My breathing was slow and steady, my eyes squeezed shut against the tide of emotions threatening to pull me under. Moving carefully, I shifted my body, feeling every muscle as I adjusted. My hand closed tightly around the handle beneath Venator’s lower spike. My stance was calm and composed, but my mind refused to follow suit. The recent fight with the Kraken had laid bare a harsh truth I had always been painfully aware of: I was powerful, yes, but I was far from invincible. There would always be greater threats, and I wasn’t prepared.

Then there was Ghost.

It had been only a day since we’d returned to Equestria, but time seemed to drag, every second stretching longer than the last. The hours crawled as if conspiring to test my patience, to break me. I had left Ghost in the skilled hands of Canterlot Castle’s doctors and nurses, knowing they would do everything they could for him. Yet despite their expertise, I couldn’t shake the oppressive sense of helplessness gnawing at me. It was unbearable.

Opening my eyes, I pushed off Venator’s tip and landed lightly on the ground below. A flash of light marked the weapon’s dismissal, but the weight in my chest remained. I looked down at the water below, its gentle ripples reflecting the soft grey of the sky. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and lowered myself to my knees, the icy water soaking through my clothes as it lapped against me. The cold stung, but it also calmed me, chasing away the worst of my nerves. It reminded me of her—my wife. Her touch, her voice, her presence that could soothe even the sharpest ache. But she wasn’t here and my body trembled, not from the chill of the water but from the weight of everything else.

A faint rustling behind me drew my attention. Someone was approaching, their steps light but deliberate. The sound grew closer until it stopped just behind me.

"Figured I’d find ya here."

The voice was unmistakable—Applejack, warm and steady with her southern drawl. She stepped into the water, kneeling beside me without hesitation, the chill seemingly unnoticed by her. "Y’all okay?"

I let out a soft, humourless chuckle. “Does kneeling in freezing water scream ‘okay’ to you?” My weak attempt at levity was met with a knowing, sympathetic look.

"I don’t know," I admitted after a pause.

Applejack’s tone softened, her voice like the gentle warmth of a sunrise. "I know y’all were close, but ya can’t beat yourself up about it. Ghost made his choice, and because of it, everyone is still here. If he hadn’t..." She hesitated, the weight of her own words clear. "Well, my sister wouldn’t be here either."

Her words struck a chord, but the guilt still gnawed at me. "If I had just been faster to act—"

"Now stop that," Her voice grew firm, though her hand on my shoulder was as steadying as ever. "That kinda thinkin’ won’t do you any good, Percy. Ghost knew what he was doin’, and he’d want ya to believe in him. He’s gonna pull through, you hear me?"

I didn’t reply immediately, staring down at the water as though it held some answer I couldn’t find. “The last time someone used that weapon without being its rightful owner...They didn’t wake up again,” My voice faltered. "What if he doesn’t?"

Applejack’s grip on my shoulder tightened reassuringly. "Then we’ll be here for him, just like he’s always been here for us. And we’ll be here for you too, Percy. You’re not in this alone."

Her arms encircled me, pulling me into a gentle hug. I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my body easing ever so slightly as her words sank in.

"You’re not alone, ya hear?" she said softly.

I closed my eyes, nodding against her shoulder. "I hear you, AJ. Thanks"

"Anytime," she replied, letting me go slowly. "If ya ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me—most of the time, anyway."

As she stood, she offered me her hand and pulled me up with ease. "Now, come on. There’s this new place in town the girls and I’ve been meanin’ to try. Lunch is on us."

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Sure."

We walked in comfortable silence as Applejack talked about the changing weather and how the season seemed to be shifting. The leaves overhead had begun to turn golden and amber, though a few still clung stubbornly to their green hues. The air was crisp, and the promise of autumn was unmistakable. Winter wasn’t far behind, I realized. I’d need to prepare—get a proper winter coat or adjust my current one.

But my thoughts didn’t stay on the seasons for long. Winter’s arrival brought other matters to mind, like Shining and Cadence’s upcoming wedding. A joyful occasion, yes, but with everything that had happened, it was hard to focus on the celebration. Would Chrysalis appear the way I knew? Did she even exist in this world, or would someone else take her place? The demons’ interference had already upended so much. How could I possibly predict what would come next? My mind spun with possibilities until Applejack’s voice cut through the chaos.

