Those who owed the debts have vanished. Seated upon a fat rabbit throne that giggles, ready to claim them, is another.
“Furnitureeeee! We are finally furniture!”
A tyrant with legs crossed, her rose-adorned cavalier’s hat shielding her from the hateful sunshine her kind loath, reads a hastily written letter held in one hand.
“As predicted, it was a trite matter to resolve, Lycia. Regalia for the Castillo raid, sage’s secrets extracted over time, treasure awaiting our beckoning, and it’s all ours, when so many others failed against the Kestners?” Adris’ composure is unmatched, his boisterous attitude playing into his swinging arms that dot every important point. His final duty is to point to the letter. “I think you’ll find my plan for utilizing the treasure most worthy.”
“Right, everything was predicted! We didn’t just go in without a plan, Still and Adris wouldn’t do something that dangerous!” Only Avenalliah and her private pep talk intrudes where Still refuses to. At Adris’ side, the elf maid smiles at Lycia’s minute inspection of the “details” Adris shared with the ghoul.
“Though your part was strictly supplementary…?”
A jagged nail pokes through his letter at this “candor”, Lycia’s other hand seeing a biting of a kin in the jagged nail that might poke out Adris’ eyes at any moment.
“… well, it shall never be said that I… no, we do not reward aid.” When Adris turns to glance at Still, she fitfully waves at Lycia, signing her agreement.
“I’ve never had a friend like you~! Never, ever!” Still claps her hands shut and taps them against her mask, a brilliant rainbow-painted smile across it. “Nobody is as generous as you are… Lycia.”
“And our generosity you shall accept as is, for you shall obtain nothing more.” Adris’ ultimatum is profoundly cocky, especially turning away from the beast to no longer “gift” his attention.
(Nobody is as kind as sis who refuses to kill me just because it would be convenient and also hilariously fitting! All so that I can keep faith with the girls! Yes!)
Those girls in question mildly gasp or grunt at these terms, with Kol stuck staring behind and at the black void which has carved out the earth.
(… How did those twins get me so badly? What even was the point of using my first and only Talent for them, if only to stab myself in the hand to spite… myself?)
Adris waits for Lycia to finish, trying not to be left sweating before this marshaling for trial. His attention splits between reality and the immediate past, a horrific “tale” that was told stealing both his thunder and the small sense of security about Zennia that was growing.
(They tore through… me!)
Less author, and more medium and ink, Adris’ lifeblood wrote out their sordid story. What Adris is, is tattered and played with after penning the perfect tale, parchment used to wipe up the mess.
So much so that even trying to process the past two days is a fool’s errand. Even now the numbness lingers, his thoughts diffuse and unconcentrated.
But the play, and the day, goes on.
Lycia’s eyes pour over a “plan” that can only be termed as…
(“Please do not kill me until you read all of this, no matter what bullshit web I weave. You were absolutely right, while I was absolutely wrong.” Enjoy it, Sis.
My total surrender.)
On the outside of the truth, Adris holds his cross, rubbing over it as if it’s a pet. The victor over two Pillars of Zenith and a Wondrous Works enforcer is the wind that blows up his half-cloak to show that he can still accomplish the impossible.
But the words that he scribbled in minutes are wretched.
My power is one that will destroy not only myself that I treasure the most, but also those who have chosen to treasure me.
Your warning is the one that I ignored, but needed.
I promise to never use Authentic Fiction again without first understanding its complexities and mastering the tailoring of its bizarre properties.
Everything you did for me was never deserved. That you did it anyway, I am eternally grateful for. You have been the sister I never wanted, but always needed, and one day I will be the same as your brother.
Oh goddess who is more beautiful than earth, sky, and sun that you hate, please continue to abuse me until I break in the right way. For that purpose, formally accept all that I’ve won by beating this pathetic eastern family and use it for your wildest desires.
(Something like) Love,
Your would-be dutiful, truly pathetic, very intoxicated-with-you little brother.
This parchment that delivers a surrender survives intact, folded into a little tiny square and promptly slid behind Lycia’s ruffled shirt to deposit between her milky boobs.
Lycia’s predatory stare sharpens, then unsharpens, a few times when looking between him and Still. As the resident witch, Still has received almost as much suspicion as Adris regarding the whole affair and frankly bounces on her back heels far too often at it.
(She had nothing to do with this! Why are you acting guilty, partner!? Please don’t piss off Lycia, I’m counting on her starting to make Regalia for the slayers!)
That Still seems to feel this guilt when glancing at Adris is the strangest part.
Finally, the squinting goddess rubs her temples, then above her brow, before finally letting a long sigh issue.
“GHEHE!” The bunny throne plops flat to the ground when Lycia bounds off of it to land within two feet of Adris.
Her spring-loaded self struts forward, one hand playing before him with dancing claws. His heart leaps the same, though his body doesn’t bow when she leans down to lift up his face on sharp points.
“Come back to me as my little brother, or don’t come back at all.”
Hands that can bring death instead release to stroke with so much care… and annoyance against his cheek with the back of her soft fingers. Then, she lays a light kiss on his mask, right where the Emperor’s symbol lies.
“Got it?”
“… Ah, yeah.”
Any hatred lingering is gone when Lycia pulls away, left as a cute, overly self-conscious family member that picks at her shining mail protection when he’s staring at her proud tits. One of the links breaks lose, earning a frown and a tsk.
“And… nobody, not even I, can save you past those gates.” With her simple peace made, Lycia whispers the last bit.
(In the Alchemaster’s shadow, no-one shall be safe.)
Before he can even nod, Lycia does so first and loudly claims what his letter offered.
“By my will, TREASURE!”
The mansion is where her howl reaches, more birds of many colors and sizes taking flight. Their newest spook is a roaring of rushing grains as if a sand slide has released. It breaches over the Castillo’s boundary walls to leave a cross-armed, gallant Lycia framed by it. The power of greed spills down the cliffside, then the wave of golden sands breaches the false flora of Falke’s once-yard to swell up over the ants below!
(I’ve had it with drama.)
A conspiring weave of whispering laughs coaxes the tidal wave to fold in, becoming a twister held off the ground before Lycia to release a deluge of tinkling coins and off-color metallic ovals which begin to amass.
Only a quarter the size of the gold given by defeating Galus the Ancient Rooster Monster, it’s no less appreciated when most of the pile’s mass is the metallic ovals after the twister fades into nothing.
“[Amalgamite]!? LUCKY STRIKE~!” These dimensionally uniform sheets send the taciturn Lycia gleefully clapping and scooping up what doesn’t register to Adris’ aura senses as anything important. With a number of them under arms, she scampers to the broken Regalia.
“Yes, yes, yeeees, these will serve for repairs of the damaged core housing!”
When he glances back to his hidden pocket-witch, he finds Still yanking down on her steepled hat even though her painted smile is fresh.
(You would’ve wanted it, do you?)
“… Amalgamite, intermediate-state, transitory metallic medium. Reacting to specified instructions to replace missing metallic construction with a perfect copy of itself, analyzing and replicating inscribed enhancements be its purpose. Sufficient for reconstructing the ruined dueling Regalia’s internal components such a pile stands as. Attend.” Neesiette is the library this time, marching up to pull upon Adris’ cloak yet again. “Primary objective re-identified: seeking annulment of verdict and retrial.” Wide-eyed and emotionless, Neesiette’s mental state is impossible for Adris to judge even with how needily she yanks upon him.
(Later! MUCH LATER!)
Adris pushes the clingy Lunamaton from him, but not fast enough to prevent a white-haired hooligan from charging past.
“PERFECT ARMOR!”
