Okay, I lied.
I'm managing to get some work done on MiST instead of my potential novel. It's just, I wanna write about F/GO stuff, not a boring political thriller! I'm sorry that I'm human! I've invested myself in this too!
Right, so! We're continuing right off from where we left off in the fifth chapter with the introduction of the Blue Hound of Ulster. Helmuth's group of civilians and Chaldea survivors are trying to make their way to a leyline intersection, and chances are that they'll probably run into a shadow servant this chapter. Hopefully. I don't really know what's going to happen myself per chapter, as I write these AN's before I actually get too far into the chapter itself. I just come back here to post the word count at the end.
Anyways.
Word count was 4,814, including the Omake at the end.
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"What did you expect?" – Talking
'A war like no other?' – Thought
"Der Teufel selbst?" – Very bad Google Translate, or emphasis on speech
'Or just a bad dream?' – Written word
~ Maybe it was nothing at all. ~ – Radio Chatter
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"What in the Hell is a Servant Caster?"
That was the current thought running through Helmuth's head as he kept the Eberkönig level with the man's chest. The quintet of Helmuth, Hertzog, Fujimaru, Kyrelight, and Animusphere – who was cowering behind Hertzog – were settled into a tense standoff with the aforementioned Caster, who merely stood a few feet away from them. With both his hands on the large staff he carried, he was apparently content to just smirk at the group. Behind the standoff, the remainder of the first responders of the civilian group finished up with the undead that had attacked.
The second thought that ran through Helmuth's mind, was how quickly could he get a shot off at the man, while also trying to get out of the way of any immediate retaliation. He slowly brought the Eberkönig up to his shoulder, peering down the leaf sight at his adversary.
"Ah, I wouldn't try that if I were you buddy," came the jovial statement from the man, "I don't doubt you're quick on the draw there, but well… You're all standing on something pretty nasty I set up."
Behind him, Helmuth heard Animusphere hiss. "Runestones!"
"Got it in one Miss!" He laughed, twirling his staff slowly and pointing at Helmuth and Hertzog. "I've been sitting here for a couple minutes, keeping an eye on you two since you got here. Figured I'd get some defenses up, you know? Shame about your third guy too, although at least he got to go quick from what I saw. Archer's efficient like that."
Helmuth grimaced, baring his teeth. "And what is it that you want from us then?"
"Ah, not much really. Just a regular case of 'enemy of my enemy is my friend'."
"Pardon?"
"Well Archer was the bastard that offed your friend," the nonchalant reply came, "And he's been a thorn in my side since the Grail War began; both him and his King, Saber, were the ones who caused this whole fire mess that's going on around you all. They've been trying to off me for a long while now."
"And how are we to trust your word?" Hertzog's voice cut through.
"Simple." He responded, looking bored. "I haven't tried to kill you. If I wanted to, your merry band of men would've perished already, but I haven't done anything yet. Figured I could help you out."
"Again, how can we trust you then?" Animusphere asked heatedly, "You're a Servant. And from the chances, you've got no Master tying you down. For all we know, the second we turn our backs to you you'll set off these runestones!"
"Ah geez, whatever shall you do then?" Caster sardonically replied. "I guess the only thing you could do is have a Master I could pledge myself to for prana, and then you wouldn't have to worry about any back stabbings, huh? Oh wait, nevermind, you got one right there."
An awkward silence drew over the group as Caster stared intently at Fujimaru, who merely shuffled on the balls of his feet. In all the pandemonium of the scenario, Helmuth had completely forgotten the fact that the young man was one of these 'Masters', although this was the first time he heard of a pledge involving a Servant and a Master here.
"If, uh, if you'd want to," Fujimaru began with a stutter, "Caster-san, would you mind making a contract with us then?"
With a dramatic sigh, the man in blue threw his hands up. "Final-fucking-ly! God, thought you'd keep me waiting. Sure kid, looks like we're joining forces. Gimme your hand. Right, ok. Blah blah blah, I put myself into your service, blah blah blah, ok. Servant Caster, now in your service Master, we're good to go."
"Just like that?" Fujimaru asked, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.
"Just like that, yeah." Caster answered, leaning against his staff. "What, you'd thought it'd be this big magical light show? Piss off."
Helmuth resisted the urge to slap his palm to his face in exasperation. This was the next level of tedious and stupidity if he ever heard it.
