Ch.46: Deserted in the Apathetic Ruins! The Grim Ash Clan's Ghost!

Griffin finished packing his bag and slung it over his shoulders. He winced and clutched his right arm, feeling the old wound acting up against. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, loosening the stiffness in them. His fingers trembled with slight movements, twitching against his volition. Unsteady, tarnished, and clumsy.

"You went through hell after taking Pestilence's virus head on." Griffin glanced over his shoulder, spotting Holly in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes worriedly. "How's the arm holding up?"

Griffin faced her as he massaged his arm. "Still hurts, but it'll heal on its own. My dexterity might be a different story, though. Chances are I won't be able to swing a sword around quite the same as I'm used to."

Holly sighed. "You'd sooner tear your arm off than let a little thing like that stop you."

"Heh. It'll be a detriment should I rip my muscles to shreds." Griffin rotated his shoulder, then slung the other strap of his bag over his shoulder. "How's the rest of the village holding up?"

Holly shrugged. "Still ill from our little epidemic last week, but nothing untreatable. We're lucky help finally arrived to get this place under proper protection."

Griffin nodded. "Yeah. We've wasted too much time here."

Holly chuckled under her breath. "You call it a waste, but I know you're glad we came here. Don't need to act like a tough guy around me, you know."

"I'm not acting tough." Griffin rested his hands inside his pockets and walked out of the hut.

Holly shrugged, then followed him out. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Upon exiting the hut, they looked upon the downtrodden village, now surrounded with a myriad of service tents. Villagers were escorted to the tents for health evaluations, and to tend to the sick who were struck the hardest by Pestilence's virus. The entire village was bordered with walls of earth, soldiers standing guard on corner towers and surveying the distant lands.

Word of what happened spread fast, and representatives of Scorch Grave finally got warriors down to oversee the village's safety. With the presence of these soldiers came a new lifestyle for the villagers, one unfamiliar in a broken village like theirs. Mandatory curfews, heavy control over rationing, and inability to leave the village. They were to stay put, hopefully until Mysto was safe again.

Hard to imagine peace when it wasn't just shadows causing trouble anymore.

Holly sighed. "It's kind of sad seeing the village like this. Everyone's tense and scared, now they have this to adapt to."

Griffin shook his head. "It's better than dealing with the maniacs roaming the land. These people need to be protected. They'll just have to go along with it until everything settles down."

Holly nodded sadly. "I guess. Still, must not be fun living in a broken village to begin with. Everyone before the shadows' invasion, they had to live like this because they lost so much. I'd certainly wish for a better home than this."

Griffin narrowed his eyes in thought, then looked on ahead. "Perhaps that could be arranged."

Holly turned to him with a raise brow. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just talking aloud." He waved her along and started walking. "Come on, Mack and Fernando are waiting for us."

They walked around the perimeter of the wall until they found their two travel companions waiting by the outer gate, along with a couple other parties. The travelers they brought along with them, including Hallie and her family, and one disgruntled Simisage currently tied to the ground.

Griffin waved to the group. "You didn't need to see us off, you know?"

Tilly smiled sadly. "We wanted to thank you personally for everything you've done. We wouldn't have made as far as we did without your protection."

Griffin scratched behind his head awkwardly. "Yeah, but…we're kind of the reason that toxic bitch attacked you folks. She wanted us dead, and dragged you all into it—"

"Oh hush!" the old Gogoat of the group huffed. "Even so, you still did your best to keep us alive and well. You're a Pokémon. You make mistakes like the rest of us, and you damn do know how to fix them."

Holly's eyes glimmered sincerely. "Thank you. That means a lot, sir."

Mack crossed his arms and smirked. "Told you that moat would come in handy." Holly rolled her eyes and slapped Mack in the back of the head. "Yow!"

Griffin bowed to the travelers. "We're just glad you all have somewhere to stay until this all blows over. Rest assured; this war will come to an end in time."

Tilly smiled up at Griffin. "You sound just like my Travis before he went off. No doubt he's doing his best to rid the world of these crooks, thieves, and spooks. If by chance you meet him on the road, be sure to say hi for us when you get the chance."

Griffin smiled softly. "I'd be honored." He crouched down to Hallie and Sonny's level. Griffin reached out and patted Sonny's head. "How you holding up?"

