Never Broken

by Torgaddon

Suffer

Celestia reeled back, her hand to her jaw, where an apple red bruise, proof of the recent altercation with a fist, throbbed with malicious pain. She gazed through unbelieving eyes as her greatest student turned her back at her and resumed the exercise in futility she had been doing before the Princess of the Sun had tried to restrain her.

Twilight hit her fists against the translucent, mirror-like surface of the shield until they were bloody. Her mouth opened to scream again and again until her throat bled and she could utter no more than hoarse sound, once reminiscent of speech. Her horn flared only for the magic to sputter out and die as it was consumed by the Onyx Bastion Shield.
To her sides, similar scenes unfolded. Applejack and Rainbow Dash struck out uselessly at the shield, their hands bloody and eyes red with tears of sadness and impotent anger. Fluttershy and Rarity lay on the ground, rocking back and forth, and wailed, covering their ears and screwing their eyes shut, broken by despair and sorrow. Pinkie simply sat on her knees, her hair lank, her eyes vacant, her expression stuck in a rictus of terror.

Celestia, Luna and Cadence could do nothing more than watch as the Elements of Harmony suffered their loss. Celestia wanted to cry. She wanted to give way to despair, vent and strike out at the shield, add her own strength to their attempt at breaking through the shield, for all the good it would have done, but she could not afford such luxuries. She was a princess. And with such a title came the responsibility to never lose her composure, to never allow herself to fall to despair, to never allow her emotions to conflict with her duty. It was a painful existence, but it was her's nonetheless.
Reluctantly, the Princess of the Sun tore her eyes from the Elements of Harmony and looked beyond the shimmering translucency of the shield. What she saw once again brought the taste of bile to her mouth as her stomach railed against her, screaming oaths of desire to release it's meager contents.

Beyond the shield, at the base of the Onyx Bastion, a scene, as could only be conceived by a thousand diseased minds, played out with abhorrent clarity.

In the center of a sea of gibbering daemons and moaning dead, his massive frame painted in blood that was not in it's entirety his own, his body peppered with spears, axes and swords, clinging to him like barbaric ornaments, did what had once been Spike, rampage. He did not strike as much as he ripped and tore. He did not move as much as he pounced and charged. He did not speak as much as he roared and howled.
His eye, unfocused and bloodshot, rolled in it's socket. His lipless mouth, opened to unnatural size, edged with froth and blood, gaped only to bellow and closed only to rip into dead and daemonic flesh, tearing into them with the savage abandon of a starved animal. His tongue, stained a dark red, lolled outside of his mouth, as if it could taste the slaughter around it.
But, worst of all, was the laughter. The manic, hollow laughter that spewed forth from Spike, belching outward like a torrent of ignominy, a dark herald of the ultimate fate of this once great warrior. It was the laughter of one who had forsaken the last vestiges of sanity and been broken upon the altar of madness. It was the laughter of a creature that had found it's home among the butchering and battle. It was the sinister sound of one who must laugh, for he could no longer cry.

What had once been the savior of ponykind, the unbreakable bulwark against which the daemonic hordes could only break against, the unbending Draka, the Mountain Father, had been reduced to this. A ruthless animal, his mind shattered, his code and pride, nothing more than memories, faded behind the red curtain of the Blood Madness.
Celestia wanted to scream, to cry, to avert her eyes. Yet it was all she could do to watch in abject fear as Spike was lost to them.

Beyond the shield, beyond the Onyx Bastion, Spike laughed in violent, convulsive bursts, oblivious to the cries and horror of those who had loved him so.

THREE HOURS EARLIER.

Twilight could already see the Onyx Bastion in the distance, looming like a titanic gargoyle from the bleakest moments of the world's first night. A remnant from the dark days of Sombra's rule, the Bastion had been raised by the blackest of magic, as an unbreakable and all encompassing formation of pitch black Crystal, resembling Onyx, initially as a way to consolidate his rule and domain, later serving only as a prison for those unlucky enough to exist under the mad king's iron hand.
Yet those dark days had long since faded into memories best left forgotten. Under the patronage and rule of Cadence and Shining Armor, both the Crystal Empire and the Onyx Bastion had become symbols of sanctuary and protection, a haven for those deposed and harrowed. Under the gentle wing of their Alicorn Princess, those who had sought out respite in the Crystal Empire had found a home, the once baleful form of the Onyx Bastion, now a stalwart reminder that, while it stood, titanic and defiant, nowhere was it safer than the Crystal Empire.

Twilight knew that Cadence, her B.B.B.F.F., and their subjects were sure to be expecting them. Messages, sent by way of the telepathic bond she shared with her brother and Cadence had been answered, the closeness of sanctuary and rest, a balm upon her already weary heart. She turned her head and looked at the ragged convoy that followed in her footsteps. Pain, tragedy and exhaustion had taken their toll, rendering all, even the elite of the royal guard, to shambling, panting husks of the former residents of Ponyville and Canterlot, the promise of rest soon to come, the only thing still forcing them to trudge onward.
Well... almost the only thing.
The presence of Spike was both the catalyst of the continuing march and the cause of the eerie silence that permeated the convoy. Foals did not speak or play in juvenile innocence. Mothers and fathers kept their little ones at a perpetual arm's length. Even the Royal Guard issued orders mouth to mouth, in hushed whispers, rather than bellowed out by stern sergeants.

Twilight could hardly blame them. The surviving Equestrians, one and all, owed Spike their lives and gratitude. But the way he was now, any goodwill or kindness they would have otherwise gladly offered him had been buried deep under a pail of instinctual fear of the unpredictable warrior that now led them. The very air was clotted with the scent of danger. Pure, undiluted threat hung about the marching convoy like a shroud, it's focal point found in the massive shape that walked at the very forefront of the convoy. Spike felt like a volcano about to burst, every single movement and mannerism distorted by barely restrained anger and instability. His stride was erratic, slowing and rising at random intervals, as if he was chasing something just out of reach. His hands flexed opened into grasping claws, only to snap closed into bludgeoning fists spasmodically, all the while, an amalgam of whispers, chants and muffled dirges escaping his throat unconsciously. Whenever these whispers rose to a crescendo they degenerated into a deep guttural growl or a series of incoherent snarls. Spike would stop in those moments, bring his knuckles to his temple and begin to push. He would push until the growl died out and resume his stride.
Physically, he fared no better. His entire frame had been reduced to a patchwork of fresh wounds, burn marks and bandages. His once pristine, ornate armor now barely resembled a savage barbarian's war gear, the gauntlets, knee guards, greaves and the scale mail kilt of his lower body, the only things that remained. Even the sash around his waist had become naught but a flame scorched ruin, yet it still held his three swords in place.

As consequence of his aspect and mannerisms, the area twenty feet around him had become bare at all times, save for only six remarkably brave or remarkably foolish shapes that had made it a point to refuse to leave Spike to his solitude. The Mane Six walked in tandem with the grim warrior and had no apparent intention in abandoning him anytime soon.
In stark contrast with the grim and unstable Draka, they talked among themselves, acted normally, even dared the occasional half-joke or smarmy comment. To an outsider it would have seemed uncaring, even cruel, however, an outsider would have had no way of knowing of the plan which was being put to place. Unexpectedly, it had been Pinkie Pie who had instructed them on what do. Surprisingly knowledgeable about such things, the normally happy-go-lucky, pink pony had given them all exact and specific advice on how to act around Spike and how to better help him cope. Irrelevant of how he acted or what he claimed, there would be no leaving him to fall to solitude, no walking in sepulchral silence around him. The best they could do, the best way they could help him, was to be around him, act and speak normally. Their presence would chase away the ghosts of loneliness. Their voices would blot out unwanted memories. She had assured them that even if Spike did not respond, it would help him.

She had been right.

Spike was grimmer and more taciturn than ever, however that was to be expected. Yet, over the past few hours, slowly but surely Spike's bouts of self isolation as well as his episodes of macabre growling had lessened more and more. Twilight had even caught Spike gazing at one or another when he thought they were not looking, a barely perceptible glint of wholehearted gratitude in his tired green orb.

With a flutter of wings, Rainbow Dash made a slow descent next to Twilight. She looked tired, black rings hanging under her eyes, her azure coat as ruffled as her feathers, her mane unkempt, moreso than usual. For all that, her look never wavered from the optimistic determination all who had come to know her expected of the pegasus.

"What's the verdict?" asked Twilight.

"Well... I'd say we're about thirty minutes away from that Bastion place if we're lucky, buuuut the mist covering the woods... ummm... how should i put this?"

"Made ya as blind as a fruit bat during a fireworks festival?" chimed in a Applejack.

"Sounds about right... I think" added Rainbow, scratching her head quizzically at her friend's country-ism.

Twilight sighed "Well then... what about the good news?"

Rainbow simply shrugged in defeat and smiled sheepishly "Sorry Twi, didn't say I had any".

"Ooooh... perfect" the purple alicorn concluded with finality and set her sight back upon Spike's broad back.