"Right, well then… If all of that is over and done with, can we continue on?" Helmuth asked with a sigh, "We still need to get to those leylines or whatever Herr Doktor spoke of."
This peeked Caster's attention, and he turned his gaze to Helmuth.
"Leylines eh?" He asked, scratching his chin, "You would happen to mean the ones up by that mansion in the hills, do you? Ooh, I hope you aren't planning on going by the riverfront anytime soon then Master."
"A-and, uh, why's that Caster-san?"
"That's where Rider hangs out." Came the nonchalant reply. "And take it from me, you don't want to be dealing with her with this many people. She'll rip you apart in no time, if she's in a good mood."
"I shudder to think what'd happen if she were in a bad one then," Helmuth muttered, before continuing. "It shouldn't be an issue. We weren't planning on heading there at all, rather we'll be heading north towards it, away from the river itself."
Checking behind him, Helmuth nodded at Officer Mitsunari. In the time that the party had been speaking with Caster, the civilians had managed to quickly finish off the horde that had beset them, and the first responders were now holding a defensive cover around the families of the group. A quick glance of the rooftops showed that they were clear, like the street itself, and Helmuth began to get antsy. It felt like something was watching them, and he wanted to get a move on as soon as possible.
Helmuth then cast a glance at his watch on his left wrist told him they were bleeding precious sunlight – what little managed to pierce through the smog-like clouds hanging above. The group had about two hours of daylight left, and who knew what kind of horrors would be lurking in the dark after the sun fell. So, after a quick nod to Hertzog, he slung the Eberkönig onto his back once more, and interjected into the argument that Animusphere and Caster were having about the validity of this other Servant.
"Hate to be interrupting, Frau Direktorin," he stated, withdrawing Mitternachtskönigin from her holster under his left arm, "but we need to be going. Now. If we want to reach these leylines before nightfall, we've got to hurry. Caster, is it alright to ask if you join me on point? I feel like you've got a good feel for these streets, ja?"
Caster seemed impressed at the question. "Sure, don't see why not bud. Just don't expect me to charge into any enemies, since I don't have my spear I won't be at optimal power."
"Danke. Alright people!" Helmuth thanked the blue-clad Caster, before yelling to the civilians, "We're wasting daylight, so let's get a move on! Rendezvous is close, so we're almost to safety!"
"After you, von Trotha." Hertzog murmured with a smirk.
"Aber naturlich, soldat Hertzog, aber naturlich…" Helmuth replied, as he felt a shiver run up his spine…
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The being watched the group from afar, shrouded in a thick miasma surrounding him.
So, the traitor had joined forces with this new group of enemies, hm? Well, it mattered not, a few more bodies to kill was nothing for him. He was going to win that damned Grail, he just had to work his way up from the smallest fry – although it didn't matter that this small fry kept constantly evading him. And once he managed to kill that damned Caster, then it was Rider, then Berserker, and then finally the Archer and Saber.
With a wicked grin under his mask, Assassin swiftly began the hunt for his prey.
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Thankfully, an hour's worth of travel was all the Fuyuki survivors needed to get to the leyline location. And, surprisingly enough, a mansion sat upon them. Three stories tall, with magnificent wood working – how that didn't catch fire was amazing – and large fences keeping the place sealed, it was both a fortress and quite a beautiful place to live. Who owned it, on the other hand…
"Ah, the Tohsaka residence?" Officer Mitsunari offered helpfully, "They were a rich family here."
"Were?" Helmuth asked.
"Well, the father lost his life in the wild fire that happened a decade or so ago, and the wife committed suicide. Their daughter was the only one residing her after that, but I don't think she does anymore…"
"Oof."
Indeed, as the group slowly filtered onto the mansion grounds, Helmuth got yet another chill up his spine. This place, which had been full of life at one point he was sure, was now empty and soulless. Nevertheless, the decision was final. This was to be their base of operations in the town of Fuyuki for the time being. First order of business was getting inside the place, after that?
Contact needed to be established – both with Chaldeas and with the Hive. Afterwards, the immediate transfer of the Fuyuki survivors to either of the home bases was the most pressing issue, although with Chaldeas currently trying to get itself fixed, it would be wiser send the civilians to GKI instead. Thirdly, the transfer of support forces to Chaldea would also be important if Helmuth and Hertzog were to continue operating in this universe. And finally, backup and/or a larger presence at Chaldea after this current operation.
