Phew! Finally! Once again, I apologize for the tardiness. Since I've also been working on my HD spin-off A Promessa, doing commissions , and real-life stuff, it took me way longer to finish this chapter. On the bright side, though, this chapter is longer than usual!

I'll pointing something out at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. I hope you enjoy!

Hellwalkers

Chapter 23: The Harvest Moon Festival

Three days later, it was quite a beautiful day in the ring of Wrath. The scorching sun shone down upon the fields and forests yet untouched by civilization and the wooden structure scattered throughout the ring. It shone upon the Ars Goetia castle, bathing its occupants in a little warmth as the structure's oppressive atmosphere drained all will to fight little by little. It shone upon Lamian's back alleys, butcheries, and apothecaries. It shone upon Hunter's guild, Hunter's lodge, the stock, and the marketplace. It shone upon the Imps and the guards as they prepared for the Harvest Moon Festival to be held today.

It shone upon Moxxie as he readied himself for the day. To say he'd had a bad week would be an understatement. He wasn't sure of how, but somehow he managed to avoid detection at night when his hellbeast spirit left his body. Security had tightened considerably ever since some of the townsfolk, Blitzo included, caught glimpses of the 'vermillion hellbeast' roaming around town at night. It was hard to avoid both hunters and guards patrolling.

He'd been communicating with Striker via the messenger bird spell. Thankfully, Loona kept her promise and somehow delivered some medicines alongside the items of clothing Moxxie managed to get his hands on for their disguises. He just hoped he'd picked the right sizes.

"You know, babe, we don't have to go if you don't want to." Millie insisted during breakfast that morning. "We could watch the portal from the rooftops."

I have to. Someone has to keep Striker out of trouble.

"It's okay, Millie. I don't need to participate in the Pain Games. I think it'd be nice to get some fresh air."

"Are you sure, Mox? Your shoulder hasn't completely healed yet."

Moxxie smiled reassuringly. "It's fine, honey. I just need to take it easy."

Sadly, that's... Easier said than done.

...

It shone upon Striker as he stepped out of the den, dressed in the town Imp clothing once more. The Hellwalker moved his shoulders, tail rattling uncomfortably. How he hated wearing shoes. His thick hoofs and big feet weren't used to being squeezed shut like this, leaving him with a painful sensation every time he walked. Admittedly, the hat protecting his face from the sun was a nice touch.

His wife, son, and newborn daughter came up behind him. Jane and Jake were also dressed up in town Imp clothing, though the latter was notably as unhappy and uncomfortable as his father.

"Mom, these shoes hurt!" The impling complained, lifting a foot off the ground. His outfit included a simple red shirt, blue jeans, and dark boots.

Jane ruffled his hair. "I know, sweetie. Just wait until we get there. Then you can take them off for a while." she assured him.

Having worn town imp clothing before, his wife seemed the most comfortable out of the three. She wore a dark red and yellow strapless blouse, jeans, and black boots. With no proper girdle yet, they'd tightly wrapped a wide-gaped bandage—courtesy of Loona— around her abdomen. Jane had actually sighed in deep relief at the sensation. To carry her newborn, she used the same baby wrap carrier that had, so far, carried two generations of the Velkan family. Brash, Striker, and Jake had been warmly tucked against their respective mothers' breasts with it at some point.

"How are ye feelin', love? Are ye sure ye can walk?"

"I'm fine, Clayton. It'll actually do me good to move around for a while." Jane reassured him as she embraced her daughter. "It might also be a good opportunity to get Amelia checked up by a doctor."

"As long as that doctor isn't a he."

"Clayton."

"I'm just kidding, love." Striker chuckled. He directed his next words at Bombproof and the few hellbeasts peeking outside the cave. "All of ya stay inside the Sanctuary while we're gone. Do not come out under any circumstances, do ya hear?"

Bombproof snorted as a positive reply, snarling at the other hellbeasts to return to bed before following suit. With that matter taken care of, Striker carefully led his wife down the slope and out of the sanctuary.

...

It shone upon Octavia as she got dressed for the day. She'd spent all morning looking for something that would let her pass as a Wrathian Imp of sorts, but most of her clothing was fancy, so it was a hard job to do. She had a task to complete, after all. Dad would use the Grimoire to curse this year's harvest later. It was a good chance to take a look at it and find any memory spells.

It'd taken her lots of pleading, but she'd convinced her mother to let her attend the festival, stating it'd be part of her future duties and she needed to get familiar with them. This apparent show of responsibility did the trick. The only condition was that Octavia take Imp repellent for security purposes.

She was yet to tell Brash about the bite's reaction to that other Imp. She wanted to be 100% sure that it hadn't been a figment of her imagination. He mentioned his family lived in the forest. Could that servant Imp be part of his family? Or part of his tribe, at the very least. They didn't look like they were related by blood. In any case, that Imp might be able to help.

Once she found a more-or-less acceptable outfit, Octavia looked at herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and concentrated. Magical energy enveloped her body in white and magenta lights. When she opened her eyes again, she didn't see an owl Goetia in the mirror, but an imp. Her dark hair was still pretty much the same, but her eyes had changed into the Imps' natural golden hue. The shape of her face was still slightly bird-like and colored white, passing off as the marks Imps had for scars. Octavia hoped no one would get curious about it.

