AN: Note – Alltariss – Here is the introduction for some of my Original Characters before a pair of them wind up in Naruto's world. Obviously a lot of people seem to hate OC's and with good reason, a lot of OC's by various authors and they can be really, REALLY, horrendous in design. But I know very well the types of traps one call fall into when creating them. Mary Sue, Gary Stu, both horrible and sometimes it's worse when they turn out to be Naruto himself in an author's fic. Essentially OOC without giving a proper background and context to back up the change in the character's behaviour.
VERY IMPORTANT!
Some of the techniques, methods, relationships, and all-round context revealed in this chapter will play a BIG part in how the mechanics of the NarutoVerse function. I have taken great care and spent months (almost more than a year) to try and create world that follows logic and reason. Even though that world is filled with magic/chakra and any other mystical force, which naturally defies logic and reason in most cases.
I've made some subtle changes, but it doesn't really change the script entirely.
Chapter 3
Step Through The Looking Glass
He struck the cloth bag again and again. The thin material was already stained dark red with blood. The guards at the door watched with fearful eyes, as their king attacked the hanging sack mercilessly. Ezekiel paused, breathing deeply. He looked at his hands drenched in crimson; he clenched them into fists again feeling the tackiness of the liquid.
"Open the bag," he commanded.
The guards did as they were told, almost tripping over themselves in haste. With a dagger they cut open the bag. The body that dropped to the floor did so with a wet smack. The limbs and ligaments were bent in angles they were never supposed to go, the flesh long since blue-black from the trauma. It was a most grotesque sight that had one of the men nearly puking. Only the fear of showing such weakness before his liege-lord prevented the contents of his stomach to be publically displayed.
"The next time one of my men fails their duty, educate them before I do."
"Y–Yes, milord," saluted the guards.
Ezekiel made his way out of the room, heading towards the baths. The halls he walked through were adorned with paintings of his ancestors, depicting their great deeds. As he reached the bathing chamber he nodded at the guards at the entrance, who understood that they were to leave.
Stripping himself of all clothing he waded into the pool. He stood waist-deep and simply basked in its warmth. Cupping his hands with water he splashed his face, ridding his cheeks and hands of the blood that coloured them. The purity of the water was now marred by crimson swirls.
Ezekiel heard footsteps behind him. He paused to hear each footfall. He knew it wasn't any of his men; they never walked with absolute confidence in his presence. Turning around he observed his bath-time intruder.
The oil–lit lamps could only illuminate the lower portion of man's face. From the slight turning of his head, Ezekiel guessed he was observing the ornate designs of the chamber and its architecture.
Ezekiel submerged himself fully beneath the water before lazily rising to greet his guest.
"The great god himself graces me with his presence," he said, mockingly. His amber eyes revealed a sense of anger beneath his false mirth. Strands of black hair clung to his face, lending a look of insanity to his smirk.
"I have come as you so childishly demanded. What do you want?" the hooded figure commanded. His voice was a rich timbre that echoed through the bath chamber.
Ezekiel ignored the insult and clapped his hands. "I hope your journey was well. Shall I call for refreshments?"
A small child appeared from behind one of the many pillars that upheld the high ceiling. A girl that could only be no more than seven summers old. Her tiny frame trembled as she forced herself to move closer to her master. The serving plate she held quivered, the cup placed on it inevitably clattered to the floor before she took more than three steps. Tears welled in her eyes before rushing down her cheeks as she began to sob almost uncontrollably. It seemed a miracle that she wasn't wailing by sheer will or absolute fear, perhaps a violent concoction of both. Her legs buckled and she collapsed in a small heap, whimpering apologies.
Ezekiel stepped out of the water towards the girl, watering dripping off his naked body. Reaching down, he grabbed her by the hair and slowly lifted her to his own height. Even in great pain she forced herself to not cry out. Her hands clasped together begging forgiveness she would not receive.
"I've already punished you twice now, haven't I little girl?" he whispered. "Perhaps you enjoy my punishment."
"I didn't come here to chat or observe your fetish for young children," said the cloaked man, clearly repulsed by the behaviour displayed before him.
