Take Up the Cross – Chapter 99: Closed Garden – Private Party

Outwardly calm as he halts at a safe distance, if one even exists, Adris endures the weight of the prickly woman in his arms while considering the standoff he’s trapped within.

(A “draw” does not make us friends.)

The unseen man who sits proudly upon a silver throne in no way apologized for the acts of his subordinates with their agreement to end hostilities. Repercussions swim through Adris’ thoughts as his heart beats faster than his appearance reveals, for his mind can’t release the sight of Still and Kol locked in unwelcome embraces. The hidden mastermind that served as the guiding principle for the hands that gripped them, cajoling at first before demanding sexual surrender, smiles in Adris’ mind no matter how his true visage comports itself.

Even a snake elf’s suffering is remembered, trapped within a fantasy world where she relived a past memory. As she rouses with Kol’s aid, Ave gapes at the scenery around her.

“None of these… pretty flowers look like real ones? They’re all fantastical…?”

The artificial perfection they take in is beautiful to the eyes, but leaves a lingering sense of isolation as Adris cannot place the emotional guidance that birthed the artistic scene.

“… Beautiful, just like… feathers, that I looked at… ahhh… Ave, did it again…”

None of the creations have that uniqueness of self that can be ascribed to a species of living flower. As Ave seems to recognize that lacking luster while also collapsing into despair, staring at a green whip she never managed to use, a sad smile is what she hides behind after going silent and avoiding everyone else’s gaze.

(You still saved us, Ave. Why avoid plant life of any kind, though? The Alchemaster abhors the living, but even she loves plants and animals.)

Yet, the man seated on a throne shows favor to the presence of the artificial and spiritless.

Especially the presence of a doll who shares a seat at his side. Around her chair, crafted blossoms are heaped like bouquets upon a cherished other, aiming to move the heart of a lady of high standing by sheer spectacle.

Neesiette’s attention catches Adris’ wandering inspection, developing a disdain to her expression in the form of pursing lips as he lingers on the false blooms.

(My, how valued you are by others. It’s a shame we can’t possibly compare, right?)

To the table the man’s hand gestures, one set with a white cloth and having four silver goblets placed upon it. With a flippancy that sets a boy’s teeth grinding even harder at the thoughts buzzing in his mind, he issues an order.

“Gather yourselves before me, intruders. Become much more than you currently are in my eyes.”

So impersonal is the voice that invites them that Adris wishes to spew his anger into the man’s face. To scream in victory before he bashes it in with the cross, rising as the sole victor.

(… Where is this… no, why does this anger exist to the degree it does…?)

Without hesitation, the two beside Adris step forward in seeming obedience.

Ave meekly slithers up to the table, looking only at the ground as she rubs her ponytail with both hands.

But, a would-be knight continues to grin with her own fury boiling over, for the enemy of this long night is within range of the poleaxe she strangles.

“‘Intruders’? Kol says, liar who tricked Moon is real intruder into our life!”

“‘Tricked’? Silence uncertain and incorrect assessments, before such words bring hostilities renewed!”

“NAH!? Moon!?”

As Kol steps forward, her armor cracking as the rock-like epidermis infesting its joints and plates shoot off with forced movement, Neesiette’s insistent shushing sends her stumbling back.

“In all aspects, proper decorum and investment in this tool’s safety be maintained by the host—”

Neesiette halts her sentence abruptly, blinking once before continuing with a huff.

“—caretaker of this villa. Censure be readily given for ignoble acts carried out in his presence.”

Along with her last line is a pleading look given to Adris, the violet windows of this doll’s soul hinting at a danger absent in her pleasant voice.

(… A conman is always carried where the winds blow.)

Giving himself to the mood, Adris tries to shuffle out all the unnecessary details while preparing for his attack.

Thoughts of revenge have no place for now, as essential as it is to properly codify them to seek later. Instead, Adris devotes his fullest attention to leading everyone else through the tense standoff.

“Kol’s belief coincides with our own.”

The star of this stage steps forward of his own volition now, walking past Kol to hold Still before him and the enemy.

(Let’s make sure we have a way out— GAH!?)

Enough energy remains in his defeated teammate for an elbow strike to his sternum, as weak as it is. The usually moody girl has settled on a furious smile now that her figure is both completely exposed and notices that she’s being used as a shield.

(Be useful some way! Can’t you feel what’s above us!?)

Hidden within the tree above, with its seamless transition of living flesh to machinery, are horrors which await the call of the master below.

(If the tree decides to flatten us, I need you to save me!)

As though she can hear his thoughts, Still stares into his eyes before grasping for his neck. With a swift ripping, Adris cloak is stolen away to serve as a poncho for Still to wear.

Once her curvaceous self is no longer exposed, Still relaxes while leaving him diminished of this important article of clothing.

(Oh, treachery comes in many forms. Okay, then…)

A decision is made, in this moment of balance being thrown out of Adris’ preferred narrative.

The tiles are stacked in this mysterious Kestner’s favor, for not even his identity reveals itself yet.

But, it’s improper for a [false god] to admit inferiority.

A sure tone, full of confidence in both self and situation, belies the youthfulness of the boy speaking.

“When no word of our teammate’s circumstances were shared with us, yet night threatened to fall, only treachery and harm could be expected given our innumerable enemies. Though this powerful ‘caretaker’…”

Just as he hoped, Kestner’s hand flexes at the unnatural strength in Adris’ voice. Casting his eyes upon the smoky figure to suss out more, Adris can still detect…

(Zero discernible pseudo aura flows from him! Like Meltisha… this man is strong.)

