A message from the author!

This chapter is relatively shorter than usual. It's considered an intermission and is not in the point of view of Artemis. Thought I should say that before people flip out in confusion. This chapter takes place in third person. Next chapter we go back to Artemis' POV.

I also made this short so I could get it out of the way and work on my other projects. I also plan on explaining things a lot more in my next author's note.

Before I begin, this chapter goes into detail regarding the Lifbrasir we just met at the end of the previous chapter. It explains who he is, how he got here, and why the familiar is here rather than how the natural Lifbrasir comes to be in canon. It also goes into detail on what he can do. Mostly so for when I use him in later chapters you guys can understand what's going on instead of what I tried to pull at the end of last chapter. I'm terribly sorry if I confused you.

However, because I think I'm a total troll, this chapter may rise more questions than answers. And cause the flipping of many coffee tables...

But thank you everyone for reading this. And thank you those who are just joining in.

Please enjoy.

Intermission

The Black Beast of Albion

Within the floating mainland of Albion, there is a forest in the western territory neighboring the city of Saxe-Gotha. Within the confines of trees which made up the Westwood forest was a small village not used for progressing of life but for housing tree cutters. It was the second largest production area in which distributed Albion's supply of lumber. However, thanks to a time of peace and no longer requiring the lumber to craft Albion's fine naval fleet, the village was abandoned. Still, its buildings as well as a few tools remain.

When the Holy Movement of Reconquista began to spread to threaten the lives of the Nobility, the king of Albion ordered an arms race and reinforce his already mighty naval fleet. In doing so, more lumber was required and so new workers were hired to be sent off towards the Westwood Village.

Only to find it inhabited by a monster.

Men had fled from the monster's first warning, whispered through the wind as soon as they stepped through the trees. The more courageous fled after pacing closer towards the village and catching a glimpse of its shadow— blacker than the deepest pits of Hell. And the idiotic were devoured as they stepped too close to the village— killed before their screams could escape their throats.

The king hired mercenaries, commanded Lords, even sent off his second-eldest to get rid of this unknown beast. And the same result came about through every exhibition. But there were those who had seen the beast in person, who had fled as it was distracted devouring their comrades, and told tales of its horrendous existence. They were all rendered bumbling madmen, repeating over and over on how black it was. Even the prince had succumbed to madness and hanged himself, fearing the monster did not like how he had escaped and would stop to no end to hunt him down.

Eventually, the king, no longer caring at this point over the treasure of lumber but now wanting revenge, sent a small army to be rid of this threat once and for all. He deployed cavalry, archers, spearmen, and mage commanders. He wouldn't dare take a chance if this monster could previously defeat some of the king's Triangle and a rare Square mage.

This time, no soldier lived.

And that night, the Black Beast of Albion visited the king in his chambers.

The king was never the same after that. One might say he was a completely different person. The king became rational as he took his interest in crushing the Reconquista rebellion. He sat down with his commanders, went over plans, issued some of his own, and discussed potential threats among his advisors and the other royal princes. It was noticed by all his plans revolved around avoiding conflict within Westwood forest. Some might speculate he was protecting it. Perhaps, if the queen were still alive, she might have said it was the Beast wearing the king's corpse.

To a certain extent, she would have been correct.

And such was how the legend of Albion's Black Beast came to be.

Meanwhile, should anyone be able to lurk within Westwood undetected, they will find the Beast hard at work protecting those who dwell within. Corpses were disposed of before the children could have stumbled upon them, the occasional wanderer or skeptic was dealt with in the usual manner, and the Beast's master was kept unaware of its… habits.

And as the Black Beast dragged its latest victim towards the pit to be burned, one would notice two things. The first was always the most obvious. The corpse it dragged away was always a clean cut— whether it be a cut artery or a bullet wound— but there were those that had the Beast's trademark strike, albeit rarely. Like this corpse, who was formerly a messenger who chose to ignore the warnings and cut through Westwood to shorten his delivery time.

His right eye was missing. It was always the right eye on these rare victims.

The second thing one would notice, and this one was something no one would ever see as the body was always burned to ash, was what the Beast would do afterwards with the right eye.

It was unspeakable, but in the end, this messenger would be seen the next day proceeding with his life as though he had never wandered into Westwood.

However, one might question how this was to be when his corpse was rendered to ash…

And one would question how many other imposters there were under the Beast's control…

*Scene*

Lieutenant Douglas Spencer had heard the rumors flying around lately about some monster lurking within the Westwood forest. He called it all folly. It was something the king and his men had come up with to scare the timid from crossing the region and into his territory. It was sad how the once headstrong Nobility had fallen so far as to weave such a tale to halt Reconquista's advance, if not by a little. In the long history of the Spencer family lasting more than thirty generations, Douglas was more than sure there was never such a thing that had existed within the Westwood forest. There was never a creature matching its description existing within the past five years across all of Halkegenia for that matter. And all of a sudden, when Reconquista is about to overthrow the kingdom, this beast suddenly appears?

Folly. Every last bit of it.

Douglas was given orders to march his men of 5000 to join with two other units. They were to unite and overthrow the stronghold of Saxe-Gotha, which would grant Reconquista a grand advantage against the Nobles. However, in order to make it in time for the assault, Douglas had to march his men through the Westwood forest.

His men were intimidated, but their dedication to the Holy Movement was absolute. Their fears meant nothing so long as their faith was absolute and without a doubt their campaign was a most righteous one! Founder Brimir would protect—

"Leave."