The sleepy Gloom sniffled and said, "Still a bit foggy, sir. I ache a lot, too."

"Be sure to rest and eat as much as you can. You'll need to get your strength back up." Griffin turned and faced Hallie, who tried to hide the disappointed pout on her face. Griffin smirked and said, "Something you want to say, squirt?"

The young Nuzleaf crossed her arms and huffed. "I…no! I just…" She clenched her sleeves tightly, trembling as tears brimmed in her eyes. "Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?"

Griffin shook his head. "My friends and I have a really important job to take care of. We stayed as long as we did to make sure the rest of you were safe. That task has come and gone, as will we."

Hallie scrunched her face angrily. "No fair. I wanted you to teach me more cool stuff, too."

Griffin patted her head. "Perhaps another time. For now, I'm trusting you to keep your mom and brother safe. You have to be their rock in these harsh times." Griffin sighed, then massaged his nape awkwardly. "Just…don't grow up too soon. You lose an important part of yourself when you have to mature too fast. That's not something anyone should be burdened with, especially with such bright-eyed optimism in a warrior like yourself."

Hallie relaxed herself, then looked up at Griffin tearfully. "You really think I'll make a good warrior in the future?"

"One that'll surpass your own father, I'm sure." Griffin winked. "Perhaps even me if you work hard enough."

Hallie smiled, then threw her arms around Griffin's waist. "Thank you, Master Griffin."

Griffin stared down at her awkwardly, earning a few chuckles from Holly and Mack, then patted Hallie's head. "You were a fine pupil, Hallie, for as short as our time was. In fact…"

Griffin pulled Hallie away, then held his hand out. He opened his personal armory and summoned one of the Exiled Soul daggers. He placed it in Hallie's open hands while Hallie stared at it in awe. "Wait, is this—"

"Consider it a promise. The set's incomplete without all six, a sentiment I share with five good friends of mine." Griffin tapped Hallie on the forehead and smirked. "It's yours to defend the family. See it as insurance, for I will have to return and collect it. A promise that we'll meet again."

Hallie smiled and clutched the dagger against her chest. "I'll keep it safe."

"Use it wisely, too. It isn't a toy."

"I know. I understand." Hallie bowed her head to Griffin. "Thank you again, Master Griffin."

Griffin bowed back. "And thank you for…well, giving me some hope in myself again. A little bit of pokemanity saves my soul from damnation." He patted her head one last time, then stood up.

Fernando looked up at the sky, noting the position of the sun, then finally interjected. "We're burning daylight, Everfall. Sooner we find Buster's grave, the better."

Griffin nodded. "Right. Let's get a move on. Mack, don't forget to bring the garbage."

Mack grinned and picked Edwin up, slinging him onto his shoulder. "Got it right here."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, how remarkably charming. I save your skins, and now I'm apparently your trash. Remind me again why I have to come along?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Gee, let's think. You worked with the shadows, assisted in this little epidemic that nearly wiped us out, brutalized friends of ours in the Gelid Peak Tournament, wrongfully inherited our clan's magic, and…well, frankly, you're also a jackass, but that's more a personally flaw than a reason."

Edwin groaned. "That doesn't answer my question."

Mack grinned. "If by chance the shadows find us, you'll make a great meat shield."

"Yep, there's the reasoning. Just what I was expecting."

Griffin rolled his eyes, then faced their previous travel party. "We must be going now." He bowed to them. "Please, stay safe until all this is resolved. You have our word on that."

Tilly wrapped her arms around her children and smiled. "Stay safe, all of you."

Hallie grinned through her tears. "Goodbye, Master Griffin!"

"B-Bye," Sonny muttered.

The Grim Ash Trio and Fernando waved to the party as they started their journey out of the village, ignoring some guards warning them about leaving the village. Although, the dominating auras surrounding the group quickly shut them up and forced them to continue with their usual posts.

Griffin looked back one last time and saw Hallie waving through the gates, trying her hardest to contain the tears in her eyes. A soft smile found its way onto Griffin's face as he waved back at her.

You'll make a fine warrior in the future, kid. Never forget that hope inside you. It's the strongest weapon of any warrior to carry.

"This is humiliating! Untie me already!"