While Meltisha felt like an absence existed where she stood, this man’s existence is uncertain. Like a squirming mass that constantly changes form in his mind’s eye, Kestner’s true self appears further unnerved by Adris’ invisible senses.

The moment his fullest concentration is directed, the result of Adris’ secret “sight” touching upon Kestner earns a shaking of the man’s arm in surprise, before a crisp snap of his fingers darkens Adris’ world.

False aura vanishes from sight all around him with the distorting rush that floods to fill the garden.

So, too, do those nearby.

Ave’s divinity is smothered, leaving the girl jumping in fright with a “HMM!?” mumbled as she whips her ponytail around, trying to discern the source of the hidden tingle running over her skin. Neesiette looks toward their host, her eyes narrowing sharply as her own unique “taste” is stolen from Adris’ tongue.

Only one presence shines through the gloom, while another remains felt in his heart.

The surly white warrior, unnoticing of the change around her, continues to snarl while waiting to be unleashed. Her aura is bright, rejecting the spell cast by Kestner with a snap.

And Still refuses to move in the aftermath, the link between her and Adris’ shadow a reassurance unchanging with the wave. Partners stand unbowed when supporting one another.

(He can’t stop “darkness”.)

One log is thrown to the drowning Adris, potentially saving him from his fate. As though nothing at all transpired, Adris finishes his statement.

“… can claim to protect should he choose to, perhaps the form of his protection is to never release that friend to a dangerous world’s talons.”

“Adris! Of information left to one’s understanding, burdens the mind it does to consider how one derives a conclusion such as this!?”

In defense of this caretaker, Neesiette rises from her chair.

Cutely slamming on the table, only to send herself wobbling with the effort, her composure is lost as well.

“Both newt and Kol, answer now! Logic dictates no such thoughts as spoken, unless information unknown to this lady be discovered externally of this manse…?”

Only after both Ave and Kol remain firm in their stares does Neesiette calm, looking to all of her teammates before settling back on Adris.

With her face unusually animated during this standoff, she hisses a question.

“Details shared within this tool’s missive, by your efforts in place of this tool’s, perhaps, unearthed knowledge that shakes firm bonds between this tool and…?”

(… “Missive”?)

“Missive…?”

A stupid question slips out as Adris’ memories replay from a time long before this misfortunate night began to unfold.

Plans and possible outcomes crash into each other as a short, armored figure runs flat out between them and their connections.

As a brutal headache begins at the mental carnage unfolding, that figure bursts into a room where an effeminate preacher, a true believer in the divine act of serving as a lifelong warden for your sister, furtively tries to heal a boy of his maddening itching.

Adris tries to ignore his arm’s annoying tinging starting back, recalling what Kol said.

(She said: “Kol will grab, but Boss! Important thing, needs to be said with importance! Kol, has to report—!”)

Her incessant voice plays as the feeling of a bug biting his wrist only grows stronger.

(While I said: “Leave off of your needs! Attend to the party’s first, before worrying about yourself, Kol.”

Ahhh, the itching, the itching!)

Locked within his mind momentarily, Adris suddenly recalls that a number of people are staring at him.

“…

… Kol, answer plainly: receipt confirmed with certainty of a missive tendered to one for delivery, such an achievement you may boast of?”

Neesiette’s hesitation and stilted tone don’t match with Kol’s enthusiastic response.

“Umu, can boast! … Just, give Kol a moment.”

The kobold lowers her poleaxe, rifling through her side pack while biting a tongue she pokes outside her mouth.

A crumpled piece of parchment is thrust toward Adris after she goes “Ah!”, one affixed with wax bearing a seal given to a moon fairy.

“Boss, now, time to do the important thing? Boss, said not to, but Moon says, to do so?”

“… Thank you, Kol. Now is fine.”

With all the certainty he can muster while his leg muscles buzz with the fine control necessary to keep them from shaking, Adris quickly supports Still with one arm and pockets the letter without reading it.

“Hmm, Kol obeyed Boss, so it was the right thing?”

A curious question, with her bushy eyebrows scrunching as she observes his discomfort, forces Adris to smile brightly at her.

“You did exactly what you were told. No less would be expected of you, my Right Hand.”

“Ah! Good.”

Convinced of her success, Kol turns back to Neesiette and waves once while puffing up.

Being stared at by both Neesiette, with her mouth slightly opened and impassive…

(Ah, that means “total disbelief of what you’re witnessing”! I recognize that face!)

… and the hidden eyes of Falke Kestner, this mythical figure obscured by gray smoke that shifts his arm to lean upon it, leaves even the expert actor Adris ready to surrender.

(This is… this is… all…)

Were he to admit whose fault it is, there would be little to recover from.

Instead…

“… It appears that a miscommunication led to our information being distorted.”

“… Is this truly the story a brutal invader wishes to convince others to accept, dark child?”

(I wish I could convince you of another one, but this is it.)

Stuck staring at each other, Adris grips Still’s body tighter while wilting internally under Falke’s gaze.

Her annoyance transfers through their close contact, though she only taps him to let her down.

(She’s… tired of this, is she?)

Setting the quiet stalker down, only he alone faces the opponent.

Such a coincidence is impossible to accept, as Adris well knows.

