Lord of Chaos

by kujikiri21

Ranma is a wild horse. A wildcard. None can predict him, nor can they control. He seems to able to defy Destiny itself. Let us see him walk among others that can do the same. The First Ever Ranma/Campione Crossover

3. Chapter 3

Lord of Chaos

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma 1/2 or Campione, despite the law suits I filed through Dewey, Cheetum and Howe. Ah well, that's the way the cookie crumbles.

AN: Sorry for the long break in this story. I hope this chapter will more than make up for it. Not much action in this one, except for Nodoka, but it will set up for a big brawl in either the next chapter or the one after that.

---

Chapter 2

Cassandra Hero was a simple woman in her own opinion.

She worked hard in school, got good marks, gossiped with her friends about boy's and other interests. She liked swimming and was a part of the swimming club for her high school and did very well in every meet she attended, not always winning but always improving. She was aiming to attend university in Athens, to become a History teacher and had talked with her career counsellor on what she should be looking into in order to attain that dream.

She still lived at home with her father and mother, and her little brat of a younger brother, in a comfortable house. Not too big and rich or cramped and impoverished. Her mother ran a small coffee shop that had a good reputation on the island, guaranteeing regular customers and new ones coming in all the time, while her father worked for a combination of deep seas fishing charter and boat charter business as a boat driver and guide. They were good parents, always willing to help her and encouraging her to do her best in everything she did.

To her, it was an average life.

Right now though, she couldn't really care about that as she hunkered down in a small cabin, trying to keep warm in the dawn light.

As an aspiring university student, especially in the history field, it had been suggested by her counsellor that a obtaining a holiday job that reflected on that would be a wise decision, showing her dedication to her field of study. By chance, the counsellor had a few connections with the local Historic Preservation Society, a group that tried to ensure that major historical sights, like Troy, the Pyramids of Giza, Machu Pichu and hundreds of others, were protected as much as they could, volunteers of the organisation often willing to stand guard over certain sights to make sure they were not defaced, vandalised or otherwise disturbed without a permit. Happily, they had an opening at the ruins of Ancient Thera, their regular volunteer coming down with a nasty illness that would lay him up for a month or more, and were looking for a quick replacement for a couple of weeks.

Enter Cassandra, who jumped at the chance. A relatively simple job, for a short period of time, a little over two weeks during the winter/Christmas holidays with Christmas off, and a good look on her resume and university application. It sounded almost perfect.

A few days of being shown the ropes around the iconic ruins. Being shown the trouble spots, procedures and half a dozen little other things. One of them had confused her though.

In the small cabin, all by itself, was a large red crystal in a glass display case. At first she had thought it was a ruby, the shape and the way it caught the light was an almost perfect rendition. But she quickly abandoned that thought. Being the size of two clenched fists, it was far too big to be such.

The strange friend of her counsellor, a Professor Alexander Aegis, a name she thought was quite auspicious, had noticed her looks at the large gem with his dark brown eyes.

'This is the most important device of all,' he had said, having explained the rest of the security devices and demonstrating their use, 'this little crystal is made to react when it encounters a certain energy wave that members of a certain...organisation's, one that has a clear, if intensely private, interest in such sites as this, equipment puts out when they come within range. If it does react, you are too call me immediately, night or day, and treat the member it has detected with the utmost respect.'

It had been a confusing statement, not to mention she wasn't able to fathom how a seeming large crystal would be able to detect anything, some weird type of technology she supposed, and she had asked for clarification, asking why.

Brown eyes had turned to her, full of an ominous foreboding, and answered cryptically 'for they are Kings.'

That had been the Professor's last words to her before she started the temporary job the next day, leaving her to stew on those words that night, twisting and turning as they hammered at her mind, disturbing her sleep.

The next day, at the edge of evening, an hour before sunset, she was taken by car to the facility, a small cabin on the outskirts of the ruins that the Professor had shown her before. Despite the relatively small size of the island, it was still a rather long trip, a little over half an hour, something that was a rarity for the island born girl who was used to the majority of conveniences being with walking distance, followed by a small walk.

She intellectually knew the conditions she was expected to perform under, pretty much a night watch woman. She was expected to inspect the area once an hour and record and record her findings in the checklist inspection book every time. It would tedious, repetitious and annoying, but it was part of the job and had to be done. Her relief would come at an hour after dawn the next day.

It seemed fairly straightforward even if she didn't particularly like the hours she was given, but beggars can't be choosers. There was, however, one thing she had forgotten to take into account.

Santorini was one of two locations in the entirety of Europe that could classify as a hot desert climate and, as any seasoned traveller could tell you, despite the heat that suffuses the days in such a climate, the nights were another matter completely, turning bitterly and chillingly cold. And in that it was currently winter, and the supposed 'rainy' season, and you had a recipe for single digit temperatures or below.

Which led Cassandra to hunkering down in the cabin, shivering slightly under a blanket, on a bright, if crisp and cold, New Years Day, mentally cussing out her guidance counsellor for even suggesting, maybe roping, her into this ridiculous post of employment.

The last night had been windy, cold and had a rare powerful storm lashing the island, churning waves and rain making for a very wet night. One that she was forced to go out in, getting completely soaked as she did, do the damn rounds and then retreat hastily, almost slipping more times than she cared to count, back to the cabin, that was more than a little drafty and without any means of heating save for a few towels and lots of blankets.

Her shift was about over, and she wanted nothing more than to be at home, to hunker under the blankets of her bed in thick wooly clothes and a large mug of hot chocolate. All she had to do was wait for the relief to come up the path towards the ruins and then she could get the living hell out of this place!

Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

Cassandra choked slightly on the cup of hot coffee that she had managed to scrounge up, using up the last of the grounds in the cabin for it, as she heard the unusual noise. To her surprise, the cabin walls began to turn red as coruscating ruby light began to appear in the cabin, dying the whole world in shades of red, even as the Pinging grew louder and louder.

She frantically looked around, still holding her almost empty mug.

What the hell was causing this?!

She found her answer almost immediately.

The odd red crystal that the Professor had pointed out, still in it's glass display case, no longer sat inert and dull.

It was now spinning wildly, faster and faster, the noise growing louder and louder with each revolution, even as a fire now danced in it's crystalline depths, painting the walls in crimson light.

"Ahhh!" She hissed loudly and sharply, shutting her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the light from piercing her lenses with it's intensity. Despite the flesh of her hands and eyelids protecting her delicate orbs of sight, she could still see nothing more than red light.

She turned away, blessed darkness returning, even as her head rang with the sound of emitting from the crystal's pedestal and her eyes still swam with the light that had caught her before she had managed to turn away from it again.

She was in a panic as she stumbled toward the door of the cabin, desperate to get away from the heinous noise and light.

What the hell was going on?! She thought frantically, hitting the door at a run to escape the cacophony of light and sound.

The sound and light abruptly cut off as she crossed the threshold.

She stopped and turned back to stare at the crystal display through the door in disbelief, her mind going a mile a minute as she tried to keep her head and calm her racing and thundering heart from the last few moments of crazy events.

"What in heaven's name?" She whispered, her eyes staying locked with the crystal, ignoring the cold air as inconsequential. She didn't dare step back through the door way to get out of the wind, she didn't want to have to deal with the shrill noise and intense light again for a while.

Still, she knew what she had to do, her orders had been clear as crystal and she really didn't want a black mark on her employment record so early in her life.

Looking out towards the path leading towards the road, she leant against the post that held up the roof of the small verandah that spanned the front of the cabin, reaching for the mobile phone she was given so she could call in case of emergencies.

She rubbed her temples in irritation as she scrolled through the numbers stored in it before finding the correct and calling.

The Gods must be out to get her.

She closed her eyes briefly, the handset next to her ear as she heard it ring through.

This whole shift had been completely nuts for her so far but adding this on top of it? That was just overkill and completely unnecessary.

"Hello, Professor Aegis speaking," she heard as the line was picked up and answered. So something had gone right for a change. That was a small relief.

"Professor? It's Cassandra from the ruins," she said calmly, opening her eyes again and looking down the trail. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she thought she could see a figure slowly walking up it, the way it moved showing that it wasn't any animal, not that the island had any native wildlife that size. Was that who had tripped the sensor?

"Ah, Cassandra, are you well?" She smiled to herself slightly as she heard the concern in the aged man's voice. Mysterious as he had shown himself to be, he was still sincere and honest, to a point. "I'm terribly sorry you had to experience the worst of the weather. If we had known that the storm was coming, we would have cancelled your shift there. But it came out of nowhere."

"It's fine, Professor," she hastened to assure him. He was a good man and didn't deserve her vitriol or venom.

She would save that for the weather people when she got ahold of them. Someday, somehow, they would rue their poor forecasting. She swore it.

"It was uncomfortable," and wasn't that an understatement. The night had been so wet that her hands and feet were wrinkled like she had spent too long in the bath.

It was going to take a fair few beauty products to fix that damage.

"But I managed to muddle through."

More like muddy through.

"I'm glad to hear that," she heard him sigh in slight relief, before perking up, "still, it is unusual for you to call me, especially when your shift is soon to end. Is something the matter?" She could hear the worry for her behind his words. Such a nice man, pity he wasn't a few decades younger.

"Sort of," she answered, as she squinted down at the figure that was climbing the trail once more. She could make out the form slightly, or at least see the red and black streamers behind it. Red and black? She squinted even more and could just make out two pale circular shapes at about where head height would be on a climber. A climber carrying another on their back?

Strange. Dangerous too, considering the steepness of the trail. Loose dirt also didn't help traction much.

"You remember that ruby crystal you pointed out to me, the one with the alarm and sensor system?" She asked, her eyes never leaving what she identified as approaching people, ones that were owed a heavy amount of respect according to the person she was now talking to.