The marching stopped. The demand they had heard was… No, it was inaccurate to say it was heard. Voices are heard. The buzzing of the wind is heard. But this? This soundless noise did not reach a single ear. It didn't need to. The command was registered within one's mind as though it were but a thought of their own.

"Continue onward!" commanded Douglas. He would have said there was nothing to fear or for his mean to not be intimidated, but then that would indicate there was something dwelling in the forest. He refused to give in to superstition. He was a man of rationality and would command his men with such. If he did not see it with his own eyes— if he did not hear it through his ears— it did not exist.

He spurred his horse to start pacing forward, and with it his men followed.

His eyes narrowed as the further he got into Westwood did the sound of marching feet start to decrease. A silencing spell, he mused. There wasn't a beast after all. Probably a good number of mages positioned within the village who were ordered by the king to kill anyone who came by. Perhaps that was where the atrocious rumor had come from.

Something flickered within his peripheral vision. When he turned his head towards it, there was nothing there. At least, nothing he could see. Through the gaps between the trees several mails away, he could have sworn there was something staring back at him. Silently, he whispered the incantation for a detection spell through the wand hidden in his sleeve. He did so as to not arise suspicion if there was something watching him as well as to not alarm his troops.

There was nothing there. Yet he could still feel something looking at him from that direction.

He shrugged it off as nerves before the battle and continued with his march.

The men were becoming agitated as they claimed to have seen something move within one direction. Yet no two men could pinpoint the same location. One said it came from north, the other would say south, and no one else within the 5000 could confirm if they were seeing things or not. And as they marched on, as their steps were quieting down to the point where they were hardly heard, the feeling of being watched had intensified throughout every direction.

The sound of a crunch of a fallen branch was louder than thunder. Douglas had failed to notice the silencing technique had affected his men so much to where their voices were no louder than a whisper. Yet they were the only ones affected.

Through the trees and as though walking out of a portal of mist, a figure stood before the might of the 31st Platoon. The figure was donned in pure black armor of strange design with a perfectly slick black mask hiding the face. There were two holsters with pistols, a dagger hung upside-down at the left shoulder, and… and…

It mattered not if Douglas could not identify anything else about this figure. He had seen enough as it is. The figure standing before him was nothing more than a man.

"So this is the famed Black Beast of Albion!" Douglas laughed. Now that he knew it was not a monster but a person, a mage with competent illusion skills at that, but a person nonetheless. He knew how to deal with this.

The so-called Beast said nothing, merely stood there. Its faceless mask gave nothing away.

Douglas performed one more detection spell to see if the man standing before him was truly there or another product of his illusion magic. As it turned out, there was no magic within the vicinity. He was perplexed by this, as there was clearly a sort of silencing charm placed around them. But he dismissed it as he could at least confirm the armored being was real.

Douglas flicked his hand, springing the wand into his hand, and directed his wordless fireball spell towards the man. Though its power was greatly diminished, it was quick enough to catch him off-guard as well as pierce through that armor.

Except the spell sizzled out as soon as it touched the black surface. The armored man did not move in the slightest, almost as though it never noticed a spell had been cast.

Then, the blacked man raised a hand at eye-level and snapped his fingers.

Douglas felt the blood splatter over his back before the screams could be heard. In shock, he spun around on his horse to see what had happened.

His men weren't just dying. They were being slaughtered.

He watched as heads and bodies exploded, throats were cut, backs and necks bent and twisted, with blood and organs spreading throughout the trail. He heard their muffled screams and watched their demise as though this were but a nightmare. Surely he must have been imagining things. 5000 of Reconquista's finest were just being butchered in the span of a few seconds. There wasn't a chance to put up a defense as the shock of watching the man right next to you die made them hesitate.

Two seconds, Douglas realized. Two short, miniscule, insignificant seconds was all it took to defeat his men. Their bodies making one giant heap of flesh and blood without so much as making a sound as they crumbled. It was so… unreal he could not come to terms with what he had just seen.

Especially since his men were cut down by nothing. No magic, no artillery— nothing!

The sound of crunching leafs made him spin back around. The Black Beast of Albion was approaching.

But when he spun around and was about to unleash every fire spell in his arsenal, there was nothing there.

The sound of crunching leafs had been transferred to behind him. He couldn't react fast enough after that.

Douglas screamed as pain erupted out of his right eye. No, his eye had been ripped right out of his socket! He gripped his wound as his wand fumbled out of his hand. The pain was so intense he could no longer keep his focus on the Black Beast.

And from realizing the Black Beast was still upon him, he forced himself to look at the abomination.

But alas, seeing his right eye in the hand of Albion's Black Beast was his last before the monster slashed its dagger across his throat.

*Scene*

Ten years ago, there was once a little girl who was not allowed to leave the archduke's castle. She never had any friends as the only person she could ever talk to was her beloved mother and father. But her mother was always sad as she too could never leave the castle or talk to others. And her father was rarely around as he had affairs with the royal court. The little girl tried her best to listen to the wishes of her mother, but she so deeply wished she had at least one friend.

And so, she made one up.

Her friend was one most noble! He was handsome, smart, courteous, kind, and passionate! Who would talk to her whenever she wanted and would listen to her endlessly! Who would play with her when her mother had grown tired! Who would eat her gross peas when she didn't want to! Who would take the blame when she did something wrong (although every time said 'friend' would leave her in the cold to teach her a lesson)! Who would tuck her into bed and tell her stories of grand adventures!

