Love reaches the lower dungeons, where she expects the knight’s weapons to be cached. Amidst the insanity of battle above, it’s deathly quiet down here, where not even a peep of the fighting passes through. She steps through the empty chambers into what she assumes to be an office. It’s better-lit than the rest of the dungeons. She only gets as far as the doorway until she’s interrupted.

“Well, my lovely Friendion, it is nice to see you again,” Chaos says right behind her.

He’s a stealthy one, she will admit, though it’s not surprising.

“Oh, hello there, my dear Overlord,” Love says, turning and greeting him with a nod.

“Of course. It is a pleasure to grace you with my presence~ Now then, I presume you’ve come down here for the same reason I have,” Chaos says as he passes Love through the door frame, brushing his ice-cold body against her warmth.

“Have we, my lord?” she asks, watching Chaos walk over to one of the chests in the lit room and start going through it.

“I would presume you have come for these,” he responds the moment he finds Order’s dimensional sheath, containing Monument, and waving it about flippantly like a toy. Natural sense would lead one to believe that Chaos came down here to deprive the knights of their weapons, but Love knows this is not so.

He offers up the dimensional sheath to Love, who does her best to act surprised.

“Wha- ... pardon me?” she says as she looks between Chaos and at the dimensional sheath in her hands.

“Surely you do not expect me to kill her when she’s unarmed, do you? ... hmm, it seems that the armor is absent here ...” Chaos says. Love’s eyes widen as if in disbelief.

“But, this is your chance! You could finally be rid of her!”

“Yes, but what glory would I gain? It would not fit my title of High Overlord very well at all,” Chaos says with a wide, sharp grin. Love stares at the Lord of Magic and War, dumbfounded for a moment.

“Right, my lord, yet Ranalie wouldn’t even think to spare you if you were unarmed. Don’t you find that ... you know,” she asks as Chaos hands her Worldloss and Everlock’s dimensional sheath, more of a little bag than anything.

“Yes, dear minion, I do find it rather ‘you know’, but that line of thought is meaningless. Only lesser life forms deal in comparisons. Even though my opponent would do anything in her power to have me removed, I as a superior creature must abide by a superior code,” he says as he passes Dresmond’s harness of knives and Hos’Rayull’s Mace to Love. Love’s arms are full, but she can carry this weight easily. She needs to get back to the others and give them their weapons, so she gestures for Chaos to follow her out. He nods and obliges.

“... Honor, then?” she asks.

“Possibly; pride, or the desire for glory may also be acceptable answers,” he says, looking to the ground with an expression more contemplative than she’s ever seen on him. There’s a slight pause before Love speaks up.

“Honor, my lord. You’re very honorable. Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard of you killing someone before you announced your presence. You ask for duels, but the rest of us in the Omniverse just can’t give you that... Perhaps you want Order to live, because she’s a challenge?” Love asks with a smile. Walking with her to the entrance of the dungeon, Chaos strokes his blacker-than-pitch chin.

“Now that would be an excellent excuse to use, should I ever find myself in the need for one,” Chaos says with a hint of humor in his tone. They reach the doorway and Love turns to Chaos, causing him to meet her at the eyes.

Very quickly, she gets on her tip-toes and kisses him. Chaos’ gaze sharpens, and his smile widens.

“Oh my; I certainly hope you do not mean to imply you would wish to be my romantic equal?” Chaos questions.

“Of course not, my lord. I would never be so presumptuous to think I could ever be an acceptable partner to you. I think you’d understand though, that as a creature vastly inferior to you, I cannot help but find you ... quite admirable,” Love says with a curt nod before she turns from Chaos. She enters the hall and begins moving down.

“I suppose that is only natural, then. Very well, my Friendion. I will see you again soon,” Chaos replies.

“Yes my lord ... ahh, and one more thing” she asks as she takes up Monument’s sheath in her right hand.

“Mmm?” Chaos hums.

“I can’t go both ways all that quickly with all this stuff, so do me a favor and give this to Order right before you two fight. It’d mean more to her,” she requests as she hands it over to Chaos.

He stares at the sheath a moment, and nods. “As you wish.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she finishes as she starts down the hall.

