Amataga lay twisted on the ground, bleeding out into the mud. The cacophony of war raged on around him, uncaring. He was just another soon-to-be dead man surrounded by other dead men, hardly a rare sight in these environs.

"At least I got to have magic, heh"

His Flower rapidly pumped soothing energy into his limbs but whatever had hit him was corroding his flesh away faster than his Flower could heal it‎. He took stock of his various injuries, mortal and otherwise. Leg being eaten away, check. Arms broken in a horrifying number of places, check. Oh look, I have a hole in my chest too.

His hands were on the ground however, destroyed as it was, and that meant he had a chance. His mother had always said "Ua mua ane lava se fale” whenever he'd rush into things. His Samoan wasn’t the best, but he understood the gentle rebuke. Shame I didn't listen. He felt his Flower reach down through his palms with Roots of power only visible to him, desperately searching for the energy to save him.

A man in black tactical gear flew above him, fighting off what looked like a flock of Dementors with brilliant prismatic energy he shot from his hands. His polychromatic rays washed over a third of the swarm chasing him, turning them pink while giving them some sort of growth spurt, at which point they started tearing into their brethren. He hit another swathe and they exploded into confetti, pieces flying around and boring through the wraith swarm, each dissipating after dispatching three of the flying nightmares. There were dozens of them but he seemed to actually be winning. Amataga, Tag to the few friends he had left, gave a small grin at the sight.

"That's a pretty cool Concept, wonder if h-"

He hadn't finished his thought before a grey metal cube the size of a small building materialised above the dogfight. The sudden shadow made the man look up, only for it to come down on him like the hand of God. It hit the ground with a meteoric bang, rising into the air again only to slam into the ground once more, making doubly sure the plucky warrior was flattened. This is it! He smiled in guilty anticipation as the earth shook slightly from the impact, as it unfortunately wasn’t the first time an ally had had to die to save him.

His Roots suddenly stretched out all around him, feeding off the vibrations rolling through the ground and giving him a surge of energy, enough to instantly fix his arms and purge the poison (Acid?) that had now almost fully eaten his thigh off and was uncomfortably close to his groin, sealing off the stump with a fresh layer of skin. He sat up with a glance at the apocalyptic scene around him.

"Yeah we're done here."

Almost all the bodies around for miles were human. This had been the last-ditch effort to keep the damn elves from crossing the canal into North America but they may as well have been gods compared to the humans, who had paid for their hubris in blood. The ‎few Flowers remaining on the battlefield were fighting their hardest but the outcome had been set in stone for hours now. There were just too many of them.

Panama City had already been turned into a burning wasteland, creating an odd dichotomy with the fires raging everywhere contrasting with the slick and sticky ground; Colon probably wasn't doing much better at the other end of the canal. Tag inhaled deeply, breaking into a coughing fit as he expelled the blood from his newly repaired lungs. Fuck, let's try that again. Tag inhaled deeply, figuring that if humanity was going to get wiped out, they'd at least give the invaders a good kick in the balls. He felt a power thrumming deep within his soul, ready to serve and building up as he inhaled more than just air. He glanced around at the corpses of humanity's best and brightest and his gaze steeled itself.

The elf general was standing on a nearby hill, really the only hill around, overlooking the gutted city and broken pieces of skyscraper littering the ground. He and his honour guard, a few other powerful looking elves, were conveniently facing away from Tag. He didn't even know what his face looked like but a good rule of thumb is the person with the biggest hat is in charge and despite only seeing his back, Tag knew a hat that big could only belong to the general. He looked up at the Sun, willing it to provide just a tiny bit more energy for his last hurrah. Unfortunately, one of the elves surrounding the general saw him sitting up amongst the bodies and pointed, bringing an end to his preparations. Hope this works.

With a thought, the energy coalescing in his soul manifested in his lungs, making his chest shine through his clothes. The elven general turned around and, to his credit, acted instantly. Another building sized metal cube appeared between the two parties, shielding the elves from view and growing larger as it shot towards him like a bullet, whistling as it pushed the air aside with its raw mass. It wasn't enough. He directed his Flower of Tremor to tear the ground asunder, breaking the hill completely apart and pushed off the blood-soaked ground as hard as he could, which was pretty hard considering he was one of the most powerful men on the planet. Tag flew high into the air, hoping he'd have enough energy to heal himself once he hit the ground, but not particularly worried either way.

The general and his entourage were frantically digging themselves out of the rubble of what used to be a hill when ‎he pushed the energy out of his lungs, applying Tremor to the air in front of him for the first time, strands of power leading straight to the elf with the fancy hat. A white beam of plasma lanced out of his mouth, hitting the earth near instantly and incinerating everything in a kilometre radius. He could already see countless attacks arcing towards him from the other elves still fighting but it was too late. The former hill was now just a large, steaming lake of lava and there was no sign of the general. Heh, gotcha. That was for rainbow man.

Amataga’s Flower was fully tapped out however, only the ambient energy from the Sun keeping him conscious. With nothing left for any flashy, life-saving moves, he started falling out of the sky. Most of the elven attacks missed, presumably they had thought he was flying instead of falling with style, but a few followed him down. A bolt of purple energy hit him in the arm and he started punching and clawing at his own face. A bolt of green hit him in the back and a familiar burning sensation started up. You're fucking kidding me he thought as his lower back started corroding away. A bolt of white hit his lower remaining leg and everything under his knee instantly froze and shattered. Holding his rebellious left arm down with his right, he looked hopelessly towards the horizon, wishing he could have listened when his mom told him not to join the Guild. The big Samoan closed his eyes in acceptance, willing the ground closer.

Suddenly a bright flash of light lit up the front of his eyelids and he snapped them open in confusion. A mushroom cloud was forming in the distance, an oddly beautiful sight contrasted against the setting Sun. Ha, eat fission you damn el- another bright flash lit up the sky over Panama, oddly low for an airburst, making Tag's eyes widen in realisation. No way, they wouldn't. He thought as dozens more bright flashes went off around the region, sundering the ground beneath them.

The shockwave from the first nuke finally hit him and he was thrown sideways when he was just metres from the ground. His faceplant turned into a face-skid as he ragdolled across the remains of the city. He lay twisted on the ground, bleeding out into the mud. I need to stop doing this. The burning pain in his back suddenly disappeared as the poison ate through his spine, his insubordinate arm still trying to rip and scratch at him. Guess this is it huh. Well, it's been a blast, ha. A small grin found its way onto his face. I totally can joke around for the rest of my life. Eat shit, Mrs Fletcher. The broken road shook from the force of the explosions, a wave of superheated air and debris rushing towards him from all sides.