"Ummm... anything?" came a tiny voice. Twilight turned to what she expected would be Fluttershy's downcast eyes, only to find herself looking at the small white shape of Sweetie Belle. The little filly had become uncharacteristically meek since Spike's return and had developed a habit of touching the still somewhat visible bite scar on her throat. She had tried to put a brave front for her sister but such trauma did not simply evaporate, especially in a child so young. Twilight smiled and leaned in to stroke her mane slightly. Front or no, she was still a brave little thing.

"All we can do for now sweetie is be by his side. He's... he's been through a lot... lately."

Sweetie Belle chewed on her lower lip for a few more moments only to suddenly draw in a large breath and set her face in a paroxysm of determination. Without another word she jogged the distance between her and Spike and began walking in tandem with the fearsome draconian.
Spike's whispered mutterings stopped suddenly and he turned his head to regard this new minute guest who had decided to intrude upon his introspection. For a few seconds, Sweetie looked as if she was about to bolt away in fear, but instead she flashed the gigantic Draka a warm, heart-melting smile of the utmost sincerity. Without a single word and to everyone's surprise, Spike slouched and with gentle motions, drew a clawed finger, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. He straightened again, stone faced and taciturn as always and they both continued to walk, taking comfort in each other's presence.

Twilight could not stifle her blooming smile. Amazing how sometimes the tiniest of creatures could make the largest differences.

"Ah still think y'all are worrying too much over the big guy" sounded Big Mac's gruff voice from behind them as he made his way to join the burgeoning group at the forefront. "Sometimes a man just needs to think things out by his lonesome".

"Hmph, you men" huffed Rarity, a slight scowl marring her beauteous features. "Always have to be the tough guys, always too bull-headed stubborn to ask for help, even when you need it".

Big Mac shrugged nonchalantly and maintained his hurried pace. Revisiting the tumultuous history between himself and the fashionista would be a worry for another day. Contrary to what he said, Big Mac kept his pace until he reached Spike's left side. Although he was tall for a pony, Big Mac still had to stretch out his hand as high as he could and jump in order to give Spike a friendly clap on his shoulder and an understanding nod. Spike reciprocated it and they continued on in silence.

"Sure has a way with words doesn't he?" questioned Twilight, her smile now a full-fledged grin.

"For mah brother, that's like callin' Spike a brother" added Applejack.

"Like I said, too bull-headed stubborn to ever admit to something" giggled Rarity.

Twilight shook her head as she laughed silently. She had missed this so much. The banter, the friendly jabs, the companionship. Her mood darkened slightly as she realized that these were things Spike must have had alongside his Legion. Now they were lost to him forever. She shook her head more violently than she had intended to and cleared her mind. Now was not the time to fall to such thoughts. Spike needed them more than ever and she could not allow her mood to foul.

"Just a bit more... right?" asked Pinkie. Her hair was slightly more deflated than usual and frazzled. She was as exhausted as the rest of them, yet she maintained her bubbly personality and good humor, goading the others into doing the same. Happiness had been an emotion in short supply the past few days, yet Pinkie never failed to do her best in rationing it to all around her.

"Yes darling, just a bit more and we will finally be able to rest, maybe even a much needed long shower... I really do hope we can shower soon" added Rarity staring with unabashed horror at her grime encrusted, once baby-blue dress.

"I still don't get how a wall of crystal can keep us safer than Canterlot Castle. It's a wall... nothing else. They can just... I dunno, break it or fly over it" began Rainbow Dash, ever as unable to read a mood as she had always been.

Twilight turned immediately, her eyes glinting with scholarly joy. It was the look she always wore when she was about to educate somepony or give a lecture. No matter the situation, no matter the danger, Twilight would never forsake a chance to further somepony's education. She drew a long breath and began her "lesson".
"Actually Rainbow, it's a lot more than just a wall of crystal. The Onyx Bastion is actually the greatest defense the world can offer. When Sombra had created it he had followed the exact flow of the world's strongest Ley Line. As such the Onyx Bastion continuously pulses with enormous geomantic energies since in and of itself it is nothing more than a gigantic medium for said geomantic energies, so much so in fact that it covers the whole Crystal Empire in a dome-like shield that is virtually unbreakable. The Crystal Empire is the safest place in the world because, metaphorically speaking of course, it is as if it's protected by the earth itself".

She ended her tirade with an expectant look to her friends only to be met by several pairs of confused eyes.

Her smile fell and in a deadpan face and tone she simplified "It's a big bucking magic shield".

A collective "ooooh" came from her friends and she began rubbing her temples in frustration. It was hard being herself sometimes.

"Wasn't that much easier" Rainbow chided, a cocky smirk plastered on her face.

"Also much more oxygen effective" added Pinkie, grinning ear to ear.

Twilight couldn't help herself as she blurted out a series of quick giggles. Infectious as it was, the giggle was soon taken up by the rest of the small group hovering around Spike, exhaustion and desire for reprieve from harsh reality goading the laughter rather than any inherent mirth. Laughter was the balm of the soul, and they welcomed it.

But, reality is a harsh and uncompromising companion, ever present and ever watchful for any moment of weakness, always ready to challenge dreams and test one's determination. As it was, it wasted no time in reminding those present of their position, and it heralded that fact with the unmistakable sound of a piercing scream, foreshadowing in it's edge of despair.
The entire group fell silent and threw their heads up, at the origin of the shriek. For a few moments all they could see were the huge forms of dark-grey clouds, ever the promises of rain, only to gape ajar as an orange, lightning like streak, thundered from within the cloud's depths, followed by what could only be described as a disgorging of the cumulonimbus's own contents.
The sound of dark, insect wings thundered and only grew in intensity as both the orange lightning bolt and the unnaturally sentient cloud of pitch black sped towards the haggard convoy.

"Spitfire" shrieked Rainbow Dash, her superior eyesight picking up the details of the orange bolt, before any other present. Spike's head turned to Rainbow for a moment, and then back to the cloud following the Wonderbolt. Closer now, the thousand pairs of empty green eyes that gazed upon them with mindless hunger became clear beacons of danger.

Changeling swarm.

"Behind me" bellowed Spike, as much for his grounded companions as for the fast approaching Spitfire.
Karasuma hissed mournfully as it was drawn from it's sheath and reflected the diffuse midday light evilly, like the hungry glint in a starving wolf's eye, as Spike held the weapon aloft in his right hand, the sturdy metal edged sheath in his left.

Moreso was the dramatic shift in Spike's demeanor. No longer did his muscles twitch, instead they relaxed then swelled in stilled martial readiness. His eye once more became a focused point of calculated ferocity and unbending discipline. His entire form went rigid with the perfection of his stance, a fifteen foot tall mass of muscle, as imposing as a steel statue, belying the speed and snake-like alacrity that hid beneath the bulk.
Combat left no time for memories or thoughts. No room for regret or self pity. It was the pure, instinctual act of kill or be killed, cut or be cut, survival of the fittest.
And Spike thrived within it.

Spitfire plummeted towards the ground, the forerunners of the swarm all but nipping at her heels, and with a perfect corkscrew turn, she sped gliding parallel to the unforgiving stone and right under and behind Spike.

The swarm leaders were neither as skilled or lucky and smashed against the stone into quivering gobbets of flesh. Those that followed were engulfed in a blaze of pale green cremation that turned even their bones to ash within moments. Fearlessness born of mindlessness made the surviving swarm pivot like a thing of a single mind and charge Spike. Hundreds of individual hisses coalesced into a deafening cacophony of sound, drowning out even the roar of Spike's flame as they surged and died by the dozens within the blazing maelstrom. The battle had yet to begin and already a fifth of the swarm had been reduced to ashes upon the wind.

The Draka warlord lashed out with both blade and sheath in a blur of motion, slashing and ripping changelings out of the air. His arms rippled with muscle as his sword and sheath flowed and ended lives with equal abandon, each blurring stroke leaving multiple cut and broken bodies on the ground before him as the speed and precision of his attacks made both his weapons look like a blur of crimson steel, ever present and merciless. The sentient spear point of charging changelings broke apart like a carbonized log, those that could not stop in time falling either to Spike's hailstorm of blows or breaking into mush and shattered bones against the iron of Spike's muscled body. Lobotomized changelings hissed and reformed into a swarm, attacking again only to be shattered and ripped into once more. Blazing pale flame billowed, blade tore meat and sheath splintered bone, as each surging charge of the swarm was battered back only to attack anew, like the angry waves of the sea, battering themselves uselessly against a mountain side.