Besides him, Animusphere was already starting to discuss defenses with Hertzog and Caster, as apparently the two – herself and Caster – were capable of placing runestones around the property for defense, while Hertzog's G4 was capable of keeping the dead afar from the third story. Still, a lack of ammo was going to be a problem in the long run if they were to keep this up. She'd run out of ammo before long, and then they'd be resorting to secondaries and close combat.
Sighing deeply, Helmuth kneaded his temples. He'd been running on heightened senses and alcohol to get him here, and both were taking their toll on him. A pounding headache was slowly building, and he felt like if he were to continue like this for any longer, he'd collapse. So, it was a weary face that he made his way up to the mansion's front door, Mitsunari, Fujimaru, and Kyrelight following.
"So, this is it, huh?" Fujimaru asked quietly, staying close to Kyrelight as the young woman rest her shield against herself.
"Looks like it," Helmuth muttered, "Leylines are supposed to be here, supposedly."
Kyrelight nodded, tucking some of her hair behind an ear. "Hai, I can feel the leylines underneath this place. It's, they're quite powerful actually."
"Now only if we could get in…" Helmuth replied, jiggling the doorknob.
"Oh, I could get that Trotha-san."
"Nein, danke, I can get it. Uh, Fujimaru, would you mind getting my pistol from the Direktor, please? I'll need it back."
With a glance, Fujimaru nodded and left, Kyrelight following close behind him.
Young love, Helmuth thought with a grimace. A startling shudder ran through him, and his knees nearly buckled. Steadying himself against the doors, Helmuth became hyper aware of what was happening to him as he began to hyperventilate.
Post-Battle Stress Attack, or a PBSA, was the common name for the affliction in the Yytuskian Armed Forces – the Yytuskische Streitkräfte. Another, more common name for it in medical circles was a panic attack. An attack on the body's nervous system after a high and then sudden drop of adrenaline, most soldaten of the YSk saw this after their first experience with combat, hence the name. Most citizens in the Federation would usually experience the psychological affliction in their year of compulsory military service (Wehrpflicht), as live-fire training and sometimes mock combat with blanks was common.
For Helmuth, however, he had experienced no such thing before. His Wehrpflicht time was spent as an airforce radar operator. He had never been involved in extended ground combat like he had today before, and now with the loss of both his self-inflicted intoxication and the adrenaline running through his system, it was hitting him twice over. The shaking in his hands and his body intensified as he struggled to getting his breathing to a slow enough rhythm to calm himself down, before he steadied himself against the bannister of the stairs. A deep gurgling echoed loudly from him, and his already pale face paled further.
And with it, rose both his prior drinking of the day and his early breakfast.
With a lurch and a burp, Helmuth threw up violently, thankfully having the foresight to hold his gasmask away from the bile as it erupted from him.
A second wave of nausea hit him a few seconds after he finished the first bout, and he once more leant over.
A hand pressed against his back, grabbing his mask from him and rubbing soothing circles on the nape of his neck as vomit was expelled from him.
"Es geht dir gut, es geht dir gut," Hertzog murmured as Helmuth finished coughing, "Happens to the best of us."
With another sputter, Helmuth spat, before turning to his ally. "D-danke, Hertzog…"
"Think nothing of it, happened to me too, 'cept I didn't have another there to keep the hair out of my face. Then again, that's what you get for drinking on a mission." She said, adding the last bit with a fox-like smirk.
"Thanks, but I'd prefer it were the concussion I most definitely have…"
"Are you alright over here, Trotha-san?" Fujimaru asked as he returned, gingerly holding the P12 that Helmuth had lent Animusphere.
"Fine now, might need to sit down and rest for a bit," he replied honestly, wiping some spittle from his lips. "You mind blowing the lock on the door, Fujimaru? I'd do it, but my hands are shaky-like."
Before the response could come, three rapid-fire shots rang out, along with the sound of splintering wood, drawing everyone's attention.
Nonchalantly, Hertzog holstered her now-smoking P12, grinning. "House is open. Let's make ourselves at home."
With a matching grin, Caster called out by Animusphere. "Nice. I'm beginning to feel like this might be a fun time with you lot."
"Well, not a lot can go wrong from here, right? I mean, mission objective completed!" Hertzog responded, smiling. "We can finally contact home and get things fixed! We can finally get some rest and back up, and maybe even head home if they call the mission scrubbed!"
