This is a pseudo-sequel to "Trust Me, I've Tried", essentially taking that short story and expanding it.

Warning: Contains major character deaths, and this chapter also contains some self-harm again, so possible trigger warning here.

Chapter 6

As Charles finally reached the prophecy room, he looked at the paintings on the wall. Everything seemed the same - except for one key image.

A new painting had appeared: it now showed the Half Man and the Dead Man battling, with all five of the guys behind them, though they had what appeared to be a glow around them. In the Dead Man's hand was a battle axe.

The battle axe seemed to be the weapon that would kill the Half Man.

As Charles walked closer to the wall to inspect it, a monk came running in. "Your Holiness!"

Keeping his back to the monk, Charles ran a finger along the wall, tracing the image of the axe. "How long has this been here?"

"It started while you were telling us your story, your Holiness. We believe this depicts the final battle, one that you must fight."

"But the guys are all here, this can't be right. They're dead."

The monk nodded, "Their powers are still tied to you though, it is my theory that you just haven't activated them yet."

Raising an eyebrow, Charles moved his hand off the wall and looked at the monk. The young man was no older than Charles was before he hit his immortality, and in that small moment, Charles remembered just how long this was all going on. "What do you mean I haven't activated them?"

"The gear, sir, we think it has to do with the gear."

Charles' arms came to cross across his chest, as he got a contemplative look on his face. The gear was the one thing that had always tied all members of Dethklok and the employees, even Charles himself, together. They lived by the gear and they died by the gear. Idly, Charles moved a hand to rest on where his gear mark had been placed years before, only to realize that instead of the scarring over of the brand, there was smooth skin. The thoughtful look on his face turned quickly to one of shock. "I need you to do something for me."

"Yes?"

"I need you to get two mirrors, and I need you to get any weapons that we still have here. I have something to test." The monk looked a little worried at Charles' mention of weapons, but he knew better than to go against the word of the High Holy Priest and nodded. He quickly started to make his way out of the room before Charles called him back, "Oh, and I need one more thing from you."

Charles, still holding Nathan's notebook from when he walked into the room, walked up to the monk and flipped through the notebook pages until he found a sketch of what he was looking for. "I need you to get me this."

On the notebook, was a sketch of the gear branding iron. The monk nodded and ran out of the room, as Charles went back to looking at the notebook. "Why didn't I see this before?"

It wasn't long before the monk returned with others in tow, carrying the items that Charles had asked for.

First, the mirrors were used to check the back of Charles' neck, as he held one in front of him and one behind him, seeing that where the brand was once, was no longer there. It was as if the skin had never been burned, had never seen a scar, and never had a mark on it. Quickly, a theory was starting to form.

Only the monk from before stayed in the room as Charles dismissed the rest, and he picked up a small knife. The monk watched as Charles cut along the inside of his hand, but did not react to the pain, and while he was cut, the cut did not bleed. The cut quickly regenerated itself, as all of Charles' other wounds had done before.

Charles, still holding the knife, moved to a chair and table in the side of the room, and sat down, looking at the various etching tools on the table. There were pens and pencils, notebooks, but nothing that could have done the paintings on the walls. One black marker rested on the table, and Charles picked it up. "How did this get here?"

"It was with Master Nathan's things, your Holiness." The monk said, and Charles just nodded, not wanting any further explanation. He rested the knife on the table next to the knife.

"I need you to bring that electric branding iron over here now," Charles said, not an ounce of fear or worry in his voice, "And I need you to brand the back of my neck."

"I…"

"Now", Charles demanded, as the young monk finally nodded and came over to Charles and stood behind him. "Do it."

The monk complied and pressed the hot branding iron to Charles' skin, and at first, Charles did not feel any pain. He felt nothing, but as the brand pressed further, there was an odd sensation of burning. He could smell his flesh burning, he could feel the heat, and he could suddenly feel the pain.

For the first time in almost thirty years, Charles screamed.

"Fuck!" Nathan screamed, hissing as he felt a burning sensation to where his own gear brand was, and stood up quickly in the conference room, knocking his chair over as he did so. His fingers moved to the back of his neck where his own gear was, only to find his skin hot and sensitive to the touch. As he looked up at the others, the other four were all have the same reaction.

"What the fuck? Aren't we dead, how the fuck are we supposed to feel this shit?" William cursed, immediately looking at Ishinfus sitting at the end of the table. The old man only had a smile on his face.

"My friends, he is finding his connection to you again."

