And we're back! Hope y'all had a lovely time during the hiatus!

I took an extra week because this is a chapter I wanted to get right. Took a bit more rewriting than usual, but I think it's satisfactory now.

Anyway! Enjoy, and thanks to my beta reader!

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It wasn't glass, but to his hands, raw now from pounding fruitlessly against it for the past several minutes, it sure felt like it. Still, he clawed at it, desperately trying to break through.

Everything happened too quickly. Even if he'd been in a normal state, the girls had been moving too fast for him to process. Hat Kid and the girl with the mustache had started fighting at inhuman speeds, leaving him lost in the dust. How could he hope to stop it if he couldn't even decide who he was?

And then- the details were still hazy for him- others had gathered, all angry at the mustached girl. There was a lot of yelling and fury against her and support for Hat Kid. Something about getting lost.

He didn't see what the girl with the mustache had done, but now everything was... too much. The noise levels and the fight had been overwhelming before, but now he was faced with bright, swirling colors. He pressed his eyes closed, but the starry blue arena lingered in his mind, the afterimage burned into him.

The attacks were loud, everything was too bright, and his head was already full to bursting with two minds of thoughts.

A pained noise escaped him, barely perceptible over the din outside and inside. With fingers still gripping the magical barrier, the one thing separating himself from the fighting girls, he sank to his knees.

He wanted to help. He really did. But there was no way to get to them. He was useless, as usual. The helplessness left a void filled by the struggle of two sets of memories. They were trying to pull apart from each other, to be different, to tell who was who, but they just fit together too well.

There was one point where they were exactly the same. His life. The prince's life, Elliot's life. Both remembered that. But only one remembered his death and afterlife, and both had separate accounts of what came after. Where one set of memories ended, affected by the crown being worn or not, another seamlessly picked them up. The two minds were like puzzle pieces clicking easily together, and the perfect fit only made it harder for the two to agree on what was what.

One was Snatcher, and one was Elliot. That was the only thing easy to discern from the turmoil. But the struggle to gain some sort of identity, to choose one name to go by, to define who he was, was a battle. It had to be one over the other, but none could come out on top.

And it only made things harder that he kept getting distracted by the filled-in pieces of his memories.

Did I die? Elliot's hands slid from the wall and rested uselessly in his lap. The memories were clear now, though they'd been missing before. He knew about the flowers, Vanessa, and the dungeon, but knowing what happened after that...

Stop getting distracted! Snatcher's hands curled into fists. It's so hard to concentrate! Everything is loud, and it doesn't help that I- no, you, it's your fault- you keep trying to figure out your own death!

The emotions, responsive to the self-insult, were varied and came from multiple places. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands pressing against each other, head bowed, as a strange mixture of lashing anger, shame, and sorrow swirled through him.

Some king of Subcon I am. Snatcher- Elliot- both- had never felt more worthless.

That was the part one half of him, easily definable as Elliot, was confused about. He was newly grappling with his death and the what-came-next. A ghost? Really? And he'd taken over Subcon? Ate souls? Killed so many? Was that really worthy of the title of king?

Why would I do that? Why would I ever do that?

Nausea swept over him, a foreign feeling. Probably thanks to all those years of being dead, he thought with a twinge of anger.

Am I a terrible person? Was I a terrible person?

I was only bad when I was dead.

No, no, you've always been. Why else would Vanessa kill us? Everything's your fault.

Reacting in anger is normal, isn't it? That doesn't make you a bad person. You did what you had to do to survive as a ghost.

The thought was comforting but couldn't quite quell the guilt and self-loathing coming from both parties now.

Was it really necessary? Killing so many? Taking the souls and killing EVERYONE, including children?

What had he done? Just cracking his eyes open and seeing Hat Kid fighting made him feel worse. He'd just ruined her life. Even if he hadn't killed her or if he couldn't kill her, he ruined her life in a different, worse way. Could you imagine being the person that had taken the soul of someone fighting to save the world?

