(A/N: Hey peoples! I've had this idea running around in my head for quite awhile now, so I figured I'd better get it out while I still can. Since they were around during the same time, about, Soul Calibur + Spanish Inquisition seems like a good idea. I'll get to writing now. And no, it's not the Monty Python thing, either.)

Disclaimer: I don't own SC, or anything that has to do with it, Namco Bandai does. Dammit. .

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A series of shuffling, flapping footsteps could be heard in the soil and grass nearby, a low grumble passing through the air as the clear sky cast a moonlit glow over the pasture near Athens. Popping his frilled head over the tall grass, if but for a moment, one could see the reptilian head of Aeon Calcos, of Lizardman. A sniff or two, and his head disappeared again, and he continued his quiet, yet fast-paced journey towards the bright city below.

His dark green scales kept him hidden amongst the foliage to the group of traveling knights and priests, marching towards Athens as well. Motivated by the rumor of both pagan practices and demonic essence that must be stamped out by the will of God, they had sent those among their best; their armor and weapons gleaming, the feeling of pride, power, and arrogance hanging heavily in the air about them causing a certain someone to veer away for a distance. What did he believe them to be doing? Were they going to take his food? Were they going to capture people? Kill them? Perhaps. Aeon decided that it would be best to do whatever that he needed, and then get out as soon as possible without involving himself with those strange people. Straying just a few more yards off to the side, Lizardman made his way down.

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Meanwhile, in the city, two separate businesses sat next to one another, a bakery and a smithy. In the back of the bakery was the residence of quite a large family: the smith, Rothion, the baker and her siblings, Sophitia, Cassandra, and Lucius, and Sophitia's children, Pyhrra and Patrokolos. Late at night, Rothion had just finished closing down the shop and cleaning up the place, brushing up the soot and the dried slag from the floor and the anvil, getting most of the dust away from the shelves and racks.

Walking into his home with a smile on his slightly blackened face, Sophitia whipped around to let her sapphire blue eyes meet his own sienna orbs, her pale gold braid casting itself around her shoulder. Her own grin spread even wider than Rothion's as she dashed from across the living space and into his arms, ones that had been worn into the strength and stone-like shape they were now. They were not those of a warrior, with the quick reflexes and dexterity, but just as strong, if not stronger; what he beat down, what he pulled, stretched and smashed was not flesh and bones; it was bronze, iron and steel, and occasionally even harder metals. Sophitia and Cassandra were the warriors- Rothion was their worker, one who they both loved, if in differing ways.

Sophitia's hands were large for a woman's, yet even so, they weren't big enough to go any farther than halfway around Rothion's upper arms. Gripping him about his biceps, she pressed her body close to his, his own broad palms cupping her fair shoulders. "Rothion, dear," she asked pleasantly, "how was your day today?" to which he answered with a sigh, "It was a little tiring, Sophitia. A Dutchman, I believe from Holland, or thereabouts, had requested a dozen spearheads, along with two sabers and, for some odd reason, he wanted me to fix a crack in the bowl to his pipe. I told him I couldn't do that because both my forge was too hot, and none of my hammers were small enough; if I were to even try, it would either melt the silver to nothing, or smash it to pieces. He still paid me well enough on the weaponry, though."

Sophitia gave him a look of confusion. "Why would he have come to a blacksmith to repair something so soft?" she wondered to him.

Rothion gave a shrug. "I don't know. Perhaps I was the first hammer that he had heard working, and so he came to me. He understood, though, and I gave him the directions to the nearest whitesmith. He had given me an extra few coins for that, the generous fellow," a small chuckle following.

Reaching down to his belt, he undid a blue velvet purse that jingled with coins, dropping it in a palm that Sophitia held out. The two of them stepping over to the kitchen table, they pulled a chair across from one another as Sophitia emptied its contents. She was dazzled; although the money wasn't currency of Greece, she knew that it was of great value. Discs of plentiful copper, occasional silver, and very rarely, even gold danced in front of her eyes, the light of the oil lamps casting a yellow light over it all. A look of pride was over Rothion's face, although one could tell that it wasn't over the money that he managed to bring in- it was the fact that his work was actually considered to be of high enough quality to the common buyer that he would earn so much. It made him feel as though he was important and such to more than just his family- although no one could take the fact that he was loved away from him, having more of an ability to be noticed was always enjoyable.

