AN: My uncle likes spot the crossover; I do too. See if you can spot it. -Shurpuff
Once, there came a whisper through the lands: of a boy that claimed to play with the Spirits.
Emissaries were named, and sent to find him. It had been a very long time since the King, and there was woe and joy aplenty to those who found him first. Agents aplenty flew apace with the winds, scattering like dust in the breeze.
The School found him first. The boy's parents were only too glad to be rid of him, a little too quickly, their agent found.
"Where then, is the boy?" the agent asked.
"Into the forest," they said, pointing up the mountain near them. "Take him. He has already said his goodbyes."
Stewing over the parents' cryptic words, the agent followed the unmistakable signs of the boy's passing. There was a Gate here, where none should have been, and from out of it emerged a Host of spirits.
"Wake up, mister," came a voice in the agent's ear. The agent woke, and saw only the boy. The Gate and the Host were nowhere in sight.
"I'm sorry if my friends scared you," said the boy. "They send their apologies." The boy opened his palm, and from out of it grew a flower. He pressed it into the agent's palm. "Now let us leave," the boy said, cheerful. "My friends say many more like you are coming."
()()()
It did not take long for the School to recognize his potential. He was indeed an elementalist, and he already had twenty spirits by his side—spirits which he had no trouble commanding, as if he were their sovereign. It was hard not to see the Demon King behind his mirthful smile.
In a frighteningly short time, he became their most promising operative. Yet they were naturally reluctant to use such a valuable piece on mere assassinations. Spinning behind the curtain, therefore, were a vast number of schemes and plans to engineer the future of the land.
And they would all need the boy, of course.
"But he is a rather corruptive influence," a trainer remarked. Down below, a small forest had grown from carved bedrock. The boy was putting on a show above the canopy, juggling water and fire and stone, to the tentative applause of the other trainees. Even from here, they could hear the boy's joyful laughter.
"The others are practically fodder now," said another, snorting dismissively. "Let them have their moment."
"Are we terminating?" asked another trainer. He looked around, then continued in a whisper. "This will cause friction with the other nations here..."
"The higher ups will come to that decision when it comes," said the second trainer, with a shrug. "But as of now, think of it as a more than considerable possibility. And," he said, smirking. "The others will have to bow to the King soon enough."
Down below, the children started to play.
()()()
There was a great noise outside.
"There's big trouble!" someone yelled.
"Shut up," the boy snapped. He was intent on his drawing.
"The teachers are fighting!" yelled another.
"It's someone with a fire spirit, duh. Now shut up!" cried the boy. Of course he knew, well before the intruder had begun incinerating the adults. His friends had told him.
"Big bro, I brought more colors!" said a girl, who was one of the more agreeable kids down here.
The walls shook. There were children huddled around him now. Only a few, those helping him with the drawing, didn't look apprehensive.
"All done!" cried the boy, jumping to his feet. Below, the drawing of himself wielding sword and shield was finished. "Oi, stop messing with my crown! It's got twenty jewels for a reason!" he told the girl.
"Aww. Big bro deserves more."
"Kamito," said a calm voice from behind. The children watched as a spirit flew on black wings toward the boy.
The boy's demeanor calmed. "Restia," he acknowledged formally.
"She is scattering them like dead leaves, Kamito," said the spirit. "Your trainers are ash blown in the wind."
"Do you think she can be our friend, Restia?" asked the boy.
The spirit placed its hands on the boy's head. "I don't think so. Will you try to spare her, then?"
"Should I?" the boy asked, staring into the spirit's eyes. In response, the spirit touched its forehead to his.
"Milord must follow his own counsel. I am but your humble weapon." The spirit dissolved in a cloud of black feathers, becoming just a simple saber, which the boy tucked behind him.
He shook his head. "Stay here, you lot," he addressed the other kids. "Especially you," he emphasized, pointing to the girl, who'd taken a step forward. "Tsu-cchi shall guard you."
"Aww."
Responding to his command, the very earth around the children shook, erupting into a cage of stones that surrounded them. The gaps were also filled, and thus a smooth wall now separated them from him. The wall made a satisfied grunt that only he could hear.
"I could have protected them..." the sword on his back murmured.
"But I need you, Restia," said the boy.
"... As milord wishes."
()()()
She was a tempest of flame. The stolen spirit, strongest in the house of fire, bathed the chambers in a fierce light.
Her rancor had not faded. She'd expected to find the children but found only old men and minor elementalists. They had all wilted at her gaze.
Then, a small shape walked before her.
She brandished her sword. Issued a challenge.
Power, alien, raw, flooded the chamber in response. The power came from the boy. She braced herself, prepared to fight whatever monstrosity they had bred in these halls.
()()()
The boy cast a small, flickering shadow against the foe's light. When the challenge was called, his friends began to murmur, angered by the foe and its spirit. The enemy would be chopped up into twenty bits for his friends' amusement.