“HIIIEIEEAAAH!?”
Kol’s leap to the top of the pile sends coins spraying away and sending the furniture called Hoime scampering to roll beside Lycia. When balanced, the knight lifts up her clenched hands in a v-pose, legs spread wide!
“COME! JOIN!”
“… aaaaaaHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHH—————————!”
The mostly quiet morning rends with an inhuman screech. A passive creature sitting on its haunches rears up to utter a sound no wolf would make. It tears past Adris to hurl itself at the kobold.
(What the fu—?)
In the air, the helmet ejects from a spray of shimmering light! The body below it unlocks. Breastplate, plackart, pauldrons, rerebraces, and cuisse jerk open like caskets Adris once witnessed within a Regent’s underground torture chamber. Instead of spike inside, the devouring armor is lined with protective padding to match the gambeson Kol normally wears.
“FORM ON KOL!”
“FooOOOOORMMMMM—————!”
This armored horror clamps onto the bruiser like a mantis’ strikes, one after another its own limbs imprisoning Kol’s. White flames burst when the armor and mail seal shut.
(SO STRONG!)
A spinning white wolf head lands squarely upon its chosen bearer! Ties and clasps animate of their own will, and a familiar tabard with a black cross and violet half-moon and silver half-shield sweeps down Kol’s armor to begin flapping.
“Kol!” The kobold grabs the wolf’s lower jaw and pulls down, setting the protective visor in place. Now, only shining pink eyes can be seen.
“STRONGEST KNIGHT!”
“————CONSUME… eeevery THINGG…”
Two voices come from the same eye holes, leaving everyone afraid of the future with her.
(Strongest squire.)
“SHITTY CORPSE! GIVE BACK KOL’S TREASURE!” As the target of this order, Lycia currently has her back to Kol. “Kol, won against huge tree! Cute, supposed to reward, but didn’t!” But, the wind that picks up around Lycia immediately reeks of rot, even if the ghoul has yet to flinch. Purplish streaks of wisplight rise to hang and surround.
(Please don’t mangle her.)
It would be nice if Adris felt concern for Kol, but no one would intrude with the kobold’s aura of phantasmal fire wicking off of the gleaming Castillo gold below.
“Kol, win all, Kol, biggest, baddest! KAKAKAKAKA!”
When Kol lifts her head to cackle, Lycia’s leans forward slightly and then leaps straight backward so furiously that Hoime and the dirt surrounding are blown away.
“TAKE ALL OF THE SHIN—!”
A tornado with green eyes as bright as the sun winds up her leg!
“NAH!?”
Kol thrusts her arms before her to intercept this spinning aerial roundhouse, but Adris can only follow until this point before Kol vanishes into an exploding cloud of putrid purple splashes. An unmoving knight’s feet pull up only dozens of coins from the stash when trying to hold through the booming impact.
“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh————!”
He traces his frontliner’s trajectory via the same clouds left in the wake and a wailing cry crashing through branches. The first flying kobold is clearly traveling straight for the Castillo’s outer walls.
(Well… we’re going there anyway.)
“AAAAAH! AHAHAHA!” Along with her exploding energies, there was also a grand cracking sound that could only have been Lycia’s entire left leg breaking. The protective greave she wore on it has also exploded all over the yard.
Her peculiar Vigor pours down when she lands on top of the stash on one foot. A distant gaze and an affectionate grin go with her sighs. “SOOOO relaxing, testing just how aerodynamic idiots can be.”
“Are you okay!?”
“Huh?”
Ave’s mournful question is directed to the strangest target when the snake elf streaks up to the treasure pile, reaching into her bag of many things to pull out a precious alchemical regenerator that Adris has so few left of already.
(Not that I ask you to feel sorry for Kol, but…!? Don’t give Kol’s murderer our medicines, at least!)
“Did Kol harm you!? Use this!”
“A healer!? N-No… I’m just… peachy, keep it!” Lycia slides down the coins opposite from Ave, hunching forward and shivering in her presence. Deep, once-reversing wounds crawl to a halt and remain open rips. “Healing things don’t work on me, so… just…?”
“Then!? What… can I give big sis!?”
(Nothing. That’s the price of an undead’s special ability.)
Lycia is a master of using it: permitting “overdrive” of the limbs and organs to achieve greater than normal strength and speed. Though self-harm normally doesn’t occur with Talents, an undead that would rather eat the harm and heal from it can accrue great trade off benefits.
As Ave digs inside the black hole that is the bag, Lycia’s huge smile cringes and she tries to flee further.
“Just… it’s painful, so… some space would be nice!”
The act of upsetting elves apparently produces an even bigger rush of holy authority to fill the yard when Ave halts.
(Avenalliah, please stop harming women I like?)
“Pain? Pain becomes… more around me?” Ave does notice, finally, slithering from the pile back to Adris to coil up. “Um… then… about the giant golem and the big tree, what happened when I popped out of…?”
“NOTHING HAPPENED~! You did… your job perfectly, little snake! It was a suuuuper fun time for everyone~!” Lycia’s retreat is a mad rush to a spot amongst the trees and almost out of view, crashing sounds as unseen objects get tossed about. “Treasure isn’t important, anyway! Rewarding good girls is!”
(Who is going to reward them?)
Both legs now revitalized after escaping Ave, Lycia leaps back to her gilded pile to sit upon it. A large metallic-lined satchel with a complicated sliding lock is what she pops open. Adris desires nothing more than to plant his own leg through Lycia’s pretty cheek, but he’s now locked in the scenario she’s writing when the girls perk up at the first item pulled out, a silver ring.
“Come to big sis for my thanks!”
(THOSE ARE — MY GIFTS! NOT YOURS!)
“For… for troublemakers like us!?” Ave is the first to almost swoon, clutching her small breasts and nakedly shedding a few tears. “Another girl is giving me a gift… and it’s not a trap!?”
“Ah…?” Lycia can’t understand the last part, but smiles at the former. “Troublemakers!? N-Nonsense!? No, I’ve never been troubled by you…?” Lycia catches only Ave, Still, and Neesiette in her counting. “… three in particular. And so, big sis thought looooong and haaaaaard about how to keep her favorite girls safe!”
(YOU MEAN I THOUGHT LONG AND HARD BROWSING YOUR LIST OF WARES!)
Still tepidly tails the blitzing Ave, joining the snake elf at the pile to be handed a gift. Neesiette alone drags Adris with her. Locked only on Adris’ face even while marching up, she intones the same demand.
“Primary objective re-identified: seeking annulment of verdict and retrial, this lady’s Emperor.”
“… We… have greater ambitions, Neesiette. Come and get your gift…”
“Indeed.”
But Adris’ empty hand catches a thrown bag on reflex before noticing it, coins jingling within. From her perch, Lycia frowns in that way she does where she disapproves of her own actions.
“Minus the costs for that sluggy butt’s mindburn treatment, and my standard expenses….” Forty-six gold coins clink, their wealth sending shivers through Adris’ bones.
“Sis, I do not believe we see eye to eye.”
“You’re going to make sure to treat ladies well, yes? Then this is spending money, kid.”
Even if intended for “treating”, Adris’ intention is to throw them away. Lycia’s beautiful smile murders that option.
(I don’t want them! Did you not understand what I meant about my curse!?)
Before that conversation can happen…
“Well, well, well, now that everyone is finished?” A weaselly, oily tone, full of glee, cuts down Adris’ escape.
Tendrils wobble as he approaches. A particularly vile sort appears to further darken this day.
“Shall we take a short cut through to the Wandering Gardens of the Castillo courtesy of your dear Uncle Orloss, my young friends!? Better sharing secrets than capture upon entry!”