Even through the lobotomized frenzy of the hollow eyed changelings, a small number recognized the danger Spike possessed and broke from the swarm, attempting to find other, weaker prey.
Amethyst lightning roared and leapt from changeling to changeling reducing half a dozen to charred husks, aethiric discharge leaking in jagged edges from their still twitching corpses.
Twilight Sparkle gritted her teeth angrily and drew more raw energy, plucking it from the aethyr the way a farmer might pluck overripe apples from a tree. She shrieked as she forced the raw stuff of magic to reluctant compliance and let it loose as another jagged bolt of cerulean amethyst. The lightning blew in existence from her horn and jumped and forked, rendering another seven changelings to smoking dead flesh.
Twilight closed her eyes and ignored her quivering body as she drew yet more magic and made to give it shape and purpose. It was gruelingly painful to use such amounts of magic, but she would no longer let Spike fight by himself. His Legion may have fallen but he still had companions and family he could count on and she would not let him stand alone any longer. Her eyes opened to select another target but she stopped barely able to keep her footing as what she saw resonated in her mind.

Spike was looking at her. Directly at her.
Even though his weapons blurred in savage, death giving arcs, he looked at her and his single eye blazed with pure, undiluted pride for her. Pride for her defiance. Pride for her unwillingness to simply stand by as naught but an observer. In his eye, she had been recognized as more than precious family. She had been recognized as a fellow warrior.

Suddenly her body no longer felt the pain as intensly and the raw magic submitted with more ease. Confidence and determination filled her heart and when she loosed the bolt it came with roar and blazing light unlike any that had preceded it. More than a dozen changelings fell in breaking ash, the amethyst lighting clearing a path before her.
The strangled hiss took her by surprise as she realized a few must have crept along the ground to her position. She turned, a burgeoning ball of force hovering at the tip of her horn. She needn't have bothered. As the first pounced, gnashing fangs and charnel breath, a multicolored streak rammed into it and smashed the creature into a tree. Rainbow sped away and turned, intent on sniping another. The second changeling found himself unable to escape, brawny red furred arms keeping it prone, it's shrieks and squirming ending with an audible crack as Big Mac snapped it's neck. All around her she could see her friends adding whatever strength they possessed to the battle.
Rainbow and Spitfire dashed in and out of reach, tackling stragglers with lethal accuracy. Big Mac and Applejack put work strengthened muscles to use, grappling and breaking spindly limbs and insectoid wings. Rarity, Pinkie and Fluttershy chucked rocks, distracting changelings and creating openings for those more suited for the raw physicality of combat.
Twilight smiled gratefully at her friends and, with a groan of effort, loosed another bolt into the heart of a cluster that had split from the main swarm. It was a larger one, easily fifty individuals strong.

"Together, back to back, don't let them isolate us" yelled Twilight, ever the tactician, no matter the situation. They formed up and made ready to defend themselves.
Whatever else the alicorn princess would have said was lost under the tumultuous drumming of heavy boots and the crackling laughter of lightning.
The golden armored forms of the Royal Guard surged past her and locked their shields in an unbreakable wall of gold plated steel. Jagged coruscation as blazing as the sun and as dark blue as the midnight sky fell into the cluster, the two alicorn sisters raining their wrath from above the advancing guard. Twilight flexed her wings and took her place aside the sisters, once more adding her own considerable strength to the battle.

What followed could be called a battle insofar as it could be called a massacre. The main swarm attacked Spike with the same efficiency and results one would have expect of a light breeze trying to topple a fortress. The few quick or lucky enough to escape death by his hands were blinded by cerulean blaze of amethyst, gold and azure as the three princesses smote them from the sky.
Those left alive were ground to grime by the boots and blades of the steadily advancing Royal Guard. Mindless ferocity struck against disciplined ruthlessness and lost pitifully.
Within minutes it had ended.

Twilight surveyed from above and took in the results. The ground was covered in a carpet of charred and broken bodies yet not one single pony had graced the ground with their final breath. Not one casualty. Her gaze moved to Spike. Around him so many changelings had died that a hillock of corpses had formed. Yet Spike stood still in the same spot he had made his stand. The entire swarm and their relentless attacks had been unsuccessful in making Spike take even a single step back.

She descended slowly, her exhausted body barely able to sustain her flight. Only when the massive purple scaled hand of Spike enclosed around her midsection and lay her gently on the ground did she allow herself to collapse in a heap. Spike crouched near her and waited as she drew breath after haggard breath and slowed her heartbeat. She was learning that exhaustion had a tendency to make itself much more apparent after the thrill and adrenaline of battle ended. She looked at Spike's grim visage with a tired smile.

"You did well, Twilight" he growled, his voice still resembling more a guttural, animal sound rather than coherent speech, but clearer than it had been before nonetheless.

She laughed sheepishly and offered her hand. As he grasped it and helped the tiny purple pony back on her feet she added "Thanks, I had a good teacher" and leaned softly on his leg for support.
"Where's Spitfire?".

Spike pointed to a small gathering a few ten-paces behind them and, without a word spoken and his expression unreadable, lifted her in his massive hands and set her comfortably in the crook of his left arm. She could feel her cheeks blush, however she let herself be carried. As tired as she was, she doubted she could have taken another step, even if her life would have depended on it. She had used to carry Spike on her back all the time back in the day, yet now here she was, being held with no more effort than it would have taken Spike to hold a feather. She could feel the play of his muscles under his scales and her nostrils were sweetly tickled by his musk that reminded of a forge. Iron, steel and embers. It was all she could do not to lay her head on his iron fleshed chest and fall to blissful sleep.
The small crowd composed of part of the Mane Six, Celestia and Luna, parted to let them through and in the middle sat Spitfire, bandages covering the few nips and bruises she had obtained at the hands of the changeling swarm. She was in the process of greedily emptying a flagon of honeyed mead from Princess Celestia's own supply.

"Sorry Princess, me and the other Wonderbolts've been housed by the Crystal Empire since this invasion's begun. This is the first time I've been out and seen how bad it is".

Celestia smiled kindly as she took the empty flagon and refilled it, offering it back to the grateful pegasus, who took it and drank greedily once more. The effort of evading the swarm for as long as she had been able to, coupled with the shock of seeing for the first time what Ginun had belched into existence, had all but shell shocked the pegasus, her nerves able to hold only due to them having been steeled by a career of daredevil flying.

"Princess Cadence sent me to deliver you a message..." she bagan, her face still buried in the flagon, only to sputter into it as she turned to Twilight. Spike had made his way into the small group, towering greatly over all present, the comparatively diminutive Twilight still cradled in the crook of his arm.
His lipless and scarred face nonetheless made his visage as frightening to behold as any daemon's and it stole the voice from Spitfire's throat.

"..." Spitfire stood mouth agape staring from Spike's face to Twilight, obviously unable to reconcile if he was friend or foe. Her eyes stuck on Twilight, silently asking for an answer.

"Oh... Don't worry, he doesn't bite" Twilight said smiling. It was odd how used she had gotten to his appearance, so much so that she could barely even notice his disfigurement. She had forgotten how impactfull his face was to those who did not know him.
Spitfire's frame relaxed somewhat as he was confirmed as an ally and the pegasus gave Spike another wary glance. "Sorry ... the message. Princess Cadence sent me to ask you to hurry as much as you can. The Obsidian Stair is being assaulted by daemons and if they take it, the only way you'll be able to enter the Crystal Empire will be by the Ice Pass to the north".

Twilight froze as she heard of the Ice Pass. One of the only four "doors" in the dome shield of the Crystal Empire along with the Obsidian Stair, the Ice Pass was over two months distance from where they were now. The convoy would never be able to make it. The Obsidian Stair was their one and only chance at safety.
Spike, who had been absent-mindedly and with blatant disinterest cleaning his blade on his breeches even during the pegasus's leering, suddenly came to attention as the word "Daemon" was spoken. A slow staccato growl began burgeoning from the depths of his chest, reverberating through his entire frame and a net of veins had begun forming on his forehead.

"Wait a second... why didn't Cadence tell me this telepathically? We've been in constant contact since the invasion's begun. Why did she put you in danger?" Twilight shot off question after question.

"She... I don't think she can ... when she gave me the order, she and the Crystal Council of Unicorns were doing their best to counter the enemy spell-casters. She was barely able to tell me what to say. They're managing at the moment, the Obsidian Stair is tight so they're funneling in daemons bits by bits and the whole Crystal Empire army is there" answered Spitfire.
"But i don't know how much they'll be able to keep it up. From the sky i saw that daemon army is enormous, almost numberless. They won't be able to hold the "door" open for much longer or the daemons will breach through".

Before she could say anything, Twilight felt herself being put down. She looked at Spike's visage and saw determination in his steel gaze. She feared what she was about to hear and could only speak one word.

"No".

"I'll go before you, break the hold they have and give the Crystal Army support. You, come as fast as you can" he rumbled deeply.

"N...No" cried out Rarity. "You're doing it again? You're going to fight alone again? W... We can help" she looked distraught, as did the other girls. Even Celestia's face was contorted in a grimace of growing despair. None wanted him to suffer more than he had done so already.

Such kind souls.