Oh, the stories he told! Every night her friend would tell her of adventures in a mystical land called Earth where the union of heroes of the Special Intelligence Tactical Hunters fought bravely against the evil monsters called Acolytes. She was told of how he was a special Shade knight who would be deployed to fight the Acolytes directly in their home territories so that everyone can sleep soundly safe. She was told about mystical weapons used to slay the monsters such as 7-12 Mjornir, K-1 Excalibur, CQS Balmung, and SMG Naegling. And she was told about the magical mounts of flying machines like the Fafnir or Ziza.

She decided to name him Artemis. Artemis James Philips. She didn't know why, but she felt like that name was perfect for her friend. Like it was always his to begin with. But… the story she created for him said he didn't like his name because it didn't feel like it was his. So instead, she decided to call him Big Brother from then on.

But, though she was happy, she wished her friend was real sometimes.

One day, when her father was home but busy entertaining guests, men with swords and spears broke through the front gates and charged through. Her father's men fought hard to defend the home, but they were overrun by too many mages accompanying the invaders. Her father too tried to protect his guests, her, and her mother, but was eventually captured.

The men set fire to the castle.

The girl was scared, but was told by her mother to be strong and so she did her best. But the men came bursting through the doors of her mother's chambers and quickly spotted them.

"It is an elf!" one of them said. "The king was right!"

Her mother was dragged by her hair. The girl tried to beg them to let her go, but in doing so was given a kick that knocked the wind out of her. The girl could do nothing as she tried to reach for her mother.

…Whose head was severed before her eyes.

The girl screamed as she was old enough to know the sight before her was something truly unspeakable. She didn't need to be a full-blooded elf to feel the sheer amount of wrong it was killing her mother. But she was too young to know how to react. Should she be sad? Should she be angry? In her shock, she could only scream.

She wished, so desperately with every fiber of her being, the hero she had made up would come to rescue her and save her mother.

It was unfortunate nothing heard her.

While it was true nothing had heard her, it also inaccurate. Nothing had accepted her wish. No god, no cosmic force, no spirit— nothing. And it was because nothing had heard her plea did nothing answer it. So, as she wished to nothing, nothing responded kindly.

Nothing told Tiffania to run, and so she did. When the group of men had tried to reach for her, nothing told Tiffania to not look at them as nothing cut off their hands and slit their throats. Tiffania listened to nothing and kept running, never looking back nor questioning why the men were screaming or why such screaming was quickly silenced.

When another group of men caught sight of her down the hallway, nothing told Tiffania to keep running even if they blocked her path. She kept running. Nothing saved her when they tried to grab her. Nothing blew out their brains, snapped their necks, and crushed their chests. She was free to keep running. And when nothing told her to climb over the railing and to leap down from the third story, she did just that.

Nothing caught her.

Nothing also told her to stop and keep quiet. She obeyed but peered around the corner to see what the noise was from the main hall. She gasped, but put her hands in front of her mouth to not let the sound escape or nothing would be mad at her. Down towards the main hall were a few more men with weapons fighting with another as they shoved a green-haired girl but a few years older than her around.

Not too far away from them were a pair of similar green-haired adults— the guests her father was entertaining. And they were sprawled across the floor with a pool of blood spreading.

The men were arguing over who would have fun with the little girl.

Tiffania pleaded for somebody to save the girl.

Of course, nothing answered.

The girl was free from their clutches and the men were drowning in their own blood before anyone could have guessed what had happened. In fear because her capturers had spontaneously erupted in grotesque wounds, the green-haired Matilda ran for her life. But Tiffania intercepted her, grabbed on to her hand, and pulled her towards the direction where nothing was leading her.

In time, the two girls had been able to escape as they looked at the burning castle at the top of a distant hill. But nothing told them they weren't done and so the two kept running. They kept running across the fields until they could no longer run. Yet they kept moving. They walked on and on, never once sharing a word between another who were complete strangers. They kept on until they could no longer see the smoke and when night had finally fallen.

It was then the two girls huddled close to another beneath a tree and cried. They wailed for their lost parents until no more tears could be produced, but even then they continued. They cried until they could no longer breathe. Yet they continued. They cried until their fatigue had gotten the best of them and swept them into slumber.

Nothing watched over them.

For you see, it is and isn't accurate to say the wishes of Tiffania had been answered. Nothing had answered them. For it did not exist, could not exist, shall not exist, and will not exist. There truly was nothing there aiding Tiffania to begin with.

But, for the point of arguing, it is and isn't accurate to say that something had answered. This was not something registered with the Laws of the world. It did not exist. It could not progress anything. And it surely didn't have an identity. Yet, surely, something was watching over Tiffania.

An anomaly. Something that must not, cannot, and will not occur within the world because it is not written within the world's Laws. A glitch, in other words.

A byproduct of the world-ending, nonexistent realm referred to as the Abyss.

Through a series of sequences revolving the Third Law, the Law of Progress, in which states "All is Infinite", everything which exists will have infinite possibilities as it continues to exist. Through this Law, Tiffania could have gone through an endless variety of 'what-ifs' in but a single choice. She could have still chosen to create an imaginary friend and through the Third Law she could have had infinite choices in her 'friend's' character with just as infinite results to alter the course of her life.