“A shortcut is permitted, Orloss. A menagerie is not.”
“‘Entourage’, darkling boy! A menagerie is what you strange lot are.”
So speaks and wiggles the mushroom ball of tentacles sliming up the path to the Castillo’s gilded walls ahead. Far from the front entrance, it is also close to the spot where something hangs entangled from branches.
“They are bound by the highest oaths of secrecy. What matters if they tag along? The mansion is well aware of our little bypass which will soon close forever.” Orloss’ squat representative shrugs, if that is its movement, and continues. Only two feet tall, the nightmarish sea creature ignores Still’s brandished short swords.
(Why do the Dandies have to follow us!?)
Adris plunges Kol’s poleaxe into the ground to lean on the heavy weapon.
The entire chef troupe of the former manse awkwardly perform their tripodal shuffles to keep up with Adris and the rest. They hoist packs between them over their necks and push rolling carts with their front wings. All of the fine kitchenware that the manse once owned is organized for relocation back in Dining Hell.
And the chef comes to a stop to stare at Adris’ disbelieving gaze. From the abyss that was Fehr they’d appeared as a congregating dark mist the same as Orloss’ familiar. The ungainly boss bows and nods its stork head many times before its back wing “barks” out orders to pick up the pace.
“Worried about your special whore, then? Fear not, fear not, that ghoul is too wily to be caught. Already, the message that the twins had us convey to the Chosen will send their thugs up to the cliff side to ferry her to safety!”
“I have no concern for her.”
“… Surely not the mad bunny, then? To think you’d take a liking to that driftwood with bored holes for a skull? What’s it like, plunging into a hallway, eh?”
“Especially not that slave I disposed of. I am…”
Ave’s ponytail whips when she gains Adris’ eye, trying not to pay too much attention.
(Stop saying things that will be misinterpreted!)
Instead, Ave has a bronze banded bottle with a boiling blue liquid inside held up to inspect by the sun. At its opening a special spout is affixed.
“Silver is so pretty, Still!”
For Still, a ring made of dulled, bent, and depressed-into miniature swords and knives wraps around her middle finger. From Still’s ornate box set on the ground have come out numerous magical divining crystals and color-changing fluids, all prompting satisfactory nods when used on the ring.
{The design is… the iffy part.}
She waves it around, as if unwilling to let anyone note that she’s wearing it, before hiding it entirely from Ave.
(Ave’s is the gift of “bravery” according to the wheedling Lycia’s sales pitch, while Still’s is the invitation for edge and point to be dulled.)
Side effects? Of this, Lycia had been dismissive. After all…
(She got them from the slayers, so they’re bound to be cursed in some way.)
For Neesiette, the most currently unstable member, crystals of a fit to a lost rod are what the Lunamaton is currently obsessing over along with.
“Your force rod broke!? Damn, I went to a lot of trouble making these…? Ah? You want this!? Huh… small pieces aren’t bad to let go of, so help yourself, you little tinkerer! Keep in mind that they can’t repair the rod’s missing components enitrely.”
A few smaller pieces of Amalgamite made the treat acceptable to Neesiette, who pulled out her broken rod from within a pack given to her by Orloss. The pack bears the emblem of a falcon clutching a flute. As yet, Neesiette hasn’t spoken of its other contents.
“I am merely… concerned with all that has changed and future needs.” Nebulous as always, something about this rings true even if meant to distract from Adris’ issues. He longs to steal away Neesiette’s bag, but instead departs the chain of bodies. Coming up to a scraggle of manicured creepers and smaller trees, there he pulls out a short blade he saves for tasks to point above.
“I’ve come for you, Kol.”
“… Took long, veeeeeery long, Kol believes. But! Boss, happy to see, because now…”
Asking Still is pointless when it’s about this armored terror currently wrapped like a meatball in long noodles, Adris wills his rabbit boots to send him bouncing to the top with their usual comical noise.
“You… are pretty, too, Still, so silver fits!”
{!?!}
While Adris works, another works too, sidling up and sending Still hopping away. Ave’s extended hand pulls back, then she sighs.
{T-Thanks. It’s not true silver, though.}
“So… it’s true. Orloss told me the truth!” Ave whimpers this before turning around to face Orloss’ puppet.
“Like we discussed, little snake!” Several tentacles lift, curling up with a “mighty” pose to instill energy. “Empty your mind… more than it already is… and the effect shall vanish!”
“R-Right!”
Still’s mask bears a quizzical frown at this exchange. The witch’s defensiveness peaks highest when Ave slithers right up to Still with the elf’s face covered from sight by dainty hands.
“HOOOOOOO…!” Ave’s shoulders sag and her tail that’s lifted plops to the ground with the exhalation of her held breath.
{Ave!? What did that freak tell you to do?}
(Breathing technique?)
Nearly through the last of the vines, Adris’ interest pays off when Ave lowers her hands.
Utterly devoid of energy Ave is now when she lowers herself to be below Still’s head.
A total lethargy drains emotion and leaves the usually crisp air about the elf depleted of that prickly authority.
“… Touch Ave, please.”
The elf mutters this to Still, sending the sneak into a high guard. So blank is Ave’s face that Adris could probably strip naked in front of her and not receive even a stare.
(Did she achieve Clear Mind!?)
When Still realizes she only looks ridiculous to regard this slouching serpent as dangerous… Still tepidly reaches in to pat Ave’s shoulder.
{Hmm!? The heck!?}
Two quick signs later, Still keeps patting Ave’s shoulders, then neck, then cheeks. There’s no reactions from either about this save for Still to tiptoe closer.
{… You’re really soft. ICK!?} This single compliment riles Ave up with a smile, before Still’s flinching back returns Ave to a blank face.
“Pat me, please.” Again with a deadpan order, Ave’s patience is rewarded by Still rubbing her head. Slowly at first as if expecting it to be a fiery hotness, Still’s mesh-covered hand picks up speed to start combing through green locks and touching Ave’s many hair ornaments.
{So silky!? Is this… fey magic?}
“I make a shampoo from plants I help to grow in the abandoned baths.”
{A shampoo!?} Still pulls Ave up by her cheeks to face a mask with a brightly painted smile upon it. {How’s it made!? It’s worth a for—!?} Still stops in mid sign, switching to a plaintive gesture from the one that Adris knows means “coins”. {Could you teach a… friend how to make it~?} A luxurious set of signs sends Ave’s cheeks blushing.
“FRIEND!? YES, I’LL TEACH YOU RIGHT AWAY!”
A wave of crispness that makes the earth moan surges from Ave, striking Adris and making even him wince. Ave’s shout and arms thrust toward the sky send Still back-flipping to escape and right into the same brush row Kol is trapped in.
{!?!?!?!}
No smoke burns from her like Lycia might experience, but Still’s insides are vibrating in such a way that the shared link between Adris and her transmits the sensation.
(That was short lived. Why is Ave bothering me, now!?)
“Still!? Are you okay!? Ave… I tried so hard not to…!?”
{F-Fine~! Never better… thanks for… trying. At least you can change if you’re serious enough, Ave!}
“Yes! I’ll keep trying not to feel anything at all. I’m sorry for… for all your suffering before now!”
{… At least someone else besides me feels sorry…?}
Even if Still hides behind a tree to allow the repeatedly bowing Ave’s excitement to abate, the sneak’s gestures don’t seem as rigid as normal when the two of them chat.
(Did… Ave actually reach the “real” Still I chat with?)
