"Is there no other Black Mages left?" Steiner asked desperately, his hand clutching Beatrix's tight.

"No," answered No. 42 sadly. "We're all that's left." For a long moment, all were silent as the news sank in. The full weight of their illness seemed to fully bear down on the mages present as all - even Zentarou - sat down heavily.

There's no hope, Vivi thought to himself. Eiko, Garnet, Beatrix, my sons, we're all going to die. We're all going to suffer and die, just like Queen Adreana said." An ache, tight and sharp, rose up in his chest.

"No!" Zidane's cry of denial startled everyone. "NO! I'm not going to let this thing beat us. I've got too many friends on the line, too many people I care about." He looked at Vivi. Vivi, please think. Did Lady Adreana say anything that might help us, anything at all?" Despite how long ago it had been, and all that had happened, Vivi remembered her words as if she was whispering them into his ear.

"She said, 'All casters under the Spirit Plague will sicken, suffer, and die, unless the essence of those created by magic to use magic washes the world clean. Those so formed will control he essence in concert with the spell of Soul Masters. But they too are vulnerable to the Plague. Ten must be their number, or all - " He choked up a bit. " - all will fall." Zentarou's ears twitched.

"That - something suddenly felt odd to me," he said.

"What?" Vivi tried to suppress the surge of foolish hope that rose up within, the desire to live that all beings held dear.

"I know my mother. She never emphasizes words unless they're very, very important to whatever she is saying. It's not that she overdoes it, but - I just don't know." He scratched his head, behind an ear. "Vivi, repeat what you said." As Vivi did so, Zentarou wrote it down, so all could see.

"She emphasized three times," observed Freya, pointing. "Here, here, and here."

"Wait!" Zentarou sat forward eagerly. "The second time, 'those so formed.' Why emphasize that? You could say it regularly, and we'd still know it was Black Mages we needed.

"Unless she meant something else," commented Zidane.

"Those so formed," echoed Freya, puzzled. "Formed of Mist, I thought. Black Mages."

"Hmm..." Zentarou muttered. "Formed... shaped... constructed... created - " Vivi suddenly cried out.

"Put 'created' in place of 'formed.' 'Those created by magic to use magic...' 'Those so created!'"

"Those so created, by magic to use magic," Zidane rearranged, "will control the Mist." Suddenly his eyes widened. "Black Mages were created. So were - " All said is in unison.

"Genomes!" Then, equally in unison, all went quiet, looking to the one Genome they knew who was created to use magic.

"Everyone looked at Kuja.

"Me?"

"It makes sense, bro Literally, you were made by magical means, to use magical powers, just as literally Black Mages have Mist as their essence."

"An essence I lack."

"Hence the emphasis on formed!" exclaimed Zentarou, the light of understanding in his eyes. "She didn't say it had to be ten Black Mages, those with the essence, just ten casters created in a like manner, by magic to use magic."

"It's the last chance as have," Vivi said softly. "Either you're the tenth caster, Kuja... of we're all doomed." Kuja nodded, then stood.

"Lets go."