Even if there were evidence instead of this stupid play comedy, it should be discounted on the path to further violence.

(It’s correct to punish “idiocy” as well as “malice”. It was… my fault for not giving Kol’s usual insanity due diligence.)

Though, Adris has to admit how tiring it is to pay such close attention to madness on a daily basis.

For something this important to slip through…

“Falke, though appearances be inconclusive and full of apparently deceiving points, truly plausible such events must be considered when speaking of this tool’s unruly teammates.”

To his rescue, Neesiette speaks up while turning to the villa’s owner.

(… Even if you say it, a girl who is likely known to not lie or mislead, will he…?)

“To shatter the entry of this villa, stride through its halls while setting them ablaze…”

“THAT WAS AVE’S FAULT!”

Planting her face to the ground, a snake elf screams in terror while shivering.

“PLEASE, DON’T BLAME THEM FOR THAT!”

(It’s pointless to beg! We’ve all done something he’ll hate!)

“… set further fire to the roosts of the denizens of the empty halls…”

Kestner’s hand twirls as he stops speaking at this poignant leave off.

He purposefully allows the silence to linger, long enough for Kol to begin cackling.

“AH! That, was Kol’s first artistic showing!” Kol claps her chest while hopping up and down, before her face turns deadly serious.

“Birds, didn’t like. What did you think, bird ruler?”

“… it was an ideal splash of color; yet, one as low as you betrays ignorance of the meaning of art that requires ample correcting.”

“Why does everyone say things like that!?”

After being criticized, Kol screams out while stomping her feet, though she’s ignored.

“… and threaten the caretaker of this wondrous manse with a threat never before felt, so tangible in its danger that it could be tasted on the underside of this supreme one’s tongue, is the result of a misconstrual of intentions?

Is this truly one’s claim?”

A question given such eloquent length and depth, one which demands that Adris succumb to it and prostrate himself for forgiveness, goes with the absolute control demonstrated to prove Adris is, in fact, out of his league.

(BUT I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE BUT THIS…!)

The duties of a false god compel him, strangling his heart as Neesiette stares in horror at the unfolding situation.

“Refusal to surrender”, “inability to be anything other than what you intend to be”, “obsessed with vengeance upon the Alchemaster”, and…

(Neesiette… needs a strong presence! A man totally preoccupied with self worth and enormous ambitions…!)

“My only claim is thus: for the purpose of saving Neesiette, no matter the information, authority, or power easily obtainable to achieve the goal, I would take on any and all perceived threats, including you.”

“Oh?”

A mysterious master of gray mimicry raises his voice with the daring question and the lifting chin of a masked boy who crosses his arms while dismissing danger.

“Adris! Challenges toward impossible threats, desist from—!”

“… But, I am truly at fault in these circumstances for failing to recognize the hospitality you have shown to such an important personage to my grand existence.”

Adris backs off on his challenge immediately after, instead firming a hand over his heart to indicate honesty.

A light bow, one that only inclines his head without letting his eyes leave the other party, goes with paradoxically flippant words.

“For that, and that alone, I accept that you deserve true thanks and a supremely valuable apology.”

“… Egomaniacal enigma, enslaved to grandiosity and influence!”

Such an insulting condemnation, a rarity from Neesiette, is hissed before she looks to Kestner to discern the effect of Adris’ boastful “apology”.

Still, in place of Neesiette, silently pinches his ankle while growing more violent in feeling. Whatever weapons she can muster are ready to be shown as she struggles to stand.

(It’s not my fault! Would you rather I beg!?)

“Can such circumstances be blamed only upon mistake? Upon simple misconception? When the night is replete with unimaginable ‘coincidences’?”

(I ponder the same dilemma. Nothing about this night feels right. You feel it, too, do you?)

“Something is wrong.”

That nebulous feeling has yet to be purged from Adris’ thoughts, even with obvious danger so close at hand.

When Kestner’s musing thought matches his own, Adris feels the conversation take a sudden change in pacing and direction.

Caring more about the details of those around him, he notes consciously now how the man’s gauntlet keeps moving even during the lulls in their discussion. The gray fluid within shifts about with rhythmic impulses, while the man’s hidden attention seems to depart from them at times.

(There is more going on in this mansion. Something else has his eye.)

As Adris knows the man can see through his mansion’s interior, the distractions revealed can only speak to further dangers.

“Then, truth may win over coincidence. Though many wrongs have been committed, even now guests may be welcomed.”

Figures strike the ground, collapsing into squats as they absorb the impact.

Adris’ cross raises defensively, while Still produces a dirk from nowhere with a swift flick of her arm.

“NAH!? Kol, didn’t notice…”

The kobold levels her poleaxe at four servants who rise and march up to the table.

Vibrant green trimmed by purple, colors worthy of a heraldic banner, are the tones of their suits and dresses of an archaic style. Overly flappy with the lengths and cuffs and skirts, they nonetheless have incredible grace as they pick up the four cups, turn on their feet, and move toward Adris and his teammates.

Their faces are human in totality, so far as Adris can tell. The unusually commonplace looks of the beautiful slayers of Zennia wouldn’t find these servants out of place should they infiltrate unnoticed.

(But… there’s no life in them! They’re even missing heartbeats!)

Something unnatural scratches at recognition, for the uncanny movements and faces, which of the men and women approaching seem friendly enough, betray a hidden inhumanity to them.

Only when he notices the strands of gray almost translucently invisible stretching from their backs does he understand.