Spike looked at those kind, caring faces and, to his horror, he felt for the first time his will begin to waver. How he wanted to gaze more at those loving faces. How he wanted to pluck at the sands of time and force the world to stop only so that he could have but a few more seconds of time spent with his beloved girls. How he wanted to be alongside them, for time eternal. Every draconian had a hoard, and these six girls would ever be his. Their dreams were his diamonds, their smiles, his rubies and their hopes, his emeralds. They were the only ones he loved as much as he had loved his Legion, and for them, he would do anything and everything.

And so he did.

Spike did the one thing that he had been incapable of doing since he had become aware of his Draka nature and heritage. The one thing that came as hard for him to do as having slain his own Legion in order to save them and free their souls. As much as he had become a kinslayer, Spike would now become an oathbreaker. He lied to them.

"I will be right behind you and join you all into the Crystal Empire. We will finally be safe there. We can be a family... once more".

The words tasted rancid and abhorrent on his tongue as he said it. Even as the six girls' eyes lighted with affection at his mention of "family", he felt disgusted with himself. He was going to die this day. He knew it, for he had decided it to be his final battle. He would not join them into the Crystal Empire and he would die at the base of the Onyx Bastion, protecting it with his final breath. Alone and forgotten, it was better than he deserved as kinslayer and oathbreaker.

Twilight's eyes were wide and moist as she looked up at him.
"Do you promise?"

Spike's heart ached and the beast howled at the bars of his subconscious as he answered.
"Yes".

A hesitant nod from her head and Spike shot toward the Onyx Bastion with a speed that would have put even Rainbow Dash to shame. Trees splintered upon his chest and stones shattered beneath his boots as he tore through any obstacle that stood between him and this final battle. This final enemy he would break in order to keep his girls safe.
The blessed angels of mercy that they were. How they had tried to help him, to make him feel better, less alone. It had helped. It had helped to have them around him, to hear them talking, to see Sweetie Belle truly forgive him and trust him once more. It had helped. But not enough. Not anymore. His mind was too far gone, his thoughts clouded by hatred and howls of vengeance for what the daemons had forced him to do against his Legion. The beast snarled and tore at his shattered mind, howling, roaring, begging and demanding that he be let loose, that the wergild of blood the daemons of Ginun owed be paid.

"Soon" Spike whispered to himself, forcing himself to think clearly even as he ran. "Soon. Ensure the girls be safe first and then... then the daemons will pay... Shagga, Sekeolath, Goromandy, Mika'il, all of you... i will make the daemons pay for what they did to you... for what they made me do to you...".
A dirge escaped his mouth as he ran, a low, rumbling, chanting song in which the names and deeds of each Draka of his Legion, the names of the six ponies that loved him so, cold be heard. He took pleasure in the requiem and sang the guttural, growling dirge louder even as he ran towards his death all the harder.

Jalaman Hun roared as he swung his cudgel, a gruesome block of crimson stone, enormous and stronger than the best forged steel. The elaborate head of the weapon, embossed with leering daemonic faces and baleful, blaspheming runes, swung left and right with the ease and speed of a rapier, all but obliterating shields and breastplates, ending lives with uncompromising, crushing force. The phalanx of crystal tinged ponies buckled for a few moments, then pushed again, geomantic magic visibly drawing from the Bastion behind them, empowering the otherwise feeble creatures with the strength of enraged bulls.

His hideous face, all fangs and bony growths split into a mocking grin, two beady, abyss-black eyes, pools of darkness and despair, lighting up with barely restrained bloodlust. Silvery spears and swords glanced uselessly off his steel flesh, his mammoth body crushing bodies and caving in breastplates with every movement, doing as much damage as his cudgel. Crystal ponies clutched at their ears and tore at their heads as the innumerable mouth peppering the corrupted troll's body gibbered and whispered secrets so vile and abysmal they tore at the minds of those who listened to them.

The small opening at the top of Obsidian Stairs stood tantalizing to him, goading him to try and take it and, in equal measure, goading the defenders in trying to defend it. Jalaman gave it no import. Whether he took the "door" of the unbreakable shield or not it did not matter. If his army would be able to enter the Crystal Empire, it would be naught but an added bonus. The stair was too small for his army to properly fight, so small in fact that leading it was only Jalaman, the corrupted troll's bulk enough that he took it's entire width, his warriors behind him, launching hell-steel lances and javelins from his sides and under his tree-trunk sized legs. The entire Stair was covered in the hungry, blood crazed daemons of Ginun and like diseased ants they clutched, crawled and trampled each other in desperate attempts to fight alongside Jalaman and partake in the lion's share of glory and prey.

Jalaman drank deeply of the air around him, a squirming crystal pony's skull shattering audibly in his monstrous hand. How he loved this scent, this scent of war, of iron and steel, of sweat and fear, of raw red things and growing despair. It was the scent of violence in it's most pure and undiluted and it caressed the abyssal troll's nostrils like a mother's hand. It would have to end soon. He knew it and his mood darkened. Kilmaail was fast approaching and the worthless little rodent had "ordered" him to either await the convoy and ambush them or take the Obsidian Stair. He had chosen the latter, refusing to waste anymore time waiting when there was combat to be had. How dare the Half-born assume it had the right to order Jalaman Hun, Troll King of Mourning Pit, Vanquisher of the Everfall and Exalted Champion of the Abominable Arena. Jalaman had been second only to Ganbataar in rank and strength and that had been before the Gods has granted him more power through Kilmaiil. But the Prophet of the Abyssal Gods had overreached when he had dared to order Jalaman, and when his usefulness would be at an end, Jalaman would be there to educate the Half-born of his mistake.

Beyond the top of the Stair, beyond the rank upon rank of crystalline soldiers, he could see the shapely figure of a female pony, a lithe bodied and pink furred creature with hair striped of yellow, pink and violet. Her wings and the magic playing around her horn and outstretched hands marked her as an alicorn and the most likely leader of these weaklings that now had the audacity to face him. He could not stifle the smile splitting his horrendous face as he imagined her reduced to nothing more than blood and clumps of fur staining his cudgel. Jalaman reared back and struck out once again, shattering three soldiers, breaking armor as easily as he broke flesh.

"Jalaman comes for you, feeble princess" he roared, his basso voice carrying over the din of battle with ease. The distant pony turned her head and even from such a distance he could see the apprehension written clearly on her face. "Make piece with you weakling gods, and pray that I end you swiftly. Pray little princess, pray that I...".

Whatever else he would have said stopped as his ears filled with the sound of a hundred screams. Jalaman had partaken in enough battles to recognize the pitch and meaning of such screams. These were the screams of the dying and soon to die. He turned to their origin, his own army's left flank, at the very base of the Obsidian Stair and what he saw there did what a hundred lifetimes in Ginun had been unable to do. It froze him.
On the daemon infested plains at the base of the Obsidian Stair carnage and slaughter had taken physical forms and had manifested their ire in the shape of purple scaled behemoth, his head crowned in a wild mane of green hair, his face adorned with a lipless maw bearing dagger long fangs, his body a mass of muscles and scars. He moved with the ruthless accuracy of death itself and the incontestable power of an avalanche. Where his curved blade slashed daemons fell in their twos and threes, clutching at bleeding stumps and severed flesh. Where it thrust bodies fell twitching, grasping at ruptured arteries and pierced vitals. His clawed hand shot out breaking armor and bones or grasped, tearing heads from shoulder and ripping spines from backs. Already dozens of daemons had marked his path with broken flesh and torrents of blood and more fell with each passing moment.

The creature lifted his head and his single green orb crossed with the black eyes of Jalaman Hun. A shiver passed through the troll's spine. Even with the great distance that separated them, it felt as if this behemoth had grasped his taloned hands around Jalaman's throat and was slowly suffocating him. It was enough to make one think only of running. Of running to the ends of existence if one had to, only to escape that baleful gaze, that unspoken promise of awaiting doom. Jalaman however reacted differently. His mouth opened in a howling laughter, all thoughts of the soldier phalanxes and the pink furred alicorn all but forgotten, his mind consumed by only one thought. This newcomer was a gift from the Abyssal Gods. Not some pathetic weakling, not some average veteran, but a true epicure of battle, as much a gourmand of war as Jalaman himself, his palette perfected in the fire of a thousand times a thousand conflicts. Violence and disciplined hatred radiated off the behemoth and made itself felt even over the vast distance, hitting against Jalaman as a strong gale, fanning the abyssal troll's desire to clash weapons with the warrior, to revel in the dance of death that only a duel to the bitter end could offer. He turned his back to the desperate and now confused phalanax of crystal ponies and his cudgel struck out again, this time against his own warriors as he began making his way down the Stair to where the behemoth fought, killing any daemon that was foolish or unlucky enough to be in his way.

The sounds of combat grew in intensity the more the convoy neared the clearing in the woods. They spoke of lives being snuffed like candles in a snowstorm, of raw meat and flowing torrents of crimson. Every step was harder to take than the next, horror filling the hearts and staying the advance of the convoy. Twilight, Luna and Celestia did the only thing they could do. They did not hesitate, simply maintained the running pace they had set for the convoy. It was all they could do to be examples for those who followed. Yet even for them, the opening in the dense forest held not the promise of close sanctuary, rather it held the promise of another trial to be overcome.

