AN :
Hey guys, wanted to do some kind of 'Halloween spetial', which spured an idea.
This is a 'What If' Scenario, a one shot that explore some kind of concept that won't appear in this book, it also allows me to flex a little my writting skill in other area.
'Another Form Of Karmic Retribution' is a book with a idea that came in my mind overnight, and derailed into what you read today, I have a lot of potentially cool idea that could be written, because of that I decided to put on a list.
A list of potential story, which is to say, after Arc 1 of AFKR end, I'll start another story in parallel to Arc 2. (Just so you know, Arc 2 start the main story of Arknights)
Here is the list, the one with most comments for will be choose :
-MC reincarnates as one of the Siu siblings, (potentially the first or the last, depends and I'll see which sounds better.)
-A potential IS3 follow up, a more episodic format with different OC's each time in a 'Guide to the apocalypse' style.
-More 'What if' of this story (Would be posted here then)
-Cross over, which means Arknight x something(?) (I don't know what would be good, so I'll look in the potential comments)
-The 'Surprise me Author' option. (I have a little idea that could be fun, 'humor' tag again with a OC Wayyyyy to op to have any suspense in the fighting sense but axed towards the world building elements and how such a character interacts in the world, Altough I won't expand on this unless you vote for this one)
-MC washes a shore of the Iberian sea, make the half dead half something goddess of the sea in love with him. (Yes, this include Skadi. Would be focused on the Arknights sea so I would be creating a lot more stuff)
And I think that's a good list !
Anyway, let's dive into this 'What if' !
In this case, let's see...
What if... Dante was born as a Sarkaz ?
...
...
It was one bloody night.
It took the man 8 hours of constant fighting but the deed was done.
His body was in such a shape that you couldn't possibly imagine the intensity of the fighting that happenend.
His left antler like horn was cut off completly, leaving a smooth surface on what once was his horn, indicating a clean and prescise cut.
A sword was planted in his body, blood dripping out of it and unto the ground, once covered in a velvet carpet, but at this point, the room was in such a state that you couldn't think of it as a throne room.
On the destroyed and singed ground, three completly mangled and bloody body lays.
A particular little heap of ash could be observed. Near it, a particular blue liquid stand near, trying desperatly to move away, as if it was clearly alive and conscient, and absolutly terrified of the man standing nearby.
Another figure was there, near death too, but clearly standing and alive. He was in a better shape then the man standing.
The man was tall, a veil obscuring his face, drapped in all white and a long red cape, his ceremonial clothes truly a sight to behold, if it weren't for their state of disrepair.
His once proud staff was utterly obliterated, shards of it were planted in his right hand, the same he used to wield it. A sword, lance, and three knifes, all made of solid blood were planted in his body at different places. He could feel every single one of them, yet he seem undisturbed by them, his cold hand as if he was dead, in a reverence.
This person was currently kneeling.
Kneeling to the true Lord of Fiends.
...
The amount of weapon littering the room were countless.
Sword, war-axe, scyth, lance, spear, staff, hammer, bow, crossbow, ballista, cannon, dagger, knife, flail anything you could think could be used as a weapon was on the ground, stuck there as if thrown by a giant.
They all were tresure, weapon of legends, used by the hands of the most noble and vilest of person, all of them belonging in a museum, yet none of those weapon could ever have been more battered.
Their pristine condition, their legends, story of glory long passed, every blemish on the blades could be seen with the naked eyes. Every single one of them was damaged in some way, some even broken completly.
...
Let us take the clock back to before this peculiar sight, 8 hours ago.
...
A man walks into the throne room.
Calling this place a simple 'room' would not do it justice- this place was grand and extravagent. It's gray walls seemed endless, the hall was littered with grand and beautiful windows with even more striking colors, you couldn't even begin to evaluate the price of every single art piece that littered the rooms, painting of lords, events and faces of various legends of the sarkaz.
...
The sounds of steel scraping the ground could be heard.
In his hands, a sword and spear, the sword, once known for it's peerless sharpness, a beautiful white blade used by a hero of old to slay a man once reknowned for his monstrous strength. The spear, a nasty red hunk of metal, rusted and abandoned in the sea after being used by one of the strongest member of the Aegir, who threw it at the giant serpent, the first wound its monstrous body had received, a blow to a true god of the sea. It's weight was well known to be simply too much for anyone to even budge, much less move with ease, yet the man seems undisturbed by it. The most trained of eyes could glance at the trace of arts used to move such a object.
His expression seemed resolute, as if he decided that even if his life shall end here, it wouldn't matter.
This was it.
He sacrificed his entire life for this moment, searching for weapons that could kill the people infront of him.