She goes down the hall a bit, turns her gaze just a moment, and sees that The Overlord has vanished from the door way and is probably already where he wants to be by now. She smirks, and dashes away to Liefholn’s gates to deliver the arms to Dresmond and Law.

Elsewhere, Order, Oa, Pitch and the Faery are still in nervous waiting within the deep chamber. They’ve been quiet at a standoff for a few minutes now and everyone’s on the edge. Just when Pitch is about to break the silence, the spark of the First Realmer’s forms high up in the sky with a blinding flash of light, and then begins descending amidst the sound of ethereal instruments. The time is now.

“By the First Queen, The Tea is in sight, but where is our great enemy?!” Pitch asks, scanning all about the room with a paranoid gaze. Order and Oa are silent as Pitch looks over the glass ceiling carefully; the two are too busy thinking to respond.

Oa and Order have realized that Chaos holds the absolute advantage, because not only does he decide when to appear, he also is free to not appear at all until either Order and Pitch are dead, or Oa is. He can wait for as long as he needs to, and since he could probably beat anyone to the First Realmer’s portal with his speed, it means The High Tea is practically guaranteed to be his unless Order can get her hands on Monument, and somehow keep him away from the portal long enough for Pitch to enter.

Order spares a glance behind her, praying to Rayda’s Golden Ghost that Love will come running down the hall in the next moment with Monument, only to be added on with the sound of Chaos’s laugh behind her, revealing his location just in time for them to fight.

The Lord Knight General stares at the blank hall a moment more, and then Oa moves.

“I CANNOT RISK YOUR BEING CLOSE TO THE LANDING POINT, FAIRY KING. BACK AWAY OR DIE,” Oa threatens as it finally stands to its full height, towering at fourteen gruesome meters. Pitch watches closely as Oa pulls two long, straight blades from its chest, one without a hilt. It then takes the two with a network of bolts and connects them to form a single, massive weapon. Pitch spots something coming down the hall and nods; he then takes up the royal scepter at his side for casting spells.

“I will stand for Liefland’s future. Noble old fairies, send this monstrosity to its sourly-awaited grave!” Pitch commands as Tylvania returns with the other primordial Faery they’ve been keeping a secret for all this time. Oa scoffs as it spots a second ancient darkness approaching from behind, with Tylvania, as the one in front of Pitch comes forward as well. Order leaps for Oa, casting a spell to act as a suit of armor to protect her against being stepped on. There is a sharp glint across her body, signifying she can take at least half a hit from the Titanic Graveyard.

Oa sweeps the blade across the front of the room, long enough to get both the frontal Faery and Pitch, but is slowed as both the Faery, striking the blade, and Order, striking the arm, grinds the attack to a halt.

“Catlan Creev!” Pitch casts, uttering the finishing words of his incantation. At the head of the scepter form several lances of pure mana, pulsating violently as he lifts it to throw the spell at Oa. The charged lances scramble in the air and strike Oa at multiple points; were a common human hit with even one of these lances he would be more hole than person, but Oa is at least a hundred persons and more. The spears impale themselves into Oa and then dissipate into the air as their powers are expended. Oa flexes and brandishes its own weapon ably, showing few signs of damage, and strikes with its blade again, this time from overhead. The Faery from behind rings angrily and grasps at Oa’s bent form, halting it just a moment before the Walking Graveyard pulls the Faery right off the ground by the blade and smashing it back into the floor. The Faery is cut in half and begins regenerating its body immediately just as Pitch sends another wave of magic lances at the Lord of the Dead. Oa leaps forward, is halted again momentarily by the other Faery’s attempt at protecting Pitch, and then raises its tower-sword to destroy the Fairy King in a single strike.

Just as the first realmer’s spark is a quarterway to the ground, Order strikes Oa’s arms with lightning speed, again halting the attempt at Pitch’s life. Its two arms break from the immense strength of her kick, enhanced by her many combative enchantments. Oa roars in anger when its bones snap back into place and is now held together with a fresh set of muscles. The other sleeves on Oa’s coat animate and out push new pairs of arms, weapons, teeth and more sorts of monstrosities prepared to tear everyone in the room to shreds. Oa and Ranalie enter a vicious duel of punches and slashes as the other four grant her their support. In the next moment a group of thirty necromancer servants rush into the room, and now the real fight begins.