However, there are those rare occurrences when one possibility is so abstract it cannot be registered properly by the other Laws. The Laws were made to never work should one be missing. If one fails, then they all do, and whatever has made them fail is removed. Yet, what Tiffania has accomplished had been able to negate the First Law— the Law of Being, which states "All Is".

Everything exists, so says the Law. Even nothing exists, if by only as a concept or perspective to explain the lack of something.

And yet [NOTHING] had been able to save her.

Because of this anomaly, Tiffania had unknowingly invited [NOTHING] into the realm of existence. And so, nothing will continue to watch over her, protecting her for the rest of her life. But little does she know it will bring about the end of everything.

Such was the nature of the Abyss.

*Scene*

Tiffania of Westwood, formerly of House Tudor, was hanging the laundry to dry. Naturally within the past ten years the once little girl had grown and matured into a lovely lady. And one would think due to such a horrific incident that traumatized her to this day she would end up mentally unstable. Yet, if anyone would overlook the fear of her being half-elf and get to know her, they would be baffled by her charm. Tiffania was truly a marvelous individual. She always smiled, she never let anything bother her, and she was always thankful for everything she had in her life.

Though Matilda had grown to be another exceptional lady, Matilda had grown to be bitter against the world. Matilda had chosen the path to struggle and earn her place in the world for herself rather than stay in a quiet life like Tiffania. The green-haired foster sister always sent money towards the Royal Bank within Saxe-Gotha, which would then be withdrawn by Big Brother to purchase what they needed, and so Matilda still showed her love for Tiffania.

Tiffania held back the feeling in her heart. She almost wished Matilda was back in Westwood like she used to be. But Matilda had said she found a good job with a good salary and was quite content with what she was doing, based on the letter she had sent. And so, Tiffania did not wish to see her sister while she was happy with her career.

Because Big Brother always heard her wishes and always made them come true. To the point where it was a curse. When they were still young, Big Brother had heard her wish about wanting to see her mother again. And Big Brother had made it come true.

But that thing he brought back wasn't her mother. It looked like her, talked like her, had all of her memories, wishes, feelings, quirks, habits, and even her paternal love for Tiffania. It was, by definition, her mother in every shape and form.

Yet everything screamed at her it was a lie. Something deep within her knew the woman Big Brother brought into the forest was Fake.

She never saw the woman again and she couldn't talk to Big Brother for a long time.

But it was all in the past. She knew Big Brother meant well. He was doing everything he could to make sure she was happy. He always brought her clothes, furnishings, flowers and seeds for her gardens, helped her around with the chores in the village, brought back sweets and gifts for the children when he went into town, and always made sure they were protected. On those rare occasions he would bring back a wandering child or two who were abandoned— some of which had come as far as Romalia or Germania.

She had no idea how he traveled around the world so frequently while returning to the village every few days. Getting from Westwood forest in Albion to the borders of Germania took several weeks even by the quickest method of transportation. Unless he had one of those flying machines from the stories he told her she couldn't fathom how he does it. She was curious, but Big Brother liked his secrets and so she made something of a game out of it. She would guess, never learning how he would do it as Big Brother rarely gave much of a reaction out of anything.

"Welcome back, Big Brother!" Tiffania smiled as she turned on her heels and ran towards her hero. At first she never knew when he would arrive and from what direction. And he was so quiet he would often startle her by popping in out of nowhere. But, as the years went by, she had learned to notice the small hints here and there that announced his presence.

She would have to say she started to notice these things the day after she pecked his cheek back when she was twelve…

"Hello Tiffi," he gave her his usual small smile. Big Brother was always kind, but he rarely showed emotion. Even amongst the children he kept the same emotionless expression. Only in front of Tiffania, and even more rarely Matilda, did he let his emotions show. If not so lightly.

He was dressed in a tunic, some tight leggings, and the worn down buckled boots crafted back in his home country. Protecting him from the cold was nothing more than a tattered black cloak which fell down to his shins. It came with a hood, which he removed when entering the village.

"I've brought back provisions to last you and the children for a week or two," he said while carrying a few sacks over his shoulders and under his arms. "Two turkeys, some rabbits, herbs, roots, berries— most of the usual. There was also a caravan of soldiers roaming outside the forest when I was returning. They supplied me with a few rations. Mostly dry and salted foods, but bountiful and nutritious. They also gave me some spices and broth."

Tiffania lit up. "Thank you Big Brother! There's still some food left from the last time, but I can prepare it for storage."

Already he was moving towards the cottage that made her home. "I will prepare the meats. We can use one of the turkeys for the meal tonight while the other and the rabbits can be preserved. The children might enjoy something other than dry food and stew."

"Ah, I can do it!" pleaded Tiffania.

He shook his head, "You have enough to work on. Laundry, tending to the children, tending to the gardens and harvest— didn't Lisa's skirt tear? And Jack hurt his knee when playing with the others. But he tried to hide it to not worry you. Still see to it he is doing well."

It wasn't a surprise at this point that Big Brother knew these things. Even away he kept an eye on the village. So Tiffania was mildly concerned when finding out one of the children was hurt but wouldn't let her know.

"Yes, Big Brother," Tiffania sighed in defeat. She never could argue against him. Then again, because of her kind nature, she couldn't argue to begin with. It was usually Big Brother or Sister Matilda who scolded the children. Tiffania usually pleaded with them to never wrong again. Yet, it was just as effective as a lecture from the other two. "B-But when I'm done at least let me help!"