(They’re actually dolls!)

Dolls that are absent any of Neesiette’s obvious physical tells nod their heads while offering goblets to each of them. Forced by the situation to accept them, the team looks to Neesiette after.

Yet, she stays silent while observing.

(If you left a letter, then you came here willingly. Why do you remain mostly aloof of intervening…?)

“If hospitality is what is sought in place of carnage, then think on the natures of those that would strive to claim it.”

This final order, one which will decide their fates, is spoken with levity as Kestner shifts.

At the edge of his throne, he appears ready to rise.

(A test of hospitality. We must submit to his graces. This man… is ready to forgive.)

Or, to destroy them.

Adris squints, trying to decide which outcome is most likely.

To judge a man’s character from only a few exchanges, absent the ability to inspect his physical tells, is a truly difficult call to make.

It’s also the decision that will save or…

As he prepares to respond, a sniffing ends with a clicking tongue, before a goblet is lifted.

“Hmm, smells sweet~!”

A sweets-loving girl downs the entire goblet, gulping it noisily before exhaling in satisfaction.

(YOU FUCKING MORON!)

“Kol! Don’t just drink things that strangers give you!?”

Ave rushes up, slapping Kol on the back before the kobold just cackles.

“Kakaka! Kol, doesn’t care about poison! Never eaten or drank anything that could hurt Kol!”

(Then we’ll never know if it’s safe based off of your survival!)

“Besides! Anyone Moon trusts and likes, can’t be bad?”

At Kol’s honest assessment of Neesiette’s judgment of character, the small girl’s tight face softens.

Adris’ next source of help is already fast in motion, waving for Ave to slither over.

“Hmm? Your box? It’s right here…”

An ornate box with fold-out compartments comes out of Ave’s bag which holds everything. It’s set down and then opened, with several pinches of reagents cast into the reddish liquid in the goblet. Working with quite the focus, Still then dips a hanging crescent moon charm into the liquid, letting it swish before withdrawing it to inspect the result left upon the golden charm as a residue.

“Hmm? That shade means… it’s an ‘anti-petri’—?

STILL!?”

Whatever the hidden result is, it sends Still into a tizzy as the sneak scoots away from Ave.

Without care for the impression it gives, Still folds up on herself and pulls off her mask, gulping down the goblet’s contents without letting her face be seen before replacing the porcelain cover.

“Hmmm? OH!? Armor, looser? Kakaka!”

Kol stretches her arms, cackling as she watches the encrusting rock that weighed her down crack and fall away like scales.

(Salvation it is?)

Though disbelieving of the result, Adris trusts the actions his partner undertakes.

When the liquid washes down his throat, it leaves a taste of cherries coated with honey. Too sweet for his tastes, the warmth that spreads through him is more welcome than the flavor.

An itching that resumed with his concentration fraying, a distraction he’s suppressed this whole time, begins to vanish.

So, too, do his many aches and pains from days of abuse.

As his soul reinvigorates while he closes his eyes to enjoy the balm, he feels Still tapping around as the wind moves, a “dance” flowing through her as she tests the limits of her body.

“AH!?”

Adris reopens his eyes in time to fling his cup back to the servant before him, as a black-bound vixen jumps back into his arms, spinning Adris around unsteadily before she hops back out.

{… Too useful. I don’t like this guy at all.}

A surprisingly candid set of signs are all Still shares, before bringing her mask within inches of Adris’ face. Her hand at his throat is fast as it taps out a dark question.

{What sort of slavery do you bind us with that makes men’s cocks shrivel when touching us?}

That slasher smile she saves for her most incensed moods, when the core of her ideals are affronted, is displayed for him to choke on.

(It’s not slavery! It’s… a desire to never repeat a nightmare…)

Rather than whisper, Adris coughs once before speaking loudly, so that all can hear. Even Kestner is included when Adris rubs Still’s hand at his throat like a friend would.

“No one may lay a finger upon those who follow my cross, lest they desire it of their own accord. For desire, as my power serves, both projects one’s own wants while denying the needs of others.

To rule in dark is to learn the worthwhile nature of oneself, while trampling upon the meaningless wants of others.”

(… I’m not an enslaver. Even if I’d like all four of you bound up tightly, it… didn’t end up that way…)

“OH!? … R-Really?” An elf exits her gloomy state, her green eyes shining as she looks at Adris differently. “You’re… protecting… us?”

The kobold champion grunts, whispering only a short comment. “Hm? Boss, that’s… strong in a way Kol, never heard of…”

Neeseitte’s look changes not a bit, because her knowledge of this boon was already confirmed with her own salvation in the mansion.

(You… didn’t tell anyone…?)

Though information he didn’t intend to explain explicitly, lest they grow careless, Neesiette didn’t…

{Yeah, I figured~.}

Mercurial as always, Still simply wanders off from him while waving her hand lazily.

Unwilling to engage further, whatever piled up annoyances that have claimed her don’t seem to include this withheld information.

Her laziness causes him great pain. The greatest protection he can afford for them is treated like a minor convenience.

(This fucking girl!)

“Oh? Such a blessing brings with it many changes to the world as one interacts with it…”

“Yes, to know only ‘violence’ as the end goal is certainly troubling.” Directly addressing the inquisitive Kestner, Adris offers a troubled grin at the obvious being spoken of. “At least they won’t have to suffer like others do on Zennia.”