The courts immediatly perceive his prescence.
He wasn't trying to hide it, anyway.
"It seems as if a rat has infiltrated our base. What, was my sister such a bad leader you decided to join my side, Abaddon ?"
"... Shut up."
The hostility in his voice was all it took for everyone in the room to be put on guard.
The metalic ringing on the ground adding more pressure everyone present in the room.
Step by step, he advanced forward.
Every step adding more and more tension.
His desire being on display for all to see.
The bloodlust in his eyes being so grand, the current Sanguinarch couldn't compare.
All of this, just for this moment.
...
The silence was defening. Everyone of them ready to jump at one another.
One would think that the Sarkaz royal court would just slaughter him, he was one man after all- but this was far from the truth.
Abaddon, or, the nameless Sarkaz in front of them, given the name of a man who once slaughtered the Sarkaz some centuries ago.
He earned that name after slaughtering dozen of Sarkaz court members in a single blow of his bare hands.
The Sanguinarch then launched a offensive againts him, sending a hundred men bearing his touch on him.
... They lasted a whole 5 minutes.
The 'Demon of Weapons' couldn't be stopped.
Being killed by his bare hands was a mercy- his weapons all had effects that increased the pain felt once he cut you just slightly.
When the screams of pains of hundreds of soldiers once was heard in the battlefields, it was when everyone knew that man appeared.
He fought the leaders of the Sarkaz before, in a duel type of battle.
They all ran away once they understood killing him wouldn't be possible.
Because of that man alone, the 'Decapitation Operation' couldn't be fufilled, instead they had lost a lot of the members, and the only two Wendigos that joined them.
They weren't pureblood, but they were closed, their bloodlines priceless for their race, slaughtered like cattle.
He was their mortal ennemy, the Ghost that made use of him was already severly wounded, and has been in recovery for months.
The Queen, Theresa, was wounded too, it was well known that her status of 'Lord of Fiends' has been lended to him so that he may make use of it.
A descision probably given by said Ghost.
...
*tap*
*tap*
*tap*
The finger of Confessarius was twitching, taping on the sheath of his sword/staff.
Getting restless, the others could only wait once Abaddon was close enough so they could launch an all out attack on him, to slaughter him immediatly.
Yet...
"Nachzehrer King, I'm sure you know what to do."
"W-what ?"
"... Yes, my Lord."
The surprise was total, yet they should have expected it.
The Nachzehrer King was here for only one reason, because he believed that Thersis was the better candidate between him and his sister.
Yet... Another Candidate was found. One better than the both of them.
And then, the situation was turned upon it's head, going from bad to worse.
The Cluster, wondering if they too, should switch allegiance.
Decieding in the end, to witness if he should later, while this body was the current 'true body', it could always reform in in 'proxy' body and sever their current personality forever and join them later.
Because of this sudden, not so unexpected, betrayal, the current status quo was changed immediatly.
...
And the battle started.
Immediatly, the spear was thrown.
Confessarius, knowing full well that this spear could end his life in a single blow if not blocked properly, used arts to aid his arms in knocking the spear using his sword.
*KLANG*
The impact was brutal- it nearly broke Confessarius arms,
'Just swatting it with my swords did this much...'
He used arts to heal himself, decideing that in this scenario, staying back and utilising his arts as a healer would be the best use of his ability.
During the impact, the Sanguinarch cut his own wrist, seeping blood into the ground.
With a simple swipe of his arm, he lauched blood towards Abaddon, said blood morphing into mutiple blades, all sharp enough to cut his flesh in seconds.
All 8 of those blades were blocked by the Nachzeher King, his staff blocking the one closer to him and a force field for the rest.
The Nachzeher King arts weren't limited to just defense, and he started to go on the offensive :
Mutiple blast of intense heat was thrown towards the Sanguinarch, fully intending to completly evaporate the blood that seeps from his veins.
Jumping back, he simply touched the ground and protected himself with a blood wall, leaving a simple sputter of blood behind.
"Cluster, instead of watching, why don't you start helping ?"
"Urgh, I know !"
Using his body's abillity to his advantage, he morphed a sword in his left arm.
Launch himself towards Abaddon, a simple swipe to test the water.
Abaddon, unwilling to even start to humor the green haired blob, cut his head in a single swipe.
The blue liquid that flow out of the two halves replacing the show of hemoglobine and gore.
The small green hair simply grabing his severed head and placing it back on his head, screwing it back in place, as if nothing happened.
"A frontal assault won't work with him. We established this, Cluster."
"I know, Regent, but that's not exactly something that we can really afford to consider."
