Disclaimer: I think you can guess.
Note: This story takes place about one year after Talpa's defeat. Due to instances of violence, language, and sexual innuendos, I'm rating it PG13, so don't say I didn't warn ya.

Syria's eyes floated open gently, like butterflies spreading their wings, her eyes wide and innocent as a child's. There was no coldness or harshness here. As she reluctantly retreated from her daze, her eyes came to fall on a pale, red-stained heap on the ground just a short distance away. "Oh!" she choked in surprise, quickly reaching her feet and rushing to its side.

Kneeling down on the ground over the lump of flesh, she rolled it over gently. Crumbling under the slightest touch, the ball obediently turned over and spread out its limbs to reveal the beaten mass of a young man.

An onslaught of memories followed the image of his face into her mind, an enormous tidal wave which forced its way in, not to be denied. Syria's expression of innocence and tender concern hardened, the memories stealing away all the innocence. Again.

Silently scanning the boy's battered body, she looked on him with a grim countenance. Bending forward slightly, she placed one of her hands on each side of his face. She closed her eyes in concentration, and a small spark of light, barely visible, began to emit from her touch. Concentrating all of her energy on the spark, it began to grow and blaze, spreading up her arms and over her entire body, and then back into his, until both were glowing with auras of healing white light. A slight breeze stirred the air as it continued, playfully swiping at Syria's forest-colored hair, but unable to penetrate the perspiration and dried blood in the boy's. Suddenly the light stopped. Syria's aura faded away completely immediately, but Rowen's flared even stronger for just a moment, in colors of deepest blue and shimmery silver wisps, before it too faded away.

Syria stared expectantly as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He opened his mouth to speak, his mouth moving but making no sound. Syria put her hand to his mouth in a hushing gesture, her eyes tender again. "Don't," she whispered, "Don't try to speak just yet. You must get out of here quickly. We've wasted too much of a very limited supply of time. I'm letting you escape, but you must listen." She searched deep into his eyes, rewarded by the expectation she found readily there.

"Your friends, the old Warlords, they're being held in a dungeon cell on the next level up from here. Take the stairs out of here; you'll come to a door. Go out of it and take a left in that hall and go all the way down until it turns to the right, then take that hall. Take another left at the end of that hall, and it will be the third door on the left. The tiger, the mystical one, is at the other end of the hall in the last cell on the right. Your friends will know the rest. Now go, and be careful; Talpa's men are everywhere."

Rowen got up, much more steadily than he should have been able, and stared at her, waiting. Syria had to hold back a gasp as she met his eyes and realized that she was not looking into the same eyes she had been for the last two weeks. They had changed since then, in more ways than one. "Why?" he asked.

"Say hello to your brother for me," was all she answered.

Rowen didn't mask his shock at first, but quickly recovered with a perfect poker face, and asked, "Won't you even try for it?"

"No. This is my fate; my redemption and my restitution. My time to be more than I've been has passed, and it would be pointless to deny it. You needn't worry about me, Rowen."

He arched an eyebrow. That was definitely the first time she'd used his first name, not his title. With one last look, he turned and left, while Syria still knelt on the cold stone floor, wearing the black leather ensemble that had ceased to make much sense on her.

With smooth, silent steps, he creeped gently up the stone steps to a heavy metal door. He slowly pushed it open, cringing when it creaked slightly, and poked his head out. A look down the hall each way assured him that the coast was clear, so he slipped out and made a left turn.

His mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts and questions, none of which he had the answers to, as he continued down that hall and took a right into the next. Still no sign of trouble. As his strangely lithe, unimpaired body moved him gracefully across the ground, he pushed all of these confusing thoughts aside. They weren't important now.

Rounding the third corner since he'd left the bleak dungeon of the Nether Pools, Rowen almost hit the ceiling. Right down the hall, two soldiers stood gaurd in front of one of the many heavy steel doors, and another party of four led by Azrael was heading straight for him!

"Oh, shit," he cursed under his breath.

"Get him!" Azrael cried, sending the six soldiers running at him, weapons raised and warcries splitting the air.

Rowen hesitated, then gave his own cry, running right at them. Just before they collided, there was a blinding flash. Azrael rubbed at his eyes until the spots left, doing a double take at the sight that greeted him. His soldiers were all lying dead on the ground, and in the center of them stood Rowen, donned in a subarmor not his own, a sleek, blue-tinted katana blade smeared with red gleaming in the room's dim light, poised to kill. The armor was sleeker and more formfitting than his usual, and its colors were a solid blue-black, darker than any night and with a depth as deep as a warrior's soul, frosted with wispy trails of silver that resembled nothing less than the most spectacular of meteor showers.