Barely two hours into walking, and Edwin found it appropriate to start complaining about his confinement. The trio plus hitman chose to ignore him and focused on the path ahead, with Fernando holding a rough-sketched map as he took the lead.

"So, from the information you and Holly gave me," Fernando said to Griffin as he traced his finger over the map, "Buster Ravenfield's expedition group migrated on route to the Earth Zone, which borders with the Fire Zone, but Buster succumbed to the premature state of the Fire Zone, its toxic atmosphere."

Griffin nodded. "Exactly. That means Buster was buried somewhere in the Fire Zone. Question is figuring out the original path they took."

"Which I managed to figure out thanks to information I've acquired regarding the Entrustian Kingdom, which was established somewhere in the Earth Zone post-Grand Imperium War. We actually know where that was established. So, if we assume they went straight, we can trace the path from the fallen kingdom to recreate the original journey they took."

"That's still a lot of ground to cover," Holly interjected. "Who's to say they didn't bury Buster off the normal path?"

"It's possible, though I imagine it couldn't be too far off with the atmosphere to worry about." Fernando tapped his map. "Some villages and towns were built up over the last five hundred years, so there is also a chance the grave is buried under someone's house. Though, there is still untapped land through the original path, so best to hope we don't have to dig up someone's kitchen."

Griffin sighed and scratched his head. "This is going to take forever."

"Hey, better than the shadows resurrecting the strongest Ravenfield," Mack said. "Seriously, the idea they can even do something like that. Though, why waste their time on the Ravenfields when they can just resurrect anyone they want?"

"They need Callista."

The group stopped and turned their attention to Edwin, who glared over Mack's shoulder with sullen eyes. It would be so easy for him to break out of his bindings with a spell, but he knew his chances of fending off four deadly opponents would result in immediate execution. The rope was a sign of formality, a sort of peace treaty to keep him from doing anything funny. The only assault he had left to his humility position was a razor-filled dialect.

"The witch?" Fernando asked.

"She's still missing," Edwin explained. "She has a demon that can take dead parts and extract the original magic from the decease's soul, minus the soul itself. A perfect vessel with the magical knowledge and combat experience, all without the empathy and personality. It'd be a waste of time assembling whole armies if they can't actually extract their original magic, so they're taking their time bringing back all the Ravenfields they can until they find Callista."

Holly crossed her arms and glared at the Simisage suspiciously. "You're awfully unconcerned divulging this to us."

"I betrayed the shadows. I'm already on the chopping block. No use taking secrets to the grave. There's still a chance they haven't found Buster yet since they're prioritizing Callista's search and rescue. No way in hell that bitch died in the cavern collapse."

Fernando folded his map and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see. They're taking their time stealing parts of dead Ravenfields to create a small, but powerful task force. All the known powerful ones from the strongest bloodline—"

"Including Wes and Flint's father," Griffin added with a growl. "And acquiring Buster would be their magnum opus."

Mack looked up and hummed in though. "Curious myself, but where did this Buster guy even come from? What'd he do in the war to begin with?"

"What do you mean?" Holly asked.

"From what Griffin told us, Wes and Flint's earliest ancestor got obliterated into atoms fighting the Shadow King—err, Apollo all those years ago. How the heck is there still a Ravenfield if he was the last one?" Mack narrowed his eyes as the gears turned in his head. "You don't suppose Dougal started a harem during his tyranny, right?"

Holly closed her eyes and sighed through her nostrils. "I…can't even argue with that."

Fernando nodded. "Well, disregarding any secret concubines Dougal may have had, it does raise the question of the Ravenfields' contribution to the war. It can't be a coincidence one took part in the war, almost like they were bound to face the Shadow King again…"

Griffin groaned. "I swear, for a family with a high death rate, they sure do know how to survive the most insane shit. Not even time and space can destroy their bloodline."

"Either Dougal didn't die, magical trickery was involving, or Mack's concubine theory has merit," Holly listed off. "Though, if we happen to find Callista, we just have to kill her so they can't summon the Ravenfields' old magic."

"Assuming they don't have another Spirit Summoner at the ready," Griffin reminded. "One of her coven members could get the contract their selves."

Edwin sighed. "I'd say that's the least of your concerns once you find Buster's grave."

Griffin rolled his eyes. "No one asked you."