“No, the blessings and curses relate to different thoughts, but isn’t that fine?”

With the cups drained, the smoky air around Kestner begins to fade.

“How exact one proves in all cases, eternally young Mistress of this Villa! Perfectly describing one’s friends, such that when witnessed in flesh it is as if I have known them my whole life…”

“Confidence in one’s words stems from which explanation? With this tool’s great interest, explain so that misunderstandings may be negated.”

A bickering tone develops as Kestner’s silver throne collapses like melting ice.

Its regal straight lines become a memory as the man takes up his place at Neesiette’s side, leaving her the sole party seated at the table.

(Let’s see what ostentation you garb yourself in!)

Ready to begin his dressing down of Kestner’s dress, Adris’ eyes take in the man’s revealing self.

But he gasps audibly, unsure of the result.

Rather than a kingly figure, a thin man of immaculate posture presents with his arm held up to his heart, mimicking Adris’ own earlier pose.

Demure in quality, his dark green suit with fine purple trim along the collar and hemlines matches with the servants that troop double file to circle the table and join at his back side.

Were it not for three discrepancies to Kestner, they would be simply co-workers in appearances and demeanors as they all place their hands over their hearts.

“Though the Mistress spoke only good, until the ill spilled forth out of necessity, it hardly seemed plausible to consider even her ever-truthful words accurate until this low one witnessed it himself.”

(Mistress… the… Alchemaster!? You serve her directly?)

Danger wells up in his heart, fearing for the worst.

Kestner’s exquisitely aged face, full of hard lines and a gentlemanly gauntness, cannot hide the firm chin and excellent symmetry of high breeding. Rare blue eyes, full of the certitude of quiet self-worth, aid in explaining the personal affectations which separate him from the other servants. Naturally gray hair is combed back into a bird-like tuft, leaving him resembling the peacocks that speak timidly of him.

A great, bright gray mantle stretches across his upper body, its “arms” crossing over his neck and chest to grasp him. Like two women patterns sewn upon light cloth resemble, though the material is left floating and almost glowing, covet the man appearing as if he’s in their embrace. A golden plate affixed over his neck shines prominently, for the number “19” is stamped into it.

As he bows, he reaches out with the gauntlet through which pseudoprósōpon flows, curling upward in an invitation. Arcane but unassuming, were it not a material that Adris is already terrified of the capabilities of, its lack of radiating pseudo aura might leave it unnoticed.

“Though rare, honored guests are ever sought by those who serve this villa. When those honored guests are friends of the Mistress for which this villa lives most directly to please, this simple caretaker finds unusual pleasure in greeting them.

Welcome to the [Unnatural Protean Manse], place of hopeful repose for the Honored Emissary of Luna, Finest Gift of Traveler.”

When he rises, his grand spiel finishes.

The slightly terse voice of the old man nonetheless spills forth like honey similar to a boy’s ways, full of articulation that separates each syllable to be tasted.

Falke Kestner, once master of a villa, degrades himself to the position of possibly its head butler. Even the groomed beard and thick mustache he cultivates are more fitting for a servant than the aristocracy, given the norms Adris has learned of before now.

An indifferent smile is offered, though the man stares tightly from behind the round spectacles which perfectly sit on his sharp nose. A reserved intensity, befitting of a master alchemical controller, radiates in place of magic.

(What?)

“… Why does the doll have a mansion…?” Ave’s dire voice broaches in a selfish way the question everyone else is thinking, before she mashes her lips shut and begins to sweat profusely.

As she shrinks back like a struck dog, Kestner almost gravitates forward while somehow remaining unmoving.

For the whole world itself seems to shift imperceptibly, as though the garden shrinks to bring her closer for scolding.

“‘Doll’? Did this servant mishear? Would that assignation not be completely incorrect, bordering on slander?”

“ABSOLUTELY INCORRECT! NEESIETTE IS A NEESIETTE! MHMM! Ave was… dumbly using the wrong word…!

… Please excuse her…”

Supplicating while bowing, Ave then rams her head into the back of Adris’ neck to hide.

(… I don’t… understand…)

“Is this true, Neesiette?”

Adris manages the question in place of others, earning a few blinks from Neesiette, before she mutely nods.

“Such a claim be true, so long as Falke states it as such.”

Without strong emotion, she verifies it. After, though…

“… Though, of such claimed truths, think not differently at all about a tool.” Pointing to herself, and then to Adris, Neesiette states a plain truth.

“Created for the purpose of serving others, a tool cannot truly be an existence to be served.”

(I don’t understand. But… it doesn’t matter, right…?)

At a glance, Adris can tell how much this elder man reveres Neesiette.

Every energetic preparation of the man’s body is a reaction to the subtle movements of a lady that closes her eyes and huffs.

Blue eyes scrape over a fine dress made of moon fabrics, searching for any sign of intent…

(… Unpleasant…)

“Oh? Bird leader, serves Moon? Okay, good! Whole thing, resolved!”

Kol turns immediately, stretching before stomping forward.

“Found Moon, solved problem, now, to deal with real issue!”

The iron of blood fills the taste of the air, with a firestorm springing up as the kobold lets a poleaxe’s point find its desired target.

“Time to end Puddle.”

Madness of pinkish hue burns as the girl leaps forward.

As though it was expected all along, a dirk lodges into the weapon’s haft when Kol blocks with it.

“NO TRICKS, PUDDLE! TIME TO FINISH—!”