"Percy?" Her tone was gentle, but I could hear the concern in it. "Y’all okay?"

"Just thinking," I replied, forcing a small smile.

"Ya know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, I know, AJ." I nodded, grateful for her steady presence.

Despite her reassurance, a knot of unease formed in my stomach, twisting tighter with each step we took toward town. It was a feeling I recognized, sharp and foreboding, not unlike the one I’d had before the Kraken. Yet this was different, more personal. My body seemed to sense something my mind hadn’t yet pieced together.

As we passed the last treeline and stepped into town, the reason for my unease became clear.

In the centre of the square stood a figure I knew all too well. Clad in a tattered maroon coat and a patched white shirt, Damien’s expression radiated smug amusement. He watched me, his stance casual yet deliberate. A cold chill ran down my spine, quickly replaced by a searing heat in my chest. The edges of my vision tinged with red as my hand clenched into fists, trembling with barely contained fury.

"Percy," Applejack whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Is that—"

"Applejack," I interrupted, my voice low and firm. "Get inside. Now."

She hesitated, torn, but the look in my eyes left no room for argument. With a sharp nod, she bolted toward Sugarcube Corner, her retreat drawing whispers from the townsfolk who peeked from behind curtains and shutters. I stepped forward, each step deliberate as the town square fell into a tense silence. Twenty feet from Damien, I stopped. My breath was steady, but inside, I was anything but.

"Damien," I said, my voice cold.

His grin widened as his eyes scanned my arm and leg. "Ah, so it’s really you this time—the real you."

I said nothing, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. His laughter rang out, harsh and grating.

“Oh, the silence is deafening," He mocked.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped sharply. “What the fuck do you want?"

He wagged a finger at me, his tone mocking. "Temper, temper. I’m just here to take back what’s mine. I know he has it. Now, where is it?"

"That blade was never yours!" I shouted, the anger in my voice breaking free, purple fire bursting from and trailing down my back.

"Au contraire," He smirked, his tone dripping with condescension. "See, after you upped and vanished, we had free rein. We even found someone special to run a few... tests on."

My heart froze as flames burst along my arm and leg, the fury within me manifesting as it sprang up along my back. “I swear to God if you so much as touched a hair on her head—”

"Her?” Damien interrupted, his face twisting with cruel glee. "Oh we didn't touch your whore wife, she was far too slippery for us. No, we found someone else. Someone even better—your other other half."

My hand instantly reached for Ace, my arm moving in a blur as I shoot from my hips, the round finding its mark in Damiens's forehead, which snaps back, smoke drifting up from the impact site. There was no explosion. He simply stood there motionless. His head slowly came forward, blood dripping to the ground as his grin became wider.

"So glad to see that rage of yours hasn't died down," He said, pulling the crumpled bullet from his forehead, the hole closing mere seconds later.

Reaching into his mouth again as he did all those months ago, he pulled out a new blade, but this one was vastly different.

This one felt darker, the sheath seemingly comprised of a scale-like stone, veins of bright blue peeking out from between the cracks along its length. The handle was a dark grey colour, the visage of a flat-faced dragon-like beast acting as the pommel. Pulling the blade from the stone sheath, he gave a few lazy swings, the bright blue, almost white blade shimmering with barely contained energy.

"Like it?" He smirked. "Not as good as the original, but it's a decent stand-in."

I rushed forward, my fist colliding with Damien's wrist, resulting in his blade flying off into town before I placed my foot on his knee, the sole of my pegleg letting out a small fireball and loud boom as my knee propelled up into the man's chin, his jaw letting out a sickening crunch as it shattered, sending him skidding back.

Looking up at me, his jaw shifted and crunched under his skin, the bones reforming as he grinned widely, bringing his fists up close to his face. "Mano a mano it is then. No tricks. Just you and me."

He moved first, lunging forward like a charging bull, his speed a blur, his intent murderous. My instincts flared, muscles coiling as I sidestepped just enough to feel the displaced air of his fist grazing my cheek. His punch connected with the empty air behind me, the sound reverberating like a shotgun blast. He pulled back, and I could see the faint flicker of frustration in his eyes before he already recovered, already coming for me again.