"Yeahs but does he has to burns us as wells?" Skwisgaar scoffed, a sneer on his lips to show his annoyance at the situation. Toki, sitting next to Skwisgaar, only laughed happily.

"This is ams goods!" Toki nodded, despite feeling the burning of the gear himself.

Pickles crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Nathan gather his chair back up and sit back down next to the drummer. "So what, what does this mean?"

On the television screen, Charles had stopped screaming as the brand finished.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment and took in deep breathes, seemingly surprised that he was able to feel any sort of pain. The monk who had branded him was no longer standing behind him, but rather in front of the table now, waiting for his next instruction.

But there was silence as Charles picked up the knife again and cut his hand once more, but gave out a bit of an audible wince as he did so. The cut did not heal as quickly, but it eventually healed. There was no blood.

The knife was placed back down on the table, and Charles picked up the marker, and drew the gear onto the knife. As he did so, the ink seemed to some how burn into the metal of the knife itself, fusing with the weapon.

Charles lifted the knife once more, and placed it on his hand, and cut.

There was pain. There was blood.

It didn't heal.

The monk looked on in shock, as Charles looked at his bleeding hand, and started to laugh. Really laugh, though it turned almost demonic after a bit. When Charles looked up, there was a red glow behind his eyes, and a wicked grin on his lips.

"We need every weapon we have. Now. And find me that battle axe. I have some branding to do."

While Charles prepared in the latest Church hideout, individually branding each and every damn weapon, bullet, rope, anything that the monks brought him, Dethklok had left the conference room in Mordhaus to look around.

Mostly to follow Pickles, because he had to show them what he had found.

"Dudes, I came back from my room, and I saw his keypad on the wall!" Pickles spoke quickly as the five of them headed down the ever growing single hallway that was their Mordhaus now. "I didn't open it though, I wanted to wait for you guys."

The five of them stopped in front of a familiar door and keypad on the wall, as Pickles had said. There was hushed whispers among them, as if they were afraid someone would hear: "Does anyones know the passcodes?" "Oh jesus christ, what the hell is going to be behind that door? What else do we need here?" "Murderface, don't be a fucknig idiot, that's Charles' door." "Then opens it, Nathans!"

They all looked at Nathan who narrowed his eyebrows. "I don't remember the code."

"You're fuckin' lying, Nate," Pickles said, jabbing a finger right into Nathan's chest. "You used that code more than any of us, and you're tellin' me you don't remember?"

Nathan stared at Pickles and muttered something under his breath as he finally pushed the guys to the side and went to the keypad. He punched in a series of numbers and there was a clicking sound to indicate the door was unlocked.

"What was the code?" William asked, before they pushed the door open. Nathan shrugged.

"Charles' birthday, don't tell him I remember that shit, okay? I mean, if we see him again." He placed a hand to the door knob. Slowly, Nathan opened the door and pushed it open to reveal Charles' office, but not quite.

Half the furniture was there - literally half of the desk, half of the chair, half of the couch. The guys stepped in further and started to explore around the room. Only half of everything was in the room, though it seemed that other things were trying to form themselves fully. "What the fuck is going on?" William finally said, breaking the shocked silence between all of them. "Why is only half his shit here when all of ours was here when we got...dead and shit?"

"Because he ams not dead, Murderface!" Toki shot back, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"Then why is his shit here at all? Fuck you, Toki," William hissed back.

Nathan went to step between the two of them, but felt Pickles' hand on his chest holding him back. "Wait, Nathan, he's right. Charles' things shouldn't be here if he's not dead. This is...our fucked up afterlife, right? Charles' things should be here if he's not dead."

"Gentlemen, I think you need to come back to the conference room," Ishinfus' voice was suddenly heard, though he was no where to be seen. "There is something that is going on that needs your attention."

In the thirty minutes the guys had spent, six months had passed, and a significant change was happening.

Six months after realizing the gear really was the key to everything, the Black Klok army was finally making a huge dent. With each passing day, more of the Half Man's army fell, and they fell quickly. With every weapon the Black Klok had being blessed with the gear by the High Holy Priest himself, it made each member of the army stronger. They all got the gear brand, something Charles had never thought to give them before, which looking back on was a poor judgement on his part.

After all, the Klokateers all got the brand, so why hadn't he thought to do the same with the army? Possibly because they were losing them as fast as they were gaining them. Things were different now. The army was fighting more like a well oiled machine. Charles had become more human, giving up his immortality once he rebranded himself with the gear.

He was determined to end this fucking war once and for all.