The clearing opened before them as a portal to one of the many circles of hell itself. What should have been grass and moss covered flatland, bearing it's natural beauty before the might of the Onyx Bastion, had been reduced to a carpet of daemonic meat and broken bone. Once green grass now coated in a sheen of bright scarlet and the once welcomed fragrance of clean, untamed earthen succulence mutated in the throat clogging miasma of a butcher's shop. For all it's morbidity the flatland stood void of all obstacles, almost inviting before them, the Onyx Bastion looming both menacingly and protectively beyond it. By the base of the Obsidian Stair, they could see the reason for this. A circle had formed there, an area of such unfettered violence it almost beleaguered belief. Row upon row of daemons howled and bellowed, their throats ragged with overuse, their weapons breaking and armor sundering in droves as Spike's unmistakable form waded into them, a nightmare visage of gore covered muscles adorned with the crimson halo that his blade produced with every swipe. For all that, he was still but one warrior facing thousands and even though the flatland had been covered with the corpses of those who had faced him, more than enough still fought on.

"Oh... Celestia..." began Twilight, the horrific amount of decimation Spike had and was continuing to inflict on the daemonic forces freezing even her astute mind.

"Do not hesitate" came Celestia's clear voice, a clarion call rousing the spirits of those around her. " We must circle around and behind Spike while he holds off the daemons, we cannot waste his efforts".

Twilight snapped back to reality as the sound of her teacher calmed the storm of confusion growing in her mind, insight and calculated actions once again becamind second nature to her.
"Rainbow, Spitfire" she said as she turned to her friends "In the sky and keep an eye for stragglers from the main body of the army". The cyan pegasus nodded briskly and sped into the air, Spitfire close behind her.
"Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie, gather all unicorns and tell them to come at the forefront". The three girls turned at a breakneck pace to the convoy to do as instructed.
"Applejack, Big Mac, go to the Royal Guard sergeants, tell them to form a line in front of the convoy but not to engage". With that the two siblings sped off to bear the news.
Twilight turned to the expectant faces of Luna and Celestia, the sisters silently awaiting for her to explain her strategy to them.
"We bring all the remaining unicorns here, with their and our magic combined, we may just be able to cast a large enough glamour around the convoy to keep it hidden from the daemons. It will be less and less effective the closer we get to the daemons but at that point we should be close enough to Spike and the Obsidian Stair to be able to make it...".

Her voice stuck in her throat as she saw what Spike had clearly not noticed. From the top of the Obsidian Stair a monstrous thing wielding a cudgel encrusted with baleful runes was running straight at the Draka, ramming and killing his own warriors in his descent. The press of daemons was masking his approach and Spike's back was undefended. Even as she watched the gigantic thing took a massive leap, jumping the last dozen steps and plummeting straight for Spike, his cudgel poised for an overhead blow. Twilight extended her perception , her mind travelling the distance between them in that one heartbeat. It connected to Spike's and shrieked a single warning before fading.

"SPIKE ABOVE YOU!"

The massive Draka did not waste time looking, instead swiped up with his blade, catching the cudgel in mid swing. She could see the two warriors press against one another for a few more seconds until the cloud of dust and press of daemons obscured her view of their duel. Twilight cussed silently but made no attempt to get a better view. They were all on borrowed time and given Spike's current state both mental and physical they could not have him fighting for longer than he had to. Words of power escaped her mouth as she, Luna and Celestia began the incantation for the massive illusion they were about to cast.

Jalaman's muscles bulged and veins stood out against his neck as he pushed against the green maned Draka. His twenty foot tall bulk of knotted muscle and raw Abyssal vitality should have been able to overpower the warrior, yet there he stood, as immobile as a steel statue, his shoulders and back almost deformed with straining muscles as their two weapons scraped against one another. With a metallic screech they broke the stalemate and jumped back, sizing each other up. The warrior was two heads shorter than Jalaman and almost as wide at the shoulder, however, whereas Jalaman's body held the telltale signs of a comfortable warlord's life, bloated with muscle but also the blubbery fat of one accustomed to having their whims catered to by servants and sycophants, the Draka's body was an epitaph of hardship and unending cultivation, a virtual armor of muscle tissue unmarred by even the slightest tint of soft comfort. Jalaman's sneer grew into a manic grin as the mouths peppering his body spoke a thousand incoherent secrets and told a thousand rambling tales in the span of a heartbeat.
The Mouths of the Unborn had been his gift from the Abyssal Gods upon his apotheosis as one of the ten Lords of Ginun and they spoke incessantly, half-thrusts and cryptic advice marring their words eternally. But Jalaman had long ago deciphered their speech patterns and through them had gained a power unlike any other. The Mouths of the Unborn knew all that was, is and shall be, for they were the voice of the Abyssal Gods, and for those who knew when and where to listen, they offered the past, present and future. Knowledge was their power and for all Jalaman's bulk and brutish mannerisms, he had ever been a connoisseur of two things. Battle and the knowledge relevant to it.

A born tactician, Jalaman listened, as the Mouths spoke of Spike, Veshanesh of the Draka, Darraor of the Legion and Bane of Daemons. In but a single moment he heard the tale of a life of unending combat and undisputed conquest, of duels and victories against the strongest of enemies, the Avatar of the Abyss itself counted among them. Knowledge and insight made him truly see the warrior that stood before him, not a simple fool that had been gifted power by some quirk of the universe or the benign recipient of some pathetic destiny or prophecy. No. Before him stood one who had been born weak, foolish and worthy only of disdain, but through nothing more than stubborn determination had earned every morsel of power he had gained. Every muscle on his body was a steel slab grown and tempered through the heat of battle and relentless training. Every swipe of his blade was a veteran's measured stroke that spoke of innumerable campaigns and wisdom gained only through experience. Every breath he took was a warrior's composed and calculated action. Spike had been given nothing, not even a destiny, yet through nothing more substantial than pure unbridled effort Spike had taken everything and carved his name among the greatest.

Unable to help it, Jalaman broke into a howling laughter. Perfection. Utter perfection. It had ever been those like Spike, those that had gained everything they had through effort whom had always fought the best and hardest. For a gourmet of combat like Jalaman, Spike was the perfect duel. A shuffle behind him wiped the grin from his face and he spun, bringing his cudgel in a monstrous arc that shattered four daemonic heads into nothingness.

"HE IS MINE" the troll bellowed and turned back to his target, ignoring the mewling daemons behind him.

Spike stood and waited as Jalaman's gaze fell once again upon him. The troll smiled once more. Of course he waited. The Draka obviously had not come for the safety of the Crystal Empire, he was merely here to protect the passage of others, weaker things, inconsequential things. The Mouths told Jalaman of the Equestrian refugees hidden behind an illusionary glamour and at the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the shimmering air in the distance where said convoy was. He licked his lips. How easy it could have been to simply order his army to go in that direction until the glamour held no more power and the convoy was butchered. But it had been Kilmaiil's interest to kill the refugees not Jalaman's and the little rodent had already overexerted his perceived authority. Moreover if the daemons were to go towards the convoy, Spike would most likely attempt to stop them, forsaking their duel. No, that was not to be allowed. Jalaman was not about to waste this opportunity for a true battle.

"None of you move" he bellowed to his army "Await my order. The first who disobeys will be the first who dies by my hand". He did not turn to see if they obeyed. Fear of him had been instilled into them a long time ago and they knew better than to test his authority.

"Now" Jalaman growled menacingly "Let us enjoy this" and he threw himself at Spike, his cudgel windmilling at the Draka in a brutal arc. It never connected as Spike charged into Jalaman's guard and smashed the pommel of his sword into the arching head of the cudgel, ramming it into the ground. His blade skidded loudly along the haft of the weapon, making to slice Jalaman's grip clean off. It glanced against hell-steel as Jalaman blocked it with his armored forearm. The rune-encrusted armor groaned dangerously but held nonetheless. Jalaman's grin could get no wider. What a testament to Spike's strength that the armor had almost sundered. Rune-carved hell-steel was nigh unbreakable and it had just barely held. Howling with mad laughter Jalaman pushed against the weapon and charged into Spike like an angry mastodon only to come skidding back as the Draka made his own charge and launched a two handed blow on the cudgel's haft. His arms almost paralyzed by the strength of the blow, Jalaman retreated a few hasty steps and dropped into a catlike crouch, the baleful sword slicing only a few tufts of hair rather than his neck as it cut the air where his head had been.

Spike's sword arched in a half-moon shape and without pause came down in a blistering two handed stroke. It was only by the skin of his teeth that Jalaman rolled under it in time and the blade sliced only stone, the pressured air it generated ripping a few of the reluctant spectating daemons to gory ribbons. Jalaman brought his cudgel in an up swipe trying to catch Spike on the chin only for his arms to flail wildly as Spike twisted along the blow and slammed the underside of the cudgel, propelling it upwards and breaking Jalaman's stance. Before the troll could recover, Spike had already begun a grinding arc towards his exposed stomach. But Jalaman had not survived for so long based only on his strength. His gifts had always helped him. The Mouths had whispered of this as a possible outcome before the duel had even begun and Jalaman had known of it.