As they had just begun to share a moment, Cassandra, her short blond hair bouncing emotionally, stomped in from the bakery with a beaten Lucius in tow, his left eye blackened and brow swollen, objecting loudly to the motherly treatment the entire time. Throwing him by his ear onto a bench, the young blond yelled at her dark-haired brother, "Why did you start a fight with him? You know that I could have just taken it!"

"Taken it?" Lucius shot back. "Taken it! He threw old flour down the front of your blouse! Do you not have any dignity?" Standing back to his feet, Lucius mockingly clapped his hand to his forehead, "No, of course you don't. You care too much about the mere loaf or two of bread that a lecherous pervert was about to buy to still hold onto your own little bit of pride in yourself."

Turning to see what went on, Rothion and Sophitia spied the pair arguing about the events of the day. Stepping out of their seats and up to them, they wondered exactly what happened, Sophitia breaking the silence and asking just that. Looking at the couple, Cassandra patted her chest, making a cloud of pale brown-white float into the air. "That happened," she answered, "and Lucius thinks that it gives him the right to go and beat the customer who did it to a bloody pulp, getting him that!" pointing at his inured eye.

"You know, Lucius has a point, Cassandra," Sophitia replied, a hand going into the air for emphasis. "You shouldn't just let someone harass you like that whenever they want, even if you are on the job. If they get away with it, they get the impression that you have no self confidence, and that they can walk all over you."

Lucius gave a smug grin to Cassandra, feeling confident that he'd won the argument. Rothion then added his own two-cents to the mix, something like, "But, Lucius, that doesn't mean you should go and fight while you're on the job, either, unless it's necessary. And, we already know that Cassandra is more than a capable fighter. Let her fight her own battles, Lucius."

Although he knew that their argument was settled, he, the younger brother, felt gypped, cheated of his victory. However, he could tell from the look in his older sister's eyes that he should just be quiet and admit defeat. Smiling at the peace that now settled about the place, Rothion asked, "What were you planning on making for supper?"

A small look that asked for approval came to Sophitia's face as she said, "Remember that Scotsman that had dropped by a few weeks ago? He had paid for half of his bread with a recipe for a soup from his homeland. It has lamb neck in it, and sounded quite savory. I assumed that now, since I'd managed to save up enough to buy the ingredients, I should try and have a go at it."

Nodding thoughtfully, Rothion told her, "Why not? I'm a simple man. It's hard to find anything with mutton that I don't like." Planting a kiss on her cheek, Rothion said, "While you go and finish, I'll check on Pyrrha and Patrokolos. The argument may have awakened them, and I would probably have to put them back to sleep."

Sophitia nodded with a smile as Rothion headed up the stairs.

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Slinking his way through the shadows of the alleys, Lizardman made his progress through the streets of Athens, avoiding the sights of people as nothing more than a flicker of grey and black, a glimmer of steel in the moonlight. Whenever he stopped, it would always be in the darkest of places, so as to stay from sight. A snort to the air, and he had to keep himself from wheezing out loud; the smells! Oh, the smells! Various smokes, sweats, other foul stenches assaulted his nostrils, not to mention just the fact that there were so many different smells altogether, not just the repulsive ones. Yuck, he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, and return to the wild, where at least there he had little to sicken him.

However, he knew his targets, the ones that he needed to look for. The demon sword had given him back his soul, but now all that was on his mind was the necessity of finding a way to speak to his patron god, to apologize, to seek forgiveness. Although he knew that he had done wrong, Aeon was confident that he would be forgiven for his deeds, were he to give Hephaestus the news of having reclaimed his soul, and for the most part, his sanity. The beast, the lizard, still held part of him, but he had regained enough of his conscience to avoid following the same lifestyle as his fellow lizards: murder, feed, and serve. They had hardly a mind of their own at all, and after the collapse of Fygul Cetmus, there was little for them to do, except either follow another or roam free. It was obvious that no human would take them in, even if they knew their situation.

He had felt a small amount of pity for his former comrade, Astaroth. The two of them had worked together for the cult, although Aeon had managed to break free of the high priest's words quite early. Astaroth, a quite stupid golem, had died several times according to his knowledge, and now served another god, not a mortal. At least, that's what the golem said the last time that they had fought. They both walked away from it, although they had also both sustained bad injuries; Lizardman had several joints that were mangled and a bruised hide, having avoided the blade of the axe fairly well, whereas Astaroth wasn't so lucky as to have been missed, leaving with many deep hacks, cuts, scratches, and even a crushed part of his armor where Aeon had bitten hard indeed. Thankfully, Lizardman had healed by this point, his body now in a fine condition. Of Astaroth he cared not.