"If that will make you happy," he said while resting some of the sacks down by the door. He turned towards her with his features turning serious. "I want you to tell all the children to stay away from the south-east trail for some time. There is a pack of wolves that had been forced to migrate here due to the war. However I believe they are rabid. I've managed to keep them away from the village but they won't leave the forest. Until I deal with them make sure no one leaves or wanders down that trail."

She knew he was lying. She always knew when he was before the words came out of his mouth. But Big Brother always meant for the best and never did anything without a good reason. Whenever she wished he would tell her, he would respond with something vague and the usual 'to protect you'. There was one time when she was fourteen and had gone looking for what he had deemed dangerous. She never found the supposed bear at that time as she had been caught by Big Brother.

He had been very upset.

"I will keep the children away," was how she responded. She did not like to lie and so would tell the children it was just dangerous. But it didn't help her feel like she was deceiving them and darkened her mood.

In response, Big Brother combed his fingers through her hair in the same way he had done for the past ten years.

"W-Will you be staying for supper?" she asked with some hope. It would be nice to have him around and the children would be excited to know he had returned, if not for just a short while.

"If it will make you happy," he nodded while removing his hand. Turning away, he picked up the sacks and went inside the cottage to prepare his work.

*Scene*

"P-P-Please stay the night!" pleaded Tiffania.

She had been able to find where he had wandered off as soon as they were done tucking the children into bed. He always did this. He was only around for short instances and then vanished without a trace. Today may have been one of his longer visits but it was no exception to his usual habit. Only from knowing him for so long was she able to find him at this dark hour as he was silently returning to the forest.

"There is much I need to do," he turned around only slightly just to be able to see her within his peripheral vision. "You will be fine while I am away."

"But…" Tiffania was saddened. She knew he had things to do in order to take care of the village just like how Matilda did. It was for the good of her and the children. But, she needed something more than living nourishments and pleasantries.

She needed companionship. She needed her friend.

"Big Brother… I wish you would stay…"

As usual, he gave no reaction she could read. He was a blank individual as still as a statue. She could have been talking to a statue if she knew any better.

"…Only until you fall asleep," he relented.

It was all she could ask for. Her smile may have lit up the world.

And so they sat by the fire inside the cozy little cottage, drinking tea he had brought not too long ago, and chatting about little things. Tiffania talked about everything that had occurred within the village since he last visited— she had no doubts he knew everything anyways but was willing to listen. He, in turn, talked about his travels within the land of Tristain. He had taken an interest lately in the prestigious Magic Academy, especially within the past few weeks when he found out Matilda had been working there as the secretary. Tiffania was so happy her foster sister had found such a wonderful job.

He promised her he would keep an eye on her when he could and make sure they were treating her right. Tiffania told him he should let Matilda live her life rather than being the usual protective older brother he always was. He, in response, assured he would only watch and step in if, and only if, there was an emergency.

"Can you tell me a story? Like you used to? I haven't heard one in so long…" Tiffania said, almost in desperation, when she slid into bed. She wanted him to stay just a little longer.

"Tiffi, you're sixteen," he said bluntly.

She pouted like a sixteen-year-old. Sighing, he made himself a little more comfortable in the chair beside her bed.

"After the Great War against the Acolytes, there was a time of peace as the world began anew," he picked up from where he left off. "The world was united, if only for a short while, and humanity could resume its existence. In time, they returned from being one civilization and into several separate countries. As usual, because of their indifferences, war returned to the world as humanity fought against their former brethren.

"The world was falling apart as weapons once used to defeat the superhuman monstrosities that were the Acolytes were turned against their selves. Death was everywhere as the world was plunged once more in an era of darkness. And in its desperation to stay alive, the world itself developed a system to protect itself.

"Thus, the Predators were created. They were the world's defense against anything that will threaten the world as well as its inhabitants. They could not be killed by anything other than an otherworldly threat or by another Predator. They were the ultimate murderers— none may survive once a Predator had its sights locked on a target.

"But even Predators were susceptible to time and the advancements of humanity. Once, the mighty Behemoth and Leviathan— ultimate beings of vice and virtue— could no longer be ranked as Predators as humanity had developed warfare to defeat them. Even the once forest deity known as the Black Death, which successfully killed a third of a continent's population, had been removed thanks to the advancement of medicine in which cured and prevented its miasma. And in time, the world needed something new to defend itself against threats.

"Humanity had advanced so far that the current Predators are all human. First Predator, the eldest of the generation, is Archibald Lolifor— a cunning man who controls the entire world's economy and through it the mundane military. Without him, the human race will plummet back to its Stone Age.

"Second Predator, recognized by the world itself as the Dragon Slayer, is a magician by the name of Ludwig von Siegfried; perhaps a descendant of the legendary dragon-slaying hero or perhaps an incarnation of the hero himself. He commands absolute order among the magician's community and protects the British Isles from invaders. His magic may crush armies and bring down fortresses with but a flick of his finger. No mage can stand before him in a duel.

"Third Predator, recognized by the world itself as the Divine Beast, is a priestess by the alias Serene of Finland. None know of her true name. She is a moderately ranking Exorcist in official documents but recognized by the church as a living saint. She possesses the gift in which transfers both vice and virtue from anyone or anything onto whichever she so desires. By doing so, you might say she has the miracle to heal any sick or wounded. But at the same time, she may punish the wicked by unleashing those vices onto her targets.