"Oh trust me, you'll want to hear this, because there is a key piece of information I've neglected to share ever since you held me captive. I believe in addition to this little side quest of yours, you're in search of Voss and the missing keys he still has on his person."

Mack smirked. "What's your point? We're still planning to kick his ass after this."

Edwin shook his head. "You misunderstand. Voss is still missing, but his disappearance was expected by Count Aeternus. Voss is a loose cannon with a self-serving mission. I've had the misfortune of learning about the other two heralds, and I know enough to say Voss wants something beyond world domination. He wants to die in combat, those willing to surpass death in the ultimate bout of survival."

"What's your point?" Griffin asked irritably.

"Rumor has it, Voss was doing research on the Ravenfields in the Immensus Library."

The trio's and Fernando's eyes widened. "Research?" they gasped.

Edwin nodded. "As I recall from your plans over the week, you mentioned something about files on the Ravenfields being enchanted so the library couldn't copy their contents in the library. However, that kind of spell work is too advanced for the times of the war. The only Ravenfield who likely has a detailed history written out is Buster Ravenfield, the strongest Ravenfield."

Holly narrowed her eyes. "Voss knows about Buster."

Griffin's eyes turned red with fury. "That means…"

Edwin nodded slowly. "It's likely Voss knows about Count Aeternus' plans to resurrect the Ravenfield ancestors. Voss would be invested in the strongest of history's most chaotic family. Chances are, you and Voss have a common goal in mind: the location of Buster Ravenfield's grave."

Griffin clenched his fists, radiating with a powerful aura. Voss has been roaming off the grid for months…to declare the honor of fighting Buster Ravenfield himself upon resurrection?

Edwin's eyes flashed green as a cruel smile stretched over his face. "Don't you just love it when the side quest has personal stakes to the journey?"

A journey without a clear destination or direction often led men to travel the roads for months without notice. The single-minded goal to trek the earth for the sole purpose of reaching the destination lay out before their path like the gilded streets to hell itself. That was the journey most men take.

For Voss, however, it was a stroll like any other.

The smell of blood permeated off of Voss' robes and sword, a permanent fixture to his presence. Wherever he traveled, the smell would follow behind, warning brave fools not to take another step closer, lest their blood would join the collective.

Voss couldn't give an estimate as to how long he had been walking, though he guessed many months. Months of walking, sleeping, eating, slaying would-be warriors recognizing the stench of blood; elements that made his journey monotonous if not for the quiet recesses of his mind to keep him occupied. Months of walking didn't compare to five hundred years of it. He might as well have been taking a stroll around the park.

He could've gone back to the shadows at any time. He knew where Puck's dimension was. He could've lifted the spell left by Mack and be done with his endless marching, yet Voss chose to stick to the road, all for a single purpose.

He knew of Puck's plans for the Ravenfield ancestors, a plan that no doubt went into motion some time ago. They were nothing but experiments to the mad clown, experiments that turned to games and nonsense. Puck never did anything with sense, only to entertain the boredom in his mind. It just so happened that anything Puck concocted would have devious results to benefit their cause.

Voss saw things differently than his fellow herald, and despised the idea of Puck resurrecting one of the strongest Ravenfields in the entire bloodline as another pawn. It was just another game to Puck, to mess with the order. It was a tool to be exploited.

Voss knew different. He didn't just research the strongest Ravenfield on a whim. When Puck first brought it up, a memory from time's past resurfaced inside Voss' mind. The war was a blank memory to him, nothing but pointless and uneventful slaughter with no challenge to quench his hunger for death. He couldn't be bothered to remember half the people he killed, and that was a generous assumption.

That Ravenfield, however, was someone who stuck out in the war. The challenge that slipped out through Voss' fingers. The challenge that always got away. The challenge that died before he could have the faintest chance to experience true struggle.

The one known as Buster Ravenfield.

Voss will find that unmarked grave. He will slaughter every last shadow planning to dig up the grave for Puck. Voss will refuse for anyone to touch the corpse of Buster Ravenfield until he is allowed to challenge the resurrected form himself. Only then may Voss evaluate the difference in his skill from five hundred years' time, to see if there was still a challenge worthy to bring back the joy of battle.

It was his one and only request, and he'll ruin the Tribe of Shadows' plans if he had to.