But the boy had no reason to kill this one. He silenced their dissent with a plea. Now with the adults dead, he only had to lead his fellows to Astral Zero, where they could renew their tutelage under Restia. There would be plenty of time to play then. And he was determined that this one capable of commanding such a powerful spirit should join them.
There was no question that it would join, whether it wanted to or not.
And thus, the boy's shadow seemed to grow, dwarfing him completely. Illusory shapes and faces could be seen fleetingly in its amorphous shape.
When the enemy's fire moved, he responded.
In three seconds-
His body encased in an armor of impervious steel,
A shield of ice to block the attack,
Then a blast of wind, to fanning the foe's flames, to an uncontrollable level.
The enemy staggered. He closed the distance, dancing through the gaps in the fire.
The enemy's blade swung, sending a fresh blast of fire. He dodged, feeling the heat through the holes in his helmet. Unfazed, he vaulted over the next swing and spied her dress.
Metal armor covering the legs and the wrists. It felt rotten, learning he could end the battle then and there. He brought out Restia instead, clashing her against the enemy spirit.
"Wouldja like to be my friend?" he asked, as gently as he could, over their locked blades. No reaction from the enemy. He parried the following strikes. The enemy seemed unused to his short form, going wide or missing him entirely, giving him a slight advantage.
He formed a block of ice in his other hand. The shield, half-formed, shattered on first contact. The pieces flew into the enemy's dress, filling her like a pincushion.
She shrieked, disengaging. The ice became water, flowing in small rivulets over the skin under her dress. The slimy sensation became a constricting one, as elemental energy began to seep into the enemy, repressing her fury.
He waited, gauging the reaction. It would be perfect if she were subdued this way—
Uttering an enraged howl, the enemy exploded in a burst of energy. A curtain of water saved him from annihilation, which evaporated in a hissing steam that had him sweating beneath the armor.
Fortuitously, the steam cloaked him; when it dissipated, the enemy swinging where he was, he was nowhere in the enemy's sight.
But he hadn't disappeared entirely. High in the air, suspended on a lightening draft of wind, a gigantic sword edged like a butcher's knife forming in his hand, Kamito grinned.
"Ha!" he shouted, just enough to warn the enemy as he slammed the sword down against hers.
The enemy's weapon shattered under the strain of twenty spirits, who'd combined their considerable strengths to the assault. Their cooperation lasted only until that moment, their forged blade shattering in its turn into many shards.
Just for good measure, he flicked a little bit of lightning into the girl, which combined a numbing shock to her surprise. She fell to the floor, insensate. He landed a second later, cushioned by a sudden growth of grass.
"You're pretty good," he remarked, pointing Restia at her. "But I see you're an adult. Maybe you don't want to play."
The girl looked pretty mad, even in defeat. And, upon second look, kind of pretty. It was a kind of pretty that sent shivers down his spine to settle in his crotch.
Some of his friends began to whisper. Suggestive whispers, presenting feather-light temptations as luscious as fresh fruit. One even had the audacity to reach down and prepare him.
He felt Restia wrestle that friend away. He thanked her through their bond. He would content himself with the lascivious images they planted in his mind; there would be plenty of time to fulfill the favor to the Three who demanded it.
He sighed, putting Restia away. He addressed the fallen girl: "Jerry will take care of you. You're going to have to sit in the corner until you're calm."
Something huge and shadowy moved beneath the girl, unnoticed. At his command, the shadow rose, morphing into a faceless set of black jaws that swallowed the girl whole.
The great lump subsided into the ground. "Thank you Jerry," said Kamito. He knelt and dipped his hand into the formless shadow. He extracted from it a large teardrop-shaped blob, as large as his head. He smiled, then patted its head. Its surface shivered at his touch.
"From now on, you will be our friend. Your name shall be... Ponchi."
He retrieved his friends from Tsu-cchi's protection. "Everyone, this is Ponchi. Be nice to her," he said, fluffing the blob.
"Cute!" chirped the girl, snatching Ponchi from him.
"Don't get too careless with her, she was very powerful," he warned.
It did not take long to create a Gate through which he led their exodus from the School, and they disappeared into the mists of Astral Zero.
()()()
Then had come The Woman. She was the first being that perplexed the boy—now a year older and leader of his own secret group—and who had also dueled him to a draw.
He could have fought more, as some of his friends urged, but Restia pressed caution. It was the first time he'd contemplated ignoring his sword, but her voice won out.
He was understandably displeased to be bound within a magic circle by the woman, the latter correctly deducing his peculiar attunement to Astral Zero. Exposure to that other world had turned him into something partially spiritual, which made it an easy job for even a flimsy circle to contain him. Of course, the woman's craft was anything but flimsy, so it would take a lot of effort to break it.
