FIDGET, BATRISHAN PRINCE OF DARKNESS

Broken Batrishan And Cursed Immortality

1774, after the events on Discordia's Isle

Somewhere in a nice, peaceful clearing in the east far from Aldorada, an old man was tending the vegetables in his garden. His cabbages were green, his tomatoes well protected from bugs, his potatoes protected by the rich soil of Mother Earth, etc. In other words, it was just another peaceful day for him, and for that he was content.

Once he was done watering his garden's vegetables, the old man grabbed his watering can and began walking back towards his cottage until he saw something dark falling from the sky. At first, he assumed it was just some raven flying by until he sensed a dark aura of energy coming from the thing and realized that it was falling straight towards the ground. It crashed in a thicket about ten feet away from the men's cottage, causing about a dozen of nearby trees to fall and unleash a booming sound that shooed away nearby birds.

The old man grabbed his walking staff and walked towards the forest. He walked through rows of trees and bushes for about three minutes until he found the area where the thing crash-landed. And what a sight it was! A giant clump of land had been burned to ash, turning it a black wasteland with small signs of black flames. There were several chunks of fallen trees or burned leaves around the place. It was such a pity for the man, since this forest was very lovely.

He walked towards the center of the area, tight where the thing landed. Once he saw what lay in front of him, he dropped his staff in shock.

"Merlin almighty..." he gasped when he saw the dark Batrishan in a black-and-purple Aldoradian military outfit with a torn right wing and several cuts on his skin laying unconscious on the ground.

Time skip

Remembering the sight of Isabella and Hernan's bloody corpses right next to Killian holding a bloody sword made Fitzgerald scream himself awake.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" he screamed through the top of his lungs. He lifted his back rather harshly, which sent a wave of pain throughout his body. "Ouch!"

Fitzgerald tried touching his back, only for him to feel a punch of needles pinned on his sides and the bat wings that sprouted for the first time in his life when he had unleashed his anger upon Killian, which ended up with the treacherous lieutenant ripping his right wing.

"I wouldn't touch so much if I were you," an elderly voice said. Fidget looked to see an old man in a red tunic with a beard as old as time. The man sat on a stool right next to the small hay bed where the Batrishan was laying. A very uncomfortable position, really, since Fitzgerald grew up sleeping in comfy pillows and blankets and occasionally the bunks while fighting in wars.

The old man began pulling out one by one the needles that were sticking onto the injured Fitzgerald, stinging as painfully as a wasp's sting.

"Ouch!" Fidget cried. "What was that for?"

"My apologies," the old man said. "But Chinese acupuncture was the only way I could restore your qi to normal. As for your wing...I managed to have a blacksmith help me create a mechanism that will help you fly normally...but might cause you to slightly limp."

The Batrishan looked confusingly at the old man before the latter motioned with his head at the Batrishan's right wing, which was sprouted open just like the other one in order for Fitzgerald to lay more comfortably on the bed. Fitzgerald looked melancholically at his crippled wing: the phalanges were half crushed and most of his wing membrane was ripped. The only thing that he saw at the place of his missing membranes was some sort of metallic brace, with long artificial bones made of steel that looked more like blades than real bones. To replace his missing wing membrane, some sort of silk metal similar to the chainmail used in a knight's armor was used to replace it. Just for the sake of it, Fidget tried flapping his wing through concentration. The wing flapped and so did the metallic brace in synchronization. It was as if the brace had been a part of his body since forever.

The old man gently put a hand on the wing, making it to flapping and lowering it down.

"It would be best if you do not waste your energy yet, my young Batrishan," he said. "For judging by how you received your wings, you are an exception among your kind."

"I know, I know..." Fitzgerald grumbled. "I'm an exception because I survived a genocide, am I child of the Batrishan priests, and happen to have a cursed fate. I know that already!"

"Do you? Because members of your kind usually doesn't get their wings through anger and rage. Matter of fact, I've never seen a Batrishan as hostile as you are." He snapped his fingers and a wet cloth appeared in his hands. Fidget watch quietly as the old man patted his head with the cloth.

"You aren't one bit afraid that I used magic in front of you," the old man noted.

"I've seen a weird sword that reacts to pain, a medallion that symbolizes my half-split destiny, and a goddess claiming to know me long before I was adopted by my human parents," Fitzgerald sighed. "What could be weirder than an old man summoning a wet cloth?"