He pulled his hood back revealing his features. Silver hair flowed and framed his face, making his alabaster skin seem darker. His eyes were his most noticeable feature; the colours were inverted. The white of his eyes, the sclera, was black as can be. His iris was white as snow with his pupils glowing ethereally. All in all, it was a startling sight to see such an uncommon colouring of one's eyes. Nevertheless, the king controlled the reflexive impulse to be shocked.
"I was hoping to have a nice conversation," Ezekiel said, releasing the girl. "The truth is I need your help, Lucifer."
"What help?" Lucifer asked, his gaze drifting towards the girl, still cowering before her master. She returned his gaze, eyes pleading for salvation. Salvation he could not give.
"The prince of Narevia looks strikingly identical to my dearly departed uncle. When I first engaged the prince in battle I thought that my uncle had risen from the grave," Ezekiel began. "I faced the prince thrice in combat and it was then when I learnt his name."
He pointed his finger accusingly at Lucifer. "His name is Alltariss, the exact same name as my uncle. They even call him Alto, my uncle's nickname that everyone used to call him by."
"Is there a point to this tale?" Lucifer drawled, obviously provoking the king.
"What sorcery have you done? What mockeries of my family have you committed?" Ezekiel hissed through grinding teeth.
"Your uncle was a good man. I pitied his existence, and so I put him to good use," Lucifer answered, nonchalantly. "Reincarnating him as your enemy was a fitting purpose. He didn't deserve the treatment he received from his own people, because of the foolishness of a mad king."
"My father was not mad!" Ezekiel shouted, enraged. "My uncle was a traitor and a kin-slayer."
"If only you knew the truth of what really happened between them," Lucifer whispered, shaking his head. "Do you truly believe that your mother cried for your father, that her tears were for him, a madman who treated her like a common whore?"
So furious was Ezekiel that he could not find the words to answer back to the god. His insinuations were akin to striking him in the face.
The atmosphere in the chamber changed, the air suddenly felt heavier. Lucifer's presence became almost tangible as his frosted rage sent chills down Ezekiel's spine.
"You are no longer my concern. I gave up on lost causes like you and your people the moment you all became enamoured by your own power. You were my children once, but you strayed from the path." Lucifer's voice cut into him like chips of frigid ice.
Placing his hood back on, he turned and began to exit the chamber.
"The sins you've committed are beyond redemption. Just look at what you've already done to that girl and what you will do to her once I leave. You feel no pity, no remorse, no guilt. Aren't you ashamed of what you've done?"
He continued to walk; his body wavered and began to fade away.
"Aren't you ashamed of who you are, Demon King?"
He had the girl's hands tied, blindfolded her, and hung from the ceiling, her toes just barely touching the soft mattress beneath her. Her soft cries were the only sounds heard in the bedchamber. Ezekiel lounged languidly on the edge of the mattress watching her intently. He had stripped her of all clothing, leaving her flesh exposed for his enjoyment.
He marvelled at the small scars that littered her petite body. In his hands was a single long feather from a hawk. Focusing the Mana in his body, he willed the feather to float into the air and move at his command.
It floated to the girl's feet and lightly touched her toes, making her flinch.
"Shhh…" Ezekiel hushed softly. "This is your punishment, your penance for your disgraceful service."
His fingers moved and the feather mimicked his will. It slowly brushed against her ankle and flowed along her skin upwards. Her body trembled terribly as it leisurely travelled up her leg.
"And even worse," he chastised. "You did so before a very important guest."
The feather glided and stopped at the dip of her collarbone. With an extra application of Mana Ezekiel hardened the edge of the feather to a razor finish, before slashing down. The girl yelped in pain, and started weeping uncontrollably.
He tilted his head back and breathed deeply, as if to drink in the sound of her cries. The cut was shallow, just enough to draw the most minuscule amount of blood.
"Tonight's session has only begun," he said. "I hope it will help you remember to be more useful. Or you and I will be spending much more time together."
He moved his fingers again and the feather softly caressed her navel. With a sharp movement it sliced into her once more. Her cries would continue on throughout the entire night.