I launched myself toward him, ducking low and aiming a rising strike to his ribcage. My knuckles slammed into flesh and bone, the impact resonating through my arm like a tuning fork. Damien grunted, but before I could press the advantage, he twisted, his knee rocketing into my abdomen. The world tilted as I staggered, bile and blood mixing in the back of my throat as my fractured ribs briefly pierced my stomach before going back with a squelch. His hand was already there, fingers curling around my neck as he hoisted me off my feet like a ragdoll.

The stars in the sky blurred as his grip tightened, but I wasn’t done. I shifted, wrapping my legs around his arm and arching my back until I felt his bones snap with a sickening crack. He dropped me, and I landed in a crouch, gasping for air. I didn’t have time to think about the damage I’d just done, because his shattered arm was already knitting itself back together with a grotesque ripple of sinew and flesh.

I sprinted toward him before he could fully recover, driving my shoulder into his torso and tackling him to the ground. We hit the dirt hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body. I straddled him, my fist crashing down into his face with relentless fury. Each strike splattered blood and fragments of teeth across the ground, but his expression never wavered—those soulless eyes burning into mine even as his skull caved beneath the weight of my blows.

And then the injuries began to mend. His face reformed itself with an almost obscene efficiency, and his hand shot up, his fist slamming straight into my chest. Pain exploded along my ribs as his knuckles tore skin and muscle while I felt my body leave the ground for a moment before I was thrown backwards by a kick that hit like a freight train.

I rolled with the impact, my one arm barely catching my fall as I skidded across the ground. Blood poured from my side, but the wound was already stitching itself closed, the familiar itch of regeneration burning through the agony. Damien was on me in an instant, his fists descending like hammers. I blocked with my forearm, the bone shattering under the force, but I gritted my teeth and pushed upward, forcing his weight back enough to regain my footing.

We clashed again, a storm of fists, elbows, knees, and sheer brutality. Each strike was calculated, and precise, a testament to the countless battles we had fought. My movements were fluid, a dance of survival honed by years of fighting with a body that was less than whole. His were savage but efficient, each blow meant to kill, each strike unrelenting.

I caught him with an uppercut, my fist connecting with his jaw so hard I felt his mandible shatter against my knuckles. He staggered, and I drove a kick into his chest, sending him sprawling backwards. But he didn’t stay down. He never stayed down. His chest heaved as his broken ribs snapped back into place, his grin returning, smeared with blood and confidence.

He lunged again, and this time I didn’t dodge. I braced myself, letting his fist slam into my shoulder with enough force to dislocate it. Pain lanced through me, but I twisted with the impact, using the momentum to drive my knee into his gut. He doubled over, and I brought my elbow down on the back of his neck, forcing him to the ground. My body screamed in protest, my regeneration racing to keep up with the punishment I was inflicting on myself just to keep him contained.

He rolled, sweeping my legs out from under me, and I hit the ground hard. His hand was around my throat again, his eyes wild as he pressed down, his weight suffocating. My vision dimmed, but another fireball from the base of my pegleg assisted my knee up between his legs as I kicked with every ounce of force I could muster. He roared in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free and drive my head into his nose, feeling the crunch of cartilage as it shattered.

Damien's grin somehow got wider, his fangs baring at me with both malice and joy. "That's the Demon Hunter I remember," He moved first, faster than I expected and before I could react in time, his fist collided with the side of my head.

The world tilted, a flash of white-hot agony detonating behind my eyes as my skull cracked under the blow. I felt the bone shift unnaturally, grinding as I staggered, but I spun into the movement, letting the momentum carry me. My fist arced wide, slamming into his ribs with enough force to cave them in. I heard the crunch and felt the reverberation crawl up my arm, but Damien didn’t stop.

He swung back, his good arm driving into my chest. The air exploded out of my lungs, and I felt the unmistakable snap of ribs breaking inward. Pain flared in my core, but I used it, fueled it, twisting my body mid-air as I flew backwards, planting my boot directly into his face. The impact was grotesque, his nose flattening, cartilage splitting, blood spraying like a crimson fountain.