And so they went to bargaining.
"I don't want to," he said, at the first condition. He drew himself up haughtily. "Only fools cavort and posture for the pleasure of those Spirits."
"Consider your options," the woman said. "I shall keep you here, for an indefinite time, until all energy has been leached from your body. Or I can sell you to a number of groups, who shall take with them the secret of your physiology, who will be glad to control the Demon King reincarnate. Or... well, I can be very creative, child. I have the rest of eternity to be as creative as I want to be."
"But is the Blade Dance not only for pure-hearted 'maidens'? I'm not a girl, and... well, technically I'm not a virgin," he added, thinking of his fumbling experiences with Restia and some of his group. The Three had been satisfied, but with the floodgates opened, he could no longer resist their whispering for more.
"Interesting..." said the woman, her eyes twinkling. Then, just as quickly the geniality disappeared. "It is dreadfully easy to fool even the eyes of the Lords. So long as you aren't fool enough to loudly proclaim your affiliation with Solomon, no one will ever suspect you are anything but the strongest elementalist."
"...You're really determined to have me participate? What's in it for you?" he said, crossing his arms.
"For now, our accord is not at the stage where I can freely divulge my secrets," said the woman, winking. "Don't forget, child, we're bargaining for your freedom." She shrugged. "And, as I mentioned, there is the matter of a wish. A being of your caliber can easily waltz in and snatch that wish from their unwitting hands. Like snatching eggs from a hen's clutch."
It took him another day to give an answer. He spent the time communing with his friends while in the circle. There was dissension aplenty, and Restia had to assert herself and offer her wisdom more than once.
In the interim, the magic circle had been transported from outside the woman's estates to the inside of what looked to be a bedroom. He noted the difference in surroundings, but didn't fully comprehend the woman's intentions until she came to him on the next night for his answer—clad only in a loose-fitting bathrobe that could be blown away by the slightest breeze.
The Three began whispering.
"We have an accord," he said, bracing against their incessant chattering in his mind. "Free me, and I shall lay waste to this petty ritual."
"Not just yet," the woman murmured, abandoning her robe and walking into the circle. "I've a mind to be creative."
"...Aren't you an elementalist?" he asked, allowing the woman to peel away his clothes.
She tugged his trousers down. "There are yet more ways we can have fun. It's only a matter of being creative enough."
Growling, he pushed the woman down, pinning her to the cushions. "You know what? I have half a mind to violate you anyway. What's to stop me?"
Her arms came around him, enclosing him as a snake might. She nibbled his ear, a little too forcefully. "Do so, and I shall keep you here forever. Without my powers, how else can I spend the rest of eternity?"
()()()
"In the end, was there ever any doubt?" he murmured to Restia, allowing the accolades to fall on him after achieving the crown of "Strongest". Winner of the Blade Dance, he had taken on the name "Ren Ashbell", entering as an independent: landless, title-less.
As such, he would have to be extraordinarily lucky, or skilled, to win. He could be lucky if he wanted to be, but he called on his own skills. He hadn't even needed to call his friends' help. Only the teachings of the School, and Restia, were enough to eliminate the opposition.
The only friend actively helping him was the one feeding the illusion of his gender. Lily, ever the worrywart, had suggested it, and his group of orphans had risen to the occasion in helping craft a suitable form for him.
The breasts were a little much, to be honest: too restrictive in battle without proper gear (and he had none).
"So what shall your wish be, Kamito?" asked Restia. He'd listened to her suggestion, after she'd explained her role in all the Demon King's incarnations.
"To slay the Lords"-a tall order even for him and his friends. There was only so much he could do, and he was but a child, no matter what kind of Spirit dwelled inside him. Some of his wiser friends had pressed for caution, believing his time had not yet come.
The question gnawed at him, all the way to the place where the Spirits received him in audience. He knelt, hearing their booming voices echo hollowly in his mind. Despite his recent successes, he still felt himself too weak for the task Restia set for him.
"I'm sorry Restia," he thought. "I think I can only manage one."
"How will you do it?" she asked him.
"With just a wish," he said, drawing her and calling his friends to his side.
He took a deep, steadying breath. He rolled the dice, and played without hesitation.
"I wish to duel thee, great Iseria. It humbly ask for the chance to pit my strength against yours."
After a moment, the acceptance.
Then, battle.
Victory.
(Or so it seemed)
()()()
"Kamito, withdraw!" Restia all but shrieked in his mind.
The Other Side was so inviting, so mysterious that he could stare at it for all time and not be any less entranced.
After Iseria's fall, their surroundings had warped. His true intention in only challenging one and not all of them was to see with his own eyes what Restia feared all along.
He'd instantly lost sight in one eye. A friend wreathed his other eye in a sacred blessing, protecting it from destruction, and only just succeeding.