There was a stunned and shocked silence across the line.

Cassandra frowned slightly. She knew the people from this mysterious organisation were important if they had sensors just for them (and she really wanted to know how that worked.) and by the way the sensor crystal seemed to be a permanent fixture, they seemed to be expecting one of them to drop by sooner or later.

So why did it feel like she had dropped a nuclear bomb on the Professor's lap?

She heard the Professor draw a shaky breath, as if trying to steel himself for whatever news may come, "It went off." The words were a statement of fact, not a question. He obviously knew that she would not comment on the crystalline sensor for any other reason.

"Like a disco ball to the eyes and the bells of Hell to the ears," she responded dryly, treating the words as a question despite the manner in which they were used. She was still a little irritated about the cacophony that had sent her head spinning. It could have been a lot more subtle, or at least less painful.

"Describe the person." The professor ordered her. She could hear soft movements over the handset, along with the faint sound of echoing taps, like one would hear in enclosed stairwells. To her they sounded like canastas, a wooden staccato beat.

The professor was running somewhere, at what seemed to be a full sprint, with his phone held to his ear. Like the call was a complete emergency. Cassandra suddenly had the feeling that she was waaaaaaay out of her depth.

Nevertheless, she obeyed, looking down at the now swiftly approaching people. How the hell could they move that fast? She watched as the figures hopped from one boulder to another as they climbed, leaping from one, crossing the wide trail path, in the air, landing on a boulder on the otherside and then leaping back to the otherside. It was like some insane zig-zag version of hopscotch.

How the hell did the climber, a male she thought going by the subtle movements the climber made, men and women move differently after all, even do that? The trail was ten feet wide for heaven's sake!

Still, they were close enough that she could get a bead on their features, at least a little.

It would be much better if the wild man stopped his insane hopping.

"People, actually," she corrected professionally, trailing the insane pair below with her eyes, "a young man is carrying a young red-haired girl of similar age... Whilst hopping from boulder to boulder that outline the trail up to the checkpoint cabin."

"Two?" She heard the Professor murmur in confusion. She heard his steps accelerate, "describe the young man."

"Uhhh," she squinted down at them again... And paused.

Her eyes went wide and she could feel her cheeks flush almost brilliantly red. Oh. My. GOD!

Her mouth moved mechanically, relaying what she saw, even as her mind almost shut down and the awe inspiring sight before her.

"Long dark black hair, blue eyes, I think Asian features judging by the shape of them. Tall as well, either on or just over six feet. Toned and defined muscles, but not bulky, like a gymnast or swimmer rather than a bodybuilder, but more defined. Youthful, looks like a high schooler still," her eyes gleamed greedily for a moment, her eyes running up and down, "it also seems he has been through an ordeal recently."

"Explain!" She distantly heard the Professor demand. She faintly heard the squeaks and squeals of shoes skidding on linoleum.

"He is currently bereft of a shirt," she swallowed. Sweet Maria, those muscles, those washboard abs, the way they tensed and flexed and he leapt and moved, "he also lacks any form of footwear and what pants he wears seemed to have burst apart into ribbons, looking more like a skirt or something," she couldn't complain about that. Every time he jumped the 'skirt' would flare, exposing what was underneath.

Pity he wore boxers.

"...a new one?" she heard the hoarse and laboured and disbelieving whisper of the Professor, as he had been struck by a realisation that couldn't, didn't want, to believe. "But where?...how?" He was spluttering, trying to recover his shattered composure.

And failing dismally.

She heard a deeper shaky breath, "and the girl?" The Professor croaked. She could no longer hear the taps of his footsteps. Instead, she could faintly make out soft murmurings, whirring noises and swish! swish! of paper being shuffled. An office perhaps.

She reluctantly tore her eyes from the delicious abs of the absolute hunk, to look at the girl.

"Long bright red hair, blue eyes matching the boy's, similar facial features if much more feminine. Seemed to be pretty short too. My guess is that she is the sister of the boy," she responded, slightly happy. If she was correct, then it was unlikely that the girl could be competition for the boy.

Someone that handsome wasn't one that any girl worth calling herself one would let get away, even if he was a complete stranger.

"Interesting," she heard Professor Aegis mutter distractedly, his thoughts seemed to be preoccupied, "definitely not any of the established ones...The Black Prince would be closest but he doesn't quite match...definitely new...but from where?"

Cassandra barely heard the mutterings, more focused on drinking in the spectacle of pure masculine perfection. My god, he looked perfect, like an Adonis.

"Cassandra," the girl snapped from her fascinated dreamings, returning to the conversation she was holding with the elder male, "receive them with all the respect you can give. I have no doubt that they are new to the...organisation I spoke of. The initiation into the fold is rather rigorous and often leaves the unknowing receiver confused. Do whatever they ask in whatever way you can. Ask them to stay where you are, but if they refuse let them go. I will be there within the next ten minutes."

She could clearly hear the sharp tones of command, an iron belief stronger than stone, that demanded that she obey. It was like the tones she sometimes heard from her father when she was younger, when she was on his boat. Tones that ordered her actions for her own safety. But even her father's stern commands didn't have the weight and power that the Professor put into his own.

"Understood," she answered, glancing at the hot stranger again. He had reached the top of the trail now and was strolling in her direction, a slight smile of his gorgeous face. "I will see you then, Professor."

"Stay safe, Cassandra," he responded.

Click! Beep. Beep. Beep.

The young lady tucked the mobile away quickly as the call ended, the Professor's requests and orders streaming through her mind.

"Yo!" She heard the hunk of burning love call toward her, in perfect Greek much to her surprise, as he approached, lifting a muscular arm as he did so (and distracting her slightly with the play of his solid muscles beneath his velvet skin.) He was also grinning sheepishly as he did so, "I don't suppose you have any spare clothes lying around do ya?"

---

"Thanks for this," Ranma said gratefully as he slid on the long raincoat, one that travelled almost all the way to his ankles, resting just above his mismatched sandal shod feet. Not the most glamourous of clothing to wear but at this point beggars couldn't be choosers. It was already rather nippy here and wanted to get covered up if he could.

Thankfully, it wasn't a bright pink. He would have rather gone completely naked than wear something that leached the masculinity out of someone. He had already had enough issues on that score when he had his curse, he didn't more or reminders of it.

"Not at all," the young woman, beautiful young woman if he was honest, though he would keep that to himself (he had no desire to walloped by whatever weapon she managed to pull out of the FDA. Also known the Feminine Dimensional Armoury.), smiled at him in good humour, "though I find it hard to believe that your family has a right of passage that involved drugging you, leaving you on a deserted island, with just the clothes on your back, and forcing you to make your way back home," she then frowned slightly, disapproving, as she looked at a curious Ranko as she peered around the cabin, before the red-haired girl locked onto a large red crystal in a display case and crouched before it, looking almost mesmerized by the dance of sunlight as it struck the large gemstone.

It would have been almost cute, if not for the single buttoned jacket and the tattered pants that showed off much of what should hidden. It seemed that, despite being female, his sister had the same amount of feminine modesty as he did.

That is to say none.

"Especially with a younger, female, sibling in tow." the girl's brows had furrowed in disapproval, almost anger, as she looked at Ranko. Ranma could feel the alarm bells he had installed in his head, ones that indicated female anger, begin to ring loudly in warning.

"My family is a bit on the odd side," he said with a shrug. It was perfectly true! "this is the least of the stunts our Pops has pulled on us."

And wasn't that an understatement. Neko-ken, Jusenkyo, throwing him out of a tree, running with a couch on his back while covered in raw meat to attract predators...

The list could go on forever.

Even if he had made up this lie, and he was mentally banging his head against the wall at the stupidity of the situation he had spun out of whole (he wasn't the best at talking his way out of trouble. So sue him.) he wouldn't put it past the Old Man to pull something like this if his small mind managed to think of it.

"I see," he could hear the disbelief in her tone but she didn't voice it, even as she slipped a small smile on her face. He blinked as he watched her entire body language change. There was no subtle anger or apprehension, her muscles were not tensing, ready to move.

Instead she seemed to relax, become more fluid, a cat at ease.

"So," she seemed to almost purr, emphasising the feline aspect he noted, "does the little lost boy have a name?" She smirked slightly at him, making him feel warm for some reason.

Was it suddenly getting hotter or was it just him?

He blushed as he registered her question. He hadn't even introduced himself when he had walked up to her, just asking if she had any clothes on hand. He admitted he was lacking in social graces, but there was no excuse for such a simple failing.

"S-sorry," he stammered slightly, before quickly standing and bowing slightly, "Ranma Saotome, sorry about this."

"There is no need to apologise to me, Ranma," she said, her tones smooth and soft, almost relaxing, for normal people.

Ranma, on the other hand, couldn't help but tense, becoming wary and watchful, even panicky.

The way she said it, her movements, they were all to close to what Shampoo, Ucchan or, Kami forbid, Kodachi would do sometimes when they were in a 'fiancee' mood.

This usually ended up with him getting clobbered by the Tomboy with Mallet-sama. His body began to subconsciously inch backward, ingrained instincts moving him away from what it perceived as imminent danger.

"I can call you Ranma, can't I?" She asked with a frown. It was almost cute.

"Y-Yeah, that's fine," he quickly agreed, "though I'm not sure I'll take the apology back. Trouble seems ta follow me like a lost puppy."

She was really making him nervous! He never dealt with girls too well, he always ended up getting knocked out of the park, in one way or another.

Her smirk deepened as a dark fire filled her eyes. Ranma grew even more jittery, his senses blaring about incoming danger.

Ting! Ting!