I landed hard, the dirt biting into my skin, but I was up again in an instant. There was no room for weakness, no room for hesitation. Damien was already healing, his ribs shifting back into place, the ruin of his face restoring itself with obscene speed. My ribs knitted together with a burning sensation, the blood pooling in my lungs forcing itself out in a wet cough. Neither of us had the luxury of staying broken for long.

We clashed again, meeting in a blur of speed and violence that sent shockwaves through the town. His fist slammed into my jaw, dislocating it with a sickening pop, but I returned the favour with a savage hook that tore through the skin of his cheek, splitting it wide open. His teeth were bared, exposed through the gory mess, but he didn’t falter. His knee came up, cracking into my hip, and I felt the joint dislocate. My leg buckled, but I didn’t fall. I drove my elbow into his throat, the impact crushing his windpipe.

He wheezed, his body momentarily faltering, but his hand shot out like a viper, his fingers jabbing into my side. They pierced through flesh and muscle like daggers, scraping against my ribs. I growled in pain, blood pouring from the wound as I twisted away, ripping myself free. My side was a ruin of torn flesh and exposed bone, but I didn’t stop. My body was already stitching itself back together, the raw pain dulled by my focus.

I tackled him, slamming my shoulder into his midsection, and we went down in a tangle of limbs and violence. I mounted him, driving my fist into his face again and again, each blow splattering more blood across the ground. His skull cracked, then caved, his eye socket collapsing under the repeated impacts. For a moment, he was still, a broken, mangled mess beneath me.

His hand shot up, fingers gouging into my eye, ripping it from the socket with a wet, nauseating squelch. I screamed, my vision going red, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I swung blindly, my fire-covered fist connecting with his throat, and then his jaw, and then his temple, sizzling and charring his skin. He didn’t care. His free hand wrapped around my arm and snapped it backwards at an unnatural angle. The bone jutted out of my skin, blood pouring down my arm like a faucet.

I reeled, falling back, my arm hanging loosely as Damien climbed to his feet, his face reforming, his body an unholy testament to resilience. My eye socket burned, the empty void itching as new tissue began to form, the process slow and excruciating. My arm was already realigning, the bone pulling itself back into place with a sickening crunch, but Damien didn’t wait.

He lunged, and I rolled to the side, his fist slamming into the ground where I’d been a split second before. The impact cratered the earth, sending debris flying. I scrambled to my feet, my arm still half-useless, but I didn’t care. I launched myself at him, headfirst, ramming into his chest with all the force I could muster. We collided with a deafening thud, and I drove him backwards, slamming him into the jagged remains of the wall.

The concrete bit into his back, slicing through his flesh, but he didn’t flinch. His hand found my throat again, and this time he squeezed hard enough to crush my windpipe entirely. My vision blurred, the edges darkening, but I grabbed his wrist with my hand, flames bursting from it as I squeezed as hard as I could. His skin bubbled and blackened while the bones in his forearm shattered under the force, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free.

I slammed my head into his, the impact splitting both our skin and then I drove my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, and I grabbed his head, slamming it into the wall over and over until the concrete cracked, blood pooling beneath us. But he didn’t stop. He never stopped. His arm snapped back into place with an audible pop, and he swung it upward, catching me under the chin.

I flew backwards, my jaw snapping shut with enough force to chip teeth. I hit the ground hard, pain radiating through every inch of my body, but I was already moving, already healing. Blood dripped from freshly closed wounds, my body screaming in protest, but I forced myself to my feet. Damien was already standing tall, every injury he sustained already closed and making way for his weathered skin, his grin returning despite the carnage.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho," Damien laughed, his scratchy tone echoing through the houses around us. "I've missed you."

All of a sudden, his hand shimmered, his new katana appearing in his grip as it slowly became covered in a small layer of frost, an icy mist leaving a trail behind it as he lazily swung it in front of him. I said nothing as the flames along my back flared, an animalistic hiss escaping my throat and sounding through the air. I reached to my belt, pulling the handle of Venator. A flash of recognition crossed Damien's eyes as his grin somehow got wider.

"I do love it when you get serious."

