The End
Pride walked down the stairs to his basement slowly. The cries of his soldiers and the gunshots were barely heard anymore, since the walls in the particular part of the house were thick. Moreover, it was dark enough for any trespasser to lurk if he wanted to surprise anyone who was to come down here.
Sure enough, the door of the cellar was ajar; a sign that somebody was inside. Pride, however, was hardly concerned about that. He already suspected who it was, and he would make sure that the intruder would pay for his insolence.
With that thought in mind, Pride walked inside, then locked the door behind him. There would be only one coming out of this room again.
“Why am I not surprised you decided to face me alone?” Mustang’s voice sounded from the darkest corner of the room.
Pride allowed himself a small smirk. “Your behaviour leads me to assume this isn’t the first time that you’ve betrayed my trust.”
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, lecturing me about betrayal.” The Flame Alchemist finally stepped out of the shadows, positively glaring at his adversary.
“Are you referring to the fact that I’m a homunculus?” Pride asked, uncovering the eye that carried the symbol of the ouroboros.
Mustang kept his expression neutral. Even so, Pride could tell that the alchemist didn’t expect that last revelation, regardless of his brave front.
“Whether or not you want to call yourself a human being is a non-issue, as far as I’m concerned, Bradley.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Pride asked in an almost innocent tone. “Ever since I’ve become Führer, I’ve done nothing but win wars, purify our population and exponentially expand our territory.”
“You couldn’t care less about the State; all you wanted was the philosopher’s stone,” Mustang said. “You started those conflicts because you knew people driven by despair would tend to seek refuge in the stone.”
“People are foolish.”
“Foolish enough to let you gain from their pain and suffering!”
“You got me all wrong. I merely serve as an instrument of the one who truly gains,” Pride corrected. “I consider myself god’s right hand.”
“You serve no god,” Mustang replied angrily.
“Perhaps,” Pride admitted. “But devils do exist. They’re the alchemists who dare get in my way!”
And with that, Pride lunged forward with the agility of a great cat, sword held up for the kill.
If there was something that Riza knew well was how the military operated; after all, she was a soldier herself. That also enabled her to manipulate that kind of knowledge to her advantage, so that she could keep giving her pursuers the slip and giving Roy all the time he needed in order to take care of Bradley.
Even so, she still believed she should be doing something more. Ever since she had joined Roy’s unit, she had been placed as his bodyguard, a demanding and dangerous job. She devoted herself to it, practically giving up her personal life, because she didn’t believe she needed anything else. As long as Roy Mustang lived long enough to see to his goals, she was content as well; for it felt she did own part in restoring democracy.
And now, it had come to this: the ultimate showdown. Roy was inside, giving his everything, yet she wasn’t there to protect him. That, in her book, was significant negligence which she had to remedy. It was true that Roy’s orders had been to lure Bradley’s escort as far away from the mansion as possible, but she had already seen to that task. The soldiers were off on a wild goose chase, and they weren’t coming back any time soon. It was time to make her move.
Moving swiftly and without the least bit of sound, Riza moved to a tree located next to the mansion. One of the branches was extended close to a window, making things easy for her. Climbing up, she reached the window and unbolted it with nimble fingers, then jumped inside.
The particular room – Bradley’s office, from the looks of it – looked empty, at first glance. However, Riza instantly caught sight of a small boy next to a painting, regarding her quite apprehensively. Riza bit her lower lip, for she recognised the boy as Bradley’s stepson. If he raised the alarm…
“I-I know you,” the boy said softly. “You’re one of Father’s soldiers.”
That was something Riza didn’t want to hear. Nevertheless, she tried to stay calm. “I’m surprised you’d remember me, Selim. It’s been more than a month since you visited Central Headquarter,” she said, recalling the incident quite well.
“I liked your dog,” Selim admitted shyly. At the next moment, however, he regarded Riza quite apprehensively. “What are you doing here?”
Riza thought fast. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Where’s your mother?”
The boy lowered his gaze. “I sneaked away from her. I wanted to get something from the room,” he answered. “I will go back to her.”
“The sooner, the better,” Riza said with a nod. “What was it so important that you had to come up here?”
“Well, this,” Selim replied, taking out of his bag a human skull. “Dad always said that his life depended on it and I wanted to keep it safe.”
Riza felt her eyes widening at the sight of the skull, hardly believing that a young boy wasn’t in the least disturbed while handling it. Moreover, Selim’s choice of words caught her attention. How could a man’s life depend on human’s remains?
“Selim! Selim, where are you?”
Selim flinched. “That’s my Mother,” he said, and he hastily gave the skull to Riza. “Please, take it.”
Riza stared at the boy dubiously. “You’re giving it to me?”
Selim nodded. “You’re military. You’ll protect Father,” he said, a smile tugging on his lips before running out of the room, leaving a guilt-ridden Riza behind. In his innocence, the boy unwittingly handed her, the enemy, a weapon against the Führer.
That, however, was neither here nor there anymore. She had come too far to step back now, so near the end. So, using the darkness of the room to her advantage, she waited until there was silence outside the room; then she exited, her gun in one hand and the skull in the other.
Maes walked up to the military unit that was standing in attention before him a few yards outside the Military Headquarters, expecting their superior’s command. He recognised the familiar faces of Sergeant Bloch and Lieutenant Ross among them, and he couldn’t help but smile inwardly. This operation was certainly complied by good, loyal men, just as the chairman had hoped for when he handed the Brigadier General the task he was about to carry out.
“You’ve probably heard the rumours by now,” he said, pacing up and down. “Unfortunately, they’re hardly rumours. The Führer, King Bradley, is the mastermind behind a conspiracy against the State, against you. He has been one ever since he took over the reins of this country. All these wars, all these conflicts were never meant to bring peace; they were pointless. This is something that the State isn’t willing to tolerate any longer. The chairman has authorised the Führer’s arrest, so he can answer for his actions in a court of law. If he puts up any resistance, then you’re free to defend yourselves. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the soldiers replied, saluting.
“Good,” Maes said, and he turned to Armstrong; the major was standing right next to him. “Take several men and head for the Führer’s mansion. And make sure a certain someone didn’t get himself killed by playing hero,” he whispered confidentially.
“Fear not, Brigadier General,” Armstrong answered. “I’ll carry out the task with the grace and efficiency that runs in the Armstrong family for generations.”
“All right,” Maes said, and he saluted as well. “Good luck, Major.”
“And to you, Brigadier General,” Armstrong said.
Maes didn’t say anything this time. He just watched Armstrong and his subordinates go, and then he faced the rest of the soldiers.
“Gentlemen,” he declared, and one of the knives sprang right out of his sleeves. “Let’s start doing some cleaning up.”