A sharp noise broke off the stare down between them, much to Ranma's relief, and made them both turn to look at the source.

To his surprise, Ranko was tapping on the glass of the display case holding the large red crystal, and Ranma couldn't believe someone found a ruby that big, Pops would have swiped it in a moment.

Seeing that the woman was distracted, he quickly seized his chance to get her eyes, smoky and magnetic, off of him for a moment or two.

"And this is my little sister, Ranko," he said, slightly aggrandising. Hey, he had his pride and damned if his 'adopted' little sister wasn't the cutest thing in the world.

At her name, the curved red head turned towards them, her cute face questioning.

"Just introducing ya, sis," Ranma said with a smile. Even in the short time he had known her she seemed to be filled with a child's curiosity, younger and more innocent than her form would suggest. He also felt that there was something underneath that but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. Still, what he could sense showed that the hidden part of her, lurking in the depths of the kid's soul, wasn't malevolent, just wary and watchful and patient.

Hopefully it would arise to the surface also sometime. He had a feeling it may be the very reason that he no longer had female form, freed of his curse, and why his female form had taken on a life of its own. He would find out sooner or later.

"Nice to finally know your name," Cassandra smirked at his sister, making him rapidly lose colour. Nothing good, for him, ever came of that expression.

He was about to speak before he went rigid, his mind snapping to full alert as his senses picked up something.

Abandoning his spot on the small sofa, he strode towards the door, ignoring the voiced questions of his sister and Cassandra.

He opened the door and stared down the trail he could see, one that lead towards what he now knew to be a road. His senses had suddenly gone haywire, warning him of an approaching power.

If he hadn't got this upgrade, however he did so, he probably wouldn't have picked it up at all, it was at least a kilometre away, from what he could judge, and whoever, or whatever, it was wasn't flaring their own power, but they weren't hiding it either.

He frowned slightly, extending his senses further, trying to taste the essence of what he had sensed.

It wasn't Ki. He knew that much immediately. So that only left magic.

He tensed further. Maybe is like that weird tiger lady? No. It wasn't that either. The level of power he sensed wasn't anywhere near close to that woman. The comparison would like comparing a grain of sand to Mt Fuji. The person wasn't even close to her league.

The magic also didn't carry the...potency, he supposed, of the tiger lady. Hers had been filled with aggression, majesty and might. She was a queen wherever she stood, so her power said, my word is law, my actions are righteous, the world is mine to command.

This one was smaller, more humble. Their power didn't seem to command as hers did, but rather entreat. He wasn't sure he could put it into words, but he knew that this persons magic, even if they cast it the same amount of power as the tiger lady, wouldn't carry the...weight, the authority, to challenge hers.

"Big brother?" He heard himself asked, breaking his concentration, making him glance at his little sis, along with a worried Cassandra, "are you alright?"

Was he alright?

He frowned. He wasn't sure himself. When he had felt that power he had immediately tensed, readying himself to fight the source of it. It was like an inbuilt instinct, as if sensing the power was a trigger for him fight and battle.

It was also one he hadn't had before, not to this point.

As a martial artist, he was supposed to ready to fight, at any time, night or day, rain, hail or shine. He had succeeded in that, to the point of dodging attacks in his sleep. But this was different.

This was outright paranoia, a belief that anything was a threat to take down with prejudice.

It was not what he had been taught. It was not what he had learned, even if the various experiences he had left him with a wary respect of the mystical forces.

This was an instinctive, an uncontrolled, response that could have deadly consequences. His body may just react before his mind could fully engage, tearing apart someone who had the misfortune of having a measure of power but no hostility. In essence, destroying an innocent, someone he was supposed to protect.

So was he alright?

"Yeah," he said faux carelessly, hiding his troubling thoughts, "I'm fine, sis," he cocked an eyebrow at Cassandra, ignoring the cute frown of Ranko, "are ya expecting any company?"

The girl blinked, obviously surprised at his question, "Ummm, yes." She nodded slightly, "I was on the phone with my boss when you came into sight. He said he would be here in ten minutes," she frowned slightly before glancing at the watch adorning her wrist, "which would be about now actually." She said, surprised.

Ranma nodded in understanding even as he narrowed his eyes, focusing on a small figure he could vaguely see from here. A person, male and old if the way they moved meant anything, injured hip at some point in time judging by the minuscule hitch in his step that he could see, and wearing a blinding white full length coat, like the ones he'd seen doctors wear in the infrequent hospital visits he had early in the training trip.

Oddly enough, despite the old injury and age, he was moving pretty fast, faster than some of the sports clubs back at Furinkan. Something to watch out for. Odd fogies generally had a few trumps hidden up their sleeves.

And sometimes those trumps ended being veritable cannonballs.

"Well he's on time then," he said dryly to the odd girl, gesturing with his chin towards the white speck he could see, "an old man is coming towards us now."

He watched as she startled, and then quickly dived back inside the small cabin. One moment later, he could hear the rattle of metal on metal followed by running water, as well as cupboards opening and closing as she hunted through them, looking for something.

"We're out of coffee," she muttered lowly, his hearing somehow managing to pick her words up, "but I think we still have..."

He just raised an eyebrow at her antics. Her boss must be a pretty big cheese if she's running around like that.

Still, did she know of what he was? The powers he no doubt wielded?

He leaned against the wall beside the doorway, watching as that speck of a man grew rapidly closer.

He would just have to see.

---

Alexander Aegis was an old man, and it showed as he huffed and puffed as he pushed his elderly frame up the trail toward the cabin that was the Historic Preservation Society's watchtower over the site of Ancient Thera.

If he was younger, more spry, he would have already been at the cabin by now, dealing with the situation developing instead of pushing his not quite dead carcass along with the force of his magic.

However, he would have to make do with what he had in the current circumstances. Not that being any younger or fitter would have had any bearing on what he was walking into.

When the lovely young lady, Cassandra Hero, had called him before, he had just thought it was because she wanted to know about the foul weather that had just passed and if he relief would be there. It was a valid concern, as the freak storm had come down fast and heavy enough to create a few minor mudslides, cutting off a few roads. Thankfully, they had all been on the other side of the island but it had been something to take into account.

Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case.

Instead, she had informed him that the crystal beacon in the cabin had gone off.

He had almost had a heart attack on receiving that information.

The crystal beacon that she had indicated was embedded with a very specific Alarm spell, designed to go off when a very specific type of magical energy entered it's proximity, which was roughly the entirety of the ruins of Ancient Thera in this case.

What had his heart thumping wildly was that the magic it looked for was Divine.

With the Alarm having gone off, it had meant only one of two things.

One, that a Heretic God had descended in the vicinity. Possible, but highly unlikely as the towns on the island of Santorini, or even the entire archipelago, had yet to come under siege of a God's power. Unfortunately, Divine Ancestors were unable to be detected by this. Either because their magic was too diluted to register as Divine any longer or they were skilful enough to manoeuvre around it, avoid it or destroy it completely.

Or Two, that a Campione had entered the detection radius of the crystal. That was the more likely of scenarios. As Santorini was home to ancient ruins and thus ancient places or worship, it was not unlikely that a Campione would take a glance around on the off chance that a God would descend on the area for them to battle. To date, Santorini, or the ruins of Ancient Thera in particular, had had the distinct pleasure of being visited by all of the known Campione except for Madam Aisha and the King of Swords, Salvatore Doni.

Whether that was a good thing or not was up for debate.

Now thought, it had seemed that another Campione had come to visit this little slice of the world, which had caused him to panic.

Campione, in his experience, were destructive beings. Each of the Campione that had visited here had ended up causing quite a bit of damage before they had left. It had been an absolute nightmare to veil the cause of the destruction from mundane eyes, but picking up the pieces was all they could do.

No-one was fool enough to challenge a Campione.

When he had asked the young lady to describe the person/being she saw though. All doubt had been removed.

No God would have gone to the cabin dressed in tattered rags, their prideful nature would not have allowed it. Nor did she indicate as having sensed anything like the oppressive and powerful presence a God gave off unconsciously, creating an air of power, majesty, awe and terror.

So that had left a Campione.

However, to further complicate matters, the description she gave in regards to the fellow didn't match any of those known.

Plus the fact that none of them would be caught wearing such rags as she described, save for perhaps Wolf-King or the King of Swords, neither of which fit the description or had any known Authorities that allowed them to change their appearance, and only one conclusion could be reached.

The Seventh Campione had been born.

That was cause for alarm.

Newborn Campione, few as they were, all varied in their temperaments and beliefs and backgrounds, but there was one common thread in all of them.

With their new status and new powers, they needed time to adapt, they needed information to understand what was happening to them. As the illegitimate children of Epimetheus and Pandora, as reckless fools, they were often ignorant of what they there, even ignorant of the existence of magic itself. If left alone, without the knowledge of what they were, destruction would stalk in their wake.

The 856 Damghan earthquake, which resulted in tens of thousands of deaths and almost the complete destruction of the city, had been hinted several older records as being the result of a new Campione that had no idea of his powers or what he was.

Thus there was an unspoken law amongst all magical associations, even the Historic Preservation Society, of which he was a member, for the nearest Magical Association, upon confirming it, to immediately present themselves to the new Campione and inform them of their new station in life.

Much to his bad luck, his association was the closest to this new one, and he was chosen as the sacrificial lamb to inform the young one about it.

He huffed slightly as he now reached the top of the trail, his old eyes finally seeing the small cabin his association used to monitor sites such as this for Divine activity.

And then locked eyes on what he supposed was the new Campione.

Clad in a long raincoat and wearing a set of shorts long torn to ribbons with feet shod in mismatched sandals, one of them a bright pink, he made for a ludicrous sight, and would have tempted him to laugh out of loud like a hyena affected by laughing gas.