Voss lifted from his thoughts as a single raindrop pelted his head. Through dazed eyes, he gazed up at the clouds and saw as a storm started brewing. Not surprising since he was still in the Storm Zone's territory. Storms were a common occurrence that struck at random, surprising those not equipped to handle their chaotic nature. Voss had traveled the lands for so long, however, that the storms didn't bother him. They were insignificant to his journey.

Though, in his one-man trek through the lands of storm, he chose this particular path for a reason. Memories were a rarity for Voss to reminisce over, but recent history had allowed him to harbor moments of…interest, more or less.

He didn't flinch when he passed through the trees and came across the ruins of Monsoon Village, the ruined home of the Grim Ash Clan.

The ruined buildings and scorched land was all too familiar to Voss, with barely any change outside of natural erosion. Preserved lands to memorialize what was remembered as a grave tragedy and the horror story of three children surviving a wild inferno of chaos inflicted by a single murderer who slayed countless others. Very few knew of Voss' actions, with only the two rescuers of that day the sole witnesses of that event, one of which Voss only knew in face, but not of soul.

Voss kept one hand on his sword as he entered the village, taking his time to look over the memories left behind by the fires. To think, there was a time Voss actually lived in this village as a regular resident, all because he sought a challenge but caved in to the hospitality offered to him. Five hundred years of travel, exploring every inch of Mysto, only to accept the generous invitation to rest his feet for an unknown length of time. Voss was essentially adopted into the clan, and he won't say his time among the clan wasn't exceptional. He quite enjoyed the company in his own cold, uncaring way.

The buildings all looked familiar. Even in their tarnished state, he recalled their traditional style unfounded in urban villages and towns that adopted brick into their foundation. One story houses with condensed rooms capable of fitting a small family unit, still retaining an aspect of cozy living. It was marvelous work done by the village architects.

There was the village schoolhouse where young holders of the Grim Ash Clan's signature magic would learn to manifest and harness their unique power. Voss naturally spent days observing the lessons to see how the Emotion Anima was utilized. He wasn't disappointed with what he saw, especially from the hardened, once carefree spirit of a young Treecko.

Voss stopped in the middle of the village, then turned up to look at the clouds. He sighed with disappointment. "I have stayed fixed with my path for centuries, and I have no desire to abandon the road after centuries of dedication. Even so…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "A shame that, perhaps in another time, I might have wanted to stay a little longer."

"Well, you're an imposing fellow to have found his way to our little village."

Voss woke up from his half-dazed trance and turned to the Sceptile who spoke to him. Voss looked down and saw the Sceptile was in the company of a Treecko hiding behind his father's green robes, staring up at Voss with intrigue.

"Huh?" Voss mumbled. He blinked a couple times, then looked around to see he had wandered into a village without realizing. "Oh. My apologies. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

The Sceptile waved it off. "Hey, it happens. You're a traveler, right?"

"I am." Voss took a moment to stretch out the kinks in his tails and limbs. "I have traveled the lands for so long that I've developed a peculiar habit of walking in my sleep. You never know to where you'll explore until light shines back upon the mind. I've found my way through intricate cave systems by the time I've recovered from restful sleeps."

The Sceptile laughed. "How fascinating. We don't get a lot of strange folk like you around. I meant what I said, you have quite the intimidating presence."

Voss closed his eyes and huffed. "And yet you say this with such a carefree expression. We must have two different interpretations of intimidation."

"Haha! Perhaps so, but everyone here in Monsoon Village gives off that general vibe by default. It's something you just have an eye for."

Voss narrowed his eyes. "This is…Monsoon Village?" He looked around the village with clearer eyes, even taking account of the color-coded fashion trend found among their residents. A staple of the village, specifically of the main residents: the Grim Ash Clan. "I'm already here."

"The name's Camus, by the way," the Sceptile introduced, pulling Voss' attention back over. "Camus Everfall." Camus gently pushed his son out of hiding. "And this little fellow is my son, Griffin."

Griffin stared up at Voss for a moment in awe, then bowed to the imposing Electivire. "It is an honor to meet you, sir. We hope you enjoy your visit in our humble village."

Voss blinked again, then resumed his scan of the village. "I've heard many tales of the famous clan that lives in this village. It is truly a…spectacle to be among you, especially with the rumors of your bloody history."