"It strikes your weapon to the heavens and slices you in half" the cryptic warning had said.

As such, instead of fighting to regain his balance, Jalaman spun with the cudgel and somersaulted, the blade slicing harmlessly beneath him. It would not be that easy to evade the Draka however. The blade stopped mid swing and thrust up in a dazzling display of swordsmanship, aimed at Jalaman's spine. It was only due to the hastened warning of the Mouths that Jalaman knew to twist in midair and slam the blade aside. He ended his jump with a feint for Spike's collarbone with the haft, that turned into a swipe at the side of his knee with weapon's heavy head. A blow that wold have hamstrung a giant managed only to slightly break Spike's balance but it had been enough of an opening for Jalaman to land two quick blows with the pommel and the head of the cudgel to either side of Spike's temples. Suddenly the Mouths screeched.

"It slices your thigh".

Confusion turned into a rictus of pain as, even as he reeled back from the blows to his temples, Spike's sliced with his blade and carved a sizable chunk out of the troll's thigh. The advantage lost, Jalaman too reeled back, his thigh gushing blood.

"It carves your body to ruin".

The troll brought the haft of his cudgel barely fast enough to intercept the blade and it was all he could do to defend and retreat, battered back by a blizzard of blows from Spike. They came with such strength and speed that they almost seemed to coalesce into a single indomitable and continuous force. His retort came as his own flurry of attacks, the rune-carved head of cudgel slamming hard against the Draka's blade, unholy enchanted hell-steel straining against master forged blood-iron for dominance. It found none as Spike riposted with equal strength and ferocity, forcing the troll on the back foot once more.
Battle lust thundered in Jalaman's skull and he howled with almost childlike glee as he charged rabidly and rammed his shoulder into Spike. Instead of fighting the force, Spike let himself fly, his gauntleted hand grasping the troll's throat with the strength of a vice and pulling the monstrosity with him. Cartilage shattered and blood flowed as Spike's forehead impacted with Jalaman's face and turned it into a broken mess. Even through the haze of blood and pain, Jalaman's grin never faltered. It was amazing to him. The Mouths were shrieking their warnings incessantly, yet Jalaman had found himself unable to defend against all Spike's attacks even though he knew they were coming. They happened too quick and with such overwhelming force it was all but impossible for his body to keep up with all of them. The battle had taken the pattern of the "good old days" when he had not had the future-revealing powers of the Abyssal gifts, when battle was naught but instinct and raw reflex, when his perception would be reduced to nothing more than his own body and the weight of his weapon.

The cudgel's head impacted with Spike's side and ribs shattered, the sound in tandem with Jalaman's forehead as Spike rammed the pommel of his swords against the troll's skull. Blood flowed once more, the razor edge of his Odachi carving a red crater along Jalman's arm and the wicked point of the cudgel punching into Spike's left bicep digging into muscled flesh. All pretense of defense had all but been forgotten as the battle took on yet another form. It had become a battle of wills and endurance, a simple test of whose body could endure more pain until it failed.

And both Spike and Jalaman reveled in it.

Twilight's head felt as if it was about to split, strain written about her face like the words of a book. To either side of her, Celestia and Luna shared the same grimace of almost unbearable strain and behind her a procession of exhausted unicorns continuously fed what power they could pluck from the aethyr. Nonetheless, the glamour maintained, evidenced by the shimmering air undulating around the entire convoy. With a measured yet hurried pace, the convoy was making it's way towards the Obsidian Stair. Although she did not know exactly what they would do other than try to run for Cadence's forces when they closed in on it, Twilight still knew it was their only chance.

A familiar push to the side of her perception startled her and the illusion shimmered dangerously as it almost broke her concentration. Cadence was trying to reestablish the telepathic link between both of them. Straining like she never had before, Twilight relegated a small part of her consciousnesses and linked it to that of Cadence. Immediately the strain on the three alicorns eased as Cadence brought her own power to aid in the maintaining of the glamour illusion.

"Twilight... I knew I sensed your magic close" Cadence's soft voice caressed the purple alicorn's mind. "Listen... you need to tell me what to do, I don't know where you are and for the moment those monsters are occupied with... something... that's left the Stair safe for use... this is the only chance we may have...".

"That's Spike"

"What?".

"That something is Spike" Twilight clarified and, as Cadence's pause drew to unbearable length she added. "Is... is he...?". The words would not leave her mouth. She trusted Spike, had faith in his monstrous power, nonetheless she dreaded asking the question, fearing the chance of a response that would have her face his demise.

"He's still fighting" the answer came hastily and balmed her quivering heart. "I've never seen such a battle, he's matching that gigantic troll blow for blow. Twilight... what happened to him?"

"ARGH..." the purple alicorn gasped and clenched her teeth against the strain. Even with Cadence's help the illusion was becoming harder and harder to maintain.

"We'll do this later" Cadence's voice came hastily as the ruler of the Crystal Empire felt her friend's effort. "If you say it's Spike, that's all i need to know. That means he can be trusted. The Obsidian Stair is open for the moment, come as fast as you can, i'll have my army arrayed at the base of the Stair and give you cover while you help the old and wounded. Keep the glamour activated as long as you can. The closer you get to the Stair undetected, the easier it will be for us to defend you".

Twilight, her eyes screwed shut, her teeth grinding as she fed even more power into the illusion could manage only a small "Thank you".

"Don't thank me Twi" Cadence's soft voice came again, sisterly and comforting. "Just make it to us, no matter what".

Jalaman howled, pain and joy coalescing as madness in the depths of his mind an he let loose with another rampage of swipes. Like a rabid mastodon assaulting a stone wall, they connected with sonorous clangs against Spike's intercepting sword, sounding for all the world like two battalions of heavy cavalry smashing against each other. His last blow found him flying through the air as Spike slammed the flat of his blade against the cudgel's head launching both it and Jalaman into a thrashing heap. The troll rolled with the blow's inertia and as he rose put the haft of his cudgel before him, stopping a sword stroke that would have cloven his skull, mere inches from his forehead. He pushed against the blade exerting every ounce of muscle he had until the sound of Spike's boots sliding without purchase into the ground told of an opening and he heaved with a guttural bellowing. Spike was sent flying only for his boot to dig deep into the cold earth and reverse his flight into a silent charge. The troll bellowed once more and countered with a charge of his own, and the two warriors met in a flurry of clashing weapons, trading blows that would have felled entire battalions as both the blade and cudgel became blurs of motion and flying sparks.

Suddenly Jalaman's eyes widened and his grin fell. With a derisive snort he disengaged and, in a few quick jumps, was back among his own daemonic horde. The troll cursed himself for a fool. He had become so enamored with the fight, so concentrated on the circle of violence the two warriors had carved out for themselves, he had neither heard nor smelled the soldiery of the Crystal Empire descend the Obsidian Stair. Only when they had begun arraying themselves in row upon row of shield walls, hundreds strong, had he finally noticed. Spike's turned head told of a similar tale, the veteran Draka having just now found the area immediately behind him covered in the bright silver livery of the Crystal Empire.

A fairly tall pony emerged from the ranks, a strong looking colt in golden armor, his head adorned in a mane of blue and teal, a centurion helm held in the crook of his arm. Large, soldier's hands held on the pommel of his sword and his eyes gleamed with the commanding glare of a seasoned general. The pony never took his eyes off Jalaman as he strode towards Spike.

"Good to see you again, Spike" he greeted the large Draka. For all his size and commanding presence, the pony looked almost ridiculous when compared to the truly gigantic and fearsome Draka. He barely reached the low part of Spike's midriff and compared to the Draka's presence, the commander felt as barely more than a common footsoldier.

"Do not engage Shining Armor, maintain position" Spike said, his tone measured and to the point, clearly accustomed to leading a warhost. Shining Armor nodded, and put the helm back on his head.

"They are close, no more than a few tenpaces away. We will hold the line until they are safely atop the stair and beyond the shield".

Spike's head turned and Jalaman followed his gaze. No more than a few tenpaces distance a large clump of air shimmered unnaturally, marking the soon to fade illusion where the Equestrian refugees were fast approaching. Already they were close to the flank of the Crystal Army. This would have been the perfect moment to charge his horde had Jalaman had any desire to end the convoy. But that was not what he wanted. All he desired was to resume the duel against Spike. That was all that mattered.