Shaking off the memories of how he used to be, Lizardman quickly slipped onward, making his way to the next alleyway to give another sniff to the air. This time, he could stand the smells, as he was beginning to smell the wonders of market. Yes, there was still much by way of smoke, but it didn't mask over the pleasant aromas of the many foods, the fruits and vegetables, the butchery, and the spice cart. Hurriedly, he dashed off through the shadows in that direction, following the attractive scents.

Not more than a few minutes later and Aeon had already made his way to the streets of the marketplace, and to him it was nothing but decorated with food. Vegetables were passed; as a human, he found them to be tasty, savory things, but his taste in victuals had generally flown elsewhere. Fruits, too, were at most given a glance. Although they held the sugary, sweet nectars that any creature in their right mind craved, he had no time for something so small at the moment.

It was then, after passing a few more stands, that he smelled it. Turning his head to the other side of the cobblestone road, a whiff of seafood and salt caught his nostrils. A growl, and he walked over, gripping the handle of the door. He gave it a light tug, opening the door freely, and without hesitation, he entered the place.

By Apollo's chariot, what had he done to deserve such a blessing? None were there, and such food… all his, ripe for the taking. Hanging from the ceiling was a small swordfish, lightly caked with salt. Easily taking it down, he brushed off the white, grainy dust, admiring it as if it were a work of art before he was about to take a large bite.

However… just before his powerful jaws clenched down on the scaly, fleshy sea creature, he heard footsteps and a gasp. Looking behind him, Aeon saw a young boy behind him, his eyes as wide as they could go, rooted to the spot in fear. What should he do? Give up the fish and leave hungry? That would be the just thing to do… but he needed this! He was in the most desperate need of something to eat! Perhaps he could scare the boy upstairs… no, then he would call his parents, and cause a fuss. Maybe… he should pay for it? But with what? He had no real money on hand, and his weapons were far too dear to give up. Looking about on his body, he noticed some of the older scales that failed to come of from his last molting on his tail. Although the thought made him feel guilty, Lizardman knew that it was the only negotiable thing that he had, and it was the only thing that he could do to leave without raising a veritable riot about the place.

Holding the fish in one hand, Lizardman used the other to grip his excess skin and peel it off, the cool, breezy feeling washing over his newly exposed scales. He held it out to the child, who still looked at him with utmost horror. Stretching further and grunting slightly, Aeon tried to convince the boy to come hither, trying to tell him that he meant no harm. Reluctantly, the little one stepped forward, taking hold of the dried scales, which Lizardman quite willingly let go of. The boy crept back, his eyes showing less fear and now more amusement. Aeon silently replied with as close to a smile as he was able, his eyes giving it away. The boy gave a quiet laugh as he headed back to his bedroom, whereas Lizardman stepped outside, quickly eating down the fish after snapping off the blade at the nose. It was, obviously, unbelievably salty, but still satisfying. Finished with his meal and his business involved with it, Aeon continued down the street, picking up the scent of a bakery and a forge…

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Sitting on the table in front of the four adults were four bowls of soup, the broth swimming with bits of lamb, leeks, carrots, barley, onions, and small amounts of pepper. Rothion's mouth watered as he took in such a wonderful smell, and he couldn't wait to dig into the dish and slurp it all down. But, just as he was about to begin eating, a thought came to mind. "Sophitia, if this is dinner, what have the children eaten?"

"They have not either been helpful, nor hungry. All that they were given was some of the bread from today."

Although he too thought that Pyrrha and Patrokolos should be doing their parts, Rothion thought that perhaps that was a bit harsh, especially if they had been affected by that cursed blade. They still were children, and they were able bodied, but that didn't mean that one should treat them like they were laborers. Ah, he would bring it up with her later. What's done is done.

It was then that they heard a loud, heavy knock on the door of their home, not their bakery. "Who could that be?" Rothion wondered aloud, standing up to answer. As he opened the door, he saw a man adorned in fine, red, white and gold robes, a gold crucifix around his neck, standing in the doorway. A hard, stern, stone-cold face rested atop his shoulders, decorated with a short, black, well-trimmed beard, and behind him stood at least ten well-armed soldiers. They looked Spanish, by tell of their weaponry and armor.

"I, my dear friend, am Father Romero XIV, a priest of the Spanish Inquisition," he introduced with both elegance and power about his voice. "May I come in? I have much that I wish to ask your family, señor," he asked, his face softening the slightest of amounts as he made his request. Rothion, not wanting to either risk being killed or rude, answered to him, "Of course, come in, come in. Would you like a seat?"