The first strike was nothing short of an inferno. Venator roared as I swung it, the glaive’s fiery edge carving through the air like a wrathful comet. The ground beneath me groaned from the sheer force of the blow as it crashed into the street, obliterating a cart, a kiosk, and anything else in its path. Shards of wood, metal, and flaming debris exploded outward in a violent arc. Damien blurred out of reach, the shockwave ripping through the space he’d occupied a fraction of a second before.

He reappeared at my left, katana gleaming like a shard of winter itself. My pivot was instinctive, my movements a storm of desperation and brutality. Venators spun in my grip, the force of my swing using the leverage of my entire body. The glaive’s blunt end caught him in the ribs with a deafening crack, the sound sharp enough to echo like a gunshot. Damien was launched backwards, his body slamming into the remains of a stone wall. The structure crumbled, debris collapsing around him as his ribs visibly caved inward.

I moved to close the distance, but before I could reach him, Damien surged to his feet, his body mending with an unnatural ripple of flesh and bone. His katana gleamed an icy blue, frost swirling around its blade as he slashed the air. Waves of razor-sharp frost surged toward me, the temperature in the square plummeting in an instant. I spun Venator in a wide arc, the flames from the glaive roaring to life. The fiery heat collided with the frost, steam hissing and billowing around us as the attacks nullified each other in violent flashes of energy.

Charging forward, I planted my foot and brought Venator down in a furious overhead strike. The ground buckled under the force as Damien sidestepped, the glaive carving a molten fissure into the cobblestone path. Before I could recover, he was already inside my reach, his katana flashing in a blur of frostbitten steel. The blade slashed across my thigh, then my side, each strike carving deep, freezing lines into my flesh. My blood froze mid-air as it sprayed outward, the chill biting deeper than any pain I’d felt before.

Snarling, I swung Venator horizontally, the glaive’s fiery edge a wild arc of destruction. Damien ducked low, but I twisted mid-swing, the haft catching him under the chin. The force sent him flipping backwards, his body slamming into another cart, the impact shattering it into kindling. He rolled to his feet, already healing, his grin taunting me as blood dripped from his split lip and broken nose.

His speed was maddening. He blinked forward in a flash of icy light, appearing behind me before I could track him. His katana bit deep into my back, carving a frozen line from shoulder to hip. The pain was blinding, but I whipped around, Venator’s haft sweeping out like a battering ram. The strike caught Damien mid-blink, his ribs cracking audibly as he was hurled through the air, slamming into another kiosk and cart, burying him in a cascade of planks and splinters.

I didn’t wait. With a roar, I swung Venator downward, the glaive’s fiery edge cleaving through the debris to find its target. Damien rolled out of the way, his katana flashing upward in retaliation. The blade caught my arm, the frost burning so deep that the limb felt dead for an instant. Gritting my teeth, I let the momentum carry me into a spinning strike, Venator’s fiery blade carving a deep gash across Damien’s chest. The wound sizzled, the flames cauterizing his flesh even as his healing fought to close it.

Damien staggered, but his grin didn’t waver. He blinked again, faster than my eyes could track, and reappeared above me. His katana arced downward, an icy comet aiming to split me in two. I raised Venator just in time, the glaive’s fiery edge meeting the frosted steel in a blinding clash of elements. The force of the impact drove me to one knee, my muscles screaming in protest, but I surged upward, throwing him off balance. My next strike came with everything I had, Venator carving through the air in a deadly arc. Damien twisted mid-air, the blade missing him by inches, but the heat singed his coat, flames licking at his skin.

He retaliated with a savage kick, his boot slamming into my ribs. The force sent me skidding backwards, my boots tearing through the dirt as I struggled to stay upright. Damien followed his katana a blur of ice and death. The blade bit into my forehead, then my shoulder, my thigh, my side—each strike faster and more precise than the last. My vision blurred from the blood dripping into my eyes, the wounds healing slower now as my body struggled to keep up with the punishment.

With a desperate roar, I slammed the butt of Venator into the ground, the glaive’s fiery energy erupting outward in a wave of molten destruction. The force hurled Damien back, his body slamming into a fountain at the centre of the square. The stone structure shattered under the impact, water bursting from fractured pipes and drenching the battlefield in a chaotic deluge.

