Steel glided through flesh like butter until the hilt of 'Kakutei Shinkoku', the ridiculous name given to the sword of the man known as Paladin Shadow, hit against Fox's chest. The tip of the blade erupted from his back, as it pierced through his chest and skewered his heart completely.

The Paladin, his long black cloak flapping dramatically in the wind, smiled wickedly as he twisted the blade inside the older man's chest. A sinister, sadistic smile stretched across his lips as he leaned close, whispering into the silver haired Fox's ear.

"How does it feel old man? I told you this would be your fate. Cut down by my Kakutei Shinkoku, the Bringer of the End1. After all that cocky talk, you turned out to be nothing. I'm disappointed."

His smile widened as he heard the old man start wheezing. He had wanted his death to be slow and painful, but listening to his trembling final breaths would have to do. However that smile faltered as the wheezing death rattle he was expecting, turned out to be the sound of him struggling to catch his breath.. from how much he was laughing.

"You really are a ridiculous boy. Ridiculously stupid, and far too focused on yourself."

A sharp pain erupted from Shadow's wrist as Fox's blade glided across it. His hand instinctively opened, dropping the sheathe he had been holding, which Fox quickly kicked away.

It bounced across the stone, skittering along the surface of the forts roof before slowing to a stop at its edge. It teetered for a few seconds, before falling off the roof and disappearing into the crowds below.

Still raising his blade up, holding it in a reverse grip, Fox lifted sword up to Shadow's throat and tried to glide it across that too, only to be quickly pushed away and off of his poorly named sword.

"H-how did you..."

Shadow stared at Fox in disbelief as he flipped his sword around, holding it properly as he sunk into a defensive stance. Mainly, he was staring at Fox's chest, where there was not a drop of blood nor even the slightest hint of a wound despite his sword having plunged through it mere moments ago.

His brain whirred for a few seconds before his face twisted in a mixture of panic and disbelief, as he whirled his head around to the child he had been protecting.

A boy with silver eyes who was roughly 14 years of age, and who had previously been hovering off of the ground in a trance as he produced the anti-magic field that gave their forces the advantage.

A boy who was now laying on the ground, a confused and panicked expression on his face as he touched his cheek, where a long and neat gash had opened up and was oozing blood. The result of Fox's blade slicing apart his youthful face.

Paladin Shadow whipped back around, quickly raising his sword to block the descending strike of the cunning Fox, who had appeared in front of him in the brief moments of distraction. The elder mans slightly wrinkled face held hints of amusement and the mouth hidden underneath a short, salt and pepper beard was twisted into a smirk.

"You shouldn't have been so eager to show off your little trick earlier. If you had cut open the cages where no one could see, I would have never been able to figure out your trick. But you just had to show off, and now I understand that childish fighting style.

Always sheathing and drawing your blade. Maybe it is inspired by all those shows you kids watch. But it's also your ability, isn't it?

Without that sheathe, none of your cuts do damage. A blade that cuts through everything, all at once. Well... everything but swords, it seems."

Shadow grit his teeth as he listened to Fox's speech, all while they constantly clashed and crossed swords. Sparks flew and their swords rang out in a delicate melody with each meeting of their blades.

The old bastard was right. His [Blade of Destiny] allowed him to choose a single weapon and bind it to his soul. It gave him the ability to store it within himself, and for it to cut through any material he wished.

There was only two rules to it. For some reason, it could never cut through another weapon. Sword, club, spear, whatever. It simply would always be solid wherever it cut, and would refuse to phase through them no matter the material.

And two, the damage he inflicted with the blade was only made corporeal when he sheathed it.

As much as he loved his [Blade of Destiny] without the sheathe it was useless. Without hesitation, Shadow quickly summoned a new sword from his arsenal, one that wasn't bound by the rules of his ability - nor did it benefit from it - and cast aside his precious Kakutei Shinkoku like the useless lump of steel it was.

Clashing blades again, he leapt backwards and brandished his new sword, which was an ornately designed odachi with a blade made of a crimson metal.

"I don't need to use that blade to cut you down old man. I can do that myself. For I am 'The Divine Swordsman who's blade Serves the Light and who dwells in the Shadow'! And I will be the last name you will hear!"

"Good. With that name, I will live for a long time. And with your lack of skill, it will be even longer."

"ARGH! DIE!"

The man with the ridiculous name, which everyone refused to use leading to him simply being called 'Shadow', let out a roar of all his pent up rage and insecurity. All of his pain and suffering from his worthless previous life poured from his lungs as he leapt forwards, swinging his new blade towards Fox.

***

As the young boy lay on the ground, baffled and frozen in fear from his brush with death, which left only a cut across his face, the anti-magic field that he had been projecting was cut off.

It was not just Shadow's sword that regained its abilities. All across the battlefield of the Western fort, the evolved were regaining access to their abilities and joining their Heteromorphic brethren in battle once more.

Fire blasted, earth churned and all sorts of magical abilities were conducted and weaponized as the battle turned into a chaotic brawl once more. A brawl that was vastly skewed in the favour of Seth's forces.

After all, at this fort the Lightbringers forces were mainly composed of the powerless lower class, who were armed with makeshift weaponry. Against Seth's army, when they were powerless in the anti-magic field, they might have stood a chance.

But against an army of evolved, not just with mystic abilities but with mana enhanced strength, they were little more than wheat in a field, waiting to be reaped for the harvest.

The horrific abominations, the twisted and demented forms that came from the poor people forced into cannibalism, and the actually armoured contingency of the Lightbringers army were the only real threats.

But their numbers were far more limited in comparison.

It was those same abominations that were the first thing Alfie saw when he finally got the heavy body of the crystal unicorn off of him. Blades of grass extended outwards, turning into emerald rope that wrapped around the body of the unicorn, dragging it off of Alfie before Juniper helped him to his feet.

The supposed commander of this army looked over the dismal remains of the battle, and took in the sight of the grotesque abominations, with emotionless eyes. Not because he didn't feel anything at the sight of all the broken bodies and blood, but simply because it was so much that his body simply couldn't process it all and decided to give him nothing to feel until it could sort it out.

However, even with his storm of emotions swirling uncontrollably inside of him, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of countless bodies stirring in front of him. The battlefield which had been littered with hundreds of empty, lifeless suits of armour and motionless statues began to come to life.

They lifted themselves from the ground, pulled themselves back together and rolled the stiffness from their supposedly immobile stone joints, as the puppet army stirred to life once more. Dozens of invisible [Spirit Animals] popping into existence, in the same spot that they disappeared from, as they reasserted their control over Seth's puppets.

Of course, while he could see that the puppets were effected by the anti-magic, and were now recovering from it, Alfie had no idea that his Lord had transferred his soul over to this battle and promptly got cut off from his puppets before being trapped as a wandering, untethered soul.

That wasn't necassirly a bad thing however, as the moment Seth's soul was reintegrated with the intricate network of ethereal threads, he was also given tethers to anchor his soul once more.

As such, that wandering soul had been ripped from the battlefield, like a fish on a hook, and dragged back to his original body, which sat up with a gasp.

His lungs gulped in air, which they had been starved of as his body slowly had started to die without anything to control it. Once his lungs were full once more, he let out a cry of pain, as thousands of different puppets sensory data was jammed into his head all at once, and he was rapidly brought up to speed on the hellish changes occurring in both battlefields.

It does not, in fact, translate to this. In actuality, it translates to "Final Tax Return."