"N-nani? H-how did you do that?" Azrael cried out in confusion and fear. Something was very wrong here.

Rowen blinked, as if coming out of a trance. His eyes mirrored Azrael's sentiment, and he took a step back, dropping the katana like the proverbial hot potato. As it left his hand and fell to the ground, it disappeared with a flash, though much smaller than the initial one.

Azrael's confusion did a 180 and quickly turned into white-hot anger. A low, gutteral growl, starting deep within him, emitted lowly. Then, without a warning, the growl turned into a roar of rage as he threw himself at Rowen. Rowen was caught off guard, but the blood of a thousand warriors coursed through his veins, and instinct reacted for him. He sidestepped the attack, allowing Azrael to pass harmlessly, but stuck his foot out. As Azrael tripped over it, Rowen's elbow shot out, slamming violently into the back of his head, and sending the Warlord to the ground. Rowen shifted into a fighting stance, only to bring his arm back and discover the tension of a bow there. He had in his hands an exact copy of his familiar bow, an arrow already strung and waiting to fly, only its color shone a dazzling silver, a glare from which could blind a person.

As Azrael recovered and climbed to his feet, Rowen stood at ready, the lethal tip of an arrow directed straight at his head the entire time. Azrael glared at him, his dark eyes blazing with fury at Rowen's display of defiance. "Come on, boy," he spat contemptuously. "Come on! Shoot me, kill me where I stand, in cold blood! Do it!" he urged, his hate making Rowen consider it seriously.

"Do it!" Azrael repeated, his nerves twitching to attack the boy himself. Rowen heitated, and the Warlord of Corruption and Darkness once again launched himself at his opponent. Rowen's heart skipped a beat as he let the arrow fly, the world moving in slow motion. But true to the Ronin's aim, Azrael never made contact with his intended victim. His attack was halted in midair and his body slumped to the ground at Rowen's feet, a neat hole resting directly between his eyes and trickling a tiny stream of red liquid down his forehead, the same as the exit wound in the back of his skull.

Rowen just stared at the still corpse, his eyes wide with the recognition of what he'd done. Forgetting the weapon he held, he dropped his arms to his sides, feeling suddenly weak. The bow disappeared the same way the katana had. He took an involuntary step away from the body, then heard a small sound from the stall next to him and snapped out of it.

"Dais? Kayura? Are you guys in there?" he asked tentatively, pressing his body up against the heavy metal door to listen for them. A sound, muffled and almost inaudible, could just barely be heard, saying, "Yes!"

Rowen whipped to face the slashed and impaled bodies of the Warlord and his men, looking around to locate the right ones. Stepping cautiously over a few disembodied limbs, he bent down to one of the larger chunks, a torso, and snatched the ring of keys that hung on a belt loop. Rowen showed no emotion for what his eyes laid upon, his mouth a grim line and eyes dull as he turned back to the door, slipping one of the keys into the keyhole on the door. It turned easily for him, and he pushed the thick, heavy door open with a grunt of effort.

"Oh, my God! Strata!" Kayura exclaimed when she saw him. Dais and Sekhmet simultaneously looked to the heavens and thanked every deity they knew of. Then they were all staring at him, as if expecting him to say something.

"What are you doing here? Are the other Ronins here, too?" Dais asked.

"And what happened to your armor?" Cale put in.

"I was captured, ambushed just like you," he answered curtly, moving over to release Sekhmet.

"What of the others?" Sekhmet asked him.

"I don't know," Rowen answered honestly, releasing the Warlord from his bonds with a click of the key.

Next was Kayura. Her eyes were brimming with worry. She let out a strangled gasp as she stared into his eyes. They were like nothing she had ever seen. Gone were the stormy indigo eyes he had always bore. In their place, two pools of crystalline blue, so pale they resembled a blue-tinted glass that sparkled like glitter and swirled like mists of magic, stared back into her eyes. They were a silver-blue now, so vivid and shocking that they could be seen from a mile away.

"Wha-what happened to you?" she whispered so only he could hear. She looked again and saw the number of bumps, bruises and cuts that adorned his fine face, particularly a large, disturbing gash at one temple that looked like it was in the early stages of infection. "What did they do?" she asked, louder and with more conviction.

