It fought him.

His entire being was constantly repulsed by the repulsive, slimy flesh.

It knew what he was trying to do, and it wasn’t going to let him do it easily.

Full of mana and not intending to drag this out, however, Theo didn’t care what it wanted.

He was going to cut through it how he knew best; through a judicious application of excessive mana in a wildly inefficient manner.

With his arms by his side and legs together, he took a page out of Jenny’s book, and fired backfires from his fists and feet, using them to propel him forward.

At the end of the day, regardless of its texture or mana-absorbing properties, the flesh was still a slurry of flesh barely held together through some twisted magic.

That meant, regardless of how it was reinforced or manipulated, it was still a very stretchy and stubborn liquid, but liquid nonetheless.

It still wasn’t easy, and he felt flesh trying to worm itself past his eyelids and forcing itself into his ears and nose, doing anything at all that it could to dissuade him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the trauma of the war, or Eternal Motion still being on, but either way Theo was able to ignore that absolutely foul sensation and concentrate on slowly pushing his way forward.

The flesh was like slimier tar, and had an elasticity to it that felt like spongey mushroom.

Still, he pressed on, losing himself in his task and focusing on anything but the flesh that was filling his body from the inside out.

It made its way into his nose, filled his cheeks until they were bulging, and tried to enter his throat, before being stopped by the circuit that Endless Song travelled, mana-infused air solid enough to be air-tight to anything else.

His ears were equally as unlucky, as cold slurry prodded his eardrums, thankfully not powerful enough to burst them, but definitely strong enough to be uncomfortable and disorienting.

Theo focused his attention as best he could, increasing the rate of backfires in an attempt to get through this absolute nightmare of a situation even just a second faster.

Time passed as his body dealt with its very unwelcome invaders being smushed into his face. It wasn’t comfortable (and in fact there was no world in which this was anything but comfort’s antithesis) but it wasn’t stopping him from moving towards the only glowing points of mana in this flesh mountain, and that was what mattered.

Eventually, after far too many backfires and not enough time spent with clear airways, the mana grew noticeably closer, and even with his eyes closed Theo could see what was suspended there.

He knew now that this mess would hold no more surprises; that there was no other plan for Guiding Will past this point, that this war would end soon, but still not soon enough. Wars tended to do that.

He stared once more at the glowing mana, outlining a skull attached to a torso, fingers and toes and everything below knees or elbows missing. The flesh that was still there was pockmarked, slowly being eaten as he watched.

He got closer and closer, now only an arm’s length from the almost-corpse. Well, an in-tact arm.

The skull turned to face him, and his body stopped moving forward, as the remaining mana left the corpse and surrounded him.

He was held still, and while his mouth and nose were both filled with flesh, while what was once Guiding Will no longer possessed a tongue, the silence said more than any words could.

It was taunting him, so close to his goal, yet unable to close that final distance.

His hands and legs were locked by his side, and even if they weren’t, there wasn’t any way for him to cast those backfires far enough.

So he didn’t use his hands or legs.

Theo used something that once almost killed him, something that was a mistake of a bad idea back then, and barely better now.

He opened his mouth, tried to sing, and felt his head snap back from the recoil as he let off a backfire from his throat.

Stars filled his eyes as a headache came roaring past, disorienting.

He was suddenly weightless.

Free.

The flesh around him crumbled.

He fell, as the darkness of filth disappeared and cracks of daylight made its way through the layers sloughing off, at first tinted a pinkish-orange by the flesh it filtered through, and then in the glorious colours of the sun.

He hit the earth with a thud strong enough to dislodge any remaining flesh that hadn’t been vaporised by the backfire, coughing out what must have looked incredibly concerning to any bystanders.

It hadn’t been painful – nothing short of earth-shattering was strong enough to hurt him these days – but it still wasn’t pleasant.

And there were bystanders.

“Theo!”

Jenny reached him first.

She rushed out to hug him, then hesitated, pulling back from the bone-crushing embrace she had almost instinctually done. Instead, she gingerly, wrapped him in her arms, covered him with a blanket, looked at him with a concern that was becoming worryingly common, and searched for any sign of things that had gone wrong.

He cleared his throat, and spat out whatever was left in his mouth.

“Hey.” Theo didn’t feel weak, but he savoured the feeling of being in her arms for as long as he could manage.

She sighed. “If this place didn’t already stink like death, your breath would be terrible.”

He chuckled, sitting up casually as he looked around the battlefield.

The tension in the air was gone, and if it wasn’t for the piles upon piles of lumpy, decaying flesh, it would have been a pleasantly sunny afternoon.

“Good job, we’re done here.” Finn chucked something at him, and Theo instinctively caught it, before dropping it the moment his fingers touched its surface and he realised what it was.

“Finn!” Rowena cuffed the back of Finn’s head.

Theo looked down at the severed head of what was once Guiding Will, then out to empty camps with the few supporters who had survived already packing up and heading back to Etol, bearing news of their defeat.

The war ended the way very few did; quickly, and after a significant figure had died.

“I guess we are.” Theo eventually replied, smiling.