Roy jumped aside before Bradley’s blade cut his face a third time, but the homunculus moved swiftly and managed to cut him on the shoulder. Stinging pain washed through Roy’s entire body, yet the Flame Alchemist let no sound out of his lips.
This was no fight, but a cat playing with a mouse; Roy understood that only too well. Even so, he didn’t intend to give up, because he still had a plan. All he had to do was to stay alive a little while longer.
Bradley attacked again, and it took all of Roy’s speed to avoid getting slashed once more. His back bumped against the bottles of wine that were there, aging; and the Flame Alchemist knew it was time to counterattack. The moment that Bradley wielded his sword for the kill, Roy dodged the hit and rolled away to safety. The sound of shattering glass reached his ears, a sign that Bradley had broken more than just several bottles of wine, spilling their contents on the floor.
It was the chance Roy had been waiting for. Knowing how flammable alcohol was, he snapped his fingers and let his pyrotex gloves do their work. A great booming sound reverberated in the entire room and crimson flames burst out from everywhere. Roy felt himself flung against the wall, shards of glass cutting him even further. His back hurt like hell and he bled quite profusely; the warm sensation of the blood flowing out of his wounds was sickening, to say the least.
He still got up, eyes scanning the destroyed room for any sign of his adversary. At first, he could see no sign of him, and, for a brief moment, Roy dared believe that he had actually killed Bradley.
It wasn’t so. All Roy’s hopes shattered when the alchemist saw a great mass of muscles, veins, nerves and bones standing up amid the rubble.
“Is my species of a consequence to you now?” the mass asked, its sneering tone audible. Skin and black clothing appeared as if by sorcery, and soon a pair of eyes, one grey and red locked on Roy.
“I never got the chance to test my homunculus’ traits much,” Bradley said as hair started growing back on his head. “I wanted to see what would happen if I let my whole body explode.”
Roy never got the chance to react. In the blink of an eye, Bradley slashed the gloves from Roy’s hands and stabbed the young alchemist through the shoulder. Such was the homunculus’ force that Roy found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move and clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t cry out in pain.
“You really wanted my position badly, didn’t you, Mustang?” Bradley asked. “I appreciate qualities such as ambition, but you should have been more patient. The Parliament will never accept an assassin to lead them.”
Roy mustered all of his courage and stubbornness, still wishing to have the final word. “You’re right; they won’t. That’s why they’ll choose a different path, free from a Führer’s reign!”
Bradley’s eyes widened, just slightly; it was enough as a sign that the homunculus had finally realised what Roy had been after all along. It was neither glory nor power… but a chance to change the world.
“I see…” Bradley said at last, his voice dangerously low. “Too bad you won’t be able to see the fruits of your labour thrive.” He slashed deeper, the blade of the sword inching closer to the young human’s heart.
Roy screamed.
“Keep trying, Ed!” the fake Maes taunted, always leaping out of Ed’s reach. “Your guilt is slowing you down!”
Ed gritted his teeth, wrath boiling in his veins, and he clapped his hands. A stony wall sprang up from the ground, blocking Envy’s way, and Ed found the chance to manage a powerful kick on the homunculus’ jaw.
Envy landed on his knees, dizzied by the hit. At the next moment, Ed grabbed him by the arms in a strong grip.
“Is that all you’ve got? Impersonations with guilt-trips attached?” Ed said in a growl.
“Damn you…” Envy breathed out.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that!” Ed retorted. “Do you remember your old buddy, Sloth? I killed her while she had the face of my own mother!”
“Really?” In a heartbeat, Envy changed, looking exactly like Trisha Elric. “That must have been hard for you.”
Ed flinched for a mere moment; Envy nevertheless seized the opportunity and punched Ed on the stomach.
The young alchemist’s groan of pain was replaced by his thirst for revenge. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
Envy simply sneered. “So… not as tough as you think.”
The homunculus, however, didn’t have time to gloat on his victory. At the next moment, an armoured fist landed on Envy’s jaw, throwing him against the wall.
“Leave our mother out of this!” Al declared, his red eyes reflecting his anger.
“Al, look out!” Ed shouted, seeing the danger his brother was in. Indeed, Gluttony was about to sink his teeth on Al’s arm, but Ed reacted in the nick of time. Using his automail, he kicked Gluttony away before the homunculus caused Al any real harm.
“Thanks, Brother!” Al said, giving Ed a thumbs-up.
“Thank me when this is over,” Ed replied, nevertheless he smiled. “Right. Now…” Remembering himself, he clenched his hands into fists and he walked over to the spot where Envy had fallen. Though the Homunculus didn’t move, Ed was still wary. He grabbed his adversary by the collar so he would face him properly.
“Don’t hurt me, Edward…” Envy said, still in Trisha’s guise.
“Don’t mess with me!” Ed cried, punching Envy.
Envy didn’t stop though. He changed faces again, and the familiar face of Dr. Marcoh appeared.
“Edward, please, stop it!”
That earned him another punch, and Envy changed once more.
“Give up, kid. You don’t have what it takes to kill me,” he declared, using Roy’s face this time.
If Envy intended to daunt Ed, it certainly didn’t work.
“I don’t think you could have picked an easier target!” he declared, punching Envy again on the jaw. “Show me what you really look like, instead of being a coward, whose only real power is to hide behind other people’s faces!”
Envy spat some blood from his mouth and glared at Ed. “Do you really want to see?” he asked coldly.
“STOP JERKING ME AROUND!”
“You’ve asked for it!”
Envy changed his face one final time, and Ed was horrified to see his father’s face. Or rather, a man who looked like a younger version of his father. His fist remained in mid-air as the young alchemist still stared at the familiar features incredulously.
“What’s wrong?” Envy asked, his voice no longer carrying the androgynous quality that had sickened Ed. “I thought you wanted to see.”
Ed tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. “You… You’re his… son?!” he breathed out.
Envy laughed. “I was the first homunculus, created more than four hundred years ago. I was the result of a failed human transmutation after the bastard and Dante’s son died of mercury poisoning. I suppose you could say that I was once your brother.”
Ed flinched. However, Envy was far from done.
“But then he abandoned us, my mother and me. He abandoned us so he could start fresh with his perfect wife and kids. Needless to say that I never liked being replaced.”
Ed never registered the arm that ran through him, the arm that Envy had changed in the meantime to resemble a sword. All he felt was a mouthful of blood rising up his throat and flowing out of his lips, and then the dull sensation of his body crashing on the ground.
“BROTHER!!!”
But Ed didn’t hear Al’s screams. The only sound that reverberated through him was his heartbeat gradually slowing as darkness descended upon him.