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"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T GO HOME YET?!"
This was yelled from the basement of the Tohsaka residence, forcing Helmuth to wince and hold his now completely bandaged-head. Across from him sat Caster, who was also holding his head in agony as the two rested in a master bedroom.
The yelling had started barely twenty minutes after Animusphere, Fujimaru, Kyrelight, and Hertzog had managed to find what the Magi called a "workshop" in the basement. Helmuth had no clue what that meant, but apparently the room allowed Hertzog's radio pack to crackle to life, allowing her contact with the Hive. It also allowed the Chaldeans to officially set up their communicators to constantly stay in contact with their own home base as well.
And that's where the first bit off issue began.
Helmuth had noticed this earlier on, but Hertzog had been slowly becoming angrier and angrier with their current position in this universe. Not anger at him, thankfully, but rather at the Hive and GKI for giving them faulty equipment to use. Add onto the fact that now they were roped into trying to save this universe, as well as twenty-something civilians, well…
Another string of curses emanated from the next floor down.
Hertzog was scary when she was angry.
From what he could gather – in between the expletives and yelling – was that after the Hive lost all contact with Muhlkampf, they tried contacting them for a full half-hour before giving up. So naturally, when Hertzog called in, she had managed to get the only person left in the operations room: an Echtmönche-Yytusche by the name of Ahavniel ben Sherry, who had been there only in the event of an emergency.
And an emergency it was, as Sherry – Tekkie, Hertzog had passionately called him – had managed to rouse Dr. Schiessman from her chambers with a skeleton support staff to figure out just what the hell was going on. And from what the arguing match going on was like, it was probably a shitshow. The argument that was going on now was probably about the civilians, and where they were to go – Chaldea, or GKI?
A moment of calm had Helmuth glancing over at Caster – the man had supplied his name as Cu Chulainn when they had settled into the mansion – who only blinked in confusion as well.
A sudden pounding at the door to the room the two were in had Helmuth jumping to his feet, just as Hertzog smashed her way into the room.
"You." She growled, pointing angrily at Helmuth, "Downstairs. Jetzt."
With a meep, and clutching his pounding head, Helmuth obliged, following the angry woman as Cu offered a sincere – read, not – to him.
Following his angered co-worker into the workshop downstairs, Helmuth would've been intrigued if he hadn't been scared shitless.
The basement had been separated into two halves: a rec room complete with a billiards table, and the workshop, whose entrance was hidden behind a bookcase.
The rec room would've been a nice place to relax it hadn't been commandeered by the Chaldeans, who were pouring over every text from the study two floors above. Lush, well-kept hardwood flooring, with wooden panelled walls, the aforementioned billiards table, a small bar, and a few couches gave the room a sophisticated "man-cave" feel. The various family photos lining those walls added into the feel, with the family in all those photos painting a happy family. Hell, there was even a minifridge.
The workshop, on the other hand, was almost the complete opposite.
It was if the room had never been completed, with a cold stone flooring, the walls – with the exception of the one connecting it to the rec room – being cobblestone, with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Workbenches and tables covered in various things that Helmuth had no clue were, a bookshelf off in the far corner, a chair, a locked chest, and coat rack also stood in the room, with Hertzog's radio pack on one of said tables, but they weren't the things that dominated your view. That went to the large pentagram-like sigil etched into the floor in the middle of the room.
It had candles.
Okay, it had more than just candles, but that was all Helmuth's eyes could focus on as Hertzog basically dragged him to the communications pack. He figured that once this was all over, he could thoroughly inspect the room if he wanted to.
"Jack your mask in," Hertzog announced as they got to the table, "Dr. Schiessman wants to talk with us."
Pulling his gasmask over his head with a shrug, Helmuth plugged the cord that usually connected to the personal radio he had into the radio pack, and nodded at Hertzog as he heard the feedback play.
"We're both her now, Doctor."
~ Gutt, gutt. It's good to hear from the both of you. ~ Dr. Schiessman's voice echoed through Helmuth's ears, sounding tiny and far away. ~ Now, I've heard your report Wachoffizier Hertzog, now let us hear it from you Unterwachoffizier von Trotha. ~
"Well, Dr. Schiessman," Helmuth began with a cough, before continuing with the events both he and Hertzog had experienced.