(STOOOOP.)

“NAH!? BOSS! MOVE!”

Kol growls loudly, trying to run around the boy as he jukes into her path each time as Still dances easily out of range with her renewed agility.

“End public thuggishness immediately, Kol! Knights act with no such vainness!”

“NO! NOT ‘VAIN’! Boss, told Kol to absolutely destroy Puddle!”

(Of course you latch onto that, as I predicted.)

“Right… Boss?”

Ready to run down that revered Boss as her eyes shake with anger, Kol dares him to refute his previous order.

“Such an order was issued…”

“HAH! KOL, TOLD MOON! Now…”

“… and was fulfilled.”

“… to destroy— ‘SHIT’!? NAH!? WHEN!? … Oh?”

A pat on Kol’s head surprises the girl, before Adris grins in place of looking stern.

“The weakness Still showed was destroyed by your fearsome presence earlier. Though still almost defeated, the terror you instilled in others both invigorated your allies and rendered your enemy unable to… act when they thought they had the upper hand.”

“… Hm?”

(I think you’ll agree once I phrase it this way…)

“Kol… the leadership you demonstrated gained us a draw. Even I am impressed by your decisiveness.”

“… Hmmm!?”

Judging by how vigorously a silver-scaled tail waves, the girl that turns her back on her boss to wander off must be satisfied by the words that struck her.

“Hmmm? … Nnn… Kakaka!”

Cackling begins as Kol grins brightly at the assembled fighters.

“Nah, well… Kol definitely had a big impression! Big motivator? Umu…”

Striking the ground with her poleaxe, Kol snorts before relaxing.

“Will deal with Puddle later! So long as Boss understands sneaky danger, can always get ‘ok’ to do it again…! Destroy weakness, later…”

(… Thanks for understanding nothing.)

With a rampaging terror defused, Kestner offers his own mildest grin, full of equally subdued amusement, as he humbly speaks to his mistress.

“How amusing you must ever find it to travel with them, always seeing them overcome threats that sober analysis stated would conquer them…?”

Neesiette’s eyes dart away for a moment, with the quiet girl unwilling to make eye contact with Still or Adris.

(So, you thought we would lose? That’s…)

Not a betrayal.

But completely justified.

(You complete… our composition, Neesiette.)

Though Adris feels discomfort at the thought of earlier making fun of the automaton to Still, decrying her lack of magic, even the rods she makes use of would’ve tipped the battle against the twins.

(It’s a shame… I can’t tell you how much—

“We”, we need you.)

“NAH!? Kol, would’ve destroyed birds! Just, needed more time!”

Rushing the table, Kol hammers her fist into it, earning only a stare from Kestner at the crude display.

“Certainly, once forcibly sensual activities cease, the willingness of the fighter to continue decides the flow of battle.”

A finger to his chin in thought earns a hateful stare from the kobold as she leans forward.

“… Kol, would’ve dealt with before…”

“Leave off, Kol. Ill-suited it be to argue that not in evidence, especially for a prospective knight.”

“Moon!”

Even if Kol wants to argue, Ave slithers forward now to place both hands on her shoulders.

“… Um, Kol… didn’t it get… pretty bad?”

“NAH!? … Elf… too?”

A dark mood falls over the beautiful garden, leaving all quietened by the truth which refuses to speak itself plainly.

(Had I not been there, that would’ve ended in clear rape. The end of “never losing”, at best. Hmm?)

Adris’ fingers holding the black cross ache, forcing him to release it and shake his hand.

For some reason, he’d been gripping it quite tightly…

“Dark thoughts perhaps ill suit a joyful reunion?”

The man least allowed to ask such a question taps Neesiette’s shoulder, bringing the girl’s attention to him.

“… That be true. Another topic be of priority, yes?”

“Agreed, Mistress.”

(Awfully close, you two seem—)

A bump catches Adris’ attention, as fingers take it after.

“What?”

{Calm down.}

“… Still?”

Before he’s cognizant of her approach, Still is shoulder to shoulder facing him, her hands dancing on his side.

The distance between Adris and the table has mysteriously shortened.

(… What? Well… no harm in calming down. We survived…)

“All circumstances as yet to be explained, can the following perhaps be answered, if the honored guests may be requested to do so…?”

Kestner’s powerful presence once more takes center stage, even when offering “requests”.

“Why did our honored guests believe our Mistress would be in danger?”

“So, that explains it all, does it? Mistress, possess you do quite the observant friends.”

“Friend? One confuses pet geckos with people, speaking too loosely of such inanities.”

“Oh? An improper statement requires correction, then, my deepest apologies.”

Servants hand back the last of the recovered valuables.

Left in the wake of their sudden escape, Kol’s helmet is re-strapped to her head as she cackles gleefully.

Adris is even allowed to wear his cloak again, throwing it around him as he watches Still smooth out the night-dark slip she’s put on. With the rest of her clothing deposited into Ave’s bag as shreds painstakingly delivered by ever-smiling, full-sized servant dolls, very little protection is gifted to the outfighter as she tests her dual short swords in a lunging stab, followed by a quick decapitating stroke aimed at a distant kobold.

The time it takes to reveal the full depths of Ave’s mistake also allows them to recover their energies, proving once more to Adris that this world betrays his expectations when Kol makes a full recovery of the massive physical trauma delivered to her.

“NO! You…! You said… that I… that I was valued…”

Tears stain a girl’s face, despite the rigorous smile plastered to it.