“And that is that,” Envy said, grinning cruelly. He got back on his feet, blood staining his arm as Ed’s lifeless body slipped off him; but the homunculus didn’t think twice about it. He simply kicked it away as if it were a worthless piece of junk.
“BROTHER!!!!” Al screamed, and he rushed forward, hoping to help his brother somehow. Gluttony’s jaw, however, closed around him at that very moment, snapping the armour, and his seal, in two.
The sound of metal rang through the room; the helmet rolled to Envy’s feet. Yet the homunculus just grinned, for the second brother was gone as well.
“Well done, fatty,” he said. “You finally proved yourself useful.”
Gluttony didn’t say anything. He just stared at Envy, his eyes carrying no readable expression.
“Right. You don’t recognise me, do you?” Envy said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you something to eat.”
They were the words that Envy should never have said. At the prospect of another meal, Gluttony opened his jaws wide once more and lunged at Envy, roaring for the kill.
Roy screamed, the pain being too much for him. Worse, the blade cut more and more flesh, approaching the heart in an agonizingly slow pace. He closed his eyes, unable to do anything but accept his oncoming death.
But, just when Roy thought it was over, Bradley stopped and doubled over, as though something was paining him. He tried to get up, but it was impossible; an unknown force pinned him down.
“What… What is happening to me?” the homunculus murmured.
“What should have happened all along,” a woman’s voice said.
Roy widened his eyes, and he looked over Bradley’s shoulder, scarcely believing his ears. Riza, on the other hand, stood at the hole the explosion had created and held up a human skull – the real Bradley’s skull.
“Lieutenant…”
Bradley forced his head around and glared at the woman. “I always thought you would be a problem,” he groaned through clenched teeth. “I wanted to use you as leverage when the time came, but my master wouldn’t have it.”
“Because she knew that it would do you no good,” Riza said. “Now just do me a favour and die.”
She fired only once, and Bradley staggered backwards as the bullet hit him between the eyes. He still didn’t fall.
“Foolish just like the rest of your kind,” Bradley said. “It takes more than a bullet to finish me off.”
“Then let’s try again,” Roy said, completing the array that he had drawn on the wall in the meantime, using his own blood. “I don’t know how long you’ve lived, Bradley, or how many times you’ve cheated death; but not anymore!”
At the next moment, flames sprang forward as if they had a life of their own and enveloped the homunculus, setting him aflame and consuming him. Bradley’s screams only fell to deaf ears as justice was finally served.
“It’s the end,” Roy whispered.
Beregond clenched his jaw as the floor shook violently under Dante’s transmutations. If there was anything that Beregond had to hand to the woman, it was her persistence and determination. However, the Gondorian didn’t plan on backing down either. When a ground snake appeared, the light of the transmutation reaction still surrounding it, Beregond held up his left hand and waved it just once. The snake stiffened, remaining where it was as the heat that surged through its body tore it from the inside. Yet Beregond didn’t let his guard down; he set himself in a defensive position again.
“Is that the best you can do?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll show you how weak I am!” Dante practically snarled, and she connected her hands together. At the next moment, the glass shards that were formed by Beregond’s alchemic-induced heat on the snake formed a large lance which she threw against the Gondorian.
Hardly fazed, Beregond took a step back and let the shield that sprang out at his bidding take the hit. The lance shattered, but that didn’t stop Dante. She connected her hands again and the shield vanished, only to be replaced by sand that swirled around Beregond, almost choking him. Though whipped mercilessly, however, Beregond managed to use his sword and create a powerful air current that dispersed the sand away.
The woman stood proud before him in spite of her new defeat. “You really are powerful. Even more powerful than Hohenheim in many ways,” she noted. “I suppose it has to do with your heritage.”
“Stop acting as if you know what you’re talking about!” Beregond snapped.
“But I do know; more than you think, in fact,” Dante said. “I’ve read Edward’s reports about you. You didn’t even know what alchemy was before you ended up here; and yet, you opened the Gate of Truth. Didn’t you wonder why?”
“I died, what’s there to wonder about?” Beregond said.
“Exactly. You died,” Dante replied, smiling. She pointed at the medallion that still shone on Beregond’s chest. “That thing killed you. Just as it killed our ancestors all those years ago.”
Beregond glared at the woman. “Where are you getting at?”
Dante laughed. “For someone with such vast alchemic power, you’re still a hopeless ignorant. The five-pointed star is the alchemic symbol of Truth, the Gate that holds the secrets of both life and death, yes. But the five-pointed star is within humans as well, connecting us to life and death – connecting us to both the material and the spiritual world.
“All is One, One is All,” Beregond said. “I know that theory, and there was someone else who had figured it out more than four hundred years ago.” His hands tightened around his sword. “The only way you could have possibly known about it, though, is if he had told you himself. And you showed your gratitude by having him accused as a heretic.”
“I’m surprised, admittedly. I never expected you to know that story,” Dante said, but she shrugged at the next moment. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me!” Beregond growled.
“Really? More than what the Truth itself represents?” Dante asked. “You’re part of it as well. You, of all alchemists, should acquaint yourself with it.”
Beregond pursed his lips momentarily. “Perhaps I should. But I’ve also learned that some things aren’t meant to be tampered with; or you will pay the price.”
The words barely escaped the man’s mouth when it suddenly happened. A roar made both alchemists freeze in their tracks and turn around, just in time to see the door breaking under Gluttony’s weight. Beregond stared abhorred at the berserk homunculus as it locked its gaze on the thing that was closest at that moment: Dante.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman exclaimed, a tinge of fear quite audible in her voice. “Where’s Envy?”
Those were her last words, for Gluttony lunged at her and closed his jaws around her. Blood spilled all over the floor, sickening Beregond to no end. Even so, the Gondorian couldn’t help but stare at the abominable sight, his heart hammering against his chest almost painfully.
This… this wasn’t Gluttony. It was a thoughtless monster which would stop at nothing to satisfy the undying hunger that constantly gnawed its insides.
“Unhappy creature…” Beregond murmured, and he lowered his sword slowly on the ground. The sword wouldn’t be of use to him in his attempt to put an end to the misery that was Gluttony’s existence.
Gluttony looked up, his face and teeth all red, and he scrutinised his next victim. Swallowing hard, Beregond reached for his trenchcoat and he started unbuttoning it carefully, hoping that Gluttony wouldn’t attack just yet. He had one chance for his plan to work and this was it. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes now.
Everything came to a standstill. Beregond waited with bated breath for the homunculus’s move, keeping his eyes on him at all hours. Finally, Gluttony let out another roar and charged at Beregond at full speed.