Father Romero nodded politely, saying, "Si, I would enjoy a seat very much. I have traveled far, in search of something."

This piqued the entire room's curiosity. "What would that be?" Rothion asked as he offered their bench to the priest, then sitting next to him on the opposite end.

Father Romero took a deep and heavy breath, as if preparing to tell them the worst of news, as if they had lost a child. "We have heard news of a demon spirit that resides in Athens. This demonio is said to be more powerful than others, and cannot be shaken by just the power of the Faith."

This statement shook Rothion to the core, his heart skipping. Now there was the Catholic Church after Soul Edge? Even if they were against it, that still wasn't a good thing. The more that got involved, the more that there were who could be devoured, or worse. He decided that, since they were going to find out anyway, that he should tell them. But, he had to leave Cassandra and Lucius out of it; they weren't involved anywhere near as much as Sophitia and he. Giving a sigh, Rothion told them, "Lucius, Cassandra, I believe I may not have tidied up the smithy as much as I should have. Would you please check it while I talk to this man?"

Cassandra looked at him defiantly as she started, "Bu-"

"Not now, little girl! Lucius, will you see reason and take her with you?" Realizing what Rothion was getting at, Lucius nodded quickly and grasped a confused Cassandra by the arm, taking her out the back door and to the forge. Father Romero raised a brow at Rothion. Hastily, the blacksmith explained, "They know very little of the demon, what they do being hearsay about the city, and I want to keep it that way. Do not involve them, please, and preserve what is left of their innocence, sir." Closing his eyes, Romero nodded, making a solemn promise on a small Bible that he kept on his person to leave them out of their investigations.

Sophitia pulled her chair to the bench, sitting next to Rothion and holding his hand. "Are you going to tell them… everything?"

Rothion nodded sadly. "They must know the truth about what they wish to face, Sophitia."

"Then let me tell them, Rothion."

"Señor, we have no reason to believe the words of a mere señora," Romero said, crinkling his nose. "Women have been guilty of many sins, and deceit is a favorite! Why should we trust her over you?"

Rothion looked at him simply. "Because she has more experience with the demon than I do. Because she knows more about it than I. Because I trust her," he told him firmly. Father Romero grumbled, but conceded.

"It started long ago, when I was given a message from a spirit to fight a demon. The spirit said that it was brought shame by the demon, and that any who met the demon would only bring about pain and suffering.

"That demon, however, is unlike those you would normally imagine, sir. The demon that the spirit spoke of was called Soul Edge. It is a blade of immense power, and it possesses its wielders. Those it does not control… it feeds upon their souls." She was reluctant to tell him of her own religion; the Inquisition was known to kill others who were practitioners of pagan religion.

Romero's brow furrowed. This was… quite the news indeed. So, instead of a demon, they were after an intelligent sword? That… was unexpected, to say the least. "I, along with several others, have gone on many journeys to destroy it, and yet, even today, it still has not been totally destroyed. The sword has even managed to pollute the spirits of other people…"

Again, Romero's brow went up. "Do you know of these people?" he asked, the power in his voice kept low, but the persuasive tone still about. She didn't know what there was about it, but something in the vibrating thrum of his voice made her want to speak, no matter how she tried. "… Yes, I do. The Dread Pirate, Cervantes de Leon… he was among the first wielders. He had absorbed so much power that his body has stopped aging. His daughter, Isabella Valentine, is also cursed in her blood. The Azure Knight- his sword, which had an eye in the center- that was Soul Edge. He has cursed his servant, Tira, who attempted to take them from me. Siegfried Schtauffen, who had been the Azure Knight for some time, was cursed… until… I don't know, actually. But he has been freed of the taint.

"And finally…" Sophitia began to say with a shiver, "… there is me." Rothion snapped his head around to her, looking at her in horror. His eyes quite plainly said, 'I know you said everything, but did you have to tell them that!' Romero folded his hands together, his face looking as though he was curious for a moment before shaking his head. "How, may I ask, did you get polluted with Soul Edge?"

"When I had first ventured out for it, I had managed to find Cervantes. I shattered one of the halves of it, but some of the shards were embedded into my body; by now, they have become a part of me."

Romero nodded. "That is all that I need to know. Men! Take the señora and niños away!"