Camus shook his head. "A sin of the past we try to learn from. You'll find we're a much more peaceful people these days to repent for the misdeeds of our ancestors." Camus chuckled. "So, do not worry about one of us plunging a knife through your back. Hahahahaha! Haha…ha." Camus frowned when he saw Voss not laughing back. "Um, ahem. Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood."

Voss only managed a stoic nod in response. "I see. Well, you certainly have a lovely village. Seems like many powerful warriors reside here." Voss' hand reached for his sword.

"Indeed, we do." Camus patted Voss on the shoulder. "But enough with this standing around and chitchat. You look like a fellow in need of some grub. Tell you what, before I give you a tour of the village, how about you join my family for lunch? My wife makes a killer pasta."

Voss narrowed his eyes. "You would offer me food despite only being a stranger?"

Camus nodded. "The Grim Ash Clan has been seen as monsters for many years. We want to rectify those preconceptions through our hospitality whenever we can. It would be an honor to have you for lunch. You certainly look like you're interested in our little community."

Voss looked around at the village again, then moved his hand off his sword. "I…suppose I am a bit peckish from my journey. I often forget to feed myself in these long walks."

Camus grinned. "That's the spirit! Follow me, then." He waved Voss along and led the way to their hut.

Voss followed, but saw that the young Treecko, Griffin, lagged back some to walk in tandem with him. Voss glanced down at the wide-eyed, curious Treecko. A look of pure innocence, curiosity, and a twinge of excitement. The eyes of a budding warrior invested in the success of a long-time veteran. The kind of look Voss hadn't seen in centuries.

"May I help you?" Voss asked.

"Are you really strong?" Griffin asked.

Voss sighed. "It's rude to answer a question with another question, boy."

"If so, I want to know if you're strong."

Voss scratched behind his head awkwardly. "Awfully pushy to be asking that right off the bat, then. May I ask the meaning behind such a curious question?"

Griffin raised his fists and grinned brightly. "Because I want to know what I'm up against before I become a strong warrior like my dad. I want to be an unstoppable warrior that'll take down all the bad guys and protect the innocent, to restore the reputation of the Grim Ash Clan."

Voss raised his brow in genuine surprise. "Quite the goal for such a young man."

"Well, I share the same dream with my friends, so we can hold the burden together."

"Friends, huh?" Voss faced ahead, the static cold in his face warming up as the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "A fine goal for most, I suppose."

Griffin snickered. "Gee, thanks, Mr. Warrior, sir!"

"Voss."

"Huh?"

"That's my name. Voss." He glanced down at the young Treecko. "A pleasure to meet you, Griffin Everfall."

"HI-YA!" Griffin charged toward the practice dummy and slammed his wooden sword across it with brutal force, nearly snapping the dummy and weapon in two. Griffin dexterously spun the weapon between his fingers, then slashed across the neck with a loud 'THWACK' echoing out.

Voss sat on the sidelines, drinking a cup of green tea. He sighed, then opened his eyes to view Griffin's progress. "That's quite the swing you have, Griffin. With arms like that, you'd be able to decapitate a man with a stick."

Griffin wiped the sweat from his brow, then snickered. "You say some pretty dark stuff, Voss. Do you ever lighten up? I don't think I've ever heard you laugh since you decided to stay here."

"I find it exhausting." Voss sipped his tea, then sighed. "Laughter, joy, and all other enriching emotions of life simply don't entice me like they once did."

"How come?" Griffin asked, leaning on his practice sword.

"A story far too long to explain, and one not suited for one so young."

Griffin glared. "Hey, I've heard some pretty horrific stuff, so whatever you have to say won't scare me."

"Fear isn't the only motivator to my reluctance. I simply hate reminiscing on the past."

"Why?"

Voss sighed. "The past is like a ghost. A haunting reminder, or a living embodiment of regret. Somedays, it's better to ignore the ghost and continue with your life. Never look back, only advance forward. That's how I live my life."

Griffin pouted. "I still don't think that's a good enough excuse not to laugh for once in your life."

"You're young. The mere mention of courtship would be a revolting subject to you, much more the woes of adulthood."

"Courtship?" Griffin repeated in confusion.

"Pursuing a suitable mate to shoulder burdens and conceive the next generation, along with that other pointless crap found in the most depraved of literature."