Deeming that it was now or never, Beregond jumped aside before Gluttony’s teeth would sink on his body, and he threw the trenchcoat over the monster’s head. Gluttony was so surprised at the sudden darkness that surrounded him that he crashed against the wall, giving Beregond enough time to place his hands on the monster’s back. If he started the alchemic reaction quickly enough…
It didn’t work. Gluttony reached behind him and grabbed the man by his right arm to toss him away in anger. Beregond screamed as his arm snapped, and then, next thing he knew, he was sent flying across the room and landing on a heap on the floor. Stars blurred his vision at the impact, but he quickly recovered from that spell, for Gluttony was coming at him again.
Beregond tried to get up, yet his body couldn’t comply fast enough; so went for one of his most desperate plans in his life. He rolled forward, knocking Gluttony off his feet.
Gluttony’s jaws certainly missed the Gondorian, but not his body. Beregond found himself pinned down, his broken arm taking all of the homunculus’ weight. Even so, Beregond still had enough presence of mind to use his good arm and place it on the homunculus’s chest. Great spasms wracked the monster’s body as the alchemic reaction took effect this time, and, a few retching sounds later, Gluttony heaved out all the red stones from his body. As the homunculus was rendered powerless, Beregond closed his eyes and concentrated.
The body made one final spasm, and then Gluttony lay perfectly still, his eyes and ears bleeding out – the same way Scar’s victims did. Several minutes passed, but Beregond didn’t move; he still tried to catch his breath after exerting himself so much. Powerful alchemist or not, he was still only human, and he was in a lot of pain as well.
In the end though, he decided he should get Gluttony off him. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the lifeless body away from him with his legs, then staggered back on his feet. He tried not to mind the burning sensation on his chest, until he registered that it was spreading on his skin. Gasping at the realisation, he immediately looked down and saw his shirt and medallion getting eaten away by acid-like saliva – Gluttony’s last weapon.
“Damn it!” Beregond exclaimed, and he quickly placed his hand on his chest to neutralise the acid. Even so, the damage was already done. His skin was marred in more than just several places, while the medallion was distorted out of shape; the array was no more, and the way to the gate was closed for the living. Neither Ed nor Al would be able to get their bodies now unless they found a different way.
But no, that wasn’t the time to think about that. Beregond had to find the boys first, perhaps even help them against the remaining homunculus. Envy was still at large.
With that, Beregond exited the room, though he couldn’t move as fast as he wanted. The pain on his chest was worse than he cared to admit and he had to stop more than once to compose himself before forging on, urged by one thought: to find Edward and Alphonse.
When he arrived at the hall, he was greeted with nothing but silence and a sight that brought him down on his knees.
“Ed…”
The young man was in the centre of the hall, sprawled on his back in a pool of his own blood, a gaping wound on his chest; whereas his eyes were empty of life and staring at the ceiling.
“Al…”
The armour was shattered, the red flickers for eyes that shone brilliantly through the helmet gone and leaving behind only blackness.
And then the hall was no longer silent. A single howl, very much like a wounded animal’s, tore itself from the chest of the only living thing in there and rang throughout the place, filling it with its sorrow and pain.
Roy breathed heavily, struggling to remain standing. It was of no use, though; he was far too exhausted. If it weren’t for Riza catching him and offering her own body for support at the last moment, he would have certainly crashed on the floor.
“Don’t fight it, Sir,” she said, the mask of professionalism slipping.
“No… There’s one more thing left,” he grounded out, and he touched the transmutation circle on the wall again. Fire sprang to life again and started consuming the red liquid that was spread in front of him – the last remnants of Bradley. “Throw the skull into the fire, Lieutenant.”
Riza nodded her understanding and did as she was told. Casting only a brief glance at it, she tossed it amid the flames. The skull landed with a small thud on the floor, but it soon disappeared behind the red tongues. Only a deep cracking told both soldiers that the skull was finally broken in two, thus sealing Bradley’s demise forever.
“It’s over,” Riza whispered.
“Yes,” Roy replied. “Yes, it is.” At the next moment, however, he lifted his head and pricked up his ears. “Do you hear that?”
Riza looked up too, trying to listen. “Sounds like footsteps… and Armstrong’s voice.”
“Indeed,” Roy replied, a smile finally forming on his lips before he closed his eyes and fell forward.
“Sir!” Riza cried, tightening her grip on Roy in the hops of stopping Roy’s fall a second time. As she realised that she was battling a lost cause, however, she eased Roy on the floor and took out her jacket to place on Roy’s wound in the hopes of slowing down the bleeding. “Don’t give up yet.”
“I won’t,” Roy murmured, opening his eyes weakly. “For you.”
Riza blinked, and stared at Roy incredulously. “Sir?”
“You think I didn’t know?” he said, actually smirking. “I always knew. But I had to fulfil my goal first.”
She shook her head. “Your blood loss has clouded your judgement.”
Roy rolled his eyes, his strength rapidly failing him. “Maybe,” he said, and then his hand cupped Riza’s chin, prodding her to lean closer. “At least I’d like to have something to dream while I’m passed out.”
Riza didn’t have time to react. His lips sealed on her in a definite kiss, and she caught herself freezing in disbelief and shock. But, as she tasted the copper-like tang of blood in his mouth, mixed with the essence that was all Roy, she yielded. She closed her eyes as well and answered back the kiss with the same fervour.
That is, until the man slipped to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, and the kiss ended as quickly as it had happened.
Somehow, Beregond was aware that all reason had abandoned him. He didn’t try to do anything about it though. There was nothing he could do, nor did he want to. The only thing that prevailed was instinct. He approached slowly, as though struggling against the smell of death that was smothering him; he brought Edward’s head and torso on his lap, his uninjured arm holding the lifeless form protectively; his eyes locked on the twisted metal whence a youthful voice echoed once not too long ago, and he waited in agony to hear that same welcome voice again.
But in the end, it was only Beregond himself that spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry… I tried…”
No more words came out; they were replaced with sobs which Beregond couldn’t hold back even if he tried. Tears spilt and fell on Edward’s face, wetting the young man’s cheeks and giving the impression that he was crying too. Seeing this, Beregond attempted to wipe the salty liquid with trembling fingers, almost guilty for somehow disturbing the young man’s strange slumber. The fingers remained on the Edward’s cheek, and Beregond felt the warmth that clung stubbornly there.
Just like it clung on his son’s face when…
Beregond froze, for the realisation gave him unexpected hope. And as he held on to that hope, four words echoed in his mind and instinct took over again, controlling all of his actions and dismissing all logic.
There is a way.
And just like that, Beregond’s blood ran cold in his veins, froze the heart and shattered it. An invisible weight made all air escape from his lungs and darkness shrouded his vision, but Beregond wasn’t afraid.