That mustached girl was wrong about him. He was a bad guy. Maybe he was the worst person on the planet.

The moment he thought it, other angrier thoughts reared in response. No. Not true, he snapped at himself. You're not the one who took over the planet and made everything a lava hellhole, are you?

He cracked his eyes open again, then squeezed them tightly shut. The fight had escalated. The mustached girl's strategy was evolved, and Hattie needed the help of a bunch of burly guys rolled in a ball and some weird bird-thing to even land a hit on her. He tried to push himself up again and watch what was happening, but the colorful strain on his eyes and the weight on his mind didn't allow him.

Face it. There's nothing you can do.

He closed his eyes again, panic and misery turning his stomach.

This was so stupid. Why couldn't he just push through this? Why couldn't he find some way to help?

You don't have to help her, a shrinking part of him whispered.

His brow furrowed.

She's just some hatted brat that barged into your home, he pointed out. And didn't she start everything? Didn't she make me this way?

It's her fault.

But... she was just a kid. Blaming her was wrong. The blame should be pinned on himself, instead. All of it.

It hurt too much to think of Hat Kid in such a negative way. She was already doing so much. At least she was trying to help him. And he, in return, couldn't do anything. Could he? No, no, he couldn't.

Being human is terrible.

No... it wasn't that bad. Even if he wasn't fully used to it, at least he had fire magic.

It's her fault.

What a terrible thing to think.

It's her fault.

Stop it.

It's her fault.

Shut up.

That last thought had slipped out audibly. Even if Snatcher couldn't hear himself over the building tension in his mind or the din of the arena, he could feel his lips move with the words.

Amazingly, it seemed to work. His thoughts stopped for just a moment, catching on confusion. For a single moment, he could open his eyes, process his throbbing headache, and watch the fight just before him.

A sigh, quiet yet heavy, escaped him. He needed to calm down. It hurt too much to be this negative. Elliot and Snatcher were both used to being negative, weren't they? Elliot with his self-loathing and anxiety, and Snatcher with his apathy and selfishness.

Getting lost in both sides of that hurt. Maybe it was time to change things.

It took a lot of effort to think of something else, something other than the agony of the situation.

I'm sorry. He didn't fully know which part of him was apologizing, nor whom the apology was directed toward. It felt that it could go either way. It... must've been hard. All of it. Life and death. It's hard to see it your way.

But now, both were being forced to see things in new ways. It was inescapable. The melding and combining of two sets of memories and personalities meant they would bleed through together. Maybe it was inevitable that they would reach a conclusion. That they would realize that maybe one or the other wasn't the worst thing to exist and that coexistence was a better alternative to fighting.

...yeah, it was cheesy. There was probably no way to think of it without coming up with some corny idea or another. Still, it made things... easier. It lifted some weight.

The peace wasn't perfect... but the truce was there, and Elliot or Snatcher had a moment to worry about other things for a moment.

His eyes focused, zeroing in on the blurred red figure of Mustache Girl. He scowled. She'd resorted to protecting herself with a light blue shield, preventing any of Hat Kid's attacks. What a cheap move.

The people surrounding the arena shuffled their feet and shared uneasy glances. No one had moved to help yet- not even the bird-thing and men from earlier- or maybe they hadn't figured out how.

If he- Elliot, Snatcher- could just get in there, he might be able to break the shield with his fire magic. He could help. He wouldn't be useless-!

With a sudden tremor in his knees, he leaned heavily against the barrier. Hands pressed hard against the smooth, glass-like texture of the magic, he pushed himself up. The barrier rippled with color at his touch, driving a nail into the already terrible pain in his head.

How could he get through it? A few more quick knocks against the barrier confirmed that he couldn't blast through it without using a lot of magic. But it wasn't that high- maybe 10 feet or so.

Quickly, he looked around. Standing next to him was a massive Alpine goat. His eyes widened.