Rowen turned away from her intense gaze, forcing the well of emotions deep down inside of him. He turned back, hiding all emotion from her view, as he quickly, coldly released the cuffs that bound her to the wall. Without saying a thing, he quickly moved over to Dais and Cale, releasing them as well, then turned back to the doorway. He stuck his head out, looked both ways for more company, and called back, "Come on, we've gotta go. It won't be long before Talpa sends more troops down here." He slipped out of the cell, stepping over the scattered bodies to make his way down the hall without a glance behind to see if they were following him. Sekhmet and Cale quickly followed, lips curled in disgust at the gore-fest on the floor.

turned to wait for Kayura, who still looked puzzled, even a little shellshocked. Dais gave her a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. If there's one thing to be said about those boys, it's that they know how to take care of themselves. He probably just got a bit ruffed up by those rookie goons and it put him in a sour mood."

Kayura didn't return the smile as she passed him and they followed behind the others. "I don't know, Dais. I just don't know about that. Did you notice his eyes?"

Dais looked puzzled, "Was there something I should have noticed?"

"Nevermind." She hurried to catch up to Rowen, who ushered them up from the head of the group. Dais sighed and trudged behind her. Women would never make sense to him.

"We have to stay close," Rowen told them all as they gathered. He had stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall, and was inserting a key into it. That one didn't want to turn, so he took it out and tried another one. "Turn, damnit!" he muttered softly under his breath.

"Try another one. Third time's a charm, after all," Cale snickered, trying to help. Kayura fixed him wi th an icy glare that told him just how amazingly funny he was.

Rowen ignored him, yanking that key out and jamming another one into the slot in its place. Twisting it forcefully, he began swearing under his breath at it.

"Maybe y'should blast it open," Cale suggested sarcastically. This time Sekhmet swatted him on the back of the head. "Itai!" Cale pouted.

Rowen's patience snapped. Balling his fists at his sides and closing his eyes in frustration, he felt a small surge of anger and pent-up aggression rise around him as he struck out at the door with his mind. With a loud screech of scraping metal, the door was thrown open, slamming mangled against the inside wall still on its hinges. The Warlords stared at him, stunned and slack-jawed, as he shakily entered the cell. Kayura cast Dais an all-too serious look that clearly stated "I told you so." A few moments later, Rowen reemerged, White Blaze standing protectively at his side.

"C'mon. We don't have much time. Which way do we go from here?" he asked impatiently, looking a lot weaker than he had before.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Dais asked, genuine worry beginning to seep in. Although most of his body was hidden by the form-fitting subarmor, the injuries that were visible really didn't look so good, and it was obvious that whatever power had given him the strength to keep up his strong front thus far was fading fast.

"I'm fine," he answered curtly. "Let's just get out of here, okay?"

"Fine with me," Dais replied, gesturing for Sekhmet and Cale to take the lead, Rowen, Kayura and himself following close on their heels. It wasn't too long before they had found a back door out of the sinister castle, and were making their way cautiously across the courtyard to the far wall beyond.

Miraculously, they hadn't come across any trouble yet. It was just a little too easy, and they knew it.

"No way Talpa doesn't know by now. Where are all of his little puppets?" Kayura asked skeptically, her voice low and quiet.

"Right here, my sweet," Lapin's high, nerve-grating voice sounded from behind them. They all whipped around, faced with a very unpleasant sight. There stood Lapin, the pesky little termite himself, along with another man and two women, all decked out in the full armor of the Warlords, minus their helmets, standing less than 10 yards away.

First was Lapin, and next to him was a tall, muscular woman, dressed in Kayura's Armor of Cruelty. The armor was like a second skin on her body, the many appropriate curves accentuating her well developed, strongly-built body, as well as showing off the well formed muscles of her legs, arms and torso. She had a long, graceful neck and a heart-shaped face framed by a wild, shaggy mane of vibrant blood red hair. Her skin was a pale gold and her eyes were dark and almond shaped, giving away her Asian heritage. She had full, dark red lips that were twisted into a cruel, condescending smile. Her facial expression and body language marked her for her overconfidence and attitude of superiority over them the moment they laid eyes on her, and she was easily identified as the leader of the group.

Next to her stood a younger man, no more than 20, who had the body of an athlete: tall, thin and muscular. He wore Sekhmet's Armor of Venom, its colors contrasting sharply with his short-cropped, pumpkin oran ge hair and wild violet eyes. A wild, blood-thirsty look was plastered on his face; defintiely the look of someone who'd either been under the sun too long, been repeatedly dropped on the head as a baby, or was just a little bit over the edge of reality. Like the others, his stance exuded with overconfidence, which is often a mortal mistake, but with one difference. He was holding a hostage.