"I see. Well, it's a good thing that you aren't afraid of me, especially since I'm a sorcerer's apprentice."

"Tiny question, out of pure curiosity. How long have I been unconscious?"

"Since you crashed into the woods and destroyed quite a portion of the trees? About half a week."

"ABOUT HALF A WEEK?" Fitzgerald jumped on his bed. "I'VE BEEN UNCONSCIOUS FOR HALF A WEEK?"

"Easy there!" the apprentice said, putting his hands on the Batrishan's shoulders. "Last thing you want is to twist your back!"

"HE KILLED THEM! I'LL MAKE HIM PAY! I DON'T CARE IF IT TAKES ME AN ETERNITY TO GET IT, BUT I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE ON THAT CODFISH!"

"And you might," the apprentice told the Batrishan, who looked at him in surprise.

About an hour later

Fitzgerald was sitting at the apprentice's table eating from a bowl of porridge that the old man had given him until the latter came back, carrying a crystal shaped bottle full of ominous green liquid in his hands. Judging by how the liquid seemed so...alive in the bottle, the Batrishan could tell that this meant serious business.

"This...is the Elixir of Nine Lives," the apprentice said as he placed it on the table. "Back in the Antiquity, the last Batrishan Prince, Bartok Ashiva Rex, was given this elixir by a coven of Batrishan witches so that he could live a long life in order to see the world once he abdicated the throne. But accepting the elixir from the witches and drinking cost him to speed up his father's death."

"How come?" Fitzgerald asked.

"All magic comes with a price, my young Batrishan. And so does eternal life. Accepting the immortality from the Elixir of Nine Lives means causing the deaths of your loved ones. But each sip taken from it prolongs the drinker's life expectancy nine times and put an end to aging. Drink from this will give you all the time in the world to seek your revenge on the one you hate most. Plus, you shall be...immortal."

Tempted by the idea of revenge, the Batrishan began to reach out his hand towards the bottle until he stopped himself. "What exactly does the name 'Nine Lives' stand for?" he asked.

"As you know, being immortal does not been that it can last forever; immortals like the Dark One and a few occasional gods can be killed. Take a sip of the elixir once every decade until you've drunk nine sips total and you shall have an everlasting immortality that will only end if you kill yourself." The old man sighed as he leaned a bit on his chair. "Bartok only drank five sips of the Elixir of Nine Lives until he was overwhelmed with remorse at sight of all his loved ones outside of the Batrishan Sanctuary lose their lives while his immortality increased. He gave me what was left of the elixir, hoping that I'd keep anyone from using it, and sealed the elixir's formula with him at the cottage he resides."

"Resides?" Fitzgerald said. "He still lives? Oh, wait. Of course, he's immortal."

"Yes, he currently resides in the Valley of A Thousand Whispers. If you want to drink more than the four sips left in the vial, you're going to have to go get the formula from him."

"But why are you telling me all this if you were supposed to keep anyone from using it again?"

"Because you, Fitzgerald Denada Cortés, aren't just anyone. You have a traced fate that will change the worlds and everyone in it forever other than just getting your revenge. Besides, you've already lost your loved ones, which is already like a paid price. What else do you have to lose...or love?"

Fitzgerald stared once more at the crystal vial and its live content. He had lost his mother, his father, his best friend, his true love, his country, and his auntie. Now he was most likely a monster to the eyes of those who once venerated him as a hero for his glorious deeds. And that blasted Killian Jones...that cursed pirate who ruined everything...he would pay dearly as Fitzgerald ripped him physically and mentally piece by piece.

"I have nothing left to lose or love," he said as he snatched the vial, uncorked it and began drinking from it. It tasted so foul as if he had swallowed a kettle full of boiling oil and vinegar. But something inside of him prevented him from stopping and the liquid continued to pour down the inside of his throat.

"No! Don't!" the apprentice shouted as he grabbed Fitzgerald by the arms and tried to shake him back to reason. "Overdrinking it will have a dark impact on your heart..." He then felt something made of crystal hit him on the head and the apprentice fell unconscious on the floor with shards of the now empty crystal vial lying around him.

"Too bad," Fidget sneered coldly as his tongue licked his lips in order to catch remains of the elixir. He walked towards the door and opened it to reveal the outside world. "Because Fidget The Bat will now have forever to plan and seek his merciless revenge."

He sprung his wings open and flew into the dark gray clouds of despair, laughing from above the echoes.