Ave shakes with horror, trying not to droop her posture.

“‘Was’ valued be more appropriate for results observed. One’s true calling perhaps be as a minstrel or clown instead of a delver, constantly showcasing antics designed to please small children?”

“… That’s… not… impossible…”

Ave’s quivering smile becomes a sure indication of how much she wants to die as she crumbles, leaving Neesiette to amend herself with a curt nod.

“Admittedly, one’s knowledge as idiotically relayed be accurate in relating quality, if never proper wording, of this tool’s parameters. Suggesting does this proper observation of one’s betters. However slight, such newfound obeisance implies meaningful improvement in one’s higher mental functioning.”

“What a wonderful compliment to show such a handicapped girl, ever-youthful Mistress.”

Lady and servant find satisfaction in their mutual agreement, while Ave slithers off wide-eyed at the situation, no longer able to endure the abuse.

“… Why don’t I feel like that was a compliment?

No… NO! But, I also don’t understand things…!?”

Rage and indignation overtake the elf, leading to her zooming straight for Kestner.

Within inches of him, he peers down at the fire-starting forest child with surprising calmness as she scrunches her face.

“Though he’s really handsome, even if really crazy to revere this midget, and I can see why you guys might’ve misunderstood me, I’ve never met this gentleman before?”

Blankness explodes into Adris’ mind as the humorous scene clears away.

Indeed, Ave had described a man that sounded very much like Kestner.

(But Ave… has never betrayed interest in him this entire time.)

{What do you mean!?}

“Calm, calm, calm dooooown!”

Rather than the usual, Ave slithers in reverse away from the irate sneak. With her fingers poking into the snake girl’s pitiful breasts, the shaking Still physically harasses the blushing girl who is forced to cover her chest with her arms.

{If it’s not this guy, then who were you telling our life stories to!?}

“I don’t know, but it’s not—!”

“Indeed, would the one described by this needlessly wholesome and comical girl not match the description of a co-worker of mine?”

“Right! He’s his… huh?”

Rushing back to Kestner, Ave stops partway as Kestner gives a wry smile.

(… That was it. The parts are connected now, at least for this mystery. Why only one Pillar of Zenith and a strange relationship to him, when “fate” can decree more than one?)

As Still grows unnerved and rushes to Adris’ side with swords upright, leaving Ave to whine and coil up beside Kol, their once welcoming butler gestures toward the distance of the garden while readopting his imperious stature from earlier.

All turn to look, finding that the sole door into the beautiful, if stilted, closed garden is his target of interest.

“With the last pieces of necessary information provided by the honored guests…

… shall we continue to the necessary climax of this farcical night, if I am ever to be freed of ‘coincidences’?”

The arched door made of fine wood splinters and collapses into itself as luminous fire bursts through it. Neon-blue, coruscating flames rip through the garden, filling the air with shards from the disappearing earth eaten by the expanding chaos.

Absence is what is left as the earth falls away, torn and left floating within a void of stars when the entire wall is consumed. Gripping, howling winds drag Adris and others toward this void.

“ADRIS! WHAT IS…!?” An elf screams while dragging false dirt with her hands, her slender emerald tail whipping as it’s lifted toward the abyss.

(Is this place vanishing like the chapel!?)

But, as the assembled spectators drop to the ground when the winds are stolen, a glowing aurora replaces the starscape of horrors beyond.

With a deafening buzzing sound, the aurora fluctuates and flashes.

The energies without shape are pulled into solid form; for, when the luminescence fades, a sea shore of craggy rocks juts many feet high up from the ground.

“… Kol, never seen, land like this. And… people!” Kol rushes past Adris, menacing the group of new invaders. She sniffs deeply, taking in the scents before barking louder. “Enemy! Strong!”

“All to me!”

Adris puts himself to the center of their fast formation, leaving Still behind himself while Ave takes up the rear. All lift weapons as the foremost figure lifts his hand to rub his slick-backed, greasy black hair.

“Hmm!?” The elf snake makes a queer noise, before sliding past a grasping Still and confused Adris to point up at the cadre of new foes.

“AH! YOU! Adris, that…! That’s Ave’s friend!”

(He’s not your friend!)

“Helloooo~!”

Happiness and a wave from an untimely source brings the man’s attention, while his compatriots lift their multitudes of armaments.

(How did they ride an island into here!?)

A crystal-blue sea is in the far distance.

The paradise that shows behind the group reveals another world entirely, rammed into Kestner’s dimensionally obscured internal world.

(The Pillar of Zenith treat… other worlds as means of conveyance!?)

Replacing two lens over his strange set of composite spectacles with another set which hang off the side, the pinched-faced merchant-looking fellow presents a seedy smile and gifts a light return wave to the sylvan girl that yells out.

“Dear, precious girl! It’s fine to see you once more… I’ve been waiting with baited breath to reunite with you as well!”

Unpleasant enunciations ineffectively obscure the vileness of the man which drips out when his orange, horizontally-pupiled eyes take in the energetic Ave. Instead of seeing a woman, in his eyes Adris notes the interest of a man who sees succulent flesh before the mind which governs it.

(Scum…)

A dark purple frock-suit covered in buckles and hanger hooks is what the man chooses as his manner of dress, dusted off momentarily with motion of the island ceasing. Absent a hat, his unhealthily pale skin almost shines with the yellow light glinting off of it that spreads inside from the island realm.