And he was right, it was better to all launch a frontal assault, knowing they would get crippled, even some would die, to kill him as fast as possible, because it is well known that long drawn out battle wont matter to him at all.
He out-endure the Sanguinarch, equipped with a near unlimited suply of fresh blood (read : Sarkaz Soldiers) as his nourishment, this was a feat that nobody, not even the ancient Nachzeher King or Confessarius could muster.
Thersis, seeing that Confessarius decided to take the role of a support, launched into battle.
With a single slash of his sword, a collum supporting the hall was slashed in half.
But the target was nowhere to be found.
*SLASH*
Thersis left arm flew out of his body, with the blood flow seemingly endless.
Confessarius, flung into action, taking the Regents arm and reattaching it with arts, in less than a seconds, the arm was back in its place.
But the damage was done, and Abaddon was far from ending here.
They were getting ready for a long and drawn out fight.
...
On the other side, The Sanguinarch and the Nachzehrer King were in fierce battle.
The Sanguinarch powerfull blood arts clashed in the Nachzehrer King mutiple and diversified arts, all spoils from the many people he ate.
All fragment of a greater whole.
He could seemingly switch out his fighting style in a instant- Temperature arts (freezing and burning), necromancy, blood, earth, wind, lightning, light, even spatial arts and time arts, he could manipulate every single type as if he had master each and every single one during numerous lifetimes.
Even his close quarter combat was nothing to scoff at, even as a caster his punch was strong enough to rival the Sanguinarch.
As for the Sanguinarch ?
Every ounce of blood was squeezed to its absolute limit, he thirst never ending, and the amount of strengh he could muster seemed just as endless.
The blood on the ground was transformed into spears, used to try to impale the Nachzehrer King, yet frozen blood seemed to be the only thing flowing out of his wounds, as if his body was already dead.
Because of this, the Sanguinarch couldn't rely on his opponents blood- truly, the Nachzehrer King was the prefect counter to him.
While his wounds healed fast, added that the help of Confessarius, he could fight endlessly, he knew that the man infront of him would be the death of him if the fight continued with no changes.
Using minions created by blood wasn't helping much- they really were only useful as meat shield for his opponents stronger arts.
...
This stalemate would last for another 7 hours.
...
After 7 hours of continus fighting, everyone could see the toll it took on some of them.
While on the side of the Sanguinarch and Nachzehrer King nothing truly changed, as the wounds on both of their body healed and their stamina near endless, the Regent, his right hand man and the Cluster couldn't keep up indefenetly.
While the Cluster could if he forgoed the possibility of reincarnating himself in any of his other bodies and using all of his strengh here, that wasn't the case for the other two.
The sheer amount of arts usage Confessarius was using was ludicrous, and truly, he deserved to be called a monster.
As for the Regent, his physical strengh was still going strong, even after the hundreds of thousands of his limbs the flew in the rooms, replaced each time with either a fresh if Confessarius had the stamina to spare, or regenerated with the old one as a base.
...
At this point, they had gone throught about 250 of his weapons.
Even if they knew he kept his strongest as insurance, they already nearly died hundreds of time.
That doesn't mean they couldn't keep up with him- they also nearly ended his life countless times.
Yet, he seemed to not want to die.
As if sheer rage and desire to kill kept him running, the man, even if he had multiple hundred wounds, all aggravated by Confessarius' and the Cluster's arts still didn't make him even flinch.
And now that they were too tired to really put up a fight...
...
A deep sound, as if something that shouldn't be there simply apeared...
A sword, impressive in lenght alone, its blade as dark as the deepest abyss, yellow eyes like points on its structure at seemingly random adorn the blade, which had a peculiar pattern, the shape of the blade could be seen like a chainsaw, but as if the teeth of said chainsaw were of random size and lenght, yet still showing a 'blade like shape'.
The golden handle adorned with a chain starting from the pommel to a little behind of the guard, where the gold stopped. The rest of the handle was a feathery black, adorned with feathers three feathers on each side, in a pattern : a black, one white with a red tip, and another black, on both sides, pointing towards the pommel, angled to its respective side.
After the golden guard, a red, fleshy, 'thing' could be seen 'eating' the blade, writhing as if it was alive, its teeth gripping on the blade.
The two handed sword in Abaddon's hand was truly a sight to behold.
But it's presence wasn't suppose to happen.
It wasn't supposed to be here.
IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
As if to reinforce this fact, the area around it started to distort, as if the 'Twilight' of the world had happened.
...
In a single swing, they understood that, it was the 'weapon that he was hiding'.
The room, already in a state of clear destruction, was turned into a pile of rubbles.