In our beginning we meet our end, Lust had said.
He never felt the impact of his body on the floor as he collapsed beside Edward.
His heart had already stopped beating.
Sure enough, the door of the cellar was ajar; a sign that somebody was inside. Pride, however, was hardly concerned about that. He already suspected who it was, and he would make sure that the intruder would pay for his insolence.
With that thought in mind, Pride walked inside, then locked the door behind him. There would be only one coming out of this room again.
“Why am I not surprised you decided to face me alone?” Mustang’s voice sounded from the darkest corner of the room.
Pride allowed himself a small smirk. “Your behaviour leads me to assume this isn’t the first time that you’ve betrayed my trust.”
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, lecturing me about betrayal.” The Flame Alchemist finally stepped out of the shadows, positively glaring at his adversary.
“Are you referring to the fact that I’m a homunculus?” Pride asked, uncovering the eye that carried the symbol of the ouroboros.
Mustang kept his expression neutral. Even so, Pride could tell that the alchemist didn’t expect that last revelation, regardless of his brave front.
“Whether or not you want to call yourself a human being is a non-issue, as far as I’m concerned, Bradley.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Pride asked in an almost innocent tone. “Ever since I’ve become Führer, I’ve done nothing but win wars, purify our population and exponentially expand our territory.”
“You couldn’t care less about the State; all you wanted was the philosopher’s stone,” Mustang said. “You started those conflicts because you knew people driven by despair would tend to seek refuge in the stone.”
“People are foolish.”
“Foolish enough to let you gain from their pain and suffering!”
“You got me all wrong. I merely serve as an instrument of the one who truly gains,” Pride corrected. “I consider myself god’s right hand.”
“You serve no god,” Mustang replied angrily.
“Perhaps,” Pride admitted. “But devils do exist. They’re the alchemists who dare get in my way!”
And with that, Pride lunged forward with the agility of a great cat, sword held up for the kill.
If there was something that Riza knew well was how the military operated; after all, she was a soldier herself. That also enabled her to manipulate that kind of knowledge to her advantage, so that she could keep giving her pursuers the slip and giving Roy all the time he needed in order to take care of Bradley.
Even so, she still believed she should be doing something more. Ever since she had joined Roy’s unit, she had been placed as his bodyguard, a demanding and dangerous job. She devoted herself to it, practically giving up her personal life, because she didn’t believe she needed anything else. As long as Roy Mustang lived long enough to see to his goals, she was content as well; for it felt she did own part in restoring democracy.
And now, it had come to this: the ultimate showdown. Roy was inside, giving his everything, yet she wasn’t there to protect him. That, in her book, was significant negligence which she had to remedy. It was true that Roy’s orders had been to lure Bradley’s escort as far away from the mansion as possible, but she had already seen to that task. The soldiers were off on a wild goose chase, and they weren’t coming back any time soon. It was time to make her move.
Moving swiftly and without the least bit of sound, Riza moved to a tree located next to the mansion. One of the branches was extended close to a window, making things easy for her. Climbing up, she reached the window and unbolted it with nimble fingers, then jumped inside.
The particular room – Bradley’s office, from the looks of it – looked empty, at first glance. However, Riza instantly caught sight of a small boy next to a painting, regarding her quite apprehensively. Riza bit her lower lip, for she recognised the boy as Bradley’s stepson. If he raised the alarm…
“I-I know you,” the boy said softly. “You’re one of Father’s soldiers.”
That was something Riza didn’t want to hear. Nevertheless, she tried to stay calm. “I’m surprised you’d remember me, Selim. It’s been more than a month since you visited Central Headquarter,” she said, recalling the incident quite well.
“I liked your dog,” Selim admitted shyly. At the next moment, however, he regarded Riza quite apprehensively. “What are you doing here?”
Riza thought fast. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Where’s your mother?”
The boy lowered his gaze. “I sneaked away from her. I wanted to get something from the room,” he answered. “I will go back to her.”
“The sooner, the better,” Riza said with a nod. “What was it so important that you had to come up here?”
“Well, this,” Selim replied, taking out of his bag a human skull. “Dad always said that his life depended on it and I wanted to keep it safe.”
Riza felt her eyes widening at the sight of the skull, hardly believing that a young boy wasn’t in the least disturbed while handling it. Moreover, Selim’s choice of words caught her attention. How could a man’s life depend on human’s remains?
“Selim! Selim, where are you?”
Selim flinched. “That’s my Mother,” he said, and he hastily gave the skull to Riza. “Please, take it.”
Riza stared at the boy dubiously. “You’re giving it to me?”
Selim nodded. “You’re military. You’ll protect Father,” he said, a smile tugging on his lips before running out of the room, leaving a guilt-ridden Riza behind. In his innocence, the boy unwittingly handed her, the enemy, a weapon against the Führer.
That, however, was neither here nor there anymore. She had come too far to step back now, so near the end. So, using the darkness of the room to her advantage, she waited until there was silence outside the room; then she exited, her gun in one hand and the skull in the other.
Maes walked up to the military unit that was standing in attention before him a few yards outside the Military Headquarters, expecting their superior’s command. He recognised the familiar faces of Sergeant Bloch and Lieutenant Ross among them, and he couldn’t help but smile inwardly. This operation was certainly complied by good, loyal men, just as the chairman had hoped for when he handed the Brigadier General the task he was about to carry out.
“You’ve probably heard the rumours by now,” he said, pacing up and down. “Unfortunately, they’re hardly rumours. The Führer, King Bradley, is the mastermind behind a conspiracy against the State, against you. He has been one ever since he took over the reins of this country. All these wars, all these conflicts were never meant to bring peace; they were pointless. This is something that the State isn’t willing to tolerate any longer. The chairman has authorised the Führer’s arrest, so he can answer for his actions in a court of law. If he puts up any resistance, then you’re free to defend yourselves. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the soldiers replied, saluting.
“Good,” Maes said, and he turned to Armstrong; the major was standing right next to him. “Take several men and head for the Führer’s mansion. And make sure a certain someone didn’t get himself killed by playing hero,” he whispered confidentially.
“Fear not, Brigadier General,” Armstrong answered. “I’ll carry out the task with the grace and efficiency that runs in the Armstrong family for generations.”
“All right,” Maes said, and he saluted as well. “Good luck, Major.”
“And to you, Brigadier General,” Armstrong said.
Maes didn’t say anything this time. He just watched Armstrong and his subordinates go, and then he faced the rest of the soldiers.
“Gentlemen,” he declared, and one of the knives sprang right out of his sleeves. “Let’s start doing some cleaning up.”