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Grrr… those soldiers again. Appearing at this house, of all places…

Resting upon the roof of the smithy, Aeon watched as Cassandra and Lucius walked around from the back and into the building under him. What were they doing? There was nothing there, as far as he kn-

"EEW! Lucius, who would have left the skeleton of a fish in here? I know Rothion wouldn't eat an entire swordfish on his own!"

Aeon heard Lucius give a thoughtful 'hm', then answer with, "I don't know, Cassandra. Whoever it was decided that a smithy was a trash heap."

Lizardman clapped a hand to his forehead, growling slightly. How could he have been so stupid? That sure lost him brownie points with Hephaestus. "Did you hear that?" Cassandra asked.

As he caught that sentence, Aeon was perfectly still. He knew that if he were to give himself away at all, he would be attacked if it were Cassandra or Lucius that found him. Sticking their heads out the window, they looked to the sides, but saw nothing. "Hmph. I don't know what that could have been, Cassandra, but it was probably just the wind. You should worry yourself less about such things," Lucius reassured her.

Once Aeon was sure that they were settled down, he spied into the rooms of Pyrrha and Patrokolos. The two of them were sound asleep; it made him feel comforted at the fact that at least someone was comfortable for the moment. A sigh escaped his lips as he sat on his rear.

"Now I KNOW I heard something!"

Whipping his tail up to keep it from hanging off of the edge of the roof, Lizardman was once again without any movement. Again, her head jutting out of the window, she looked up and squinted her eyes suspiciously at the lip of the roof, suspecting something to show itself. When her efforts proved fruitless, she sighed and retreated to the smithy. This time, Lizardman made sure to not make any noise as he continued his watch on the children.

But, what was this? The lamp was on? What was going on? Giving a better look, he could see looks of panic and fear on the faces of Pyrrha and Patrokolos, and… halberds! They were being taken! The humanity left in Aeon could not let that happen- children of any kind were not meant to be hunted in the first place, they were to be protected. Why was Sophitia not with them? Was she being held back herself? Then… he knew what must be done. It was… it was a sign! A test from Hephaestus, to see if he still held enough goodness inside him to be forgiven. Yes… Hephaestus, and all the gods of Mount Olympus would forgive him!

Readying his axe and shield, Aeon stood and, with a roar, leapt through the glass window, shattering it into a million pieces as he tumbled onto the floor of the children's room. Striking down one of the soldiers with a single blow from his shield and knocking the man out cold, Lizardman loosed a deafening roar, drowning out the screams of the young ones. The Spaniard faltered, which Aeon took advantage of, kicking him in the chest so hard that he flew down the stairs and slammed into the wall at the foot of them. Father Romero was furious. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, getting no answer from the soldier, just another roar from above. Growling, he ordered, "Four of you, make sure that the two in the smithy don't get away! The rest of you, capture that… thing!"

Following their orders explicitly, four of them went out the back door and blocked off the exit to the smithy. The others managed to lure out Lizardman, yelling various insults. He understood them just fine, but that wasn't what made him angrier; it was the fact that they were still going after the children, coming up the stairs, and acting so arrogant about it! What made them think that they would be able to beat him? As the first one came up, he slashed away at the halberd, lopping off the deadly part, shortening it until the soldier was within range of the shield, which he took to the face. With a mighty blow, the soldier was knocked over the rail and to the ground.

The second one merely had his stepped on and snapped in half, and then after being jabbed in the stomach by the head of the axe, he rolled on the ground in pain. Number three attempted a few swings, which were easily dodged, and Aeon gripped him by the neck, beating on his armored sides with his axe until the cheap plate popped off. Casting him aside, Aeon stared at the remaining soldier and Romero with a ferocity known only to his most hated of enemies. "Bestio! W-what are you?" Romero yelled.

"Our savior…" Sophitia whispered…

Aeon roared as loudly as he possibly could.

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"That's it Lucius, I have to see what is going on! We've got something breaking into our house!"

Lucius nodded in agreement. "Yes, Cassandra, something's very wrong here. We need to know-" he said as he started to go out the door, but was cut off by the group of four Spaniards. "Is there something wrong here?" he asked them.

"No, señor. You are to remain in here, and our orders, as given by Father Romero, are to make sure that you do so."