Ezekiel sat upon his throne staring down. Cross-hatched lines of hieroglyphs inlaid into the black marble covered the floor. They told the history of the royal house, each line a person and their deeds.
Even our own god abandons us. Can he not comprehend the importance of winning this war? Humans are a plague, filth unfit to rule. They preach peace, yet wage war against our kind simply because of our customs. They preach friendship, yet stab each other in the back. And when called on their deceitfulness, they don't even have the courage to admit it and stand by their own convictions. They preach equality, yet they trust blood more than ability.
Ezekiel gave a derisive snort.
"What nonsense! Equality doesn't exist. No one can be equal. One will always be stronger or weaker than the other. The strong devour the weak. That is the rule, the absolute law that governs all life. It is how one becomes stronger, more powerful; it is the key to greatness that separates the king from the peasants."
The sound of a pair of hands clapping echoed through the room. A single figure appeared from behind one of the pillars at the side of the room. Ezekiel's eyes scrutinised every feature of the man, attempting to find weakness.
"Who are you, and for what purpose do you stand before me?" he demanded the mysterious visitor. The man wore a wooden mask with no discernable markings to be found.
"I come on behalf of my master, who has grand designs set in motion. His power is greater than anything one can imagine, his knowledge is even greater."
The masked man spoke of his master in a tone suggesting that he was revered highly, that his master was a man of great power.
"My master seeks a variety of artefacts and relics that would grant him unimaginable power, enough to achieve his goal of total dominion over the gods themselves."
A small chuckle escaped Ezekiel's mouth, before becoming full laughter. His voice echoing off the walls.
"And pray tell, what is stopping me from seeking these artefacts on my own and taking their power into myself?"
The masked man shook his head.
"How could you, when you lack both the knowledge and power to leave this world?"
Ezekiel paused, the statement sparking his mind into deep thought.
"You speak as if you can travel to other worlds. You speak of things that cannot be done."
Ezekiel could practically see the sly smile behind the mask.
"Ah, but it can be done. According to the history of your world the only method of traversing worlds other than this one is through the Cross Gates."
The man once again shook his head.
"But that is only for those who lack the power to use alternative methods."
"Why tell me all this? What do you seek?" the king of demons asked.
"All my master desires are a few loyal subjects, whom he will reward greatly?"
The king paused in thought, weighing the choices before him. "If I choose to ally myself with your master, what will I gain?"
"You desire a world free from humans, a world that is all yours to rule. My master can grant it so. You wish for more gold in your coffers, more women, more soldiers, consider it done. Even if you want to rule more than this world, it can be given."
Ezekiel was bought and sold in that moment of time.
"I accept."
"In all my life, no matter how many times I see you," Alto whispered into the air. "It never fails to take my breath away."
The rising sun bloomed from the horizon illuminating the grass fields outside the city walls. He breathed deeply as the morning rays splashed against him. The frosted air revitalised his body with each lungful.
The tower balcony gave a perfect view of the city. The sound of bells could be heard as the monasteries began their morning prayers.
"Sire, forgive me, I did not mean to fall asleep during my duties."
Turning around Alto gave a smile at the horror on the young boy's face.
The prince ruffled the boy's hair playfully. He had seen a father do so to his son before, it seemed to be the appropriate response.
"Relax, I didn't expect you to stay awake all through the night."
The boy relaxed and gave a sigh of relief. "Thank the Goddess; I thought I'd be flogged."
Alto shook his head at the boy's exaggeration.
Do people honestly believe I'm capable of such needless violence?
A dark memory threatened to surface, to remind him that such violence was not beyond him. His teeth grinded against one another for a moment before relaxing, pushing such thoughts away.
"If I may inquire sire?" the boy asked, receiving a stiff nod to continue. "Why are you dressed for combat? And that too a common scouts armour?"
"I'll be going on a small outing, probably to the forest nearby. I haven't hunted in a while," the prince responded.
Alto walked back inside his chamber before turning around to face the balcony. He gaged the distance and prepared to run.
"Please tell me you're not going to jump off the tower again, Sire?" the young boy asked.
"Stairs are boring," Alto replied, running forward and leaping off the edge.
The young servant boy looked down and prayed to the Goddess that the prince survived.