But he dared not.

His mystical senses reeled back from what he could sense from this hilariously clad boy. Invisible to the naked eye, his senses, his magical sight, could see the living bonfire of magical power that the boy contained, wreathing him spectral blue light, looking more like fire and power taking the shape of man rather than a man outlined by his power. The boy was power incarnate!

He could also feel the subtle, but heavy, weight, that the power the boy unconsciously exuded, that pressed down on him, like the waters of the abyss were closing around him, pressing close, ready to crush him but were held back the boy's will. The sword of Damocles hung over his head, and all it needed, all that was necessary, was for the boy to let it drop, to let his power pour forth, and he would be washed away beneath it's inexorable strength, be cut down like wheat before the scythe.

This, without a doubt, was a Campione.

He mentally muttered a prayer to the fickle gods that this would go well.

After a moments thought, he took it back. He doubted that any of the beings high above would aid the ones who were their enemies, directly or indirectly.

"Yo!" He heard the new Campione greet him cheerfully, "you Cassandra's boss?"

Well...that was a first.

"Yes I am," he said respectfully with a small bow. From the cabin, he heard the faint whistle of a boiling kettle, making him smile slightly despite the current circumstances. Cassandra, for all her ignorance to the supernatural, youth and temporary position here, was a good person. "She gave me a call when you were detected on the grounds...Lord Campione."

Professor Alexander Aegis carefully watched the face of the young man gain a confused and ruminating cast, as if the word tickled a memory that he couldn't quite grasp. Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously at him, as if looking for any trickery or deceit.

"I ain't no lord," the young man, the Campione, said carefully. The Professor's experienced eyes noticed the subtle movements of the boy's body. Tensing muscles, the positioning of his feet, fingers flickering slightly, as if exercising them for heavy use. Professor Aegis felt himself sweat inwardly.

The new Campione was readying himself for battle, and saw him as a possible enemy against him.

Not. Good.

"You sure you got the right person, old man?" The youth continued bluntly, almost rudely, blue eyes ever watchful, as if evaluating him for the perfect way to take him down as fast as possible.

The tension between them could have been cut with a knife.

"No, you are definitely the right person," the Professor refuted, raising his hands before him in a gesture of peace, attempting to diffuse the rising aggression he could feel from the boy. He wouldn't have a hope in Hell if it came down to a fight between them. "Perhaps we could move inside and talk?" He tentatively enquired, tiptoeing around the volatile boy, "there is much to speak about."

Sapphire orbs stared him down, as if looking into the depths of his soul, seeing every lie, every deceit he had even done, measuring his worth. The boy sighed, turning away, causing the old man to start breathing again, in relief.

"Par for the course," he heard the boy mutter to himself, "ya can come in," the boy directed at him, a small, resigned, scowl of annoyance on his face, "just keep ya mojo ta yourself and we're good."

The Professor stiffened slightly. He hadn't expected the young and inexperienced boy to pick up on his abilities. Served him right for underestimating one who can slay gods.

But it did give him a few problems, one of which being the fact that, as he doubted the boy would be willing to speak with him privately, he would have to inform young Cassandra about the true nature of the world. It wasn't insurmountable, there were precedents regarding informing non-magi about the existence of the magical for one reason or another, but it would require about a foot of paperwork and taking the young girl on as an apprentice, becoming her master and patron in magi circles. Hopefully she would have some hidden potential of some sort, something that would be able to help her help herself in the mystical world.

Another was the fact that, despite him being able to sense and recognise magic, the young man obviously had no idea what a Campione was, despite it and Heretic Gods being one of the first lessons beginning magi, or even those just introduced to the supernatural, ever learned about.

Logically, that didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Then again, he was dealing with a Campione after all. The laws of logic and common sense never seemed to apply to them.

"Of course," the Professor agreed, nodding his head in assent as he walked into the cabin behind the muscular young man, steeling himself and setting his shoulders.

It was going to be a long day.

---

Cassandra looked shocked and awed at the seated Professor Alexander Aegis, who had commented that he had been known by the moniker 'The Wall' in his more youthful days, as he floated a ball of blue flames above his open palm, making it twist and turn and twirl around his aged appendage, like a serpent of fire.

In the past few minutes she had had her view of the world, of the definition of reality, turned on it's end.

Immediately upon entering, completely out of the blue, the Professor had asked if she wanted to stay with the Association, full time, with them able to put in a good word for her with any university she cared to name, almost guaranteeing her a place. He had even spoken about the possibility of picking up her tuition fees if she happened to fall short.

It had been completely out of left field for her. She had mentioned her plans for the future and why she took this posting at the cabin, but she didn't think it merited this response. The temporary position here had been a mutually beneficial arrangement that had no need for further interaction. They desperately needed someone to cover their ill worker and she needed a few good references. Equal trade and enough said.

Still it had sounded like an interesting offer to say the least.

And also suspicious.

She had then enquired as to the reasons for this offer, and what they wanted in return. She was more than familiar with the phrase 'There is no such thing as a free lunch'.

"The reasons," he had said calmly, gesturing to the figure of Ranma leaning against the wall by the door, his blue eyes watching the Professor like a hawk for some reason, "all stem from this young man and his new position in life."

Narrowed brown eyes had locked with her own ocean green, even as she could almost feel the tension in Ranma's shoulders tighten even further.

"But some background is needed before that," he had went on, extending a hand, palm up, toward her, "tell me, Cassandra," he had enquired, with a soft smile, "do you believe in magic?"

Before she could say a word, to scoff at his words, his hand was suddenly aflame.

His hand became a living inferno of blue flame, making her yelp and throw herself backwards, instinctively trying to get away from the flames that could hurt her, an inborn reflex that every one had.

Even as her mind tried to cope with the impossibility and the danger before her, she couldn't help but be mesmerized by the flame, that had now gathered into the palm of a clearly unharmed hand.

By all rights, by all the known laws or the universe, what she was seeing at that moment...was flat out impossible.

And yet she could clearly see it with her own two eyes.

She tried to deny it, blinking furiously to remove the delusion from her sight...

Only to keep seeing that spectral ball of blue-white flame keeping moving around that wrinkled hand.

"This world has hidden corners within it, young Cassandra," the Professor (or was it Mage?) said solemnly, "kept secret from the majority of humanity. Beings that belong to the darkness, that dwell in what many think is only the human imagination, made of dreams and nightmares, exist. People that can tear down cities and countries with a simple set of spoken words, who can wield the powers of the arcane, are real. Heroes of eld, mighty deities, foul demons and bright winged angels, can stride upon the earth."

Brown eyes had seemed to glow with an inner light, the glow of fervour and belief, one that Cassandra was hard pressed to deny, "and we, the mage associations, human wielders of powers mystic, are the wall upon which the malevolent fall as we protect the unknowing and ignorant."

The fervour, the almost fanaticism ebbed from his expression, allowing her to breath once more. She hadn't been scared by him, she could still see and feel the concern he had for her, something she was grateful for and surprised that she had received it, he was almost a stranger to her after all. But the intensity in his expression had been unsettling to say the least. She was only a small island dweller, despite Santorini's rather heavy tourist trade. Encountering such a thing was almost alien to her and she wasn't sure how to deal with it.

"Ordinarily," he had continued, relaxing a little more, "I wouldn't tell you this, not without several weeks, at least, of close observation of yourself, to see if you were a suitable candidate for admission into the association," his voice was candid, matter of fact, and something that she could draw some amount of comfort from. He was being honest and open as he could, laying out everything, showing the cards in his hand.

That was something she could deal with, that she understood.

"However," he went on, glancing over at Ranma, who was looking like he was holding himself back from leaping at the old man. "The current circumstances are far from ordinary. The young man has made it abundantly clear, though not in so many words, that any magic that I would normally cast on you, to keep the secret of magic just that, would be met with some serious consequences."

She felt a small shiver down her spine at those words. The saying 'three can keep a secret if two are dead' rose to mind rather quickly. Would the Professor have really just killed her to keep her silent if Ranma hadn't objected?

The professor obviously saw something in her demeanour that screamed her thoughts, as he quickly answered her unspoken dread, "You wouldn't have been harmed," he had hastened to reassure her, "it would have been just simple hypnotism, removing the selected memory and letting your mind fill in the blanks."

"That's bad enough," she heard the young man growl lowly, Ranma's brows were furrowed in anger, "I've seen what happens when mojo is used ta mess with ya head," he shook his head furiously, as if wanting to dislodge a bad memory from the front of his mind, "it never works right and isn't pretty. Period."

That frightened Cassandra. She had seen the way the young man, the hunk if she was honest, had traversed the trail up to the cabin. What he had done was beyond any athlete she knew, or even heard of. She had also noticed the way he moved, like a dancer, light on his feet and ready to move, but also containing a bit of power no dancer would have shown.

Instinctively, she knew he was a warrior, a fighter, though beyond any she had heard of outside of myths and legends.

To see him, so strong and powerful, being so wary of such magic, it unsettled her, again.

The Professor's brown eyes had looked at the young man, seeming aghast. "What ham-hocked hedge wizard failed to cast the simplest of spells correctly to the point of leaving that type of impression on you? Hypnotism, along with associated memory modification, is one of the first spells learnt by any practitioner. My nine year old granddaughter is able to use it, if necessary, with ease and no harm has come from it at all."

Ranma had looked at him, his face a mask of complete surprise and shock, taken aback by the elder's comments.