Moving forward while jangling with the multitude of items hanging off of his body, his dress kilt sways methodically along with the bottom of his dress-like lower clothing. His posture and body mechanics don’t match Adris’ expectations of how a human should move, for the man seems to glide as he comes to the edge of the rise.

Just like Kestner, there’s an absence of discernible visual information about his stature.

He eludes Adris’ extrasensory abilities as well, a sure sign of obscured prowess.

(How did Ave not notice this titanic presence for what it was!?)

“Ahhh, save for elevation the numeration was in fact exactly accurate, surprisingly so for your type.”

“Why, oh why would you possibly doubt prowess already demonstrated, old man? Don’t you get me, now, don’t you see how easy one hole is from another to dart down?”

A full-bodied, robed figure with a twisting rod held in one hand joins him at his side with a skip, her dreamy, sing-song voice full of venomous whimsy as she takes in their reception. The disgusting-looking tome clutched under her other arm whispers on its own, sounding much like the cross with its questions but far more debilitating in its approaching madness.

The woman’s hidden eyes lock onto Adris, sending a shiver down his spine.

“… Don’t you get how eager, oh, so very eager, I am to find the second-place prize at the bottom of this burrow~?”

Pseudo aura floods out from her anonymous self even without attempting to call it forth. The mystic cannot hide her nature from his senses, nor does she try.

(Why me!? Who is this woman? This feels familiar…?)

Behind these two troop up a tall female ensnared totally in chains and an entourage of men that crowd her.

With thick burgundy fur and hair braided in four locks, this giant-sized Kol is unmistakably wolf-like. A bushy tail waves as the woman sniffs the air, naked for all to see where spiraling chains don’t bind.

Melon-sized breasts with fat teats wobble as she leans over, and the thuggish odor from the gap between her thighs speaks of fertility within her more potent than Adris has smelt in his entire life.

“They’re all here, Big Bad Orloss! … Even the head maker himself, what a tasty chunk of meat he is!”

Rather than beautiful like Kol’s voice, her growling is like bloody gravel in Adris’ ears. Just as frustrating are the muscles she’s cultivated, so wild in strength yet shaped to accentuate her overtly feminine thickness. Even if the chains connecting her ankles together and forcing her arms into a bind are thick iron, they crack when she tenses up.

She stands as if she is truly a giant wolf inhabiting the false body of a demi-human woman, the aura associated with her both repugnant and alien.

(Pregnant women fight on Zennia…!?)

A large belly is unbound by bonds, round as can be and tattooed with seven black canine fangs in a circle around her navel. Pointed inward, it appears like her late-term bundle will be devoured. A body painted with white stripes over her tanned-fair skin accentuates her uncivilized motif.

More fangs made of real bone, larger than the drooling canines she reveals to Adris when she notices the boy gawking, hang from the ends of her messy, dirty braids.

“… Oh, a bonus dish~!? Ahahahaha! ‘WOOF’, LITTLE MORSEL~!!!”

The lustful blushing that overtakes her foreign-appearing face, more chiseled than soft as it is, speaks more of a bitch falling into heat than a woman finding love once she discovers Adris.

Such a large warrior woman squatting down while full with child, leaning onto her bound paws as if she’s ready to leap off the island and hunt him, sends even the fearless Adris a step back. Primal concerns warning deep within his soul order him to flee.

(D-Dangerous! I can even smell the horrible stench of a dirty slut!)

Men as hazardous as her obey her every minute movement.

Wearing an unending variety of armors and clothing, the hunting party lacks necessary focus and have grizzled faces. Rather than sizing up Adris and the girls, they merely remain silent with slightly vapid expressions.

Their weapons paradoxically at the ready run the mix of sword, axe, spear, and bow; but, two also have esoteric implements that lead Adris to a soul-chilling revelation.

(I know those two! They’re… they’re slayers! I’ve talked to these men!)

Three terrible, titanic figures are dangerous enough on their own, but now the contest brings known associates to the villa as foes.

“Still, we need to…”

(Run.)

{Don’t say it!}

“Kol, doesn’t know about this.”

“HIEEEEE!? Isn’t… ISN’T SHE A [BROODGARM] (BIRTHING BITCH OF HEL)!?”

No matter how much she blusters, Still is just as hunted as she slips up to Adris’ side.

Kol does not shake with fear, but she plants her polearm while scratching her helmet in contemplation.

Only Ave’s outburst seems to hit something when the wolf woman sneers.

“Oh? The tiny serpent of the deep earth knows my power, hmmm~? What is that you wear on your arms…?”

The moment to attack is stolen by these people’s gravitas, especially when the sleazy traveling merchant at the front chuckles loudly.

A chuckling becomes unruly, a pained laughter rising from lungs which will grow empty with the howling that fills this open garden now.

“AHAHAHAHAHA! IT’S BEEN SEASONS, AND UNENDING LIES AND EXCUSES, ALL MORE SELF-DEPRECATING THAN THE LAST, but…”

Wracked spasms as he shakes with laughter finally cease, leaving him coughing before he slicks back his greasy hair that somehow came free when he shook his head.

“BUT…!

… that ends! For I’ve finally found you…”

His fingers quickly replace a lens as one eye opens to the extreme, his shaking pupil staring past Adris.

In place of indignation comes a cooing whisper, as the man curls a long, sharpened fingernail.

“You beautiful, disgusting, unbelievably maniacal doll.”

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