"Fourth Predator, recognized by the world itself as the Vampire, is… an Acolyte who remains within the world and refuses to fade. He is a twisted soul who takes delight in the most atrocious and sickening of things. He bears the affinity of Blood and Darkness. I know not what makes him a Predator. Perhaps it is because he is considered a deathless but I don't know how he can considered one of the world's greatest killers. He is also not affiliated to one country and wanders the world in his perverse merriment.

"Sixth Predator is a young man by the name of Chase Lance Rolan. He was once an Acolyte who had transformed into a true man in time. Though he still retains his witchery of the Acolytes with his affinity of Flame and Frost. Nevertheless, he is a formidable mercenary who only takes jobs that will benefit the advancement of humanity. He is intolerant of political manipulations and considered to be the heroic type with the way he dives into minefields to save the girl. Always a girl. His affiliation is loyal only to those beings persecuted by humanity. I've no doubt he would fight the world for your sake, Tiffi.

"And Seventh Predator, recognized by the world as the Valkyrie, is a young maiden revered as the Cardinal Saber. In truth, she is a little girl no older than ten who was granted an artefact of unfathomable power by a divine being beyond the comprehension of humanity. For what she lacks in experience, she makes up for in raw destructive power. I believe if she were properly trained the other Predators would be removed from the world's roster as she surpasses them. Still, her heart is pure and she relies on her seniors for guidance. As she is still young, she holds no affiliation towards any country but will defend her family no matter the cost."

As Tiffania was slowly drifting into sleep, she realized something. "What about Fifth?"

For a moment, Big Brother didn't respond. He was quiet, more than usual. This type of silence was the kind one would be able to hear. It was enough to keep Tiffania awake.

"There is no Fifth Predator, and yet there is," he responded in time. "Artemis James Philips, a former Shade operative of the Tactical Hunters who still lingers on in the new world. He is not recognized by the world as a Predator, yet contains all the perks of being one. And within the world's roster there is a gap between the Fourth and Sixth. I believe because of his Radiance of the Sun concealing his existence from the world, the world knows he is worthy but cannot find him. And so, the world leaves a space for him should he ever reveal himself.

"Artemis fights for humanity itself and hunts abominations that threaten its existence, such as the Acolytes. But… currently… he is away from home, summoned by a Void mage as the Lífþrasir."

"Mmm…" Tiffania was dozing off but tried her best to listen. "Artemis… What a nice name he has… He sounds like you… Big Brother… with the… way you… dissa…pear…"

And so, Tiffania fell asleep. Were she conscious she would see her Big Brother clearing the hair out of her face and pulling the sheets over her chest much like how he used to when she was much younger. And after throwing two more logs into the fire to keep her warm throughout the night, he existed the cottage without having to open the door or the windows. He simply vanished.

She did wonder, between her dream of going with him in his travels and eating the biggest apple pie known to mankind, why he hadn't aged once. He was still the young man she had imagined on that one misty morning. At this rate she'll grow older than him!

She never did question how he existed in the first place. Perhaps she simply couldn't.

*Scene*

"You expect me to believe this?" Oliver Cromwell, the soon-to-be Emperor of Albion, threw the reports across his desk in disgust. He had read it a dozen times as though the script would magically change with every glance, but to no avail. It was ridiculous. A platoon of 5000 just gone. Gone! They had been reported to have left one camp and make way for Saxe-Gotha but had never made their destination. Because of their absence, the remaining Nobility had been able to fight their damnest like the devils that they are. Saxe-Gotha had fallen to Reconquista's control, but not without heavy costs. If the 31st had been there, things would have been different.

Instead, according to the report made by the sole survivor, the 31st had been wiped out by a fictitious monster.

"I would most certainly hope so, Lord Cromwell," replied said sole survivor, Lt. Douglas Spencer. Former lieutenant. His wounds were dressed, his clothes cleaned, and he stood erect in the leader of the Holy Movement. "However, the Black Beast isn't an animal like the stories say. Though he is a monster in his own right, the Black Beast is but one man."

"And you're telling me this one man single-handedly killed a whole platoon?" sneered Cromwell. "Perhaps if you were given Commoners I might have believed the Heavy Wind came out of retirement. But there were lesser Nobles and other mages stationed under your command. Thirty, if I recall. And according to your report, you expect me to believe this… Black Beast killed them all before a single man could put up a fight?"

"It is how you say, Sir," Douglas nodded but with a bead of sweat falling down his temple. "But, perhaps this isn't a mage like you think. Only the Heavy Wind could perform such a task, but not instantly like how he did. I believe this is the work of an elf."

Cromwell raised a brow and gestured for the man to continue with his logic.

"I've pondered on this since I've managed to escape. The story of the Black Beast started to arrive when men working for the king reported a monster using the Westwood Village as its den, nearly ten years ago. Normally, it would be within the responsibility of the lord ruling over Westwood such as the former head of House Saxe-Gotha. However, the king personally sent hunters, which eventually became troops and more powerful Nobles, and then eventually one of the princes. There was also a rumor the Black Beast defeated a whole invasion force before they could burn the forest to the ground, but there was no evidence to prove any of these things.