"Never mind," the Professor grunted, "that is not important at the moment, though it does explain your wariness, and rightly so, if those are your experiences," brown eyes flicked back to her green, "anyway, due to the current circumstances, I have admit you into the Historic Preservation Society as a provincial member. You will be under my patronage and guidance until you become a full one, meaning that I am responsible for your education into the supernatural and will guide you through what obstacles you may encounter." As she reeled back by what he was offering, his eyes kept hers pinned, "I do this somewhat reluctantly, not because I don't like you, your work ethic and attitude is excellent and a credit to you, but because it is necessary for you to be a member for you to hear the next piece of conversation."

She winced as she semi-understood. She didn't quite have all the pieces, but she thought that with Ranma's defence of her through not allowing any magic to be cast on her, it had inevitably forced the old man's hand, and for some reason he wasn't willing to try and debate with Ranma about it.

In the end, it all came back to Ranma and what he had actually been through recently.

She didn't believe for a minute that 'deserted island, right of passage' story.

Either way, she was already in too deep to step back out.

And it was all because of Ranma.

"Still," the old man sighed heavily, as if tired and weary, despite the early hour of the day, before pulling himself together, suddenly seem to loom larger in the room as the air around seemed to fill with power, creating an aura of majesty and strength around the feeble appearing old man, "for form's sake, I ask you, Cassandra Hero, do you hereby consent to join the Historic Preservation Society? To obey our laws and perform the duties assigned to you? Do you accept me, Alexander Aegis, 'The Wall of Greece', to be your mentor, master and patron in the High Arts?"

Dazzled by the man's aura, from the information that had been heaped on her, from the desire to be strong and be something more than she thought she would be...

Her eyes still staring with awe and wonder at the blue flame that had continuously circled the elderly man's hand from the beginning, she could only respond with a simple word, sealing her fate and weaving a completely new one on the Moirae's loom.

"Yes."

---

Ranma watched as the old man smiled at his new apprentice's acceptance, a smile of his own crossing his lips.

It was always heart-warming to see the bond between master and student, when it was forming and when it was rock solid and in good standing, both sides of the partnership trusting the other with their life, their souls and other personal things. He had the honour of seeing it in the numerous dojos Pops and he had stopped in on when they were on that ill-fated trip.

Master and student, or perhaps heir might be more appropriate, side by side, training the other, younger and less experienced, of students, those who had yet to achieve their belts or be at a level of skill that belts no longer matter. Master and heir, trusting each other, knowing how the other would move be even they did.

It was not something he had experienced for himself.

Pops had been a stern taskmaster. Do this or punishment. Do that or punishment. But there seemed to be little to no affection in his orders. He had not praised him for achieving a goal, for completing a task, merely haranguing him for not doing it faster, doing it better.

And whenever he had failed...

Well, it was best not think on such things too much.

"Well," the old man said, smiling slightly, "now that that us settled, it is time for the meat of the matter."

Ranma sighed in relief. As heartwarming as the moment had been, he still wanted to know what the hell the old man was babbling about before.

Him?! A LORD!

Kuno must be having a panic attack. To think that the 'foul sorcerer Saotome' was a lord.

Yeah, right.

"'Bout time, old man," he smirked slightly, looking carefully for any change in the elder's expression, any sign of discomfort. Get someone off balance enough and they would blurt out things that they probably shouldn't.

Saotome Interrogation Technique: Centre Pillar Removal, classic.

Except it didn't quite work this time. The elder's face didn't move an inch, not a flicker of discomfort.

Damn.

"I have to ask a few questions of yourself first, milord," the old man said with a seated bow, respectful and restrained. Definitely taking the whole 'lord' thing seriously then.

"Go ahead," he waved off, eager to get to the bottom of this whole damn thing. It was driving him nuts.

"Have you recently faced a powerful entity?" The elder's voice was intent, serious. He wasn't play in' around. "Someone or something so powerful as their strength to be unmeasurable? Able to do things that were impossible by even the most advanced of standards? That carried a aura around them that made you want to bow, to submit, before their might and majesty?"

Ranma didn't need to think very heavily. The events of the temple were remembered as clear as day. The massive strength of the immense tiger. The majesty and beauty, of inhuman levels, of the woman it had been. The flying sword that had nearly killed him by simply coming in touch with his Ki.

Yeah, that definitely qualified.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod, "cat spirit that became a crazy cat lady that then became a temple sized white tiger."

"Do you remember defeating it? Killing it?" the old man was even more intent, his brown eyes sharp and piercing.

Ranma grimaced and nodded shortly. He didn't like the necessity of what he did, but he knew that a lot more people would have died a gruesome death, crushed by the overwhelming force of that Power Ball the oversized feline had had in it's jaws near the end.

It was cold comfort though.

"Do you remember receiving grievous wounds, ones that no modern medicine could possibly heal, and then waking up completely healed, the body even better than before? Can you also feel a massive source of power, overwhelmingly powerful, dwelling with your body?"

Ranma again nodded, beginning to get creeped out. This old fogie knew more about him than he did himself. This was disconcerting and he didn't like it. Not. One. Bit.

Though he was a little wrong on the grievous wounds bit. He remembered dying of said wounds.

The old man sighed, dropping his eyes in resignation, making the green eyed lady look at him in slight concern, before looking up again, "With those answers, young man-"

"Call me Ranma," he interrupted, scowling slightly. It was taking too long to get to the damned point, and being called 'young man' or 'milord' was beginning to grate on his nerves. He wasn't Kuno!

"Ranma then," the Professor then continued as if he wasn't interrupted, "I can clearly say that you are the Seventh Campione. A Devil King. A God Slayer. Campione."

Ranma felt a chill down his spine at the titles the man had said, even as something deep inside seemed to echo with the man's words, as if agreeing with him.

Still, they seemed to be a bit presumptuous. Devil King? He wasn't a lord let alone a ruling monarch, and he sure as Kami wasn't a devil!

Well, except when Kasumi's food was laid out on the table. Damn and blast anyone who got in the way of him sampling the delicious examples of culinary delight that was Kasumi's cooking.

And as for a Godslayer, not a hope in hell. He may be a great martial artist, the best of his generation, but he doubted to hell and back he would currently have even a prayer if he was facing a true blue deity.

Maybe in a few years, a decade at the outside, he would have a better than even chance.

Besides, isn't it kind of impossible to kill a deity? The karmic backlash alone would be ridiculous.

But still, the things the old man had spoken of...the raw majesty and might of the being he had faced...

He was finding it hard to refute.

"What is a Campione?" Ranma finally asked. Maybe if he understood what the old man was referring to he would be able to put his thoughts in order, "ya keep mentioning it but I don't know what it means."

"A lesson is required then," the old man said with a nod of his head, "for everyone," he expanded as he looked at his new apprentice, who's eyes were wide, no doubt dumbstruck at the titles the old man had used to refer to him.

Heck, he would have too if it was someone else.

"To start with," the Professor started, looking like he was readying himself for a long lecture, much to Ranma's discomfort. He didn't like lectures. "You have to understand that, as I told young Cassandra before, that Gods are real."

Ranma didn't have any trouble understanding that. He might not be the most religious person around, but he had some belief that there were higher powers which influenced the world around them.

He was pretty damn sure that his entire life, and the troubles therein, had been the sole focus of deity since he was born. When he found out who, god's blood would be flying.

"They are shaped by the beliefs of humanity, influencing their power and domains they preside over, which change over time as humans do. For instance, Apollo, one of the Ancient Greek gods, was originally a god of healing, the arts and plague but, over time, was worshipped as a god of the sun, taking over the role of Helios as the Sun-Rider, the one who rode the great shining chariot across the sky, thus changing the original domains he ruled over."

Ranma scratched his head in thought, trying to understand what he was saying. It made some sort of sense, if you looked at it carefully. Similar to martial arts being born from the parent art before developing very differently. Time changes a lot of things.

He glanced over toward the form of his little sister, almost having forgotten her in the passing of the last few minutes. Surprisingly, she was looking at the back of the Professor's head, her eyes no longer filled with a childish wonder, intently.

Her eyes were focused and powerful, as if wanting to pick apart the old man's words with just her gaze, an ageless wisdom and power in those sapphire depths.

Yeah, there was definitely something different about her. But she showed no hostility yet, so Ranma was willing to let it go and would ask her in private. Maybe he could get some straight answers for once in his life?

He wasn't banking on it though.

"As the wheel of time turns, as civilisations come and go, as nations and empires rise and fall, so too do the beings they worship. Great rulers of their own pantheon becoming servants in others as their culture is overtaken by an outsiders own people, gods becoming merely heroes or vice versa, even goddesses of unearthly beauty and power are cast down and vilified, seen to be little more than monsters."

The Professor barked a grim laugh, with little humour, "this creates dissatisfaction, hurts their pride, makes their legend a burden. What king would bow their neck willingly, serving the new conqueror's with a smile on their face and a song in their heart? No," he shook his head solemnly, "no king or queen or other would willingly go through that.

"And so they descend from the Domain of Immortality, the dwelling place of the gods, onto the earth, escaping the cages their legends and myths have become to them as their very nature and form are twisted, rebelling against them, and become Heretic Gods."

Ranma winced heavily. He could see why these fallen gods, displaced from their own thrones and trapped by words and myths, would want to escape. He had his own pride, his own beliefs. To have his toppled and placed beneath the foot of another?

Yeah, he could understand.

"When they come here, however," the old man went on, bowing his head, "they seem to go into a frenzy, creating disasters wherever they go in the world. Sea gods would cause flooding, war gods inspire conflict, sun gods bring drought and famine, the list could go on. They would create chaos where ever they went."

Well, that wasn't good. It made the divine entities seem like children throwing a tantrum.

"Couldn't the magic associations you mentioned have done something? Driven them off, sealed them away or something?" He asked, frowning. He had seen some powerful magic in the past, Jusenkyo heading the list, surely the guys had something that could deal with such beings, especially if they occurred as often as the old man implied.