"You and I still have unfinished business and if any of your insects attack, it shall remain unfinished" the deep basso of Spike declared and Jalaman grinned wildly. Clearly the Draka was trusting on the troll's battle craving to keep his forces in check. The threat had been clear. Should any daemon attack the poorly hidden convoy, there would be no chance of their duel coming to it's conclusion. Jalaman would have to settle for a fight within the press of both armies, where he could take no pleasure in the epicurean delight of single combat.
Spike had placed his bet, and had been correct.
Jalaman's mouth opened to order his daemons to maintain position, relegating them once more to the positions of mere spectators, but before any words could be said, a long and mournful sound filled the air, the song of a distorted clarion horn. With it, came a wind-like whisper of a high-pitched reedy voice.

"Charge them, kill them, use all you have at your disposal. Do not go against me Jalaman, for i am the voice of the Abyss and what power i have gifted you I may take away".

Jalaman ground his fangs and cursed loudly. Kilmaiil had arrived and with the deformed rodent all chances of a proper duel had vanished. As much as the troll despised Kilmaiil, the worthless insect was still in the favour of the Gods of the Abyss, and in such close proximity, the powers he had been gifted, Kilmaiil could indeed take away with relative ease. As much as Jalaman wanted to fight Spike, he was not yet ready to die, the most likely outcome should he attempt to fight Spike without the gifts of power he had been given. This Draka had killed both Nerg'Cathal and Wilhelmina when their powers and armies had been at their zenith of strength and Jalaman was not fool enough to underestimate him or let his damnable pride be his end.
The ground shook and he could sense rather than see Kilmaiil's army emerging from the depths of the forest. The time for deciding had passed and Jalaman swallowed his pride bitterly.

"What in the Abyss are you all waiting for? CHARGE"

The horde of daemons roared as one and charged. Shields rose and spears leveled as the Crystal army braced to receive the charge. The illusion broke into aethiric discharge as the Equestrian refugees forsook any pretense at subtlety and broke into a massed run behind the relative safety of the Crystal Ponies, the golden clad royal guard adding their own shields and spears to the defense. A daemonic horde of such size normally would have had no problem in trampling the shield wall into the dirt, however ponies were not as feeble as they appeared. Raw magic erupted from the geomantic lay line upon which the Onyx Bastion had been built, coalescing around Cadence, Shining Armor and the Crystal Unicorn Council. Muscles pulsed with energy and bodies took the hardness and density of stone as the raw magic was turned to purpose and flowed into the poised army, empowering them with a stalwart strength that would have made even the Legion of the Damned proud.
Daemons howled and roared as they spit upon silver and gold spears, as they skulls split under swords blows and their bones shattered against shields. Ponies shouted and cursed as ax blows rained among them, splitting helms and shields, as wounded daemons bore those ponies closest down in displays of utter brutality.
In the heart of the storm, daemonic faces and weapons leering from every side, Spike stood indomitable, his sword and clawed hand wreaking havoc among the press of daemonic bodies. Advantageous numbers became death sentences where Spike stood defiant, as those behind unwittingly pushed those upfront into the meat grinder that was the Draka. His head snapped to the sky and he bellowed, his rumbling deep basso drowning out the clangor of battle.

"Fight warriors of Equestria. Fight warriors of the Crystal Empire. These who would see your homes in ashes. These who would defile your lives and end those you love. Fight them, BREAK THEM. REND AND TEAR. REND AND TEAR. MAKE THEM HOWL"

Warcries that none would have believed could escape pony throats thundered into the skies as Equestrian and Crystal Empire soldiers took up Spike's warchant, galvanized by his words and inspired by his defiance.

REND AND TEAR.

Helms were taken off and used to shatter daemonic skulls.

REND AND TEAR.

Shield edges fell across collarbones and crushed windpipes.

REND AND TEAR.

Blazing coruscation of unicorn and alicorn magic and showers of pegasus arrows fell into the horde.

REND AND TEAR.

Spike tore and slashed, crushed and pummeled, breaking armored flesh and sundering weapons as effectively as he broke daemonic will to fight.

The battle had become one of attrition and slowly but surely the ponies had established an unbreakable foothold at the base of the Obsidian Stair. Behind them, women and children helped those too old or wounded to climb the stairs by themselves. Bit by bit the convoy dissipated atop the stairs and beyond the portcullis-sized shield opening until only Spike,soldiers, royalty and the Mane Six had remained at the Stair's base.

Spike ripped a horned head from it's shoulders with a fierce tug of his massive hand and took the moment-long pause to look behind him.

"Grab the wounded, make your way to the top, single file" his voice bellowed and those around him obeyed.

Gradually, the mass of soldiers began to funnel up the narrow stair in ordered, sure movements, those too wounded to walk unaided held aloft on backs and shoulders. Beyond the rows of daemons he could see Jalaman roaring his outrage impotently as he struggled against the press of his own warriors, trying to reach their position. He swung his blade left and right, carving up daemons, taking a measured back step with daemonic group he ended, until his heel clicked against the very bottom step of the Obsidian Stair. It was covered in retreating ponies, at it's base standing only himself, the Mane Six, Shining Armor and the Alicorn Princesses. Even in such a dangerous situation the girls had refused to leave him and run for the safety of the shield. He cursed inwardly and bellowed once more.

"Step by step, upward" he roared and in almost perfect unisonthey climbed the stair, each step punctuated by a flurry of his blade, a thrust from Shining's sword and a maelstrom of unleashed magic from the flying alicorns that kept the daemons at bay. Spike no longer fought with the finesse and almost artful sweeps of his blade, instead had relegated to ripping into the press of daemons with the brutish downstrokes of a butcher's cleaver. There was no room for finesse or swordsmanship, all that mattered was that he got the girls to safety. A hell forged lance ripped into his bicep and it's shaft broke as Spike tore it out and returned it, point first, into the owner's throat. Arrows and javelins flew from either side, as raging winds conjured by the magic of alicorns buffeted daemonic shafts away from their targets. Only a few more steps and they would be safe. Only a few more steps and he would finally be able to welcome his end, to release the rage within his mind and fight until his body would be broken and he would finally have his rest.

Four more steps.
A clump of daemons screamed as golden, blue and purple lightning cooked them inside their armor.

Three more steps.
Three daemons fell in pieces, hollow eyed and silent screams fixed on their faces as Spike ripped into them.

Two more steps.
Two died spitted on his blade and a third twitched shrieking as his head was crushed in Spike's massive hand. Two more died howling, one pushed into the empty air by Rainbow Dash, the second with Shining's sword lodged in it's throat.

One more step.
Spike howled mercilessly as he put his entire weight in his shoulder and rammed into a cluster of heavily armored daemons, sending them rolling downwards on the Obsidian Stair. Necks broke on unforgiving stone as the daemons barreled into those behind them, crushing the smaller ones and forcing others to dare the long distance to the ground and jump from the height rather than risk being crushed, effectively almost clearing a third of the stair in one fell swoop. Those that still remained were greeted by a blaze of pale green cremation that melted their armor and reduced their flesh and bones to ash.
Far below at the base of the stair, Jalaman smashed against his own reeling warriors, uselessly trying to clear a path through the morass of panicked daemons. He bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth, and ordered as a shower of arrows twanged from taut bows, rising straight for Spike and the other's position at the final step. Those that were not buffeted away by the conjured winds, either were smashed from the air by the Draka's blade or skidded useless against his muscled, scaly body. Few feathered shafts had found purchase upon his massive chest, barely piercing millimeters into the iron hard muscles and Spike broke them off with a swipe of his forearm.
He smelled rather than saw the closeness of the shield's opening. It was a smell unmarred by the fresh stains of war, a light, almost gentle breeze that blew from the Crystal Empire, funneled into pressure by the small opening in the unbreakable shield of magic. They had reached the top. He turned his head and roared.

"No more defending, behind the shield NOW".

He did not need repeat himself. The ponies surged into the opening, the Mane Six first, Cadence and Shining Armor after and the Equestrian sisters last. It was done. The convoy, the armies, the royalty and now the girls had all passed beyond the borders of the shield. Spike suddenly felt tired, so very very tired. All that remained was for the opening to be sealed shut once more and their safety would be assured. He had done it. His Legion's sacrifice had not been in vain. He had kept his oath and brought the girls to safety.
It had finally come time for him to let go. No more pain. No more shame. No more thoughts of his hands stained with the blood of his own Legion. He would at long last be able to release the beast and let his mind drown in the dark of madness. No more need to hold on to the last vestiges of sanity and self-control he had left. Mother Renrin's prophecy would be fulfilled and he would die in combat against an armada of daemons, alone and forgotten, nothing more than a maddened beast. She had been partially wrong though. She had said he would die in a blaze of glory, unlike any had ever seen before. There was no glory to be had for him.
Kinslayer, oathbreaker and soon to be Blood Mad, Spike had forsaken the chance for a honorable death in order to see to it that the girls would be safe. And he found he regretted almost none of it. If there was one thing he did regret, it would be that he would never get the chance to join his Legion in the Halls of the Ancestors. But even that regret was short lived. Whether or not he saw them was irrelevant, all that mattered was that he had been able to give them the final peace and honorable death they had deserved. Spike turned away from the shield and took his first step in his descent of the stair and into the maw of rabid fury.