With an effort, he pushed himself from the wall and stood. Ignoring the wobble in his feet, he waved to get the goat's attention. The great beast turned its shaggy head to curiously look at him. "Get me over the barrier!" Elliot told the goat. "I can help." After a moment's consideration, he added, "Please."

The goat regarded him for another second before bending down and offering its hands. Elliot blinked in surprise. He hadn't been ready for the animal to so readily offer its help. "Oh, thank you." He hesitated. Was he just supposed to... climb on...?

Luckily, the goat took action for him and picked him up. Before Snatcher had a moment to process, the goat tossed him over the barrier's walls.

He fell a few short seconds and had a much softer landing than anticipated. Hat Kid, who'd been luckily nearby, had caught him. She dumped him on the floor less than gracefully. "What are you doing?" she asked, sounding more bewildered than upset.

"Helping!" Snatcher picked himself up, noticing with apprehension that he was standing over a deep purple line on the ground that hadn't been there a moment before.

Hattie grabbed him and tugged him out of the way. The purple line became a blade, shooting from the ground with terrifying intent. If he'd still been there, he would've been sliced in two. "Getting yourself killed isn't helping," she said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, how are you going to break through her shield?"

"Like this." He opened his hands, focusing on his palm to try and summon his fire magic. A tiny blue flame appeared: a less-than-impressive display of his power.

Hat Kid sighed. "Wow," she grumbled. She glanced back at Mustache Girl and frowned. "Still, it just might work." Her hand gripped his cloak tighter, and she tugged him, pulling Snatcher out of the way of Mu suddenly appearing in front of them.

"Your turn!" Hattie planted her hands squarely on his back and shoved, pushing him toward Mustache Girl. Elliot gasped and reflexively lashed out. The girl's eyes widened as a burst of fire followed his fingers, washing over the shield and shattering it.

"Well, whaddya know?" Hattie cheered as Mustache Girl stumbled away. "It did work!" Hat Kid darted past him, knocking Mu back with her umbrella, and shot him a grateful smile.

He smiled back, pushing against sudden feelings of exhaustion. That simple magic had left his hands hot and his chest cold, like a hole spreading through his chest. Was he already tired from using magic?

Maybe it was the weird condition he was in. He took a deep breath. He'd help however he could. Even if he burned himself out- literally- he would find a way to help.

The mustached girl had rebuilt her shield, and Hat Kid needed Snatcher's help again. The second time, a bigger burst of fire ripped from him. He cringed, automatically biting his tongue to keep from crying out. The ache in his head and the hole expanded with each attack.

It's worth it. Every hit Hattie landed on the mustached girl was worth the strain.

"ENOUGH!" Mu roared, stumbling away from the point of Hat Kid's umbrella. "Stop helping her!" She knelt and leaped, hanging in the air. From her hands shot a laser, and with deadly precision, Mu swung, blasting the audience surrounding the arena.

Elliot's blood ran cold as the mustached girl dropped again, eyes burning with fury. "And you especially!" she yelled, thrusting a finger at Snatcher, pointing accusingly. "You can get lost instead!"

Hat Kid stepped in front of him, arms spread protectively. "We said it first!" she yelled.

"Does that matter?!" Mustache Girl yelled back.

"Yup!" Hattie nodded emphatically. She nudged Snatcher, giving him an encouraging look. "Isn't that right?" she prompted.

His exhaustion fizzled. A smile grew on his face. "You're right," he agreed, nudging her back.

"I'm the hero!" Mustache Girl yelled, growing furious. "You can't just tell me to get lost!"

"What you're doing isn't very heroic!" Hat Kid yelled back.

"And we don't need a hero!" Elliot called. "Get lost!"

His shout was met with echoes- the surrounding spectators agreed with his sentiment and were screaming it at the top of their lungs.

Mu's hands curled into shaking fists. She gave everyone an empty glare.

"You... you stupid bad guys," she muttered, tears in her eyes.