I staggered forward, my grip on Venator tight despite the searing pain radiating from every inch of my body. Damien rose from the rubble, blood pouring from countless wounds, his katana trembling in his grip. He blinked toward me again, but this time I was ready. Venator met his blade mid-air, the clash of fire and frost sending shockwaves through the square. Each strike was a storm of destruction, the cobblestones beneath us cracking and shattering with every blow.

Damien’s katana found its mark again, slicing across my chest. The blade pierced deep, freezing the blood as it sprayed from the wound. I roared, ignoring the pain, and drove Venator’s haft into his stomach. The impact folded him in half, but he didn’t falter. His hand shot forward, an icy blast erupting from his palm and hitting me square in the chest. The frost spread across my coat, freezing the flames of Venator for a brief instant as I was hurled backwards.

I hit the ground hard, my body bouncing from the force as blood pooled beneath me. My vision blurred, my breath heavy and my energy drained the longer the fight went on, but I forced myself upright. Venator flickered back to life in my grip, the flames roaring defiantly. Damien was standing still, his grin wider than ever, his body a patchwork of healing wounds and fresh scars, all disappearing to make way for his worn skin.

"There," He with a smirk, pointing at me as he paced side to side. "Now that's the you I know. There was a reason we were scared of you. Even after besting Gadunka, even in this-" He motioned over as he continued. "-exhausted state you can still keep up."

With a flick of his wrist, his katana disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"See, I'd like nothing more than to fight to the death, but like last time, Bossman wouldn't be well pleased," He said with a shrug. "Heal your wounds, Percival. Get strong. Next time, I expect to see my sword. And I won’t be so merciful.”

Damien stepped away, his eyes remaining on me as his form fell into black smoke, his scratchy laughter echoing around me as he disappeared. My gaze remained fixed on where the demon had vanished, my grip on Venator slowly loosening. With a quiet breath, I dismissed the blade, its soft growl fading into silence as I clipped the handle back onto my belt. The sound of voices around me barely registered, distant and faint, as if submerged beneath layers of water. My friends shook me gently, their muffled voices slipping past my ears, drowned out by the relentless, high-pitched ringing that grew louder and louder.

As the concealed trio watched the Demon dissipate into the wind like smoke scattered by an unseen hand, their tense grip on their weapons finally slackened. Percival, pale and unsteady, was quickly ushered toward the town's modest bakery, its warm light a sharp contrast to the wreckage left behind. High above, hidden within the sprawling branches of the Golden Oaks Library, the trio exchanged glances. Their eyes flickered between the shattered remnants of the town's carts and fountain below and one another, their expressions shadowed with both urgency and resolve.

“Still not convinced?” The smaller man quirked an eyebrow from under his hood, his eye glancing at the woman, his voice low but edged with concern. “If we don’t act soon, he won’t be ready for the trials ahead.”

“We’ll act,” The taller man assured him with a curt nod. His voice carried the weight of years of waiting. “We’ve been preparing for this moment for so long. A little more patience won’t kill us.”

“Regardless if it is him or not, our window is closing,” The woman interjected, adjusting her golden-framed glasses with deliberate precision. Her tone was measured, yet it betrayed the building pressure. “This was the last event Uncle recorded in his journal. Everything hinges on what happens next.”

“By year’s end,” The taller man said firmly. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of anticipation. “That’s the absolute earliest. By then, he’ll be free.”

“It can’t come soon enough,” The smaller man murmured, his gaze lingering on the distant bakery below, where Percival’s silhouette disappeared through the doorway.

Author's Note

So Damien isn't dead, and it seems despite his new one, he misses "his" sword
And is our mystery trio planning? Guess we'll just have to wait and see

With massive help from a good friend of mine (you know who you are), I was thankfully able to get this out rather quickly cuz god knows I'm not the strongest at writing fight scenes, but I'm very pleased with how this turned out

And since I've been on a bit of a roll getting these written, I thought I'd just wait and publish the next few all at once, just as a little early Holiday present for the people who have been putting up with this story for that last or so (for some reason)

Thank you all for reading this, I may be largely doing it for myself, but I am very glad you all are enjoying it as much as I am writing it

Please point out any mistakes I may have made
Constructive criticism is always appreciated
Until next time, TTFN!