Ave is left staring painfully at Still from afar, so for Adris a few final slashes spin his kobold into an unwinding crash to the ground. Fortunately for all, Kol especially, only her arm protection appears smashed and likely mendable. The rest is mere cosmetic ruination from the necrotic energies she was exposed to, along with the breath knocked out.
“KOL, DESTROY SHITTY CORPSES!”
“When we return, perhaps.”
“Kol earn treasure!”
“I dispensed with it! Receive my gift and thanks instead, Kol.”
And then Adris slaps into Kol’s hands the only gift that Adris is left with to be transferred.
“Gift!? ‘Tribute’!? Nah?”
Though all were meant as bribes, it’s Kol’s in particular that Adris is interested to see how it’s taken. Kol unrolls the leather-and-iron band, stopping with fascination where it reveals in Xin script her name followed by the Emperor’s emblem and another’s name.
“Do you recall your pledge in Petripolis before I drove you into the muck, Kol?
‘When I am victor, you will forever bear a mark of that acceptance everywhere you go, announcing our positions and relationship.’” Adris taps the marks scored into the strip. “That is your name: Kol fehl Dain. This is to announce who you…”
His finger presses onto Kol’s tabard where her emblem proudly emblazons.
“… belong to, as property of ‘Emperor Adris’.”
“Ohhhhhh!?”
Usually her grunts come with a growing sense of chaos and glee, but now it’s purely reverential. She holds the band up to see it better, just like Ave would, her smiling white teeth gleaming from behind her visor.
(Courage for Ave, protection for Still, unusable force gems for Neesiette, and for you that wonderful thing called “Slayer’s Friend”!)
“This will never come loose. It’s your dignity and honor as my… apprentice.”
“Really? Kol, belong with… someones other than Black Tide?”
Embedded within her weapon it is useful for finding that; but, the moment Kol tosses it away in a fit of rage or insanity, they can no longer locate Kol. At all times, Adris requires his heart to beat steadily without the sense of losing someone.
He’d felt that instinctively before the manse, but after it his mouth is wet at the thought of Kol slapping it upon her wrist and forever being bound.
“It will bind you to me as deeply as your oath, making you always within my sight. Apprentices are a property on Xin, the land I rule, so I must mark you for it to be official.”
“… Huh… that, strange, but…?”
Without too much fuss, the kobold loosens the bundled strap…
“Do not worry, I will never abuse…”
… slips her helmet from her head when it automatically detaches, hands it to an Adris that is shocked to hold a wolf in his hands, and then Kol…?
(W-Wait…)
“Ohhhh, fits well!”
In one tie, Kol’s throat gains a collar that was meant for her wrist. The moment it’s tied, the strap’s unneeded length evaporates and it becomes a single piece.
“What…?”
“Kakakakaka! Look, Boss, Kol, wear name! GREAT!”
(… YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO PUT IT ON YOUR FUCKING NECK!?)
Kol steals her helmet back and trundles up to the spectators watching. “LOOK, ELF! BOSS, MASTER, OWN KOL! KAKAKAKAKA!”
“WEARING SOMETHING LIKE THAT…!? Shouldn’t it make you a pet dog!?”
Still is the first to comment to Adris directly, but her brutal striking at her wrist means something else.
{I said “treat her like a dog”, not make her your fuckin’ pet!} Adris repeats that tapping motion while approaching, ending with gestures of his own creation.
(“Yes, idiots miss the obvious place!” I didn’t intend for her to do that!)
Still sags a bit, her head tilting in agony, but then Kol roars out something worse.
“Boss! Kol, have answer for problem, so, Kol announce place!?”
(Oh, shit, later with that stuff…)
“I’ll hear it when we camp.”
“Kol, disciple, right!? Now?” Kol clambers back to him with Ave pulled in tow. “Boss, to Kol, to Elf, this ‘line of rule’? Like ‘feudal’ thing Moon talk about?”
“Wait!? Kol is a disciple!? Of yours, Adris!? You’re going to make her your favorite student!?” A stricken look of envy floods over Ave and banishes her prior happy conversation.
“That’s… a bit of an overstatement as to our relationship.”
Kol rips at Adris’ sleeve to get his attention back.
“Kol, favorite, best student, eventually replace Boss!”
(Have you still not given up!?)
“I am of far too high standing to maintain an official successor for my teachings without further deliberation!”
“Ah? Boring!”
But it’s too late to amend Kol’s outburst’s harm, for Adris feels a shadow encroaching and catches it with hopes to freeze it.
Still’s mask is a neutral expression, a flat line that absolutely means inner dissent. Adris’ partner is quite excellent at turning away from any conversation and holding herself aloof of inspection of thoughts.
But something is biting at Still such that she wastes time flipping a dirk to catch it.
(Why are you so icy about me teaching Kol?)
“Boss! Say disciple!? Not mean!?”
“You are my disciple, but ‘favoritism’ lies elsewhere!”
“Oh… then… what Boss said about…?”
(DON’T SAY IT!)
Kol shuts up when Adris tugs on her new neck collar. “We can’t waste time, or we’ll be missing your first lessons, Kol.” Adris rips up Kol’s poleaxe to return it. “The Castillo lies ready to be conquered, and all four of you have much to prove after the travesty at the manse!”
If the words “Boss’ woman” come out right now, Adris may actually be murdered by someone present.
All it will take is a dirk to grow from his throat.
(Hmmm?)
Adris’ remark about the past day’s failures stiffens all present. Kol’s eyes blaze with anger, though she smiles instead of biting.
“UMU! Right, Kol, made mistakes, finally understand them, like rushing off instead of protecting winning ‘move’! Blast ahead for weaklings, then come back, SHOW BOSS THAT KOL HAS GOTTEN BETTER!”
An arm gets stolen by Ave’s hands, with the elf whispering to Adris.
“… I know what we… no, what I can do to improve. I won’t show you something distressing like relying on… evil powers again. That I really can be the ‘wind’ I told you about!”
(What is “evil” about what you can do, other than harming yourself instead of our enemy?)
Even Still nods at the point Adris brings up, becoming sterner as she rejoins them. A quick waggle of her hand is comforting, though. {By leaps and bounds since we left Welcome Web, you’re already getting the best me possible now, partner.}
(Ascendants bless!? A non-sarcastic claim?)
{You might even deserve me~.} And then the sarcasm strikes, a light sting instead of what she has hit Adris with before today.
All three of brim with assertiveness that Adris can’t place.
For Kol to admit any fault, Ave to hint at confronting herself, and Still to not cut Adris down with her first gestures, what brings all this to fruition can’t be explained by Adris’ memories.
“ATTEND! THIS LADY’S EMPEROR!”
“What…!? Neeseitte?
The outlier tries to climb Adris, though, assaulting him from behind and causing him to have to rip her up into his arms. For so well-dressed a girl to behave like a monkey is also beyond Adris.
“Honor: besmirched! Stained! Trodden upon! Evil acts of traitorous creations, UNTHWARTED!”
That it’s Neesiette screeching at him is an occurrence as unbelievable as waking up to discover himself back upon a floating island with black stormclouds rushing over him. Adris sets Neesiette down, only to have his hand stolen by hers.
“Suitor, named as such! Primary purpose stated now: defense of the integrity and honor of one’s chosen lady, tarnished as it be by them, commit!”
Neesiette slaps Adris’ hand when he doesn’t immediately reply. A fit of pique leaves Neesiette almost human-like with how her cheeks and eyes strain, as if something is boiling over within her inner workings.
The Lunamaton smooths her dress, lifting her chin to spit out a demand.
“Defend thy lady! Vanquish her foes! Restore sterling honor! Now!”
It’s beyond expectation that anyone present should regard Neesiette as tarnished, but this is the direst concern for her.
