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The battle is over.

This is a war the Sarkaz have never fought before.

The Sankta get into formation and slowly advance, the light atop their heads shining brighter than the sun.

The guns roar nonstop, and the gun-knight leading the procession boasts both a familiar and fear-inducing figure.

The land quakes with every step he takes.

A gleaming gun, a sturdy shield.

Like victory itself personified.

Sheathe your weapons, Teekaz.

Under the gun-knight's order, the Sankta uniformly stow away their firearms.

Sankta? Teekaz? Perhaps this story has gone beyond bizarre, to the point where even the storytellers are unable to understand their own thoughts.

Right as they fall into a daze, the gun-knight appears before them.

Welcome, my yet-blessed kin.

I am Buldrokkas'tee, guardian of the holy city.

Follow me. I will bring you back to Kazdel, where enlightenment is at hand, and you will no longer suffer in the dark.

The sincerity in his words seeps into the heart of every Sarkaz. Within this irresistible warmth is a benevolence, a soul exposed, a—

A heaven, a pair of wings with a halo, a light that illuminates all.

The gun-knight extends his hand.

He knows well how to treat his unblessed kin. They are lost, terrified.

Thus, he treats them with superhuman patience, accepts their slander and assaults, awaits their heartfelt confessions.

Until they return to Kazdel, and become part of the Teekaz once more.

This is his duty.

So he shall wait.

Mon3tr!

Follow me, Teekaz.

...Go, guardians. Protect our kin.

The Sankta's shots separate the Feline from the Sarkaz.

She skillfully dodges every shot, and looks towards Kazdel's holy guards awaiting in the distance.

Behind her emerge the Elders, the Ancients, and fallen angels from their hiding places.

To bring enlightenment to their yet-blessed kin.

To protect the unsullied Teekaz from being tarnished by The Law.

Their battle continues for eternity.