The former Lady of the Dynasty, Syria, looked more than a little ruffed up, and a lot worse for wear. A large, nasty looking black and blue bump covered a good portion of the right side of her face, closing one eye completely. Her black leather clothes were torn and she looked about to loose consciousness. The Warlord in Sekhmet's armor was holding her to him with one arm, the other holding a large, jagged knife tight against her throat. Just beneath the surface of her flesh where the knife was nearly sinking in, the precious Life fluid pulsed with wild fervor with the rush of adrenaline flowing through her. The knife need only go a mere bit farther and the sacred liquid would be spilt.

"Syria," Rowen said, more to himself than her, but still loud enough to be heard by all.

Kayura spared a glance at him. How would he know Syria? The last time Kayura had seen her, she'd been little more than a servant girl to herself and the Warlords. Especially the Warlords, if she remembered correctly...

"You wan' her, boy?" the woman in the Cruelty armor sneered. "Come and get 'er!"

She'll be dead before I can even get close, Rowen thought in a mild despair. She'd probably saved his life, and he was completely intent on returning the favor.

Cale looked between the Warlords and his friends, especially at the servant girl and his Ronin companion. He didn't know what had gone on with them, but he did understand that Strata didn't want her killed, and he supposed that that was enough for him. "Fine, then we will!" he yelled, launching his attack.

"Cale, no!" Rowen yelled at him.

Cale ran at lightning speed toward the boy holding Syria. The boy smirked and took a step to his side, effectively slitting Syria's throat with the motion. By the time Cale reached her, she fell limply in his arms and the boy was a safe distance away. Already, blood flowed all the way down Syria's chest, the sticky substance sliding down her clothing and onto Cale. Her eyes focused on him for just a split second before rolling back in her head and closing forever.

Not a second later, Rowen was at his side, looking down on her tensely. This is my fate; my redemption and my restitution. My time to be more than I've been has passed, and it would be pointless to deny it. You needn't worry about me, Rowen, her words came back to him, unbidden.

"Aww, did the poor wittle Wonin woose his fwend?" Lapin taunted him.

Rowen's entire body went taut with tension. "Cale," he whispereed, his voice dangerously low, "Get the others and get out of here."

Cale nodded, gently laid the dead young woman's body on the ground, and retreated back to his companions without a word. Rowen was outnumbered, but the former Warlords would be much more likely to get in the way than help without their armor to fight with, at least in his mind. Cale reached his friends, and attempted to tug Sekhmet with him away from the area, gesturing the same for Kayura and Dais.

"What are you doing, Cale? We can't just leave! He's outnumbered!" Kayura exclaimed in disbelief. How could he leave now?

"We aren't gonna do any good trying to fight them when they have our armor! Strata will have to handle them on his own this time. If we don't get out of here, the servant girl won't be the only one who dies today," Cale warned semi-cryptically.

"No way. I won't leave. We may not have our armor, but we sure as hell aren't helpless. Now maybe I'm the only one who's noticed, but Strata's both injured and in a rage. One of the two is bound to catch up to him sooner or later if he faces them alone!" Kayura argued. White Blaze gave a fierce growl of agreement from beside her.

"Fine, then you stay and we'll go!" Cale threw back.

"Fi-"

"No! We won't split up! Besides, we can't leave the Dynasty without Kayura; she has the Ancient's staff," Dais interjected authoritatively.

"And who are you, our dad?" Cale asked in mock sincerity.

"Thank the Gods, no. But someone's got to take charge. We can't stand here and argue all day."

"I'm with Dais," Sekhmet declared. "Uh, not on the dad thing, though. About staying."

"Sekh!"

"Face it, Cale. They have a point.....And don't call me Sekh."

Cale put on a pouty expression, but didn't continue arguing. "Fine, but don't expect me to die for the kid, got it?"

Kayura smiled smugly, turning back to watch as Rowen engaged in battle, a blue-hued katana held above him in one hand as he swiped at the young man responsible for killing Syria, who swiftly dodged and pulled out his own weapon.

"Where'd the blade come from?" Dais asked, watching as well.

"Out of thin air, where else?" Kayura responded sarcastically, her eyes not leaving the battle before her. Lapin had joined the fight. These new Warlords had an incredible amount of power, and she was shocked to see Rowen not only holding his own, but even winning by a hair, and he was only in his subarmor. The woman in Kayura's own armor just looked on, seemingly amused.