(I… never thought I’d witness Neesiette being petulant… especially about something so utterly banal as being slighted!)
“‘Suitor’? Have you gone crazy, doll!? As if anyone would be after you, much less Adris! EW!” Ave waves her hand at Neesiette, then chuckles into her other one. “That’s just… disgusting!”
“Disgusting be the ground-bound nature of reptiles!”
“Crawl over here and repeat that! SHAAA!”
“This lady’s Emperor!” Neesiette pulls Adris to face his favorite snake, with him serving as a stand-in for a lost rod when the Lunamaton attempts to wave him. “Purging of inferior non-sentient lifeforms, this be authorized as well!”
(This is precious…)
Losing complete control of oneself is normally a social failure that leads to total loss of esteem, but Adris can’t help but openly grin at the zest of Neesiette’s angst. Waving her arms about, pointing at a missing building while screaming, and then turning up her eyes when gushing about the “loss”…?
“Superiority of one’s lady’s stature, assaulted! Demeaned! Imperiled!”
“… Nobody here finds you assaulted, my lady.”
Finally Adris kneels before his “lady”. An audience might shrink back at the sight, but he can no longer allow such a person to shout.
(I honestly might start laughing at her if she keeps hopping up and down while crying about “her honor”, and then I’d be murdered…)
One line alone is needed, for Neesiette is the most logical mind encountered. Her newly discovered feminine passion will latch onto such a statement forthcoming.
“It is the prerogative of the inferior to turn their envious hands upon others, using banal instruments like ‘legalities’ to try to cut down those flowers that stand the tallest.” Adris’ touch to her cheek causes Neesiette to close her eyes and rest against it.
“No earthly claim, no spreading lie, can possibly diminish even an iota the brilliance of a perfectly created being from a wonder such as Traveler.”
“…
… Truthful, convincing that logic processes as.”
“It’s the sad duty of the wisest and most perfect to suffer the indignities of their lessers with a benevolent dignity that will never be rewarded, my lady. Their societal rules would be upturned by existences that burn as brightly as we do should we not moderate ourselves for their safety. Only you possess a dignity broad and resolute enough.”
Neesiette’s scowl vanishes like morning dew, replaced by a benign grin.
“… Depressing, that beings such as we must contort ourselves to fit within demeaning rules. Such a conclusion also arrived at, wise, an Emperor be, complementing his lady’s peerless intellect.” Neesiette’s hands close over his. “Proceeding toward conquest in the future, shall we?”
“After you.”
A storybook ending to a woman’s tempestuous ravings will not, of course, be as easy as this. Adris’ turn from Neesiette to witness everyone else gawking at the two of them reminds Adris of the difficulties the future will bring.
For Neesitte demands “all together, or not at all.”
(NO FEAR. NO HESITATION. NO FORGIVENESS NEEDED!)
The bloodstained path was chosen for Adris the moment he chose four girls to be his arms and legs within the dangerous lands of Zennia.
It didn’t dawn on him then in madness, but after laying hands on all four it is impossible to extricate from it, nor does Adris’ beating body wish to flee.
(Only a dickless, ball-less fool would run from a chance of absolute victory!)
“With… a Neesiette!?” A question that treats the named as an object gets shrilly asked by Ave, the naive snake maid pulling back on her long tail to hold herself tightly against the shock. “Ad-Adris…!? Are you… okay!? Someone with a handsome personality like yours can do better!” It’s then that Ave breaks to rush to Adris’ side, feeling his cheek with the back of her hand. “Why would you want to hurt yourself like this, did that night with the shadows damage you!? Did it drive you to this devil that causes pain, because you like pain now!?”
(Oh, you’re not jealous, just concerned for my sanity. That’s one way of handling this.)
Kol shares a look between the two that appears almost spooked, then the kobold growls low.
“Gggghhh! Two strongest, Kol can’t beat apart, together too!? How together? ‘Alliance’!?”
(Why is “beating me” your primary concern? Shouldn’t you be jealous of another female?)
But… if it’s jealousy Adris might feel he longs for in the pit of his stomach, even Still’s reaction grows from a different emotion.
{“My… lady?”}
That fluidity that comes to her movements when killing intent peaks leaves Still weaving into Ave’s unsettling aura. She pulls her hat back so Adris can see the bared-teeth painted on a porcelain mask with absolute clarity.
{ONE…!} A finger lifting to jab at Adris’ face is that “one”. {RULE!} A flame-bladed short sword to his belly might be “two”.
(“DON’T LAY YOUR HANDS ON NEESIETE!” I remember!)
Adris then finds himself backing off from the approaching finger…
(But, I didn’t! SHE DID, ON ME! I’m not at fault!)
A roadblock Adris almost trips over, backing away from the ghost skating on the ground to announce his doom, moves into view.
(SHE R-RAPED ME WITH HER IMPOSSIBLE…!?)
“‘Rule’, tyrannical usage noted. Zennian rules, such inferior limitations!”
{Neesiette…?}
Around Adris’ legs so as not to be tripped over, a lady of only two and some feet comes to Adris’ defense. Reaching to pull upon her kravat, this steel-blue mistress pumps up her shoulders to appear bigger.
“Rules, defined by a jailor?”
{I’m no jailor, just less naive.}
“Friendship, requested, yet? By limitations and dismissal of personal choice, demonstrated, such a friendship? A man chosen by this lady, to this personage one shall deliver harm unrequested!? Naive!? All be comprehended by this lady!”
Neesiette’s shrillness creeps back in, a long-withheld discussion spilling out before others. Never has Adris witnessed these two friends of the same colors bicker or conflict; but, as Still pulls back from her lunge to fold her arms up, it seems a fight that needed to eventually occur will now.
After a minute or more of the two staring each other down from dissimilar heights and Ave fretting beside Still with Kol standing at Neesiette’s side with poleaxe ready…
“Openly and boisterously surrendering to this lady’s charms, an Emperor of another world succumbing, of such an event be one…?”
A folding fan of unknown provenance flips out into Neesiette’s hand to open. With a stage-play coquettish attitude, Neesiette turns slightly from Still as she waves it.
“Jealous?”
{Ho!? That…?} Still’s hands stop in mid-response, a fervent rebuttal coming for a moment. Instead, she sizes Adris up. {You… surrendered to her?} An unknown feeling latches onto these quick motions, ending in a pointing at Adris’ heart.
Still’s mask is a curious grin that matches with that internal discord, for something strikes her as funny when Adris drinks of her feelings.
(I did… in a lot of ways, in order to win over her?)
But if you have to ask if he really surrendered, then…?
“I… gave in to those… qualities that I couldn’t defeat.”
{Oh? ‘Qualities’? Haha!} The sneak slaps her thick thigh, waving a placating gesture at Neesiette when the Lunamaton jerks more upright. {Okay, that’s… precious. Amusing, even.}
Adris thinks of what expression to use, but Still’s sudden “giggle” proves that his lips have curled before he finished weighing options. An exchange of information occurs on a primal level, for Adris feels that he’s tipped the “relationship” that Neesiette and he have too quickly.
{If… he didn’t force himself on you like they do in your favorite air-headed books, then…?}
“One’s jealousy be unseemly, so quick to insult.”
{Yes, terribly unseemly… and?}
Still’s prickly behavior is absent when the sneak struts up to pat Neesiette on the head, earning a swipe of the Lunamaton’s fan.
{Do you still believe that love and war aren’t the same thing?} Still leans over to hang before Neesiette, aggressively so.
“Love, defined by ‘affection’! War, defined by ‘hatred’! Neither approaching the other, love cannot be war!”