I don't want to be hanged!
The wind whipped his hair about as he fell at breakneck speed. The prince focused his pool of Mana into gale force winds, forcing his body to slow down. Not as safe as performing an anti-velocity spell, but far more exciting. In a matter of moments he had reached the comfort of solid ground.
He noticed that he had landed in the hedge maze in the castle gardens near the walls of the castle.
This is good, no one can see me open the passageway.
He ran his hand over a section of the castle wall, feeling for a specific brick. The brick had engraved into it a small sigil, when pushed it sunk into the wall until a small click could be heard. The wall of blocks moved and a passageway revealed itself, into which the prince entered.
Emerging from a painting that hung in a hallway that was fortunately empty, the prince quietly made his way to the castle library. When he entered the grand chamber of books he sought out his partner in crime. Slinking from aisle to aisle he eventually found her leaning against a table, book in hand.
Aisha hadn't noticed that the prince had moved right next to her, so engrossed in the book was she.
"I always found 'Bandit Love' to be rather melodramatic and sentimental."
Aisha shrieked in fright and turned to Alto who smiled roguishly.
"By the Goddess, I think I died of fright!" she exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart.
He closed the gap between them and kissed her soundly, shocking her once more, only in a much more pleasant manner. She returned his affections with fervour gripping the collar and straps of his leather armour. He responded by grasping her waist and pulling her even closer. With reluctance she pulled away, but was still in his embrace, brows touching.
"You in heaven yet?" he asked, huskily.
I'm surprised this "flirting" concept is actually appealing to women. Honestly, all this song and dance when one can have an enlightening conversation that would result in less communication errors. I will never comprehend the idiosyncrasies of women.
She moaned pleasantly, much like she did every time she secretly indulged in chocolate.
"I think heaven needs a shave," she replied, gently cupping his cheek. Her delicate fingers running across his five–o'clock shadow.
He gave a small chuckle before pecking her forehead and releasing her.
"I would love to, but we have a busy schedule. Best not to waste any more time."
Alto clapped his hands and in a shower of gold sparks, a large tome appeared and fell into his waiting hands. Big as his chest and about as thick. Yet his hands didn't show any strain from its weight. Surprisingly he held and opened it in the middle as if it were made of feathers and not parchment.
"You know I've been reading a bit about magic," Aisha started. "And while it is possible, what you just did is unachievable to everyone but you."
Alto's lop-sided smile and raised eyebrow made her heart excited. It was the way he'd look at her, only at her with those abyss-black eyes that made her feel that there was something more to him. Something more than a prince, more than just a man, as if he was trying to make her guess who he truly was.
"The Grand Council of Magi has long since asked about it, and I have obviously refused to answer them," he replied, still grinning. "Oh, how it truly infuriates them!"
I spent years of research creating such a technique. I'm not going to simply hand it over without proper compensation.
She shook his head at his childishness.
How he survived this far I will never know.
Looking down at the book she noticed a set of diagrams depicting what was a giant set of rings. It resembled planetary rings with each individual ring smaller than the outer one.
"What do you know about the Cross Gates?" Alto asked.
Aisha looked confused for a moment, pondering over the question.
"I've only heard the name, but I know nothing about them."
His face was one of solemnity informing her that whatever the Cross Gates are is of importance.
"The reason not many have heard about them is because all information regarding them was destroyed many centuries ago," the prince began in a quiet voice. "What is known is passed down from scholar to scholar through oral traditions. No one will ever write such information down as I have."
Aisha was perplexed, her brows furrowed in thought.
"Why would none write it down, and why would you risk it?"
"There was once a group of revolutionaries that travelled the realms and destroyed all information on the Cross Gates, even killing those who knew anything about them. Since then, none ever dare to write it down fearing they would be destroyed. I dare to risk it because unlike others I have the means to safeguard such knowledge."
His hand motioned to the tome on the table beside them.
"This tome in no ordinary collection of papers, it has a mind of its own."
Aisha blinked in surprise, and even greater confusion.
"A mind of its own?"
Alto patted one of the pages and the designs seemed to fade away from sight, as if the ink was sucked into the parchment completely. Then the ink reappeared with words that shocked her.