Ranma's expectations fell flat at the old man's next words.

"Humans can't defeat Gods," Professor Aegis stated flatly, "this is an absolute rule. The powers of Heretic Gods, called Authorities, which reflect the history and nature of the deity and are created from their legends and myths, loom over mortal magic like an oak over a grass seed. Our magics are as nothing to them, not even a breeze against their skin. Mortal magic doesn't have a hope of affecting a Heretic God, at all."

Ranma spluttered, "But how does that work?!" he cried out. The old man was making too many contradictions. "Last I checked, I was human and yet you called me a Godslayer despite the fact that you said that humans can't defeat Gods. What the hell, old man?!"

Ranma was now even more confused.

"I'm getting to that," the old man said calmly, "just listen a little more," he sighed a little, "despite the fact that humans cannot defeat a god, sometimes, by some freak chance or unique set of circumstances, or simply being in the right place at the right time, a human manages to defeat a Heretic God, generally killing themselves in the process usually, but still managing to achieve the feat of impossibility. This then invokes an ancient curse laid out by Pandora."

Ranma winced. Yeah, he could remember dying, and it wasn't pleasant to say the least, but to add a curse on top of it? That was just overkill. Though the name Pandora rang a bell for him for some reasons. It seemed to conjure the image of a white empty space and purple hair for some reason.

"Pandora, the one who opened the box that released the evils onto the world and a little bit of hope. Through the death of a god, the slayer is then changed, transformed, arguably becoming as close to the divine as one can while still remaining at least somewhat human."

Ranma was rigid, in shock and maybe even horror, as his mind spun wildly. What had happened to him? Was this all a dream, a waking nightmare?

"The changes are many, even if some are a bit subtle. Energy reserves and magic reserves are increased by huge amounts beyond that of an ordinary human magi, superhuman stamina and durability, nearly unbreakable bones, old wounds and scars are healed completely often to the point of reviving them if they are killed on when they defeat their first Heretic God, sharper senses, the ability to sense magic, the ability to understand all written and spoken languages."

Ranma felt like he was hit with a sledgehammer with each change the old man listed. He couldn't deny any of them, much as he wanted to. He had experienced each and every one of them. His body now bare of scars, the massively increased pools of Ki, his stamina and senses boosted. He hadn't been sure about the language until he focused, really focused, on what the elderly scholar was saying. The words were different, and most certainly not Japanese, but he could clearly understand them as if they were his native tongue.

What had happened? Stupid question, he now knew what happened, but a better one would be why?

"However," he tuned back in to listening to the old man, one that was looking at him calmly, showing no pity or sympathy, merely giving him the unvarnished truth. He could respect that, even if he didn't like it at the moment. But sometimes the bitter pill was good medicine. "these are only the relatively minor changes in comparison, tweaks in the body to ready it for it's true purpose."

That was ominous. Ranma could feel the truckload of shoes about to drop on his head.

"As one who has slain a God, the spoils of war go to you," the brown eyes were intent on his his own blue, "meaning that, as you have killed one, their power, their strength, their Authority, or at least part of it, goes to you, the slayer.

"And with every other god you slay, and there will be more, have no doubt about that as they will be drawn to you, to challenge you, you will stronger, receiving more power from each of them that you slay.

"For you are one of the only ones that can."

Something clicked in Ranma's head. Those islands of power inside his Ki, in his soul. Part of it but, at the same time, removed from it.

Good kami in heaven.

"As you now wield the divine power of the Gods, making you a veritable god amongst mortals, you now have the right to do as you wish. As Gods loom over mortals, so do you. As no mortal can stand against a God, none can stand against you, except for other Campione or Heretic Gods. If you wanted, you could call for the most beautiful women, the finest wines, or go on a rampage, killing everything in your sight, and none but your equals, a Campione or God, could gainsay you."

Ranma paled heavily. That was insane! That kind of subservience to anyone was ridiculous. Even the best of kings in days of old had their detractors.

"A good description of what a Campione is was written down in the form of a poem by Alberto Ricardo, a noted Italian mage, centuries ago," those piercing brown eyes drifted away, as if reminiscing as he began to recount the poem,

"A Campione – a Godslayer – is a supreme ruler.

Since he can kill a celestial being, he can therefore call on the sacrosanct, divine powers wielded by the gods.

A Campione – a Godslayer – is a lord.

Since the power to kill a deity is in his hands, he therefore looms over all mortals on Earth.

A Campione – a Godslayer – is a devil.

Since of all mortals who live in the world, none can assume a power to match his!"

Ranma could feel himself shake beneath the weight of those words as they resonated deep within him, showing the truth of them. This was too much. Far, far too much.

"You are a Campione, Ranma," the old man said, fierce but calm, a solid belief or certainty behind his words.

Ranma slumped down the wall, his eyes almost unseeing as his world view was shattered around him yet again.

Why was his life so chaotic?

---

Genma Saotome was troubled and, dare he admit it, slightly scared, as he sat outside in the Tendo's yard, playing with a ball in Panda form.

The foolish boy hadn't yet returned from the his jaunt to the temple, where the Amazon girl was reportedly held captive by a massive feline spirit. One that they had encountered before and had even possessed him the first time around.

Annoying spirits.

The spirit was weak though, at least by the definition of his kind, and even with the boy's fears of such creatures (he reluctantly admitted that that little plan had backfired. Immensely.) he knew his son could defeat the being.

Especially if he had help.

The fact that he was not back yet...was of concern.

There was also the fact that he had heard that the temple his foolish son had gone to was destroyed in some manner. Reports said it was a huge explosion, though they were sketchy as to the exact cause of said explosion.

That had him on his toes.

He may not have known exactly what Nodoka's family did, but he knew enough about them that he knew it wasn't too hard for them to be able to fudge reports like this one, keeping certain details from coming to light.

And last he checked, they had a contract out for his hide. And he wasn't in much of a position to dodge their bullets now. He was already committed to the current engagement with the Tendos, he couldn't pull away from them or it even if he wanted to. There was too much riding on it.

His own life and liberty being at the top of the list.

Damn line curse.

It was a legend within the clan, that their entire lined was cursed. They had changed their clan name quite a few times over the centuries, or so he was told, hiding the shame and ill repute that their previous name had acquired. Apparently, one of his forefathers had reneged on a deal with a god, if such beings existed (Genma was of the opinion that his ancestor had just dealt with a very powerful Ki master. Some of the things that could be done with Ki, if one had enough knowledge, power and skill, would have made the Ki master seem like a god to the unwashed and ignorant masses. Pity his foolish son didn't agree. It was one of the few things he couldn't beat out of the insolent brat. It was probably the reason he refused to steal from temples or shrines. Genma just thought they were practically begging to be robbed.) and a curse had been laid upon them.

'Chaos will surround you,' the supposed 'god' had spoken, his reputed third eye burning with a dark fire, 'trouble will dog your footsteps. You bear your sins with pride, boasting of cheating me, now your line, father to son, will bear another's burden, their sins.

'May you live in interesting times.'

It was a wordy 'curse' and was very vague in what it actually did. At least until the clan head finally understood what it meant.

The curse was, at it's base, something that could be compared to the American's belief in what they called 'Murphy's Law'. If something could go wrong for a Saotome, chances are almost certain that it would. In addition, they all seemed to attract trouble, often finding themselves in situations that, from an outside perspective, seemed absolutely ridiculous. And, even if it wasn't, they were seen as the culprits of any wrongdoing, despite proof being waved in the face of others, as many automatically assumed they were disreputable, at best.

In order to survive under this curse, in a land where honour and reputation meant everything, the clan had to go low, living in the mud, working in the darkness.

It was the greatest curse anyone could lay on a proud child of Japan, all because of a single man's folly. Death would have been preferable.

Genma hated it with a passion.

It was many a time that one of his ancestors tried all they could to break this 'curse', consulting sages and other wise men, those who had devoted themselves to study of Ki, but again and again, nothing came of it. They were told it was impossible, to just live with it as well as they can.

Genma refused to accept that.

It was under the tutoring of the dreaded Master, that he learned of a chance, a possibility, of ridding himself of this burden upon his karma.

The Master had mentioned links being formed between practitioners, lines of power that allowed the connected beings to synchronise their power, sharing their Ki pools. In some cases, even physical characteristics could transfer from one to the other, if the partnership was held long enough.

It had lit the fire of an idea in his mind. If the curse couldn't be broken, maybe it could transferred?

He could feel the 'curse's' taint in his Ki, a slick of oil on top of his vast lake of power, maybe he could give it to another? Thus ridding himself of it?

Of course, he quickly learned it wasn't that simple. He couldn't just take anyone off the street and transfer the curse to them, it only caused him pain, exacerbated the curse for a week, and killed the intended victim.

They died screaming in agony. Not that it mattered. They were mere bums, no one would miss them.

There were requirements that needed to be fulfilled. It had taken him some time, years in fact, but he managed to find out what was needed.

First, the intended victim needed to be, at least, a Ki adept. The transfer of Ki to an unprepared body was one of the reasons the bums had died. His Ki, the power of his soul, was strong enough that it crushed their own, piece by piece. Only another Ki user would be able to resist his power long enough for the transfer to be successful. However, he had to careful, the intended victim needed to be strong enough to handle the stress, but also weak enough that his own power would be able to overwhelm theirs, making sure they didn't, that they couldn't, fight back. It was a delicate balance.

Secondly, the victims needed to be male. Like calls to like. The curse was invoked on all male descendants of the clan, leaving the female members mostly untouched. The females still had a bit of misfortune (they still had a bit of male aspect Ki, as the men had a little female Ki. Basic yin and yang balance theory.) but nothing even close to approaching the men. The streetwalkers he had tried it on had also died in agony, though it was quicker than the male bums.