Griffin mulled over Voss' explanation for a moment, then gagged in response. "Eww, no!"

Voss allowed himself to smile a bit. "As I said, revolting subject."

"Ugh, no thank you. We're talking about fighting, not stupid love crap."

"Indeed. A subject I share no interest in either, though I rather not dig up the skeletons I've buried along my journey."

Griffin snickered. "Oh really? How many have you killed?"

"I lost track somewhere in the thousands."

Griffin belted with laughter. "You sure you don't laugh? You know how to tell some funny jokes."

"Both are mutually exclusive, though I wouldn't categorize what I said as a joke."

"Oh please, you don't look like someone who killed thousands."

"I hide it very well."

Griffin rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, weirdo." Griffin picked up his training sword and squared up against the practice dummy. "How long did it take you to become a professional warrior, anyway?"

"The journey of a warrior never ends. Even when we rise to a status of perfection as viewed by the world, we never stop training to reach the top. There is always someone above you, someone stronger." Voss closed his eyes. "That said, I started training in my teens. Efforts were long and arduous."

"How come?" Griffin slashed across the practice dummy with a light strike.

"Complications of my birth that I've mostly overcome. Would you believe this tired soul if he told you he was one of the weakest younglings in his whole village?"

"You?" Griffin asked in disbelief. "No way. I can tell just by your stature that you're unstoppable."

"Again, I started my journey to strength in my teens. I was, in fact, a frail child in my youth. However, I've grown past that weakness and bury it with the past to carry on with self-improvement. We warriors never stop training, to perfect every technique until we become unbeatable. And even when we've reached that level, we keep pursuing to reach the next stage. There is always a next stage."

Griffin smashed the face of his target, then faced Voss. "Who was the strongest you've ever faced?"

"The strongest…" Voss stroked his chin. "A man I looked up to from long ago. Strong, powerful, commanding. He defeated me in battle many years ago. Rather than slay me in battle as tradition dictated, he took me on as…an apprentice, of sorts."

Griffin raised his brow. "When was it tradition to kill someone in a duel?"

"There are…some traditions too archaic that still stand the tests of time, I suppose." Voss sipped his tea again. "He was the strongest I've faced, but not the strongest I've witnessed. I…may never get a chance to face that kind of strength again, and so I've put it away to continue forward in search of the strongest. I wish to face the one who will slay me in battle."

Griffin's eyes widened. "Why would you want that?"

Voss didn't answer immediately, perhaps because he himself didn't fully understand the depths of his reasoning. He had all the time in the world to culminate an answer, yet everything he lived for was driven by a single-minded goal. To back out of it was a disrespect to those he faced over countless years. A waste of life ripped apart by his blade.

"Griffin. Perfection is a…toxic mindset, I've come to realize in my time."

"Toxic mindset?"

Voss nodded. "It's become my singular purpose. An obsession. My only purpose to live. I fear not death, but the time when it comes to claim my soul. In death, I will not be able to fight the strongest. I wish to know the peak of strength, to answer that burning question I've put up with my whole life. I…" Voss sighed and shook his head. "I shouldn't have to dump my baggage onto you, Griffin. You're young. It's not your concern. Not your burden. Perhaps…another time."

Griffin tilted his head. "If you say so." He turned back to his target and continued landing practice strikes against it. "Well, if you don't mind, could you teach me a few moves? I want to be as strong as you one day. The strongest warrior around."

"Would you ever grow tired of the fighting?" Voss asked.

"I don't see why. Fighting's fun. I like the challenge."

"And what if that thirst for battle can never be satisfied?"

Griffin shrugged. "I'm just a kid. I'll worry about that when I'm older." He struck the target three times, each chipping away at the chest.

Voss narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, then stood up. "I suppose I can teach you a little of what I've learned in my travels."

Griffin looked up with a hopeful smile. "Really?"

Voss nodded. "Strictly out of curiosity. I'd…like to see the limits of the Grim Ash Clan's bloodline."

Voss' wandering through the ruined village led him to an area of interest, one that had plagued his mind for months. The debacle of Puck's experimentation during the Gelid Peak incident. Voss always hated what Puck did to reanimate those dummies, but he kept it mostly to himself in favor of the mission. To see the aftermath of Puck's raid, however, filled Voss with a mild irritation.