Greetings Milady, I am Grimoire.
"It's sentient?" Aisha exclaimed, her eyes wides as saucers.
Indeed I am. Please call me Grim.
"Umm… Pleased to make your acquaintance, Grim," she said awkwardly, unbelieving that she was conversing with a book of all things.
I'm so glad we get to finally meet, Master has told me so much about you!
Aisha's brow rose before smiling.
"Really now, I wonder what he says?"
"Maybe later, Grim," Alto interrupted, with a nervous look. "When we actually have the time."
She knew he was embarrassed and vowed to find out the truth later.
"Grim can easily hide the information and as an added bonus I can hide him within me."
She nodded. "A very safe method, I can't imagine many ways one can steal or extract the information, or destroy it."
The prince nodded in agreement, before sealing Grim back into himself.
"Now, the reason the Cross Gates are so important is that they are ancient arcane devices that enable one to traverse to other worlds."
"What!?" Aisha cried aloud, her voice travelling through the library.
"That was how the Millennium War ended, but that's a tale for another time," Alto continued. "I have done some research and I believe that a functional Cross Gate is right here."
She waved her arms, motioning around them. "Here, in the library?"
"Beneath the library to be exact, very far down," the prince elaborated.
Alto grasped her hand and leads her to the centre of the library. A pillar of dark green marble was all that upheld the ceiling.
She placed a hand on the pillar; its surface was cool to the touch.
"What's so special about this pillar?"
"Sometimes the best place to hide something is in plain sight. No one would ever suspect this pillar to be the entrance to the gate," Alto explained.
Placing his hand on the column he whispered a single word.
"Aperio (Reveal)."
Seconds went by and it seemed as if the attempt had failed, but then cracks began to appear on the pillar. They seemed uniformed and the marble began to peel away like sheets of paper. Layer after layer went by before the column vanished. In its place was a tunnel leading down into darkness.
Alto conjured a small stone in his hand and tossed it down. Nearly a minute passed by, but no sound was heard.
Damn, this thing really is bottomless.
"Clearly it's a long way down to the gate. There seems to be no way of reaching the bottom," Aisha stated with a tone of annoyance. "What language was that spell? It sounds familiar."
Alto took a deep breath. Mana swirled the area in hair-width strings unseen to normal eyes.
"It's a very old dialect, the name is Latin. It was one of the languages that our own was derived from," he answered. "As for how to reach the bottom fast, I believe there is a simple solution."
"And the solution is?"
Alto gave a mischievous smile before replying.
"This."
He lifted Aisha in a manner much how a newlywed man would carry his wife, before leaping over the edge and falling down.
A moment passed and the pillar reformed itself, leaving no evidence of their presence.
Aisha's screams nearly deafened Alto as they fell down to the gate. He had sent a thread of Mana along with the pebble he threw down before. He could feel the ground closing in fast, and with the entrance closed he was eclipsed in darkness.
Alto gathered Mana around them and prepared to perform parallel spell casting. He began to chant an incantation with as much focus as one can muster when falling to their death.
"Left hand of the Goddess, Grasp."
Arrays of golden seals flashed around them illuminating the tunnel walls. Each seal was an intricate design of lines, shapes, and symbols. Bursting from the centre of each seal was gilded chains that latched onto the walls. Unfortunately the chains snapped as soon as they tried to halt their descent, even as new chains burst forth to replace them. While they were slowing down at a constant rate, their velocity was still too fast.
Alto retracted the Mana around him and drew it all into himself, before saying the next incantation.
"Right hand of the Devil, Strength."
He adjusted his grip pulling Aisha closer to his body as he braced for impact. The energy flowed into his muscles increasing the fibres capability to withstand shock. His bones increased in their density and improved their stress distribution in preparation.
The collision with the ground was hard enough to shatter the stone bricks. Aisha's screams of terror ceased as she held onto Alto with a vice grip. After opening her eyes, she slowly noticed that she was still alive. The floating seals and chains were still there providing some light.
Alto suddenly released her and collapsed in pain. He yelped and grit his teeth in agony, as the toll for using such spells were exacted from him. His breathing was short and quick, each breath making his body feel acute pain as his chest rose and fell.