Weakling women.

Thirdly, and arguably most importantly, the victim needed to be a close blood relative, within one generation removed from him.

Meaning, since his father had passed on long ago, he would have to burden his own son.

The reason for this was two-fold. One was for the same reason as the second condition, like equals like. The 'curse' was always ready willing and able to heap more and more burdens on it's hosts shoulders. Ranma's own 'curse' would eagerly accept even more of itself if it meant that Ranma had a harder time.

Two, was the already existing bond between a father and his son. This would make it easier for Genma to force the 'curse' down an already existing bond rather than trick his son into synchronising with him.

All in all, if it succeeded, it would relieve the burden of this bad karma from his own wide set shoulders and put them on his son's shoulders.

Genma didn't see a problem with that, it was the son's duty to support his elderly father, after all.

With this in mind, he had set out to find himself a wife, one that could bear him a strong child, a son, who he could mould and prepare for the eventual day that he would carry his beloved father's burden.

A bit of investigation, interrogation and surveillance paid off, finding Nodoka. Strong body, decent enough Ki levels and, as a bonus, attached to a wealthy clan.

A perfect broodmare to bear his seed.

A bit of ill-gotten gains paid to the right people and the correct word in the right person's ear, and he was 'defending' the young woman from her attackers. Ones that he had, in a round about way, given information on the girl to.

That had got his foot in the door.

Working slyly, ingratiating himself to the clan and working hard on his 'charms' towards the girl, his curse looking to have at least dimmed for a time, and soon weddings bells were ringing followed soon after by an announcement of pregnancy. Soon after that, he was holding his newborn son in his hands.

His plan was coming to fruition.

Then he had initiated Phase Two.

He began to teach the boy to fight, to gain physical strength, as soon as he could. The Sayanomiyas were encouraging of it, at least at first, saying that a son should take after their father. However, much to his chagrin, they also ensured the boy had a good grasp of education, for his age, instilling certain values in the boy.

One that he did not want the boy to have.

They had also tried, and sometimes succeeded, in stopping him from using his more extreme training methods on the child. He still had the bruises from the 'tree falling' incident.

He couldn't let that happen. If he let the foolish clan control the way he trained his son, it would take forever for him to be strong enough to handle the burden. Not to mention that the values they were instilling would make the boy fight him during the transfer. Not enough to stop it, perhaps, but enough that the boy could possibly kill himself resisting it before the transfer was complete, thus making his decades of work all for naught.

This wasn't acceptable.

With the relationship between himself and his wife and her kin, with his way to destroy the curse in jeopardy, he decided to leave.

Taking his son with him.

Away from the influences of the Sayanomiyas, soft-hearted fools the lot of them, he was free to shape and mould his son to his liking for the next decade. Throwing him through test after test, pushing his body to the limits, putting him in situations that only increased in difficulty, the boy's own share of the curse inadvertently helping (though it should be noted that some the problems they encountered were completely random and unexpected, Jusenkyo being a noted example, and though he had to suffer through them as well at times, he was still able to twist it around to further his own goals.) until the boy was shaped exactly how he wanted him to be (with a little help from various medicines, pressure points and half a dozen other subtle manipulations).

Strong of body, above average spirit and a limited, but sadly not weak, mind.

A perfect offering and new host for his curse to attach to, a proper son who would proudly bear their father's burden.

Almost.

Unfortunately, some of the values of his ex-wife's clan (he had looked up the clan on the sly when they had arrived back in Japan. It wasn't surprising that he had been divorced, even if it angered him slightly. Fucking ungrateful bitch.) still remained, keeping what he could of his honour, despite his attempts at warping his son's views on it.

It made things more difficult, but not insurmountable.

In regards to the engagement, it pinned the boy down, keeping the boy and himself in one place while Genma slowly gathered the required materials he needed to perform the 'rite'.

He had recently received the last of the necessary tools in the post not a week ago, a set of fine silver needles, so now all he needed to do was wait. The boy's power was already damned impressive, but he needed just a little bit more, to be a skerrick stronger, for the boy's body to be a trifle more mature, for the little ritual to be successful. Probably just another week if he guessed correctly.

At least he thought so, he wasn't quite the best at judging such things as auras and Ki levels, he just didn't have the required aptitude for it.

But now he was worried. The boy had not yet returned, despite the fact that his fiancee was in her bed.

Something wasn't right.

That sense of unease only got stronger as he felt something, his ursine eyes narrowed as he dropped the large beach ball in order to focus.

He had felt something just then, a sense of power filling the air for a moment before disappearing, leaving only a remnant, a lingering memory in air. He may not be the most sensitive, but even a half-trained badger could have noticed the initial burst.

For some reason, he felt like he was a rat in cage, trapped with nowhere to go.

Knock! Knock!

Firm tapping was heard from the front door. It resounded in the panda's gut ominously, as if he had heard someone tapping on his coffin.

"One moment," he heard Kasumi call, such a nice girl, knowing her place, as she stopped her cleaning to answer the door.

Genma felt his senses begin to blare, sensing the forthcoming danger, but he didn't know why.

Had he pissed someone off recently? He thought he had off loaded most of it on the foolish boy.

Soft murmuring was heard, not quite loud enough for him to make out from where he was, but he swore that he heard a woman's voice answering young Kasumi's enquiries. A voice that sounded faintly familiar, as if he had heard it in the past but had almost completely forgotten it.

As footsteps sounded, their visitor obviously having passed Kasumi's test, Genma felt his throat go tight, making him give an ursine grunt of discomfort, like a noose was tightened around his neck.

"Uncle Saotome isn't in at the moment," he heard Kasumi say as she entered the family room, his ursine eyes seeing her through the open door from his place near the pond, "but I am sure he will be back shortly. Would you like some tea while you wait?"

"That won't be necessary," the regal voice of their guest answered, "I am sure that there is someone else here who can help me." The voice continued warmly, "though I do thank you for the offer, young lady."

Despite the warmth in the tone, Genma felt his spine turn to ice in fear. He knew that voice, and dreaded hearing it, now of all times.

That fear only enhanced to outright terror as he saw the vibrant red hair and striking features of his ex-wife follow behind young Kasumi, a wrapped purple bundle in hand.

He wanted to do nothing more than run like hell at that moment, such was his fear. Nodoka was a powerful martial artist, easily his equal, maybe even his better, especially when it came to weapons, and had more than enough reason to want to tear him apart.

But running now, even in panda form, would be suspicious. Nodoka wasn't a complete fool and she had shown herself to be more than inclined to believe in the existence of magic, always reading up on ancient legends and myths, perusing through 'reports' on strange places and unusual happenings. If she saw a panda acting in such a manner as running away, on two legs, she would immediately twig onto the fact that something wasn't right. She always had been a perceptive bitch, at least when she wasn't blinded by her beliefs.

The only option he had was to hunker down and ignore her, playing the part of a normal panda, and hoping she wouldn't twig.

"Who is this, Kasumi?" Nabiki asked, looking up from where she was seated at the table, a sheaf of papers, a calculator and a well-thumbed notebook in font of her as she balanced the household accounts.

Nodoka interrupted Kasumi before she could say a word, "I am Ranma's mother," she said calmly, making the middle sister's eyes widen slightly, her eyes flickering over the red haired woman's form and face in recognition. No doubt she was cataloguing the striking similarities between her and the boy's cursed form, the red hair being the biggest one, the blue eyes coming in a close second.

Japanese with natural red hair or blue eyes weren't very common, even less so when together.

"Nodoka Sayanomiya, formerly Saotome." She said with a small bow, her face set in a mask of regality. Genma knew that she was in her element. As a daughter of the clan head, she was more than learned about the formalities of introductions and first meetings and had been accustomed to performing them at a young age. "Pleased to meet you."

"Nabiki Tendo," the middle sister replied in kind with a seated bow of recognition, still slightly surprised before gathering herself and looking at Nodoka critically, almost suspiciously, "forgive my surprise but I wasn't aware that Ranma's mother was still alive. And what do you mean by 'formerly'?"

"Unsurprising," Nodoka said, her face tight in suppressed anger as her hands clenched at the wrapped bundle, "it is unlikely that my child even remembers me, that supposed 'training trip' started too early, and went for too long, for memories of me to stick with him," she gritted her even teeth even as Genma could feel her Ki begin to rise, filled with anger, hate and the desire to kill.

And he had an eerie feeling he knew who it was directed at.

"As for the 'formerly' part?" her stiff smile became poisonously sweet, deadly venom coated in sugar, "considering that he has been here for some time, can you honestly say that any woman with at least a single working brain cell wouldn't divorce the putrescent son of a bitch at the first available opportunity?" Nodoka's eyes then whipped around to stare him directly in the eyes, cruel glints of knowledge and savage pleasure in her eyes. "Don't you agree, my dear husband?"

Genma didn't bother trying to act, he knew that she knew about his form, the venomous desire to kill him in her eyes showed that well enough.

Genma blurred, his ursine body sprinting for the wall surrounding the compound. With her sword in her possession, there was no way he was willing to fight her. That left only running like hell.

If only Soun wasn't out at a meeting with the local council, then he and Tendo may have been able to fend the woman off. Even if he was a human waterfall, Soun Tendo was still a rather formidable martial artist.

He could hear her pursuing, the ripping of fabric and the sing of metal warning him that his bane, her steel blade, was now unsheathed and hungry for his blood, even as he heard the confused shouts of the older two of Soun's daughters.

"Oh my!"

"What the Hell!?"