Kayura watched for a minute as the battle continued, as did the Warlords and Blaze, standing at ready to join if necessary. Rowen's prowess was unmistakeable and breath-taking. She'd never really watched him fight like this, but she was sure that he'd never been so quick or on top of it as he was now, moving on nothing more than instinct, attacking, counter-attacking, sparring and dodging blows as his opponents struggled to find openings in his defenses that were far more scarce than they would have liked. The Warlords were far from slouches themselves, and were most certainly giving him a run for his money, although he still appeared to have the lead on them.

It was then that she saw the other woman decide to join the fight, only her tactics were a far cry from the others'. Rowen was so preoccupied with his battle that he never would've seen the wild, muscular woman sneak up behind him, her kusari-gama ready to strike.

"Rowen, watch out!" Kayura yelled out to him as she and Sekhmet both went to stop her at the same.

Rowen, unlike so many others would, heard the warning and was smart enough to reach out with his instincts and block the strike shortly before it could make contact with his head, spinning around to face her. He shoved her away from him with force, quickly spinning back to block a dual attack from the two young Warlords. Kayura and Sekhmet prepared to enter the fray, but hesitated when Rowen used Lapin to flip himself backwards over the woman and out of the tight circle they had imposed on him. Leaping back a few steps away from them, he called on his armor.

"Armor of Strata, dao inochi!" he yelled. Instead of the appearance of the sakura blossoms that always signaled the Ronin armors' arrival, a blinding flash of electric blue light enveloped his body in a column of light that reached up to the ill-colored sky. From outside the column, the bystanders watched as some of the light wrapped itself around his body, forming pieces of armor that was nearly black in color but which shimmered a deep blue, almost like glitter.

Then the helmet appeared, forming in his hand from the eerie light surrounding him. Silver covered the usually yellow horns of his helmet and was also smeared in trails of mist across the blue of his armor that should have been white. The actual shape of the armor was almost identical with the armor he'd always worn, although it, like his subarmor and that of the new Warlords, was far more form fitting and made it look like a second skin was plastered on his body. As he reached up and put the helmet on his head, something changed.

The brilliant blue light that all but prohibited the onlookers from looking at Rowen straight on dulled and weakened, then flushed with a deep, blood red hue that corrupted the blue, spreading throughout it like a virus, dominating and choking it off within seconds. As the dark scarlet light touched his armor, Rowen's body jerked in spasms of pain, erupting with a blood-curdling scream of agony.

"Oh Gods. What's happening?" Kayura prayed, her wide eyes trained on Rowen. She'd never seen a transformation so violent, and it scared her. Panicking, she summoned the Ancient's staff to intervene. Its rings clanged wildly, one of them with unbelievable force and violence, capturing her and Sekhmet's attention. As they watched intensely, it cracked, instantaneously stopping the rings' movement. At that precise moment, the column of light disappeared. Kayura looked up sharply to Rowen, who stumbled for a few clumsy steps before slumping down to his knees and falling over a short distance from them.

Kayura cursed and moved toward him, everyone else still recovering. When she was just a couple of feet away, almost close enough to touch him, an explosion of light erupted around him, sending her flying back into Sekhmet's arms, who promptly fell on his rear as he caught her. As Kayura scrambled to her knees to go to him again, she gasped. Rowen was nowhere to be seen.

With a stunned cry, she scrambled to her feet and ran over to where he had lain, not 10 seconds before. Feeling along the ground, she forced herself to accept that he had disappeared into thin air. It was then that she stood up, noticing the new Warlords' predatory looks. Now that Rowen was gone, they were nearly defenseless against the armored killers. As the Warlord of Venom leaped into the air straight for her, Kayura raised the Ancient's staff still gripped tightly in her hand. In a flash of light, she, Dais, Cale, Sekhmet and White Blaze disappeared.

The Warlord landed right on top of the place Kayura stood on a moment ago, bewildered.

"Damn," the woman cursed. "They escaped." Turning to inform her master, she ordered, "Venom, Lapin, dispose of that body and report to the master as soon as you're finished.

"Yes, Candra," they responded dully, peeved that their fun had been stopped. Next time those brats wouldn't get away, not if they had a say in it.

What'd ya think? A lot longer than the other chapters have been, ne? Well, as usual, send me any comments, suggestions, etc.; I love to hear from you! Special thanx to Ika-chama for her help with the story and to everyone who's written me to say that they liked this; it's definitely appreciated! Where has Rowen disappeared to? Who are these new Warlords? And just where the hell was Rowen getting those weapons and, even more importantly, where was that armor from? More to come, so hang on tight! And yes, I *will* explain all of those loose ends sometime in the future!

Until next time,
Aleksa ~~~<~~@