A normal swipe cut the Damazti Cluster in so many pieces it would take at least 10 seconds to reform.
And in those 10 seconds, the fight could have already been decided.
Abaddon, launched himself at the Regent, and finnaly, cut his horn and left arm.
Thersis, seeing the blow, deflected just enough so that he wouldn't be immediatly killed.
But they could sense it.
That right now, they stood no chance.
If it were before, they thought their chance was good.
A 50/50, if you will.
And they wouldve been right.
But this ?
This changes a lot.
From 50/50 to a good 85/15.
And I don't think I need to state which side is which.
...
After dozens of minutes, the fight was decided.
Slowly, they were overwhelmened.
First, the Cluster lost his mass bit by bit, turning into a pile of ash.
Then, Confessrius lost his left arm permently, as he couldn't heal the wound with his current stamina, the wound being aggravated by something that wasn't art.
Then, the Nachzehrer King landed a descisive blow on the Sanguinarch, finnaly moving their stalemate.
And then, after almost 8 hours of fighting, it was over.
The hall was destroyed, their bodies were wounded all over, but they won.
And after standing in the room for a while, he decided.
Slowly, he walked towards the throne.
And sat there.
After getting comfortable in there, he stated the the Nachzehrer King,
"... I won't be taking the mantle of 'Lord of Fiends'."
"Why, may I ask, my Lord ?"
"Because I'm not suited to be King."
"You seem more than suited. You have the strengh, charisma, and politcal power to ascend, all you need is to-"
"I wont kill Queen Theresa."
"... You call her your Queen ?"
"Yes. I have decided to give her the position. I have a feeling I'll lead our people to ruin. I shall take my place as the Wendingo King, and fully support Queen Theresa."
"... Is this truly what you desire, my lord ?"
"Indeed. I think it is time to reform our country. We can't be the monster we were in the past, the boogeyman of Terra, who is the common enemy of the world. Queen Theresa can achieve this, my strengh would scare the other contry, it would possibly lead to another Witch King scenario."
"Very well, my lord. Then, let us reform this contry. What shall be the first thing we shall do ?"
"Firstly- Enter, I know you're there."
Silently, a female Sarkaz enter the destroyed room.
Gazing at the three corpse and the pile of ash, she makes her prescense known, and kneel.
"King-"
"Regent, I'll give the title of Queen to Theresa, I don't think of myself as suited for the job."
Suprised, the Sarkaz women, Shining, stated.
"Then, Regent Abaddon, what do you command ?"
"Take leadership of the Confessor, and turn them in what they were supposed to be, a troupe of travelling medic, instead of what Confessarius made of them."
"... Very well."
"The Confessor first mission is to find someone suitable to replace general Manfred."
The man was slaughtered a couple hours before this massacre, once he inflitrated the middle of Kazdel.
He was the only real obstacle of this city, without considering the Sarkaz Court.
"Then, search the Banshee and Cyclops Queen, and ask of them to appear in the Court, telling them the new Regent is asking of them for the future of our race."
"You wish of a summit of our Race ? Very well."
"Hopefully Queen Theresa wakes by then, same for that old Ghost, it would be easier with the both of them, I haven't even given my blessing to them yet."
"Your blessing ?"
"Oh, you haven't heard ? They told me they would tie the knot after this war."
Shock on both of their faces was shown-
The Ghost of Babel and the Perfect Queen ?
"They are already talking about truly adopting little Amiya, something I whole heartdly agree."
"... Never would I thought of the both of them together."
"Yet they are together all the time ? Of course emotion would flourish in the most unstable of situation, they went throught everything together, it doesn't sound as impossible, no ?"
Thinking about it, the Sarkaz women starts to see it more and more, until it makes some semblance of a sense.
Doesn't exactly answer the how, but it somewhat fits.
"And you, my Lord ?"
"Eh, never had the time, really."
"It would be a shame for the last pure blooded Wendingo to die out like this."
"*snort* Shame that the last two pure blooded are both male huh ?"
"Truly. Yet, this doesn't answer my question, anyone you would consider ?"
"Eh, not really. I get along with the explosive girl, but that's about it. Mostly because she likes the upgrade I gave to her grenade launcher."
"... I see."
The nonexistant expression on the his hidden face is enough to scare the seated man.
"Well, I guess thats it... Wake me up if theres anything important going on..."
"Very well, my lord. Have a good sleep."
After a long sigh, he started to melt in the comfortable throne, even with some damages, it was still good enough.
Shining, not long after he started sleeping, started to tend to his wounds.
...
And thus, ended the bloodiest night in the history of Kazdel.