Between two people, a profoundly deep philosophical belief is shared. The smile Still bares is a contemptuous creature, full of whimsy, while Neesiette’s frown edges out with more of her unusual petulant rage.
“Proving, demonstrating empirically, this lady shall to another less understanding of men’s hearts!”
{Looking forward to it, precious, precocious little orphan of mine.} Still’s body language now is truly arrogant when correcting Neesiette’s tied kravat for her. {Don’t cry too hard when the world doesn’t obey your expectations~.}
From the ground Still picks up her ornate box after folding it up, and then lugs it by its strap to hold it before Adris.
(Eh?)
It’s lifted once, then twice. Held by Still’s long, deliciously soft fingers, she cocks her head and displays a smirk when he concentrates on them instead, as if disappointed.
“Ah. Sure.” Adris absentmindedly slings the box under his arm to carry it, shifting his own pack to make himself more comfortable. The fold-up tote is made of different woods and, oddly, sculpted bones and natural soft rocks.
(This is the first time she’s let me touch it.)
“All is resolved, yes?” At a spot between the trees, bushes, and thousand creepers, a squiggling octopus thing calls back with a question. “Shall we finally enter before Peak’s men arrive to capture you five?”
“Let’s conquer destiny.”
Adris strides forward, ducking a glance at Neesiette to judge the outcome of this little tussle.
(Why are you glaring at me?)
Between Still, Adris, and the box he carries this moon fairy rapidly sweeps, her shining violet peepers creating some relationship between all three with their intensity. Neesiette’s arms hang low, then lift to clench.
“Hee hee!” Ave slides past Neesiette, hazarding a smile hidden behind her hand that she turns to unleash. “Still is pretty smooth, right!?”
“Long the pursuit to victory be, ignorant newt!”
“Shame you’re too short and stubby for the journey, huh? If you had a loooo~ng tail, you might make it!”
(… Ah… AAAAH!? Still, you…!?)
And Adris can’t even call at the fat-bottomed sneak that sashays deliberately right in front of him, keeping an exacting pace between them. It’s her actions that cut the most out of any others’, because Still continues to establish that Adris has many openings and a few vulnerable inclinations.
(Why the fuck did I decide to carry it for her? She’s not Neesiette! She can carry her own things…)
And so Adris falls back to lift an unholy tome from Neesiette’s possession, putting it also over his shoulder.
“Indeed? Commendable… be this.”
It’s an unnecessary thing to carry any of their things, for Ave’s bag can hold them all, but in principle Adris is snared by what they wish for.
“I’ll make certain they’re beside you, Neesiette.”
“… As well, one’s dedication.”
(Somehow… this feels like it has an air of coming normality, too.)
“Be wary of our shift! A dimensional jaunt of unpredictable nature such as this one will be can unsettle your stomach. Or lose some limbs, but no matter…”
With Orloss stuck weaving his tendril in a pattern like an aura constellation, Still clings onto Adris from his unburdened side, pushing her fatty parts against him that are only barely cushioned by her thick fencer’s doublet. Still’s most dangerous traits show in a highly exhibitionist way when having fun.
(Sh-Shit!?)
A hand tucks in to open his pants, the manse-made replacements for what he lost obeying another’s black-mesh-clad touch.
{I like these~.}
That hand explores the flap that stays rigid, joining what’s inside that goes turgid with her pressing in to test the space before pulling out.
{Just let me make sure they fit right, keeping my precious…?} Adris follows her mesmerizing dancing fingers.
{Partner safe.}
“Kol, will do that!”
Then a knight pushes in from the left, looking past Adris to an enemy.
{Nice collar, mutt.}
“GREAT collar, only gift from Boss given! Only special gift, KAKAKAKA!”
(They were all my gifts!)
Still doesn’t rile up, only clinging more sultry than before.
{A nice ring, though, don’t you agree~?} She taps the ring against him.
(Nobody gets anything past Still.)
The runes spinning out from the center of Orloss’ constellation start to gather purple lightning, but others crowd him.
“Anyone can do better than a… ugh, a Neesiette!”
“Release! Provocations lurid, detestable for a gentleman to cling onto him!”
“Says the one who jumped first!?”
(Ave is right this time, you have been all over me!)
His cloak is tugged on by two sets of hands. It’s too much for one still-growing boy to handle, and Adris can only thank how tired he is for refusing to care when he’s almost lifted off the ground by Ave.
(No matter, this… being out in the real sunlight and free of “paradise” is infinitely better. And I have… a lot of time…)
Adris’ sense of heaviness vanishes momentarily when a splendor like the manse’s gates bursts forth to wrap around them all. From squid to monstrous bird thing, all present pop into a bubble of twisting energies.
The next sight to take in after the blinding light fades is an unwelcome, deeply festering sensation within.
A not-so-distant mansion towers over them, its dual upper wing sections joined by hanging walkways and great architecture to the central keep. Banners on long lines by the thousands wave overhead crisply.
To the right, the great world tree rises with huge roots forming the garden’s terrace sections. To the left, the simpler garden maze whose endless multitudes of plants all grow within earthen plots resting upon moving centipedal sections. Greater in area than any Xinian battlefield or Regent’s public lawns, Adris could fit the entirety of Petripolis’ residents here among the many circular stone tables and chairs for a picnic, and still have space for the rest of Castile to join.
“Welcome to the Memorial Fountain of the Great War!”
The mists that drift through the wide lawns separating sections and leading to the unseen bottom floor of the Castillo lap at the fountain they appear before. Larger than their residence within Petripolis and dwarfing all but the central square of the city, this water-works with three main tiers and many lesser ones is encrusted by statues. Numerous minions of not only the Castillo, with their servile outfits thrusting outward to dare the world into striking at them, but also hundreds of gaunt soldiers in raggedy Tiberian armor, pursuing an unseen figure round their basin, and a separate group of the indistinguishable masses, climbing their basin to plunge into it, are represented here in lifelike style.
Wrapped around all of the basins are creepers and thick mosses that preclude it having worked for many, many years.
Left hovering momentarily as their bubble of transit pops, all are struck with gawking expressions at what surrounds them save for Orloss and the Dandy flock.
(I… want to challenge this? I…!?)
And then they touch ground…
A mechanism within his heart, one properly lubricated and primed, turns with the twisting of a key.
A numbing rush of potential flows through Adris’ legs and out his feet, transforming fogged and cracked glass panels below into a rushing stream of frozen crystal-clear waters!
Obscene desires pump through his arteries! A cold body pressed to his warms up from what he thrusts against it. The porcelain mask he’s drawn to offers pursed lips, but his hand comes to its edge to fight its wearer to remove it!
(I… WANT…!)
A crushing heaviness nearly crumples Adris, to then become a vertigo of uplifting intoxication! The enormous water fountains that were once silent roar to life with thick-smelling wine shooting into the air. Mosses and creepers evaporate into golden leaf, unveiling the true artistic extravagance of the figures encrusting them.
When they come to life too, moving with their own convictions round the basins, the mists obscuring the lawns pull back with an exhalation of rousing.
This oppressing grandeur of gold and silver and wealth blinds, and then his heart fills when his mind empties!
All of the plans he holds dearly to, the ones that are needed to save him, are shredded and tossed. Only priorities like touch, taste, pleasure, and discovery of what he desires remain.
(It’s… it’s the Castillo’s… curse!)
Like it does to him, Adris’ cursed key rouses the mansion.
A sleeping giant is yanked from its home, anchoring its potency to surround and imperil whatever he has in view. The sleeping blandness of an uncared-for garden groans with the botanical maze rumbling.