"But why did the king personally send men? I believe it is from an action he ordered ten years ago. There was a rumor around that time where the Lord Archduke had an elven mistress, and so the king ordered the death of his brother. I know not if the rumors were true, but there may be a possibility this Black Beast could be the bastard child or perhaps a cohort of the elven mistress. The timing seems appropriate."

Cromwell frowned as the man went with his explanation. He sat back in his chair and groaned, "I do not need assumptions; I need facts. Your theory is… compelling, but that's all it is: a theory."

"Oh, there may be some truth in it, Cromwell," Sheffield, the priest's secretary from Galia, stepped forward from where she was observing from the corner of the office. "My master had come to the same assumption. There is, without a doubt, something lurking within those trees. I believe I will be looking into this myself."

Cromwell did his best to keep his face straight. If his sponsors from Galia were so damn interested in this, then who was he to say anything? Besides, on the off chance there was a monster or elf inside Westwood, then there was a high chance Sheffield would be killed by mentioned abomination. He could then blame it on the creature and Sheffield's own actions in order to keep his funding from his mysterious benefactor.

"My lady," Douglas spoke out of term as he panicked, "you mustn't! If this… thing finds you there would be no chance for your survival! I but survived because it was distracted with my men! This is suicide if you go!"

Sheffield gave a light giggle as her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Oh? How kind of you to worry about me. But there is no need. I have my ways of sneaking about unnoticed."

As she said those words, her fingers moved the bangs out of her eyes. Douglas' eyes snapped towards the markings etched onto her forehead. It was but an instant, yet it was long enough for the man to recognize the series of runes and what they meant.

Douglas' persona changed entirely. He snarled, "You will do no such thing, Myozunitonirun."

Cromwell's brows twitched. Not only because First-Private Spencer's character had changed, but because he had recognized the title the Noble had spat at Sheffield with such distaste. As a priest of the Brimiric faith, Cromwell knew well what the Mind of God was. His eyes moved over to Sheffield, who was glaring at the officer through narrowed eyes of suspicion.

Cromwell's eyes widened as he saw the markings on her forehead light up as one of the earrings she wore began to glow. Her eyes now glared daggers at Spencer.

But Douglas did not move. He remained as stoic as a statue.

"Stay out of my forest," Douglas hissed further. "I've no reason to kill you or Joseph."

Joseph? Cromwell wondered. Surely he couldn't be talking about King Joseph of Galia, could he? No, this was but the ramblings of a mad man. He needed to call the guards before this escalated any further.

"…Am I assuming I am speaking to the Black Beast himself?" Sheffield curled her lips into a mischievous smile. The glowing of magic within her earring and on the runes at her brow died down.

Douglas did not speak. His face was blank of any emotion as though all life was gone from him. He only continued to stare at Sheffield.

"Interesting," mused the woman as her smile grew further. "I don't know how you're able to hide your presence from my artefact, but it matters not. You almost made me believe this was still… what was his name, Cromwell? Douglas Antione Spencer? Regardless, I do not take threats to my master lightly. I think I will pay you a visit."

Again, Douglas said nothing and gave nothing.

However, before either of the two could blink, Douglas evaporated into black mist and vanished.

*Scene*

The Lífþrasir had been keeping tracks of the Myozunitonirun ever since she said she would 'visit' him via the Dawn Blade [Douglas Spencer]. Many of the former Shade's Dusk Blades watched her continuously without her knowing as they stayed within the Work of Radiance of the Sun. They observed everything she did, every conversation she held— every blinking moment of her life since that day had been watched without a moment of isolation.

He nearly cursed up a storm when she used her Void gift as well as some magic necklace to teleport out of his surveillance. He may have hundreds of Dusk Blades stationed all across Halkegenia and a few still traveling through the Rub'al Khali, but they couldn't be everywhere. Until one of them spotted her, he wouldn't know from which way she was approaching.

Thankfully, she was foolish enough to appear at the border of the forest. She could have teleported to the direct center of the forest, where the village resided. But, perhaps through her arrogance, Sheffield thought to challenge him directly.

"Leave," he gave his one warning as he usually did for any 'visitor' through a Dusk Blade lurking in the trees and hidden courtesy of Radiance of the Sun.

Sheffield ignored his warning and continued to stroll through. He suspected this much. So, he lowered the potency of the cloaking Work just enough for his Dusk blades to appear as phantasmal flickers. When he ordered them to reposition themselves to surround her, and as they moved accordingly, most individuals would begin to question whether they had seen something or not. It was a second part of his trick to intimidate the unwelcomed into leaving. Alas, it was only a method to repel the timid.

Sheffield's smile grew as though she knew what he was trying to do. She ignored it and continued to approach.

However, both attempts of intimidation had a large advantage that went unnoticed. Especially to the ignorant— or stupid, as he preferred to call them. When one believes another is trying so hard to scare another, it is believed the latter individual is scared themselves and can't defend themselves properly. All bark and no bite, one might say. Therefore, it was only reasonable to think there was nothing to fear in the first place.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Sheffield was only fooling herself into a sense of superiority.

At the adequate distance he deemed 'not too close to the village' yet 'too far to successfully flee', he activated the acoustic suppression devices he had placed all over the forest. He did not want the sound of potential gunfire and what magic Sheffield brought with her to reach the village. And as she stepped close enough, he lowered his own cloak of Radiance of the Sun to the lowest possible setting to appear before her. She could not see him, but she could not identify him nor will be able to recall the events that will take place. She will only be able to know she met with him but it would be impossible for her to recall anything.

