, closing his eyes. Nitesco shook his head.

"No. He's gone. He died in the battle against Celtic, but he took the fucker with him."

Vulpix nodded. "Oh. My sincerest condolences."

"What would you have to say to him?" Gwydion asked. He looked at Vulpix, curious and concerned.

"He spared me. He let me go, even though he had no reason to. I wanted to thank him." He looked forlornly at the ground.

"Does Samurai still live?" Vulpix asked.

Nitesco, again, shook his head. "He, too, perished in the battle. We're all that's left."

"I can sympathize," Vulpix forlornly remarked. "I don't hold it against you. I found the bodies of Celtic and Maker. Jokey somehow survived, but I…" He trailed off, tears in his eyes. "He is no longer with us."

Nitesco and Gwydion exchanged looks, Nitesco looking somewhat guilty.

"I know that you may hate me," Vulpix said. "And I know that I deserve it. Whatever punishment you see fit, I will accept."

"No," Gwydion said. "We will not sully our friend's last act of mercy. Even though I may hate you, Austin saw something in you worth saving. I won't let that go to waste."

"Agreed," Nitesco added. "You will be provided with a horse, a bag of gold and some food. I'll have one of my few sober subordinates deliver these to you." The two of them left the tent, leaving Vulpix alone with his thoughts.

After a few minutes, they came back, beckoning for Vulpix to follow them. They walked slowly through the camp and into the road leading down to the capital city. Vulpix mounted the horse and exhaled.

"It's exhilarating," he noted. "A fresh start."

"Don't waste it," Gwydion said. "Go. Make your own path."

Nitesco said nothing, and instead only smiled at him.

Vulpix nodded. "I will, don't you worry." Before he set out, he paused.

"Inferno, Samurai, Austin, Quixotic. Build a memorial. Remember them." He smiled, a little sadly. "I know I will."

"Godspeed, Vulpix," the two said in unison. The general merely nodded back, and whipped his horse. Before long, he disappeared into the night. Nitesco and Gwydion waved him goodbye.

"Man," Gwydion said. "I can't believe it's over. We've been fighting for so long…"

"I know what you mean." Nitesco scratched his nose and looked up at the dark, starry sky.

"We should build a memorial," Gwydion said. "It's a good suggestion. Maybe some statues in Guns N' Roses or Crosshares."

"Don't worry, Gwydion," Nitesco said. "We will always remember them." He began limping back to camp, beckoning for Gwydion to follow.

From above, the stars looked down on a new Subreddit. And somehow, the two of them knew their friends were proud.