"What?" Cassandra yelled. "That is such bullsh-"

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"Sophitia, please just trust my decision. I have an idea," Rothion whispered while Lizardman had fought his way down the stairs. Slipping away unnoticed, he quickly went out the front door, hoping to reach the smithy before the soldiers did. However, as his luck would have it, there was nothing he could have done in the time before the soldiers got there. Sliding under the window around the corner, he waited until Cassandra finished her tantrum and peace was withheld in the place again. Peeping his eyes just above the pane, Cassandra noticed and recognized them immediately. Trying not to get a bunch of attention, she merely relaxed next to the window. A look went to him, saying quite plainly, 'What do you have planned?'

Rothion pointed at his largest iron mallet, more than big enough to be properly wielded with two hands. He then jerked a thumb behind him, signaling that he wanted it outside. Cassandra nodded silently.

As Rothion ducked back under the window, he heard yet another screeching curse belted from Cassandra, and then a crash from right above as the hammer just managed to pass safely over his head. Scrambling forward, Rothion grasped it, and began to stalk behind the smithy. As soon as one of the soldiers, who was too busy wondering why in the world Cassandra would have been doing something so stupid, was within range, Rothion struck him as hard as he would have the strongest of orichalcum alloys, square on the head. Smashing the helmet, the man was out, if not dead. Blood dribbled to the ground.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Cassandra and Lucius each took daggers and threw them, Cassandra nailing one of them in the throat, Lucius sticking the other in the shoulder. Clutching his wound, the Spaniard screamed in pain, dropping his weapon, when Cassandra leapt forward, grasped the dagger, and thrust it into the side of his neck.

However, from her flank charged the last soldier, aiming to skewer her in the ribs. Not about to let that happen, Rothion threw his mallet, smashing him on the back of the head and knocking him to the ground. Rothion dashed forward, cast off the helmet, and kicked him as hard as he could, feeling something crack under his shoe. His breathing was heavy… he had never felt this much adrenaline running through his body. Cassandra smiled and hugged his limp arms, thanking him for saving her. He had no reply; it took more than enough effort just to stand.

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This next soldier had actually managed to provide a bit of a challenge. He too, unlike the others, dodged attacks. However, as Lizardman worked his way closer, he finally came within range to bite him, and that he did, right on the shoulder, using his free hand to hold back the halberd. He clenched so hard that he felt the end of the man's collarbone go crunch, at which he let go, smashing the rim of his shield into the bridge of the soldier's nose, leaving him to roll on the floor in pain.

While he did his handiwork, what Aeon failed to notice, however, was Father Romero creeping up behind him, with a stiletto-disguised-crucifix, a sharp and needle-like blade. Seeing him about to strike just a moment too late, Sophitia called to him, "Look out!" and he turned just in time to be struck in the trap. Taking hold of Romero's hand, Aeon bellowed in pain, his grip breaking the priest's fingers as the agony blinded his judgment in how hard he was to hold onto him. As soon as Romero let go, Lizardman flipped him over and onto his back, winding the man. A baritone scream, and Aeon ripped the slim blade from his muscle, about to stab downward… but he then threw it into the wall, and roared out loud, as if to give warning to the world. At that, he lifted Romero by his collar, and then head butted him, knocking him unconscious.

Dropping him to the ground, he looked at his wound. It looked dreadful, but it seemed as though he would survive, were he to keep it clean. Sophitia stepped up to him, examining the deep puncture. "We can help with that… bandage it up. Please, come with us, and help us. After this, we can't stay in Athens any longer. We have to move away, and-" but she was interrupted by him pulling away and shaking his head with a low growl. Two pairs of feet were heard on the stairs. Turning in their direction, Lizardman gave a smile before heading out the door, dashing off into the moonlight. He could tell that he had been forgiven.

"Mother… what was that?" asked Patrokolos cautiously. Sophitia looked out the door after him with tearful eyes. "That," she answered, "was the one who saved you. Now, come along, we need to gather the rest of you relatives; there is much packing to be done…"

The wound continued to bleed profusely, making Aeon slow down as he trudged down the path out of Athens. In spite of the fact that he healed faster than most creatures, it still didn't let his blood begin to congeal and clot soon enough. Within minutes of being out of sight of anybody, his head began to swim, his world spun in circles, blurring… and then, finally, it went black as he fell to the ground.

It did stop in time for him to survive the wound, but Aeon still did not wake. His fate had decreed it so that another band of the Inquisition that had ventured into Athens would happen upon him, and cage the 'beast', not knowing either of what he had just done or of his thoughts or intentions.

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(A/N: Yes, I know this chapter is enormously long. But, that's how I'm planning on writing these. There will be other characters involved, of course, and their stories of their encounters with the Inquisition will be different. But, a few of them I'm thinking about interweaving.)