Roy jumped aside before Bradley’s blade cut his face a third time, but the homunculus moved swiftly and managed to cut him on the shoulder. Stinging pain washed through Roy’s entire body, yet the Flame Alchemist let no sound out of his lips.
This was no fight, but a cat playing with a mouse; Roy understood that only too well. Even so, he didn’t intend to give up, because he still had a plan. All he had to do was to stay alive a little while longer.
Bradley attacked again, and it took all of Roy’s speed to avoid getting slashed once more. His back bumped against the bottles of wine that were there, aging; and the Flame Alchemist knew it was time to counterattack. The moment that Bradley wielded his sword for the kill, Roy dodged the hit and rolled away to safety. The sound of shattering glass reached his ears, a sign that Bradley had broken more than just several bottles of wine, spilling their contents on the floor.
It was the chance Roy had been waiting for. Knowing how flammable alcohol was, he snapped his fingers and let his pyrotex gloves do their work. A great booming sound reverberated in the entire room and crimson flames burst out from everywhere. Roy felt himself flung against the wall, shards of glass cutting him even further. His back hurt like hell and he bled quite profusely; the warm sensation of the blood flowing out of his wounds was sickening, to say the least.
He still got up, eyes scanning the destroyed room for any sign of his adversary. At first, he could see no sign of him, and, for a brief moment, Roy dared believe that he had actually killed Bradley.
It wasn’t so. All Roy’s hopes shattered when the alchemist saw a great mass of muscles, veins, nerves and bones standing up amid the rubble.
“Is my species of a consequence to you now?” the mass asked, its sneering tone audible. Skin and black clothing appeared as if by sorcery, and soon a pair of eyes, one grey and red locked on Roy.
“I never got the chance to test my homunculus’ traits much,” Bradley said as hair started growing back on his head. “I wanted to see what would happen if I let my whole body explode.”
Roy never got the chance to react. In the blink of an eye, Bradley slashed the gloves from Roy’s hands and stabbed the young alchemist through the shoulder. Such was the homunculus’ force that Roy found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move and clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t cry out in pain.
“You really wanted my position badly, didn’t you, Mustang?” Bradley asked. “I appreciate qualities such as ambition, but you should have been more patient. The Parliament will never accept an assassin to lead them.”
Roy mustered all of his courage and stubbornness, still wishing to have the final word. “You’re right; they won’t. That’s why they’ll choose a different path, free from a Führer’s reign!”
Bradley’s eyes widened, just slightly; it was enough as a sign that the homunculus had finally realised what Roy had been after all along. It was neither glory nor power… but a chance to change the world.
“I see…” Bradley said at last, his voice dangerously low. “Too bad you won’t be able to see the fruits of your labour thrive.” He slashed deeper, the blade of the sword inching closer to the young human’s heart.
Roy screamed.
“Keep trying, Ed!” the fake Maes taunted, always leaping out of Ed’s reach. “Your guilt is slowing you down!”
Ed gritted his teeth, wrath boiling in his veins, and he clapped his hands. A stony wall sprang up from the ground, blocking Envy’s way, and Ed found the chance to manage a powerful kick on the homunculus’ jaw.
Envy landed on his knees, dizzied by the hit. At the next moment, Ed grabbed him by the arms in a strong grip.
“Is that all you’ve got? Impersonations with guilt-trips attached?” Ed said in a growl.
“Damn you…” Envy breathed out.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that!” Ed retorted. “Do you remember your old buddy, Sloth? I killed her while she had the face of my own mother!”
“Really?” In a heartbeat, Envy changed, looking exactly like Trisha Elric. “That must have been hard for you.”
Ed flinched for a mere moment; Envy nevertheless seized the opportunity and punched Ed on the stomach.
The young alchemist’s groan of pain was replaced by his thirst for revenge. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
Envy simply sneered. “So… not as tough as you think.”
The homunculus, however, didn’t have time to gloat on his victory. At the next moment, an armoured fist landed on Envy’s jaw, throwing him against the wall.
“Leave our mother out of this!” Al declared, his red eyes reflecting his anger.
“Al, look out!” Ed shouted, seeing the danger his brother was in. Indeed, Gluttony was about to sink his teeth on Al’s arm, but Ed reacted in the nick of time. Using his automail, he kicked Gluttony away before the homunculus caused Al any real harm.
“Thanks, Brother!” Al said, giving Ed a thumbs-up.
“Thank me when this is over,” Ed replied, nevertheless he smiled. “Right. Now…” Remembering himself, he clenched his hands into fists and he walked over to the spot where Envy had fallen. Though the Homunculus didn’t move, Ed was still wary. He grabbed his adversary by the collar so he would face him properly.
“Don’t hurt me, Edward…” Envy said, still in Trisha’s guise.
“Don’t mess with me!” Ed cried, punching Envy.
Envy didn’t stop though. He changed faces again, and the familiar face of Dr. Marcoh appeared.
“Edward, please, stop it!”
That earned him another punch, and Envy changed once more.
“Give up, kid. You don’t have what it takes to kill me,” he declared, using Roy’s face this time.
If Envy intended to daunt Ed, it certainly didn’t work.
“I don’t think you could have picked an easier target!” he declared, punching Envy again on the jaw. “Show me what you really look like, instead of being a coward, whose only real power is to hide behind other people’s faces!”
Envy spat some blood from his mouth and glared at Ed. “Do you really want to see?” he asked coldly.
“STOP JERKING ME AROUND!”
“You’ve asked for it!”
Envy changed his face one final time, and Ed was horrified to see his father’s face. Or rather, a man who looked like a younger version of his father. His fist remained in mid-air as the young alchemist still stared at the familiar features incredulously.
“What’s wrong?” Envy asked, his voice no longer carrying the androgynous quality that had sickened Ed. “I thought you wanted to see.”
Ed tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. “You… You’re his… son?!” he breathed out.
Envy laughed. “I was the first homunculus, created more than four hundred years ago. I was the result of a failed human transmutation after the bastard and Dante’s son died of mercury poisoning. I suppose you could say that I was once your brother.”
Ed flinched. However, Envy was far from done.
“But then he abandoned us, my mother and me. He abandoned us so he could start fresh with his perfect wife and kids. Needless to say that I never liked being replaced.”
Ed never registered the arm that ran through him, the arm that Envy had changed in the meantime to resemble a sword. All he felt was a mouthful of blood rising up his throat and flowing out of his lips, and then the dull sensation of his body crashing on the ground.
“BROTHER!!!”
But Ed didn’t hear Al’s screams. The only sound that reverberated through him was his heartbeat gradually slowing as darkness descended upon him.
“And that is that,” Envy said, grinning cruelly. He got back on his feet, blood staining his arm as Ed’s lifeless body slipped off him; but the homunculus didn’t think twice about it. He simply kicked it away as if it were a worthless piece of junk.