"Toast loudly within the Halls of the Ancestors my brothers and sisters, and roar until the Endless Pillars shake. Toast in my stead, for where you are, I can not follow" he whispered as he felt the last threads of calm within his mind begin to unravel. The beast howled and tore at it's cage more than ever before. It felt the freedom about to be given to it and licked it's jowls in anticipation.

"Spike...?" the small sound came and he turned fearing what he knew he was about to see. Farewells had always been the hardest part when dealing with those you loved. Twilight stood right behind him, her eyes gateways to despair as she had realized his intentions. Why had they not closed the opening?
"You promised... you promised...we would enter the Crystal Empire together... that we would be a family again...p...please... I can't lose you... again". Further behind her and beyond the shield, the other girls and the royalty looked at him with begging eyes. None wanted to believe he was about to do what they feared he was going to and none had given the order to close the opening. They all waited for him. The five other girls most of all looked as if they were about to bolt towards him at a moment's notice.

Spike's heart tore as he saw the tears in her eyes and heard the pain in her voice. From the stairs came the heavy boot falls of daemons, however, by their sound they were still a slight distance away. There was still plenty enough time to say goodbye and send her back beyond the shield's protection.
"Twilight, go. It is too late for me. It was always too late. Don't worry... you'll forget me soon... you will all do" he said as he made to reach for her and gently push her back towards the opening. His hand froze as a bubble of purple magic suddenly took shape around Twilight.

"I WON'T LET YOU. I WON'T. IF YOU STAY, I STAY. IF YOU DIE, I DIE" she screamed, her eyes filled with regret and frustration but more than anything, determination. His blood froze and time seemed to slow to a snail's pace as he saw those eyes. Within those eyes he saw a stubborn willfulness akin to his own and knew she was not bluffing. She was willing to risk her life just for the minute chance that he would change his mind. Movement from the corner of his eye alerted him to the fact that the other girls had begun moving towards him, ignoring the warning screams and outstretched hands of those around them. They were all willing to risk their lives and for what?... for him?... FOR THIS ONE KINSLAYER?... FOR THIS ONE OATHBREKER?... FOR THIS ONE SHAMED DRAKA??

"NOOOO!" Spike screamed, mad hysteria edging his voice and he did what he thought he would never be able to willingly do. Something that came harder to him than breaking an oath. Something that came harder to him than killing his own kin. He laid hands on Twilight. The shield around her shattered like thin glass as his fist rammed into it and into her stomach. She screamed as she was lifted off her feet and thrown into the other five girls, the impact pushing them all back beyond the shield opening, back into the crowd of ponies that watched with unbelieving eyes.

Spike walked with heavy steps to the opening before the girls could get up and roared. A roar so animalistic and threatening it tore through the hearts of all those before him.
"CLOSE THE SHIELD"

Fear overpowered empathy and with an audible crump the Crystal Unicorns that had been maintaining the opening released their magic and the shield closed, separating Spike from those beyond it. He knelt to one knee and put his hand gently on the shimmering surface of the shield. He could see as Twilight got up and both she and the other girls banged their fists uselessly on the shield, tears of despair in their eyes, their voices muffled to almost complete incoherence by the magical shell. Celestia stood behind them, a deep sorrow in her eyes as he locked sights with her. Reluctantly she nodded and he loosed a relaxed breath. She would perform the Mandala and make them forget. It was as it should be. It was the end. Behind him, the sounds of hell-forged boots grew in intensity but he did not pay them any heed. He was finally at peace.

And with peace it came. Madness unlike any other. Rage, frustration and hatred bottled up over millennia. His fury that the daemons had forced his hand and made him break an oath. His hatred that they had made his Legion suffer and forced him to kill them. His rabid desire for retribution that they had forced him to lay hands on Twilight and hurt her once again. He welcomed it. He welcomed it all.
By his hand.

By his hand they will howl.
They will burn.
They will beg.
BY HIS HAND VENGEANCE WILL BE TAKEN AND THE WERGILD SHALL BE PAID IN BLOOD.

Spike's frame began to shudder, slowly at first, then harder and harder as a low chuckle came from him and gradually developed into a full fledged laugh. A laugh so devoid of mirth and feeling it was more horrific to hear than the sound of a thousand howling beasts. It was the laughter of insanity.

Jalaman approached his broad back, his cudgel ready to strike, taking no heed of the sounds coming from Spike, battle-lust overcoming even the shrieked warnings of the Mouths for him to flee.
"Let us continue our due..." his voice stuck in his throat and his battle-lust turned to utter, mind breaking terror as, in the moment it took one to blink, Spike rose and turned, ramming his blade into Jalaman's chest up to it's hilt. The troll's weapon holding hand shattered as Spike crushed it like a rotten twig and twisted the sword in Jalaman's chest, drowning his hand in the troll's gushing blood. He let go of Jalaman's hand and grabbed the back of his head, bringing the troll to eye level with him. Jalaman shrieked as he saw in Spike's hollow eye naught but the hunger of the most primordial beast.

"You... are... meat..." the Draka proclaimed in a beastly growl and his fang filled maw opened and closed in a welter of blood, ripping Jalaman's face to shredded meat and bone. The troll's thrashing ended with an upthrust from the blade in his chest, cleaving it in two, opening an eruption of crimson.

Daemons stood in paralyzed horror, silent screams contorting their faces as this blood-covered devil, this THING from beyond the void, walked towards them, their ears ringing with no other sound than his mad, frenzied, howling laughter.

The laughter of mindless violence.

The laughter of one who had to laugh for he could not cry.

Author's Note:

Extra long chapter for you all, as gratitude for the wait and awesomeness from you lads and lasses.

The story sure as hell isn't over yet.
Next chapter coming as soon as possible.

Comments

[Ekhidna]

Oh my God.....Spike......Twilight.....Girls.....

Fuck.....pure devastation. There's no way around it.

[dunnie_172]

I'm sad now. This story makes me wanna throw aay my tablet and never read on but at the same time I have this morbid sense of curiosity and have to know what comes next. Please continue as soon as possible

[DeltaOsprey]

Til Valhall.

[Blodhgarm]

All I can say is..... DAMN

[BrotallySwagical]

Next chapter?

[Pyro The Reader]

Him giving in to The Madness totally reminded me of a certain song.

[Torgaddon]

7012806
Wow, that song just works so well, you're right.
7012398
ASAP my friend, i promise.
7011059
Thank you, glad you're enjoying it.

[Fido]

"You... are... meat..." the Draka proclaimed in a beastly growl and his fang filled maw opened and closed in a welter of blood, ripping Jalaman's face to shredded meat and bone.

Dat... IMAGE. Worth... the... wait.

[Torgaddon]

7013381
Glad you liked it man, wrote that scene while listening to Dimmu Borgir (perfect for writing brutality).
Hope you'll enjoy the next chapter too.

[Fido]

7013423 It just dawned on me. Where is Discord in all this?

[Torgaddon]

7014397
Well to be honest, Discord is pretty much my favorite character, so i wanted to add him to the story but honestly, since it's my first story, i had doubts i would be able to do him justice in my writing, and the second reason I didn't add him is that his powers would have provided too much of a convenient "deus ex machina" problem-solver, since they have no discernible limit.
Nonetheless, i would have liked to add him, he is my favorite (kinda' like a nicer, non-trigger happy Joker) but at this point in the story, it's too late to integrate Discord in the story.

[Blodhgarm]

7012806

[Dramize the Salamander]

Absolute destruction in it's purest form may nothing stand before, him may nothing live after him, for he knows the sorrow that drowns the weak and the strong. That's how I feel after reading this chapter good job.

[Pyro The Reader]

7014990 Pretty darn good stuff man.

[Fido]

7014729 Honestly that's pretty much what I expected. Being that this story is kind of a depressing gore-fest for everyone, I too can't see Discord with his deus ex machina potential and trickster attitude fitting in all this.

[elrismorsky]

This is so awesome. It is so intense making me crave the next chapter.

[Dragon Blaze-X]

I could only see One man who fit Spike Now a man who died standing......Literally

[Dragon Blaze-X]

Also some music

[Black Snow]

IT LIVES.

And damn, what a cliffhanger we've been left with. That song fit the moment perfectly though.

[shadow12]

calling it now spike will break out of the madness... and his mother was starswirls Draka friend.

[Outis]

7014729
reviewersunite.files.wordpress.com/2015/11/mlp22-9.jpg
"Hey Guys, Just Got Back From My Holiday. Did I Miss Anything?"
(Can This Be A Bonus Chapter Or Something)

[Torgaddon]

7129309
LOL, my friend, i would honestly like to do that, but this isn't that kind of story.
Also, new chapter is coming out soon and i hope you guys and gals will enjoy it. The proverbial shit has only just begun hitting the fan.

P.S. Glad to see you're enjoying the story so far.

[MrStevenMagnet]

And in that moment, Spike became the Doomslayer.

[DarkDMan]

Wow!