"Alto, what's wrong?" Aisha asked, grabbing his arm.
"Argh!"
"Sorry!" she apologised, dropping the hand swiftly making him groan in pain again.
She moved her hands just above his abdomen and focused her Mana into seeing what damage he had sustained.
"By the Goddess," she whispered, unable to believe the havoc the spells wrought on his body. "There are very fine breaks in your bones, every single one. And your muscles and tendons show a lot of tears."
"Don't worry about the bones, just focus on the muscles. That should be enough for me to stand on my feet."
"But a good knock could break the bone completely," she cautioned.
"From this point on the way is safe. It's just a straight path to the gate, nothing to worry about," he mollified.
Aisha wanted to protest, but she knew that look in his eyes. Foolhardy determination and complete disregard for his own safety. She knew better than to argue with him in this state. She slowly applied her healing techniques to his body, her hands glowing softly. After a few minutes she was done, but pretended to still be healing him, hopefully buying him more time to recover.
Alto slowly rose to his feet with a little help. He conjured a small ball of light before releasing the chains, allowing them to disintegrate. With a soft white glow along the walls of the small room he noticed a passageway leading out.
"Let's go," he said, walking gently with Aisha.
The walls of the passage were covered in small growths of vines, each strand a different colour and shade.
It's like a rainbow coloured path.
"What are these vines?" Aisha asked, reaching out to touch one.
"Don't touch them!" he shouted. "There not actually plants. It's pure Mana."
"What, how?" she questioned, shocked at the startling revelation.
"Within the planet are great veins of Mana that run across the entire world. They appear in different forms. Some as solids like crystals, some as liquids such as the wells found in Azar, and some as gas like the vapour streams in the Frosted Fortress."
He pointed to the walls around them.
"In this case it's a mixture of solid and liquid, appearing to take the form of plant vines. If you touch them you'll overload yourself with Mana, as a healer you should know what happens if that occurs."
When they reached the end of the passage, a grand chamber greeted them. The chamber was spherical, illuminated by flowers that bloomed from the ceiling. From where they stood a long, thin stone bridge lead towards the central platform.
Alto slowly made his way across the bridge hesitantly. Though the bridge appeared unable to bear much weight, it proved to be sturdy enough to let him cross. He signalled Aisha to follow while he observed his surroundings.
The platform was engraved with runic symbols that he had recalled seeing in places that other Cross Gates resided. Unfortunately those Cross Gates were broken and decayed, nothing but ruins for centuries. He clapped his hands and summoned Grim back into the physical realm.
"Alright Grim, you know what to do," Alto said, raising the tome into the air.
Ghostly silver copies of the symbols rose from the platform in tendrils of words and sentences, rising into the flower–lit air. The book seemed to suck in the characters in a vortex of scripts. Once it was over the tome had within its pages all the information it had copied from the surroundings. When it was done Grim vanished into Alto in a shower of sparks.
"You know, that there's a good chance that we may never be able to return home."
The prince's hands shook with fear and anticipation. With a deep breath he began to channel Mana into himself in preparation for activating the gate. Aisha gently took his hand in hers, giving a comforting squeeze.
"As long as we're together, everything will be alright."
"I need you to describe a person for me," Alto suddenly asked.
"What for?"
"The gate requires some sort of target to aim for," he explained. "I could use a place, or landmark, but a person would guarantee we meet civilisation. Hair and eye colour should be enough for the gate to specifically choose a world and location."
"Alright," Aisha said, thinking of an answer. "Blonde hair and blue eyes."
With renewed confidence and determination, Alto flooded the platform with as much Mana as he could give without exhausting himself.
The platform began the shake, circular cracks ran along the platform before it shattered and great rings of stone revolved around them. With each passing second the rings spun faster and faster before an amalgamation of coloured blurs were all that could be seen. The colours were of such intensity and variety to the point of disorientation. A flash of white light erupted, before they fell into darkness.
AN: Note – Alltariss – A lot of the techniques displayed and the behaviour shown will play an important role as they reflect the methodologies of certain characters and the mechanics of the world they live in.