He ignored them, having already reached the wall and was in the process of leaping over it, leaping for his life and liberty. As he soared over the wall, he mused that Nodoka must have gotten sloppy. Last he had seen her, she would have been fast enough to catch him before he was even making the leap.

Stupid weakling of a wom-.

ZZZZZZAP!

Pain filled the panda shaped martial artist's mind. In mid air, directly over the boundary line of the compund, he was met an invisible force, hitting it like a bird hitting a window, halting him and preventing him from exiting himself via the air from the compound.

To add insult to injury, the invisible wall also seemed to electrified, burning his skin and fur even as his nerves went haywire and screamed...

BOOOOM!

Before he was bounced back into the compound by an explosion, sending him into the ground near the koi pond, creating a large smoking crater from his recent comet-like body. He groaned in pain and confusion as he lay there, a smoking pile of fur and flesh, the stomach turning scent of burnt hair and braised meat filling his pandaish nostrils.

What the hell was that?!

Before he could do anything else, before he could recover and make another attempt to escape, he felt it.

A rising aura of power, practically on top of him, and filled with hatred and sadistic pleasure, filled his senses, making him quiver. The gentle touch of cold steel at his ursine throat also added to that.

He opened his eyes painfully, praying desperately for a reprieve, for mercy, in utter hope that it wasn't what he thought it was.

His spirits plummeted to the core of the earth and were burnt to ashes in it's malevolent heat as he saw the red hair and devilish eyes looking down at him along the blade of an extended katana.

There was no mercy there in this cold sapphire gems, there was no chance of hope in the freezing cobalt flames that burned there.

"It's been quite sometime hasn't it, Genma?" The devil in woman's flesh purred softly, a cruel smile lighting up her beautiful face, looking like a vengeful deity of beauty willing to take her pound of flesh from his hide for whatever insult she had endured, "perhaps it would be best if we were to...catch up...shall we say." Those eyes never left his, taking delight in his fear and terror, "I particularly wish to discuss the way you have raised my son. Do you think you can do that for me?"

He quivered beneath her blade, his mind freezing in terror, unable to bear the struggling to even breath under the weight of her hatred and anger that she directed at him with a smile on her face. He could feel a small amount of warmth in the fur near his ursine crotch.

Gods but this woman was frightening.

She smiled cruelly at him, her teeth seeming to look like a shark's hungry maw, before her sword abruptly left his throat and the blunt side of it struck the base of his skull.

As he descended into unconsciousness, his spirit could do nothing but quiver and shiver at Nodoka's parting grin of insane delight.

---

The Jusenkyo Guide stared at the empty crater, lined with lichen and mud, that had been the Nyannichuan, a spring that had been in existence for over a millenium, but was now completely empty of water. He slight magical senses, ones that were trained into those who took the role of the 'Jusenkyo Guide', ones that allowed him to identify a spring and the exact curse it had with but a glance, could no longer feel the subtle aura of magic that it once gave off.

It's curse was broken. There was no more Spring of Drowned Girl.

This was unprecedented.

And it wasn't the only spring to suffer that fate.

He looked over the valley, his disbelieving eyes seeing springs that had once been full slowly empty of water, the cursed magic leaving with it.

It was slow going, only a few of the shallower pools, more along the lines of puddles really, had emptied, along with the Nyannichuan, but it was inexorable and inevitable, the waters not refilling.

It would take time, most of the pools were very deep, but the Jusenkyo Guide knew it was only a matter of time. It may take a year, eighteen months at the outside, but he could feel it in his bones.

Jusenkyo had somehow lost it's magic, it's curse slowly being removed.

It was troubling and very worrisome. Two of the three tribes in the area, the Musk and the Phoenix people, both used the waters of the springs for vital purposes. The Musk used it to take wives, dunking a chosen animal in the Nyannichuan, which now no longer existed, and the Phoenix people were reputed to use it's original waters for some purpose, something to do with their king, Saffron, if the records of past Jusenkyo Guides were in any way accurate.

Whatever the case, now that the magic of the Valley was leaving, it's power somehow broken by unknown means, he didn't know how the two tribes would react now, especially considering how isolationist and remote they were.

He could only see conflict in one form or another in the future.

But whatever blood was spilt, for whatever reason, it didn't change the single indisputable fact.

Jusenkyo was dying.

---

So folks, what did you think of the this chapter? Not much in the way of action I know. But this needed to happen. It ties up a few loose ends and reveals a few things to think about as well as a lead into future arcs.

Please let me know what you think. Leave reviews if you please could.

Authorities

[Star Crossed] Parting the heavens, the river bars your path. Through the realm of heaven and along the fields of the earth, the light touches all and binds them tightly. Woman of heaven and man of earth, upon the banks they sit, awaiting to cross on feathered wings.

Ranma's main Authority. In the legend of the Cowherd and the Weaver girl, Xi Wang Mu, the Heaven Celestial Empress, disapproved of the romance between the two and took the Weaver girl away. When the Cowherd managed to set foot on the plains of Heaven, she angrily took up her hairpin and scratched a line in the sky, creating the Silver River, known as the Milky Way, to separate them. Later she relented, seeing the love between them, and allowed them to meet once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, as they each crossed a bridge of magpies.

This Authority is rather flexible. It allows him to create a path of silvery glittery light that leads to his desired destination. While on that path, he is able to achieve Godspeed, allowing him to travel very swiftly. On the other hand, as it was originally formed to separate two lovers, it can also be used to create a barrier of the same light, even expanding it too the point of enclosing an entire country. Furthermore, the continued use of the Authority will leech the light from nearby sources, plunging the surroundings into darkness. It is also possible for Ranma to use this Authority to teleport straight to a destination in a beam of light.

It was this Authority that transported him to Greece.

[Sovereign Steel] The enemy is before you, standing defiant, my sword shakes eagerly, my fist clenches, my will is my might, and none stands before a King's will!

This Authority is Ranma's one used for battle and had semi-claimed it even before he had defeated Xi Wang Mu. This is created from the basis of Xi Wang Mu's alignment to the concept of Steel. Lin Jun, also known as Xiaowang, was a warrior and the Ba tribe, his descendants, were arguably one of the best in war in Ancient China. This is furthered emphasised by the belief in the symbol of the White Tiger, which was seen as a symbol of military might and power.

No longer a sword, it now takes the shape of a set of fingerless combat gloves with a bronze metal backing over the back of the palm, engraved with the symbol of the Ancient Ba tribe.

With them, he is able to create balls of Force, similar to the one that his first adversary was about to use before he killed her. As the White Tiger was seen as a War God, presiding over weapons and warriors, this power stems from the desire to conquer, to defeat, meaning that Ranma's own will, his drive, to defeat his enemy empowers the created force. As a passive effect, his blows also carry the weight of the Force, granting him a large degree of bodily strength as the essence infuses his body, enough to challenge a God in pure attributes, but is reliant on his will.

This Force can be used to push away, strike solidly or crush the opponent. Essentially it is crushing blunt force taken to the highest degree.

Further training and mastering would have him able create weapon constructs from the Force and command them to seek their target.

[King of Beasts] Hurry to my call, heed my voice, Children of the Wild, your King speaks, come to me!

Xi Wang Mu, in her early days as a wild woman, was analogous to a Mistress of Beasts, many of the mythical animals living on her mountain. The White Tiger, one of the symbols of Xi Wang Mu and one she eventually became in the form of Byakko, was also considered the King of Beasts.

This Authority came about due to Ranma's extreme affiliation with cats, in particular the white tiger. It allows him to summon various Divine Beasts that lived upon Xi Wang Mu's mountain. Three-legged crows, multi-tailed foxes, phoenixes etc etc. They aren't the most powerful beings around, unlike Godou's Boar, but they each have their own capabilities and will loyally serve their master.

However, the Authority has two very powerful trump cards to it.

The first is Domination. This allows Ranma to pit his will against a Divine Beast not of his own summoning, again like Godou's Boar, and allow him to subdue it to his will, allowing him to command it as if it was his own. It can be broken if his focus is removed from the Beast he is controlling. This part of the Authority also extends into the realm of mortal animals, allowing him to both understand and command them if he so desires.

The second trump is that of the White Tiger. This incredibly powerful beast is full of the desire to fight and shed blood. All other summonings are ended when this one takes the field and can only be done on the field of battle.

[Reflection] The truth is what I seek, reveal it to me!

Xi Wang Mu was noted as the Golden Tortoise, for the reason that she presided over oracles given by the use of tortoise shells. This became then became part of her purview in Taoism, through the ties with divination, the peach (a symbol of immortality and wisdom) and the mirror, which was often used in Daoist rituals and spells. She was often depicted on the back of these 'magical mirrors' showing her connection to the art.

Ranma's frustration at his ignorance and the chaos created by this misunderstandings gave rise to this Authority. It takes the form of a large bronze mirror, depicting the five circled cross representing the Chinese Daoist Elements on the back and emitting a soft shimmering light within the front of it.

When commanded, it allows Ranma to scry far off places, seeing and hearing what is happening there, even to the point of piercing the barrier of worlds. Normal magical protection from such observances is futile, an Authority out trumping such defences. Within it's light, the true forms of others are revealed, and can force a cursed being (like a Jusenkyo victim) back to their original state. Past and present can both be seen within it and can give warnings in the form of visions to Ranma about the future. It can also act as a communicator between Ranma and another, so long as he knows their name or the place they are located. It can also be used as a spell amplifier, particularly in Daoist practices.

It also has a hidden ability. As a mirror, it reflects all that hits it or can, with proper positioning, focus something. In this case, it can act as a powerful shield from Authorities, able to absorb them into it's confines before firing it back at the originator, or be used as a shield to deflect them.