The graveyard of the Monsoon Village, which found a staggering increase in residency since his massacre on the villagers. Numerous bodies, from young to old, lay buried in front of Voss. Men, women, and children alike all sat tucked away inside the ruined lands Voss scorched with his thirst for challenge. A disappointment he dared not linger on.

Voss focused on a few particular graves. The grave of Camus and Ramona Everfall, who were courteous hosts in his time with the clan. Voss debated on whether he was disappointed in the swiftness of his clan with Camus or the cutting down of someone he admired as an equal. The hunger for battle dulled a sense of empathy, though that didn't mean Voss lacked a minute form of it.

His focus turned to the front of the graveyard, where the five elders of the village lay buried, including Griffin's grandfather. The source of Voss' internal ire. Voss could only imagine the mess made when the shadows collected from the corpses. They were since cleaned up, perhaps by a kindhearted traveler revolted by the disgraceful graverobbing. Perhaps Griffin and his friends passed through the village to fix the graves. They were aware of Puck's misdeeds since Gelid Peak.

Voss rarely showed empathy for the warriors he cut down, hardly bothering to remember names or significance, but the Grim Ash Clan was an exception. It filled the void in his heart, which followed him for the last five hundred years. Even if his time with the clan was short (short by an immortal's standards, at least), Voss didn't despise his time with them. The best he could offer was to keep the clan in his memory.

Voss removed his sword and set it on the ground in front of himself. He dropped to his knees, then cupped his hands together, mumbling a silent prayer to the graveyard. Though his actions were unforgiveable, the least he could do was honor the home he never thought he'd love.

Voss wondered somedays that, if given the chance, would he undo the torment he brought down on Monsoon Village so that he could live a quiet, retired life? How many futures did he cut down in his massacre? Who among the village would've become exceptional magicians, or the arbiter of goodwill?

What would've become of his little protégé, Griffin, once bright-eyed and cheerful? To imagine a timeline where the scowling Grovyle was a happy-go-lucky swordsman seemed absurd, yet not unwanted.

One had to ask: what point is there to all this senseless murder if it tires Voss? Why does he continue to pursue the strongest even when he knows the pain it brings others? What is stopping him from turning over a new leaf?

There was no clear answer. There was only choice.

There was only blood.

BANG!

Voss raised his arm and deflected a bullet with his bracer, ricocheting it into a tree. Voss opened his eyes, then glared over his shoulder. He sensed various auras hiding within the trees and bushes, and each one was primed for battle. They were hardy, tense, and strong.

A disappointing sight, however.

Voss picked up his sword and stood up. "Have you come to kill me?" He reattached his sword to his waist, then turned to face the hidden figures. "Will one of you bring me toward the reaper's scythe, or shall I tarnish these lands in the blood of fools?"

Multiple warriors stepped into the dim light as the storm picked up. Voss squinted through the rain and identified a few species. A Scolipede with mounted gatling guns on each side. A Noivern draped in a large red cape. A Typhlosion wielding a massive battle axe over their shoulder. A Hitmontop with nunchucks strapped to the waist.

Many others stepped out of hiding, raising their weapons toward the murderous Electivire. Voss kept one hand on his sword and stared down the group with a fixed glare.

"Which of you shall award me with death?" Voss asked. "Show me the power of the new generation."

"That's a tall order to fill, fella." Voss' eyes shot up to one of the buildings and saw a Shiftry standing at the tip of the roof, perfectly balanced on one leg. He was adorned in blue armor with a mask over his eyes. He stared down at Voss with crossed arms and a determined look. "We'll be happy to send you to hell."

Voss glared at the warrior. "Do you hide up there out of fear?"

"I am merely a wanderer among these warriors, all with the common goal of putting an end to the Invincible Titan himself."

Voss squinted and noted the weapon attached to the Shiftry's back. It was an elaborate scabbard with nine ports, four on each side and one at the top center, each with a hilt nestled inside. The scabbard was blue with black crisscross straps covering it. Voss was also certain he saw something glimmering off each of the hilts. Something that resembled numbers.

Something about the weapon intrigued Voss, enough to forget the extras marching toward him.

"May I ask for the name of my killer?" Voss asked.

The Shiftry glared, spiking up his mane of white hair like quills. "Travis Blight. Silver Twister: Travis Blight."