“BROTHER!!!!” Al screamed, and he rushed forward, hoping to help his brother somehow. Gluttony’s jaw, however, closed around him at that very moment, snapping the armour, and his seal, in two.
The sound of metal rang through the room; the helmet rolled to Envy’s feet. Yet the homunculus just grinned, for the second brother was gone as well.
“Well done, fatty,” he said. “You finally proved yourself useful.”
Gluttony didn’t say anything. He just stared at Envy, his eyes carrying no readable expression.
“Right. You don’t recognise me, do you?” Envy said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you something to eat.”
They were the words that Envy should never have said. At the prospect of another meal, Gluttony opened his jaws wide once more and lunged at Envy, roaring for the kill.
Roy screamed, the pain being too much for him. Worse, the blade cut more and more flesh, approaching the heart in an agonizingly slow pace. He closed his eyes, unable to do anything but accept his oncoming death.
But, just when Roy thought it was over, Bradley stopped and doubled over, as though something was paining him. He tried to get up, but it was impossible; an unknown force pinned him down.
“What… What is happening to me?” the homunculus murmured.
“What should have happened all along,” a woman’s voice said.
Roy widened his eyes, and he looked over Bradley’s shoulder, scarcely believing his ears. Riza, on the other hand, stood at the hole the explosion had created and held up a human skull – the real Bradley’s skull.
“Lieutenant…”
Bradley forced his head around and glared at the woman. “I always thought you would be a problem,” he groaned through clenched teeth. “I wanted to use you as leverage when the time came, but my master wouldn’t have it.”
“Because she knew that it would do you no good,” Riza said. “Now just do me a favour and die.”
She fired only once, and Bradley staggered backwards as the bullet hit him between the eyes. He still didn’t fall.
“Foolish just like the rest of your kind,” Bradley said. “It takes more than a bullet to finish me off.”
“Then let’s try again,” Roy said, completing the array that he had drawn on the wall in the meantime, using his own blood. “I don’t know how long you’ve lived, Bradley, or how many times you’ve cheated death; but not anymore!”
At the next moment, flames sprang forward as if they had a life of their own and enveloped the homunculus, setting him aflame and consuming him. Bradley’s screams only fell to deaf ears as justice was finally served.
“It’s the end,” Roy whispered.
Beregond clenched his jaw as the floor shook violently under Dante’s transmutations. If there was anything that Beregond had to hand to the woman, it was her persistence and determination. However, the Gondorian didn’t plan on backing down either. When a ground snake appeared, the light of the transmutation reaction still surrounding it, Beregond held up his left hand and waved it just once. The snake stiffened, remaining where it was as the heat that surged through its body tore it from the inside. Yet Beregond didn’t let his guard down; he set himself in a defensive position again.
“Is that the best you can do?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll show you how weak I am!” Dante practically snarled, and she connected her hands together. At the next moment, the glass shards that were formed by Beregond’s alchemic-induced heat on the snake formed a large lance which she threw against the Gondorian.
Hardly fazed, Beregond took a step back and let the shield that sprang out at his bidding take the hit. The lance shattered, but that didn’t stop Dante. She connected her hands again and the shield vanished, only to be replaced by sand that swirled around Beregond, almost choking him. Though whipped mercilessly, however, Beregond managed to use his sword and create a powerful air current that dispersed the sand away.
The woman stood proud before him in spite of her new defeat. “You really are powerful. Even more powerful than Hohenheim in many ways,” she noted. “I suppose it has to do with your heritage.”
“Stop acting as if you know what you’re talking about!” Beregond snapped.
“But I do know; more than you think, in fact,” Dante said. “I’ve read Edward’s reports about you. You didn’t even know what alchemy was before you ended up here; and yet, you opened the Gate of Truth. Didn’t you wonder why?”
“I died, what’s there to wonder about?” Beregond said.
“Exactly. You died,” Dante replied, smiling. She pointed at the medallion that still shone on Beregond’s chest. “That thing killed you. Just as it killed our ancestors all those years ago.”
Beregond glared at the woman. “Where are you getting at?”
Dante laughed. “For someone with such vast alchemic power, you’re still a hopeless ignorant. The five-pointed star is the alchemic symbol of Truth, the Gate that holds the secrets of both life and death, yes. But the five-pointed star is within humans as well, connecting us to life and death – connecting us to both the material and the spiritual world.
“All is One, One is All,” Beregond said. “I know that theory, and there was someone else who had figured it out more than four hundred years ago.” His hands tightened around his sword. “The only way you could have possibly known about it, though, is if he had told you himself. And you showed your gratitude by having him accused as a heretic.”
“I’m surprised, admittedly. I never expected you to know that story,” Dante said, but she shrugged at the next moment. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me!” Beregond growled.
“Really? More than what the Truth itself represents?” Dante asked. “You’re part of it as well. You, of all alchemists, should acquaint yourself with it.”
Beregond pursed his lips momentarily. “Perhaps I should. But I’ve also learned that some things aren’t meant to be tampered with; or you will pay the price.”
The words barely escaped the man’s mouth when it suddenly happened. A roar made both alchemists freeze in their tracks and turn around, just in time to see the door breaking under Gluttony’s weight. Beregond stared abhorred at the berserk homunculus as it locked its gaze on the thing that was closest at that moment: Dante.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman exclaimed, a tinge of fear quite audible in her voice. “Where’s Envy?”
Those were her last words, for Gluttony lunged at her and closed his jaws around her. Blood spilled all over the floor, sickening Beregond to no end. Even so, the Gondorian couldn’t help but stare at the abominable sight, his heart hammering against his chest almost painfully.
This… this wasn’t Gluttony. It was a thoughtless monster which would stop at nothing to satisfy the undying hunger that constantly gnawed its insides.
“Unhappy creature…” Beregond murmured, and he lowered his sword slowly on the ground. The sword wouldn’t be of use to him in his attempt to put an end to the misery that was Gluttony’s existence.
Gluttony looked up, his face and teeth all red, and he scrutinised his next victim. Swallowing hard, Beregond reached for his trenchcoat and he started unbuttoning it carefully, hoping that Gluttony wouldn’t attack just yet. He had one chance for his plan to work and this was it. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes now.
Everything came to a standstill. Beregond waited with bated breath for the homunculus’s move, keeping his eyes on him at all hours. Finally, Gluttony let out another roar and charged at Beregond at full speed.