Blue-Golds, the flower of evil, snake up from the earth to claim every pillar, plant riser, and alcove.
(Cold… but warm!)
The blue-and-purple jester in Adris’ clutches refuses to let her mask come loose, but her hand matches to clamp onto his butt as his claims hers. All of the thoughts linked to Still demand that Adris never let go, or she’ll vanish into a shadow to escape any pursuit. Just the possibility of losing her causes Adris to choke.
(You will be mine… forever…!)
Adris licks his lips in agreement, tasting the alcoholic foam that sprays upon them from the fountains above.
And then his perfect balance of clinging to this total replacement for a lost partner is thrown off. “BOSS!” Adris’ left arm is stolen by a chunk of burning black steel. A knight drags his attention, demanding recognition. “Kol’s Boss…!” Madness reflects in pink eyes beneath a closed wolf’s snout. Teeth bared, a kobold clatters against what Adris carries to be ever closer to his body.
Pulling in, without ever intending to release! A stink so energizing coming from her body, and her bushy tail whipping about drunkenly.
Arms clamp around his waist, dragging backward, too. An unspeaking serpent slides to place her head against the back of his, breathing so harshly.
“Eternity… be… demanded! Surrender… EVERYTHING!”
Even a tome that is pulled on to further steal his balance is a reminder of his last conquest. Neither diminished by being fourth nor attainable before the other three, Neesiette’s selfish soprano tone is a purely musical fulfillment that hardens Adris as much as the touches.
(I want the alchemy that makes them mine, all for me, forever…!)
“What have you done, darkling boy!?” The rumbling of the gardens only grows, but also centers on the party. Orloss’ tendrils wave about, with the Dandies that tagged along swiftly scurrying back to watch them with fascinated blood-shot eyes.
“Ho? The war prize… THE [ANGEL] IS UNSEALED!?” Castillo shining brightly, fueling this growing urgency and threat, Orloss’ answer to it is for his puppet to suddenly ram them all!
(B-BELOW!?)
An enormous chitinous claw tears through the glass flooring below! Orloss’ puppet goes with it, grabbed up and then
SHEARED INTO GIBLETS
by an impossible crushing force!
An albino white its shell is, this entity which tears through the long glass walkway before them. Ten spindly legs hoist it to tower just as tall as the victory fountain. Glass sprinkles down when its antennae flip about, testing the air as the cold waters below drain off of it. A three-sectioned body, overlapping plated tail, wiry stalks for eyes, and the jaws of an insect prove this is a much, much larger kin of the beast Adris remembers from Xin.
Despite the gossamer, creepily-glowing wings that extend from its tail to lift it off the ground without moving wind boosting it, this fiend should be considered quite the harmless delicacy.
(It’s a lobster.)
“DELICIOUS STRONG!” The first to rouse is Kol, whose incapacity for fear launches her into the path of the creature. A poleaxe thrusts forward to menace it!
“Don’t… fight it.” Adris tries to howl this, for the black cross is buzzing when it forces itself into his hand from Cethran’s looped cloth belt. So long as he is unwilling…!
“[Angel] (MOCKERY OF NATURAL LIFE), biological weapon of the Lords of Light, last of its kind eradicated at the conclusion of the Second Age.” Neesiette tears loose her tome, readying to unlock it. “Impossible-scale… foe.”
(Ah, then… then…!)
“BLOOD AND STEEL!”
Kol’s mad rush comes just as Still grabs up Adris and Ave rips at Neesiette’s short cloak to take everyone from the field.
“Nah?”
An airborne kobold that’s jumping for her foe gets clamped in a moment by a crushing claw.
“GEEE!? NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!?”
(Get… get out! Ah…)
Vertigo assails Adris as Kol is lifted up so that the great lobster beast can aim its free claw.
“OW! BIG OW! HURT! HUUUUUUURT! AGAAH!?”
Every strike is a shrill cry of metal, for pieces of black steel fly everywhere with impacts that are like a mountain repeatedly falling upon Kol. This armorer holding a piece of metal cares nothing for its work, drilling its claw tip so hard that black Vigor bursts out Kol’s backside!
(Save… my… Kol…!)
And it’s here that Adris’ will darkens and he’s claimed by the chant of another.
“From the deepest depths of desire, through curtain unseen, darkness, to thy superior, take incarnation and root in mind, for your name is [False God].”
Screams of the Beyond tear at his waking sight!
Banners gently wave in this room lit by beaming radiance.
A room whose dimensions escape measurement is his destination, with blue-and-gold carpeting of the finest quality and comfort he lies on leading down stairs descending to the lesser tiers of a tyrant’s home.
(Not again!?)
Effusive, sugary scents laced with a touch of deathly poison come from curious blue and golden flowers, ones that curl like churned butter while growing around the banisters and walls without soil. Metallic sconces that burn with a spectral blue flame boast of the grandiose authority of the inventor of them.
Though it has the appearance of mercury, the throne before Adris never moves beyond its assigned position, calmly serving as resting place for a dignitary with no mortal comparison.
“Bound so easily.”
Behind the throne is a large, gold-framed mirror between spiraling pearl columns. Familiar stained glass windows with a golden heart set between them show images.
The same golden-haired girl in blue points a saber dripping silvered-blood towards a shining, inverted structure of a massive size proudly formed of parapets, towers, and powerful tiers.
That silver blood is a familiar substance to Adris after having witnessed it in person.
(Ah, that’s… [Nectar].)
Symbols engraved in the heart match the constellation within Adris’ Inner Expanse, but it is a figure seated upon her frozen throne that earns his attention. Like a reminder that corruption is the nature of man, and the doom of the world, this un-fragile, yet delicate, existence peers over her steepled hands at the wretch that is bound to a glyph-inscribed circle before her.
“Once is a mistake. Twice, that makes you a fool… to invade my home.”
A youthful girl wearing a whitish-silver breastplate over a sky-blue dress leans back into her throne, curiously gifting Adris far too much circumspection. Golden cloaks trail behind her, but they appear completely uninterested except to grant a cursory “sniff” of whipping in the air. Immaculately combed hair like pressed gold shines, with the stately frown upon her face teaching of the limits of her patience.
Every rich feature about her is precise, measured, and meticulous.
(No, it’s wrong.)
The moment he scans her eyes, the same soul-searing blue-banded-by-gold that he recalls in his nightmares, Adris can be confident of the lackluster nature of this scene compared to the memory.
Too ostentatious because it is not implicit, meticulously prepared to showcase power instead of leaving you guessing.
Too omniscient because it lacks the lure of false impish guile, begging you to destroy yourself by quaffing the toxin.
“No matter your tarnish, gold is eternal, black thing.”
When this imitation slides from her throne to adopt a regal posture that aims a protective glove his way, Adris decides that fear has no place in this throne room.
Is she powerful? Yes, Adris can taste the gathered “magic” licking at his own body through the sealing circle.
Is she impressive? Undeniably, for this lass attains a manicured regality that is unneeded by the effortless real one.
Is she remarkably accurate? This is the most interesting feature, because her dress and presentiment are so awfully similar, so close that if Adris did not intimately know the wretched horror herself, had he not been plundered by pure greed of a kiss, he might conflate the two.
But, does she compel fear?
Adris slyly lifts his head to reveal a naked smirk beneath his glowing black mask.
“You talk too much, Lady of Pyrite.”
With only one sentence to prove his point, he receives a flinch of her extended and menacing hand.
A drawing back of this imperious aura. That horrible moment called “indecision” that the Alchemaster would never stumble into when the little girl opens her mouth without uttering a word.
Shock, not savagery.