That is, if he decided to let her live.

"So this is the famed Black Beast of Albion," the Myozunitonirun gave an amused smile one would towards something she found adorable.

It was the same words and reaction he had received hundreds of times over the years. He never had any diversity. It was like all of Albion had the same brainwave— not too far off with this Brimiric crap being preached. Perhaps in his growing state of boredom he had mildly hoped Sheffield would have had something different to offer. Unfortunately, as he suspected, she was just another sheep.

"Strange, I am not familiar with your style of armor," her lips thinned in a mocking frown. "It is not elven. Where did you come from?"

Seeing as how he wasn't going to give her any reaction, Sheffield's eyes wandered towards the path he was blocking. "I wonder what could be so important for you to be protecting? What lays at the center of the forest, Black Beast?"

Again, no response.

Her lips dropped to an expression of annoyance. "Fine. I'll just have to find out for myself."

The runes on her brow glowed as she raised a hand. A ruby ring began to shine as though its core held a roaring fire.

Behind his HUD helm, the Lífþrasir's eyes narrowed.

Fire at the rank of Square magic flared out of the ring and with more than enough force to blow out the first few layers of a fortress wall. Like the breath of fifty firedrakes at once, it surged through the air and enveloped him. Even if he was a Wind mage with a high-ranking proficiency in the Acceleration spell, the fire was too fast and too large to dodge in time.

Instead, he switched places with one of the Dusk Blades and ordered more to appear around the position to form a human wall. Their black armor resisted the majority of the blast and kept the surge from traveling deeper into the forest. However, as it was a… different fire than the sort mages channel through their wands, nothing except the fire's intended target was burnt. The blast was enough to kill a decent mage with proper barriers, thus did his Dusk Blades fade into black mist.

Only for him to recall them into his services a split second after. He repositioned them to their original hiding places except for the one he switched locations with.

Because that one had been standing behind Sheffield the whole time— to which he now was.

Sheffield had suspected something was amiss as her fire spell had struck something large rather than the intended single unit. Not only that, but there weren't any remains when she deactivated the Ring of the Dragon King. It was as if he had disappeared…

Something was pressed against the back of her head. She didn't mistake the click of a flintlock's hammer being pulled.

With her necklace, she teleported away. But the Lífþrasir's Dusk Blades had immediately spotted where she reappeared. Without hesitation, he switched places with the nearest one in pursuit.

He didn't want to waste his precious and highly valuable ammunition. She wasn't that big of a threat and she was human. A flintlock from this world will suffice. As he appeared beside her before she could gather her senses from the distortion of teleportation, he fired it into her knee.

She screamed in pain, anger, and shock as the acoustic suppressors muffled her voice. Looking up, her eyes widened as he had been able to follow her no matter the great distance she crossed. As he dismissed the flintlock and withdrew a new one from the hands of a distant Dusk Blade, her runes glowed once more as her necklace activated.

Except he stomped on her wound— both her runes and artefact dimmed in her pain. She wouldn't be going anywhere if she couldn't focus on her Void ability.

"Damn you Beast," she snarled through gritted teeth.

Cocking the pistol and pointing it down towards her head, he kept his foot on her knee no matter how hard she tried to pry it off. Whenever her runes glowed in the slightest, he dug his heel in harder.

"Stay out of my forest," he said. "I've no reason to kill you or Joseph… yet," he decided to add at least something for her to think about. He knew she would try this all again if he left her alone with nothing.

He had a use for them. No matter who won the war, be they the Royalist or Reconquista, Tiffania would not be safe. Seeing as Tiffania was one of the four Void mages, he needed the other three if she had a slim of a chance in surviving in this sickening world. As a half-elf, she was something to be killed at first sight by humanity and to be shunned by the elves. But just having them in her life wouldn't be enough. He needed the world to change. And it would have to start with its hierarchy.

Perhaps it was convenience the two Void mages he found were people of high power. That Pope of Romalia and the King of Galia. It was unfortunate neither the Queen nor Princess of Tristain were Void mages. And it was such a hassle trying to determine if any of the ruling families in Germania were mages to begin with. Regardless, he needed to find the last Void mage and, somehow, bring that person to power.

And to rule under his conditions.

He wouldn't let Sheffield go so easily. He removed all the jewelry, seeing as they were all potentially magic instruments one way or another. Taking it a step further, perhaps out of paranoia mixed in with his experience in his previous life, he decided for the best to disrobe her of everything. Sheffield spat at him and cursed everything she could think of, but could not so much as scratch him.

Perhaps in kindness from being around Tiffania for so long— or perhaps out of pity— he dressed her wound and gave him his tattered cloak. He even found her a large branch for her to use as a walking stick.

"Leave," was the last thing he said before setting Radiance of the Sun to its normal feature. He was nothing more than a ghost at this level. He could cut off her hand and she wouldn't be able to detect it until she needed to use it for something.

"I will remember this, Beast," she snarled in such rage but complied, using most of her right leg as she wobbled on the stick. Barefooted.

He made sure to have several of his Dusk Blades follow her.

But as was about to switch locations with the Dusk Blade squatting in his safehouse miles away from Westwood to store away the magic artefacts, one of the Dusk Blades watching over Tristain's Academy of Magic caught sight of something that would interest him. Something he would have never expected to see here in all places.

"My name is Artemis James Philips, and I am a King!"