Deeming that it was now or never, Beregond jumped aside before Gluttony’s teeth would sink on his body, and he threw the trenchcoat over the monster’s head. Gluttony was so surprised at the sudden darkness that surrounded him that he crashed against the wall, giving Beregond enough time to place his hands on the monster’s back. If he started the alchemic reaction quickly enough…
It didn’t work. Gluttony reached behind him and grabbed the man by his right arm to toss him away in anger. Beregond screamed as his arm snapped, and then, next thing he knew, he was sent flying across the room and landing on a heap on the floor. Stars blurred his vision at the impact, but he quickly recovered from that spell, for Gluttony was coming at him again.
Beregond tried to get up, yet his body couldn’t comply fast enough; so went for one of his most desperate plans in his life. He rolled forward, knocking Gluttony off his feet.
Gluttony’s jaws certainly missed the Gondorian, but not his body. Beregond found himself pinned down, his broken arm taking all of the homunculus’ weight. Even so, Beregond still had enough presence of mind to use his good arm and place it on the homunculus’s chest. Great spasms wracked the monster’s body as the alchemic reaction took effect this time, and, a few retching sounds later, Gluttony heaved out all the red stones from his body. As the homunculus was rendered powerless, Beregond closed his eyes and concentrated.
The body made one final spasm, and then Gluttony lay perfectly still, his eyes and ears bleeding out – the same way Scar’s victims did. Several minutes passed, but Beregond didn’t move; he still tried to catch his breath after exerting himself so much. Powerful alchemist or not, he was still only human, and he was in a lot of pain as well.
In the end though, he decided he should get Gluttony off him. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the lifeless body away from him with his legs, then staggered back on his feet. He tried not to mind the burning sensation on his chest, until he registered that it was spreading on his skin. Gasping at the realisation, he immediately looked down and saw his shirt and medallion getting eaten away by acid-like saliva – Gluttony’s last weapon.
“Damn it!” Beregond exclaimed, and he quickly placed his hand on his chest to neutralise the acid. Even so, the damage was already done. His skin was marred in more than just several places, while the medallion was distorted out of shape; the array was no more, and the way to the gate was closed for the living. Neither Ed nor Al would be able to get their bodies now unless they found a different way.
But no, that wasn’t the time to think about that. Beregond had to find the boys first, perhaps even help them against the remaining homunculus. Envy was still at large.
With that, Beregond exited the room, though he couldn’t move as fast as he wanted. The pain on his chest was worse than he cared to admit and he had to stop more than once to compose himself before forging on, urged by one thought: to find Edward and Alphonse.
When he arrived at the hall, he was greeted with nothing but silence and a sight that brought him down on his knees.
“Ed…”
The young man was in the centre of the hall, sprawled on his back in a pool of his own blood, a gaping wound on his chest; whereas his eyes were empty of life and staring at the ceiling.
“Al…”
The armour was shattered, the red flickers for eyes that shone brilliantly through the helmet gone and leaving behind only blackness.
And then the hall was no longer silent. A single howl, very much like a wounded animal’s, tore itself from the chest of the only living thing in there and rang throughout the place, filling it with its sorrow and pain.
Roy breathed heavily, struggling to remain standing. It was of no use, though; he was far too exhausted. If it weren’t for Riza catching him and offering her own body for support at the last moment, he would have certainly crashed on the floor.
“Don’t fight it, Sir,” she said, the mask of professionalism slipping.
“No… There’s one more thing left,” he grounded out, and he touched the transmutation circle on the wall again. Fire sprang to life again and started consuming the red liquid that was spread in front of him – the last remnants of Bradley. “Throw the skull into the fire, Lieutenant.”
Riza nodded her understanding and did as she was told. Casting only a brief glance at it, she tossed it amid the flames. The skull landed with a small thud on the floor, but it soon disappeared behind the red tongues. Only a deep cracking told both soldiers that the skull was finally broken in two, thus sealing Bradley’s demise forever.
“It’s over,” Riza whispered.
“Yes,” Roy replied. “Yes, it is.” At the next moment, however, he lifted his head and pricked up his ears. “Do you hear that?”
Riza looked up too, trying to listen. “Sounds like footsteps… and Armstrong’s voice.”
“Indeed,” Roy replied, a smile finally forming on his lips before he closed his eyes and fell forward.
“Sir!” Riza cried, tightening her grip on Roy in the hops of stopping Roy’s fall a second time. As she realised that she was battling a lost cause, however, she eased Roy on the floor and took out her jacket to place on Roy’s wound in the hopes of slowing down the bleeding. “Don’t give up yet.”
“I won’t,” Roy murmured, opening his eyes weakly. “For you.”
Riza blinked, and stared at Roy incredulously. “Sir?”
“You think I didn’t know?” he said, actually smirking. “I always knew. But I had to fulfil my goal first.”
She shook her head. “Your blood loss has clouded your judgement.”
Roy rolled his eyes, his strength rapidly failing him. “Maybe,” he said, and then his hand cupped Riza’s chin, prodding her to lean closer. “At least I’d like to have something to dream while I’m passed out.”
Riza didn’t have time to react. His lips sealed on her in a definite kiss, and she caught herself freezing in disbelief and shock. But, as she tasted the copper-like tang of blood in his mouth, mixed with the essence that was all Roy, she yielded. She closed her eyes as well and answered back the kiss with the same fervour.
That is, until the man slipped to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, and the kiss ended as quickly as it had happened.
Somehow, Beregond was aware that all reason had abandoned him. He didn’t try to do anything about it though. There was nothing he could do, nor did he want to. The only thing that prevailed was instinct. He approached slowly, as though struggling against the smell of death that was smothering him; he brought Edward’s head and torso on his lap, his uninjured arm holding the lifeless form protectively; his eyes locked on the twisted metal whence a youthful voice echoed once not too long ago, and he waited in agony to hear that same welcome voice again.
But in the end, it was only Beregond himself that spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry… I tried…”
No more words came out; they were replaced with sobs which Beregond couldn’t hold back even if he tried. Tears spilt and fell on Edward’s face, wetting the young man’s cheeks and giving the impression that he was crying too. Seeing this, Beregond attempted to wipe the salty liquid with trembling fingers, almost guilty for somehow disturbing the young man’s strange slumber. The fingers remained on the Edward’s cheek, and Beregond felt the warmth that clung stubbornly there.
Just like it clung on his son’s face when…
Beregond froze, for the realisation gave him unexpected hope. And as he held on to that hope, four words echoed in his mind and instinct took over again, controlling all of his actions and dismissing all logic.
There is a way.
And just like that, Beregond’s blood ran cold in his veins, froze the heart and shattered it. An invisible weight made all air escape from his lungs and darkness shrouded his vision, but Beregond wasn’t afraid.
In our beginning we meet our end, Lust had said.
He never felt the impact of his body on the floor as he collapsed beside Edward.
His heart had already stopped beating.
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