Everything from the shambling dead, the burning town and possibly destroyed planet, the Chaldeans, the group of survivors, they're run-in with Caster and subsequent alliance, and now the leyline-infused base of operations they were hunkered down in. Other than that, things had been pretty hectic otherwise…
"… And that's all, I suppose…"
There was a pause on the other end of the frequency, as the crew back home tried to make sense of just what the hell that Helmuth and Hertzog had stumbled into.
A half minute later, Dr. Schiessman's voice rang through again.
~ Well, that's… Definitely something. ~ She murmured, ~ Be as it may, I'm relieved that both of you are in good enough health. Orders would usually be to continue helping out the survivors, however we've managed to get a good enough signal to send something through for you or vice versa. After that, we'll be able to secure the civilians you have, and then when this 'singularity' is fixed, send them to Chaldea. ~
"There's still the matter of weaponry Doctor," Hertzog pointed out. "So far our weapons have been doing good enough, but I get the feeling that if we are to engage one of these servants, we'll get a thorough ass-whooping."
~ I can understand. When we send through the beacon, we'll also send through something another team managed to pickup. You might find it useful, and it runs off the same energies that we use here at GKI. ~
Hertzog shared a look with Helmuth, and the both shrugged. Whatever it was, it had to be good to be sent through.
"And this, beacon?"
~ It's a one-way teleportation pole, basically. You'll have to get the civilians to all bunch up and hold onto each other, and then get one to hold the pole. We'll be able to pull you – again – when the singularity ends. ~
There was a pause, before Dr. Schiessman continued.
~ Also, it occurred to Technician ben Sherry here that we'd have no way to return to this Chaldea, so we'll supply you with a locator for them to set up. Sounds good? ~
"Yes ma'am," Hertzog replied, "Is that all?"
~ It is for now. Hopefully we'll be able to keep in contact now that you've tuned the radio, but if we don't… Godspeed then. ~
"Thank you, Doctor."
Another pause, and the radio went dead.
Helmuth turned his gaze to Hertzog, who only grimaced.
"They weren't going to tell me anything until I got you as well," she supplied, giving her reason for dragging him down stairs, "and I figure now we're gonna get some good equipment now anyways, so let's get those civvies squared away."
"Ja, I suppose."
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Surprisingly enough, the teleportation pole that had been sent through was just that: a pole. Sure, it looked futuristic, with a mostly polymer design, but Helmuth was unimpressed. It had appeared in a flash of light, as well as the 'special gift' GKI had sent them, in the living room upstairs, and Helmuth wasted no time gathering up the Fuyuki survivors together to use it.
Quickly gathered, the group of twenty-one people all held together with the pole, and Mitsunari gave one last thanks to Helmuth and company. He then pressed the big red button on the pole, and the entire group disappeared in flash similar to how it arrived. That was one less problem that the group now had to deal with.
Now though, it was just a small group of six, Helmuth and Hertzog, the trio from Chaldea, and Cu Chulainn. And Animusphere was not happy at their small numbers. So, it was decided that Ritsuka Fujimaru was going to use that summoning circle downstairs to summon another servant. It was also decided to take a look at the 'special gift' from GKI afterwards.
"So how exactly does this work?" Helmuth asked inquisitively as they gathered.
"It's rather simple," Romani began as Kyrelight lay her shield overtop of the summoning circle, "Mash's shield will act as a conduit for the FATE system back in Chaldea, which will charge the summoning system underneath. And then, those energies will reach into the Throne of Heroes and summon a servant that'll help in our quest to save humanity!"
Animusphere fumed, stamping her foot. "Who the hell allowed you to talk Romani?!"
"S-Sorry Director," the man stuttered, "I just figured we'd save time and give them a quick explanation rather than a long-winded one!"
"Well, I get it at least," Helmuth answered before Animusphere could continue arguing, "danke, Dr. Romani. I'd prefer a quick explanation over a long one to be sure."
"Director, Master," Kyrelight announced, "everything is set."
Fujimaru faltered, looking at Animusphere expectantly. "What, uh, what exactly am I supposed to do for this?"
"Ugh, just activate your circuits and order a servant to be summoned!" Animusphere yelled, before muttering, "God, why couldn't someone more competent survived…?"