But the Other Side was so enticing. He was aware of standing on a precipice, his foot already taking a step forward.
His mouth foamed. His expression twisted, blood streaming from the empty socket. He heard someone screaming, and someone laughing. It took a moment to realize both were equally coming from his own ragged throat.
"Kamito!" Kamito! Friend! Their cries held him back from the brink.
He became aware of an epiphany, coming unbidden to his mind. An answer to all the questions in his mind, to all the concerns of the world, and beyond. It would only be his, if he took it. And it stood right there, waiting for him beyond the edge of nothingness.
He stretched his hand to grasp it.
Pain surged into him, and he felt himself slip away.
()()()
You were reckless, he was told, by the Woman, his group, and his friends.
It hurt all the more to hear it from Restia. She and his friends had emerged unscathed, and only because the friend who rarely spoke to him except in ticks and tocks had exerted, bending time and space into string-sized bits to transport them to safety.
Even in his more vindictive moods, he'd never lost control. If he treated it all as a game, inevitably one side would lighten up, would give up, and everyone was happy.
To be reduced to quivering, maniacal mess—Kamito steamed and fumed at the indignity. And all the more: Restia was very disappointed, and that was not something he wanted to bear.
The Blade Dance was over, and no one was aware of Iseria's loss, save perhaps the Lords, who'd uncharacteristically not spread the news. He was sure Restia knew a lot more than she was letting on about that fact.
"I've done my part," he told the woman, as he recuperated on her bed. "I have the scars to prove it," he said, lifting his arm to show its charred, repulsive state. He would need more elaborate illusions to cloak it, or perhaps he would't hide it. It would be a nice deterrent to the unworthy.
That it was cursed was no question. But he was determined to prove himself the better of such magics. Even if it killed him.
He told the woman so, refusing her offer of researching an appropriate sealing for the arm.
"It's a good thing there can only be one male elementalist per generation," the woman said, shrugging. "You're all just stupid creatures." She accompanied her words with a gentle shake of the head, no malice in her voice.
Despite what he told the woman, the matter of the Lords and the creeping otherness infesting their domains was now his concern as well. And because it was Restia's problem, he was twice as motivated.
"We'll try again, Restia," he murmured, later that night. "I just need to be stronger. You, me and my friends."
()()()
"Ponchi's been getting friskier lately," Muir remarked one day. She held the aforementioned fussy blob at arms' length.
Kamito took it from her. There were two eyes on its surface, which now appeared to be glaring at him.
"Muir, get everyone out. Get off Astral Zero, for that matter. Gate's that way."
"Why? What's going on, Big Bro?"
"I'm about to let an old foe speak for herself," he said, setting the blob down.
()()()
When the inferno'd settled, this part of Astral Zero had been reduced to ash.
"Like I said before," he said, surveying the damage. "You're pretty strong, lady. What's your name?" He swallowed painfully when he caught sight of the woman's near-naked form, as most of her armor having been stripped during the battle. The Three were unhelpful, as always.
"Rubia... Elstein..." came the girl's voice, which seemed like it hadn't been used for a long time.
He sheathed Restia. "Let us discuss your intentions then. Perhaps, if we can agree to a goal, we can work together. My group's been dreadfully aimless since I won the Blade Dance. And then, if it is amenable to you, we can sleep together in an elementalist-friendly fashion. No pressure, though."
()()()
For three years, Ren Ashbell disappeared from public view. Yet her legend persisted, waxing and waning as the moon, and as contrary with each other as light and dark.
Was she a benevolent warrior, travelling the world and undoing its wrongs? Or was she an amoral mercenary, doing the selfish bidding of the land's rulers?
Was she a wise and kind teacher, who took the time to visit promising elementalists, to teach them, encourage them? Or was she a wanton homophile, slithering her way into the hearts of pure maidens, her lessons seductive and forbidden?
Was she a secret member of the Numbers, or was she merely an acquaintance of its former general?
Had she really lifted the infamous siege at Fort Calmus, or was she really the mastermind behind the monstrosity that claimed a score of lives?
None could get a definite picture of the infamous legend. She left only a fleeting presence in the minds of many.
Three years later, another Blade Dance was announced.
()()()
Older, scarred, radiant, amiable, majestic, formidable.
The murmurs and the eyes followed her as he went up on the platform, each step measured. He nodded to the other instructors, shook Grayworth's hand, then went up to the center to face the multitude of elementalists enrolled in Areshia.
He began the needless show, to prove he was who he should be. He drew Restia, twirling her two times, before planting her point down onto the platform. He laid both hands on her hilt, and offered a smile to the students below.
"Presenting: your newest instructor, the previous winner of the Blade Dance, Ren Ashbell."
AN: Drafted by Shurpuff, proofread and edited by Honore (Merlin)
Thanks for reading.