(I’ve drank the real “greed”, nothing else comes close.)
With that in mind…?
What reason would you have to fear [fool’s gold]?
Characters:
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human), ???
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis, [True False God]
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”
[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
[Authentic Fiction] – “All tales eventually gain sufficient truth if retold often enough, right? Why shouldn’t my fiction be better than ‘reality’?”
Items:
[Lord of Predation] – “BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN FOOD OR PLEASURE FOR ME!”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
[Amethyst Oracle] “A present from this stuck up hoarder!? Am I gonna die if I use it!?”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“Becoming weak and strong, this is a way of being seen, but can you turn all four plans for four girls into a cohesive result?”
“Isn’t this purely the convergence of luck? Is that also a form of Fate?”
“Will you perhaps add Aurumia to your harem?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“Encroaches on another mystery of darkness without understanding.”
“Now he sees how little he matters in the greater schemes of others.”
“Things lost, things gained, the two must be weighed to see if you are ahead or behind.”
Commentary:
“Didn’t die, still going, but now comes the process of… processing what’s happened. Nothing is the same anymore.”
Name: “Kol” fehl Dain, “Pink”
Titles: Idiot, “Tyrant Knight”
Race: Kobold, ???
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Frontliner, ???
Discipline: Tyrant Squire
Powers:
[Invisible Edge] – “Axe goes through everything?”
[Full Contact] – “Wanna go!? Kol, let fists talk!”
[“Ride on Dread”] – “THE WORLD, BELONG KOL! KAKAKA!”
[“Tyranny”] – “EVERYONE, SEE KOL’S AUTHORITY!”
[Lost Paradise] – “EVERYTHING BURNS SO VIVIDLY! SUCH GREAT COLORS!”
[ ?DARKNESS? ] – “▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒……!!!”
Items:
[“Dreadful Armor”] – “This is where Kol will live and die. When Kol roars, armor roars, too!”
[Halberd of the Whirlwind] – “GET OVER HERE!”
Disposition: Straightforward / Confrontational / Respectful
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Pink
Hair: White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – C-?!?
Vitality – C-?!?
Dexterity – E
Agility – F
Intelligence – F
Mentality – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Are you attracted to rampaging metal? Though in your case, you appreciate the voice, don’t you? Do you long to see more? If she reminds you of a certain someone, then…?”
“Self-sacrificial is more like what you pretend to be, isn’t it? If you create a love interest who kills herself, will that be karma?”
“Yet it’s the one that survives anything that you feel like you should protect?”
Description:
“Brash and forthright, a warrior wielding an axe with two hands forsakes protection to deliver only harm. Contrary to this impression, she also seems interested in a straight up fight. If her words are any indication, she offers little thought to her actions.”
“Learning terrible, awful lessons from the worst teacher imaginable.”
“Eager to show that she can achieve learning the important things. If only to become the boss.”
Commentary:
“Easily placated, but never thwarted in the long term.”
Name: Avenalliah Aurmaris
Titles: Lustful Lizard, Elf
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Age: Young
Occupation: Delver, Scared Girl
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[“Sylvan Calling”] – “The spirits play when they want to! … They really do! Why are you looking at me like that!?”
[Preternatural Strikes] – “Um, I’ve always been pretty good with a whip? Elves use a lot of weapons! I just like… my whip…?”
[Monstrous Strength] – “EH!? Why is it monstrous!? Elves aren’t monsters!”
[“Unknown Angel”] – “Ave doesn’t feel especially blessed…”
[Elvish Venom?] – “Hm? Well, Ave doesn’t really know, but if you have fangs, shouldn’t you have venom?”
Disposition: Joyful / Impressionable / Cowardly
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Crystal Green
Hair: Moss Green
Skin: White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – C
Vitality – D
Dexterity – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – F
Luck – A
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “While not possessing your newly favorite curves, isn’t a girl with a naive charm also fine? Because she covers so little, you are also left without having to imagine what you could possess, yes?”
“Enjoying her shame? Have you found what you like about her?”
“Will you expect her to fight over you? How will that occur… and for what purpose?”
Description:
“As cheerful as she is skittish, Avenalliah fits an unknown position within the four delvers’ group. Though she carries a large sack, that would hardly count as a position… right?”
“There is more to faith than the name of the one you claim to worship.”
“Can learn to not be expressive, even if it is torment.”
Commentary:
“The one who had to change the least, but perhaps maybe might’ve been shown just how much she has to change (to earn the readers’ favor).”
Name: Still, “Cyrene Stillwater”
Titles: Puddle
Race: Undead?
Sex: Female
Age: Young Lady?
Occupation: Delver, Trickster/Outfighter
Discipline: Accursed Avenger
Powers:
[“Reprisal Strike”] – {You had it coming, deciding you could oppose me and walk away from it.}
[“Surprising Agility”] – {Is it honestly surprising by now? Walls are just another surface~!}
[Nectar] – {How does my suffering taste, spawn of “cursed blood”!?}
[Shadowplay] – {How did you forget that shadows are also a doorway, Adris?}
[Undead Fortitude?] – {Do you think that what has no life cares about your pathetic strikes?}
Disposition: Playful / Sadistic / Skulking
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: ???
Hair: ???
Skin: ???
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – C
Agility – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – D
Charisma – E
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Do you really think it’s not obvious? What she possesses is what you’ve missed all your life, yes? Breasts and curves… are these not a new fruit for you to taste?”
“Why do you make the assumption that the Aurumia is from the same time period as I am?”
“If you keep accepting her so much, you might find that you would wish for the knife, perhaps?”
“Rather than the knife, you are receiving the mentality readjustment?”
Description:
“A mute girl who says much with gestures, she also has more going on than she seems to. Though not outwardly aggressive, there’s an atmosphere of danger about her. Opposite of Kol, hers is subtle… Yet, she also can protect others. Given to acrobatics, it matches with her dark, but flamboyant, colors.”
“Witch, noble, thief, all the same.”
“Finally severs her ties and loose ends, ascending to full witchdom.”
“A new level of confidence, and a softening of the old edges, but at what price…?”
Commentary:
“Already triangulating her place.”
Name: Neesiette vera Luna
Titles: “Moon”
Race: Lunamata
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Mystic
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[Rod of Force] – BUSTED
[Rod of Respelling] – “A lady be every ready to instruct regarding what be in error.”
[“Brings An End” – Ponderous] – “[Ponderous was the end, for the unfair passage of time finally brought even earth to its conclusion]…”
Disposition: Impassive / Calculating / Curious
Alignment: Ordered
Eyes: Pale Violet
Hair: Amber
Skin: Pale White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – F
Vitality – F
Dexterity – D
Agility – E
Intelligence – B
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value –”First imps, and now short girls? This is certainly becoming a pattern, isn’t it? Though you might not fare badly with a girl as beautiful as this, yes? Though she’s a little perfect, doesn’t she seem oddly demure?”
“My, isn’t she the conquering type?”
“Yes, madness is something very easy to overlook, do you now see? It is not an obvious trait, but one that even you might miss, yes?”
“How will you ever possibly survive the expectations which necessitate ‘perfection’?”
Description:
“An otherworldly existence, she wears clothing that doesn’t fit with the Castillo. With mannerisms quite distinct from all others, even the girls she travels with seem incomparable to her uniqueness. Yet, she definitely seems to be in charge…?”
“When declared to be the villainess… she’s uniquely suited.”
“At the point of the climax, has zero compunctions about being what others fear she is.”
“Freed from imprisonment in a paradise she might enjoy, and happy to be back with the herd.”
Commentary:
“Neesiette is processing the reality of being in love vs. The fantasy.”