"Right… Uh… Here I go then…" Fujimaru began, before coughing, "Uh, to, uh, any servants within the Throne of Heroes, heed my call. I call upon you to come forth, lend your abilities to us to fight this war, and bring forth the safe keeping of humanity!"
With each word that left his mouth, Helmuth was amazed to see the summoning circle charge with an ethereal light. It continued growing, eventually getting to the point of blinding the occupants of the room, before it suddenly disappeared. And where the circle was stood yet another servant.
The first thing Helmuth distinctly noticed was a sweet, pungent smell in the air. The smell of well fermented wine, or grape schnapps that had been left out in the warm for too long. The smell alone was almost intoxicating, but not enough so to that point.
The next thing was the servant themselves. At 4'6", and clad in a purple robe with what appeared to be deep red tentacle flowing upwards from the hem and sleeves, the servant was an odd looking one. Odd because of the fact that she had a pair of horns on her forehead, parting her bangs, and what appeared to be some sort of dark material barely covering her indecent bits and contrasting greatly with her pale white skin. Strapped onto her back was a large, flask-like object, filled with an unknown liquid tinted blue by the flask's blued glass. Her hair, a simple bobcut-style, was a deep purple – and what was with this universe and having weirdly coloured hair? – which faded towards the tips. And finally, her eyes – filled with mirth – were a pale fuchsia.
A sultry smile played at her lips.
"Ara, what a welcome party…~" She murmured, turning her gaze onto Fujimaru "and all for little old me, hm, Master?~ Shuten Douji, Oni-King and Servant Assassin, I feel like we'll have grand time partying.~"
Off in the corner, mostly to himself as the newly dubbed Assassin draped herself over Fujimaru – much to the chagrin of Kyrelight – Helmuth muttered almost silently.
"Was ist mit diesem kleinen, frechen, betrunkenen Kind...?"
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OMAKE: A Drinking Contest Between Men; That Night
"My father always told me: never trust a man who can't hold his liquor. So, I decided the best way to get to know you, Caster, was by celebrating with a drink."
"Not that I'm complaining," the servant in blue said, "but what exactly are we celebrating?"
"The fact that we got a nice roof over our heads, and booze to drink mein Kamerad." Came Helmuth's deadpanned response.
Rummaging around in his rucksack, the twenty-one-year-old gave a laugh of happiness as he procured two bottles of alcohol, setting them on the table the two were sitting at. Quickly retrieving a pair of pilfered shot glasses as well, he set those about the table as well, before seating himself across from the blue-clad servant.
"So, it's going to go like this," he explained, "We're going to try and get ourselves shitfaced, and in doing so, get to know each other better. Get it?"
"I think I've got it," Came the reply, "but question. Is this going to be a drinking contest, or just between allies?"
"Hopefully both."
A feral grin raced across Caster's face. "Alright then, hit me then."
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It was quite a sight when Hertzog found the two, two hours later.
Cu Chulainn was nursing an entire bottle to himself, muttering drunkenly about something, while Helmuth was completely passed out across from him. Hertzog managed to count forty-three bottles – forth-four if you counted the one in Chulainn's hands – between the two of them, and facepalmed.
Inhaling quickly, she yelled.
"IST ES DAS, WAS IHR SCHEIßKERLE DIE GANZE ZEIT GEMACHT HABT?! WIR SUCHEN SEIT ZWEI STUNDEN NACH EUCH BEIDEN ARSCHLECKERN!"
*Translated: Is that what you bastards have been doing this whole time?! We've been looking for you two ass lickers for two hours!
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Well, there we go. One step closer to the end of Singularity F, the civvies taken care of back at GKI, a new servant to ally for the Chaldeans to ally themselves with, and Helmuth's soon to be return to his own universe for some well needed rest!
I worked on this for the better part of a week during NaNoWriMo, and I know I said that I was going to be working on something else, but God Sakes, trying to write that was like having constipation so I just returned to this. I'll hopefully be keeping on with my Monday publish schedule, although this is getting published for you Yanks and your weird Having-Thanksgiving-in-November-Instead-of-October-Like-Everyone-Else asses. Then again, you're the only ones who use the that weird metric system of yours.
Still, expect chapter seven to be out sometime on the first Monday of December.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Please remember to review, like, follow, et cetera, but most importantly review! Author's love seeing those, and I do as well. It shows me that people are actually reading my work, and are trying to give me support or feedback!
Happy Thanksgiving Yanks!