Charles, despite finding a way to make himself mortal again, still retained his powers. But he knew he wasn't unstoppable anymore. He wasn't immortal. He would get wounded, he would break an arm, or get shot, but his arm break would heal a little faster than the normal human if he concentrated hard enough. A gunshot wound, well he would heal normally - because he was quickly realizing that now, weapons would be fatal to him.

Fatal or not, it didn't stop Charles from being cold and calculated on the battlefield, and now almost six months to the day since Charles had figured out the key to possibly killing the Half Man (and himself), he was now on the battlefield with his top lieutenants fighting alongside them. In his hands, Charles held the battleaxe that had been depicted on the prophecy wall, with all sides of the axe branded with the gear in different shapes and sizes.

"Take the east! You, take the west, I'll take the north. The rest are in the south, they'll catch up. Radio your troops and tell them which path to take, we have a good chance at getting close to the end." Charles called out over the gunfire, the slicing of body parts to sharp metal, the screams of the enemy falling and dying in pain. The lieutenants nodded and fought off on their way that Charles directed, and Charles went forward south.

He was surrounded by dead trees, but they still gave enough cover if he needed it, the trees large enough to hide behind if he was crouched. His feet didn't make much sound, despite walking on leaves and broken branches, as he snuck forward. He hadn't let anyone else know, but he knew exactly what was ahead.

It was the end. It was the Half Man.

Holding on tightly to his axe, Charles spotted a small group of troops ahead. With them, was the Half Man himself.

Anger took Charles over, and he charged the troops, screaming.

In the conference room, Dethklok watched as Charles ran towards the troops. But instead of giving commentary as to what was going on, there was silence in the room. No one said a word.

Not a word was said when Charles started to slice off the heads of the enemy, and used his energy to shove them back when they got too close.

Not a word was said when more troops seemed to come out of no where, almost looking as if they were multiplying.

Not a word was said when suddenly, the troop gathering of 20 men had turned into 200, and all 200 of those men turned into exact images of the Half Man.

Instead, they all watched in silent horror.

Well. Cloning yourself on the battlefield? That was a new one.

They were fighting Charles with everything they had, and Charles was fighting back, and for every clone he took down, two more would appear in its place. There was a strong possibility that this wouldn't end well.

Even this wasn't something that Charles could have prepared for, as he felt his adrenaline pumping, and he was hit with the idea that he might actually die without completing his goal. He hadn't thought of death as something that could actually happen in such a long time that it could have been an emotion that would overwhelm him if he had let it. But that wasn't the case.

Charles was extremely aware of the situation. He was cornered, he was outnumbered. But it was also the clearest he had been in months. It didn't look good. But if he was going to go out, he'd go out fighting, and he'd take out as many people as he could with him.

He didn't fear his mortality. Not any more.

But suddenly, all the men stopped their movements and broke away from Charles, and Charles took a fighting stance, holding up the battleaxe, holding onto it for dear life. "God dammit fucking show yourself," Charles hissed, as his eyes took on a deep red glow, as his voice bellowed, "Now" Charles watched as one of the Half Man clones stood in front of him, and watched as the other clones started to mystically fade into the Half Man in front of him until there was only the Half Man and Charles standing in the middle of the dead forest, and Charles moved to attack.

He was too slow, as suddenly a hand came out and grabbed around his neck.

For Charles, everything went black.

As the screen went black, Nathan immediately shot out of his chair and ran down the hallway, and without questioning it, the rest of the guys followed, as they ended up in Charles' office once more.

Once inside the office, Nathan had gone to the fireplace and was pressing the stones near the wall, trying to find something. Trying to find anything.

Something was telling him this was how they would help Charles. Something told him this is how they could help end the war for good. He just couldn't place a finger on how he knew it. But he felt it. This could be the end.

When Nathan found it, a stone with a gear etched into it, he pressed it. The others joined behind him as a door appeared, and slid out of the wall, as a red glow came out of the hidden room.

"We're not going in there!" William growled, but Nathan grabbed his arm.

"Just for that, you're first, asshole," Nathan said as he pulled William towards him and then shoved him through the open space, and Nathan went in after him. Toki ran in after Nathan, and Skwisgaar ran after Toki.

Pickles looked around the office, and looked over to where Charles' desk had been only half formed before, to find it fully formed now. It was a sign. "See ya soon, chief," he muttered, as he finally went through the door as well.

As Pickles walked through the glowing doorway, the hidden wall slid shut again, and molded back in with the rest of the wall, as if a doorway had never been there at all.

In the conference room, Ishinfus smiled. The old priest closed his eyes, and slowly, he faded away.