Would Brash recognize her if he saw her like this? He'd probably use his nose and identify her by smell. He is in hellbeast form, after all.

Once she was out of the castle walls and into town, she realized everything looked even livelier than before. However, there seemed to be something else going on. Everyone was going outside the walls. Curious, she followed the Imps beyond the gate and to one of the nearby farms on the eastern fields outside the city. Tents had been put up around the farm and near some corrals with cattle. One of them had been cleared of animals, replaced by Imps wrestling in the mud. They must be practicing for a fighting event of sorts. Oh, right, Dad once mentioned that the Pain Games are held today.

Octavia looked around the festival grounds. It's been a few weeks since she went to a social event other than the Goetia Family's boring balls. Dad wouldn't show up for a couple of more hours, so she might as well have some fun in the meantime.

Once they'd left the forest grounds, Jane suggested moving down the paths to make it seem like they'd come from town. As they walked down the dirty pathway used by town Imps, Striker's nose began to itch the closer they moved to the town walls. Once they'd reached the festival grounds—full of town Imps, food stalls, and cattle corrals, the 'town stench' intensified somewhat. Thankfully, it wasn't as overwhelming as it could've been inside the walls.

Still, Striker sneezed for the third time that day. "I hate town Imps."

"May I remind you that I was once a 'town Imp' too?"

"I ain't talkin' about ye, doll. Ye don't smell like 'em anymore." Striker noticed some town Imps eyeing his wife. Frowning, he wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulder and rattled his tail, shooting them a warning glare. Thankfully, they took the hint and looked away.

"Where are we supposed to meet Moxxie, Clayton?"

"He said he'd be 'round the food stalls."

Jake's face lit up at the mention of food. "Does that mean we can have some town tasties?"

"We don't have any money, sweetie," Jane explained. Jake's expression fell, and he let out a disappointed groan.

Being far more familiar with the environment, Jane led her husband and son toward the food stalls. The impling looked at the food displays with hungry eyes, prompting Striker to pull him closer with his tail. He knew his son. He'd probably try to steal some of the food when no one was looking. While he knew Jake could go about undetected, it was better not to take any chances.

At last, he spotted Moxxie up ahead. The huntress from the other day accompanied him. That must be Millie. Before he could stop him, Jake sprinted towards the townie.

"Jake, wait!" Striker grabbed Jane's hand and pushed his way through the crowd to catch up with his son, but it was too late.

"Hey, Moxxie!" Jake called out.

Millie looked at the snake impling, linking in surprise. Moxxie panicked. Damn it, he was supposed to meet Striker and the others by himself. What is he going to tell Millie?

"Oh, hi there!" she greeted Jake cheerfully. "What's your name, little fella?"

"I'm Jake, Miss Millie!"

Moxxie almost facepalmed as his wife's expression turned confused. "How do you know my name?"

Even Jake seemed to realize that he'd screwed up. Thankfully, Striker and Jane arrived at that moment. The former immediately pulled his son back with his tail.

"Jake, don't go 'round botherin' people! I'm so sorry, miss..." Striker intentionally trailed off and feigned surprise when he looked at Moxxie. "Hey, it's you again."

"Excuse me, how do you know Moxxie?"

"He helped us get our son back from the hospital. See, he has a certain... condition that makes him fall into a sleep so deep that he appears to be comatose."

Millie's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, I remember! Our friend Blitz said he found a comatose child in the woods. We checked on him later, but he'd already been discharged."

"Clayton here had to go pick him up and bring him home so we'd give him his medicine. Moxxie was kind enough to show him the way to the hospital."

Moxxie caught on. "Oh, yeah, right! They live in the nearest town to the west, so they weren't familiarized with Lamien."

Thankfully, the argument was convincing enough for Millie as she returned to her friendly demeanor. "It's nice to meet you, Mister..."

Striker tipped his hat—a common greeting amongst Wrathian town Imps Jane taught him earlier—and smiled politely.

"Clayton Velkan, miss. This is my wife Jane, our son Jake, and our daughter Amelia." Millie's eyes lit up as she saw the newborn impling warmly tucked in the wrap carrier.

"Aww, she's so cute!" The loud volume startled Amelia, only to be soothed back into sleep by her mother's heartbeat. "She looks so much like you!"

Jane smiled. "I'd say she has more of her daddy in her."

"You came here to watch the Harvest Moon too?"

"That, and I'm enterin' the Pain Games."

"You might want to hurry up, then. The signing up will be closing soon."

"I'll take you to the sign-up board, Striker. Millie, think you could keep Jane company for a while? I'll catch up to you in the seats."

"No problem, honey!"

"Jake." Striker grabbed his son's shoulder. "Stay with yer mother and sister, and for goodness's sake, stay out of trouble 'till I get back, okay?"

"Yes, Dad!"

Before they left, Jane pulled Striker in for a quick peck on the cheek, making his tail rattle. "Good luck, love," she whispered.

With their respective wives engaged in their affable conversation, Moxxie led Striker toward the signup board for the Pain Games, which would begin shortly. Eyeing it, he wasn't surprised to see Travers and Blitzo's names, along with some of Millie's brothers'. However, he recognized one name from way longer than them... but it couldn't be. Perhaps it's someone else with the same name?

"What am I supposed to do, townie?" Striker asked, bringing Moxxie out of his thoughts.

"First of all, we write down your name. You should leave that part to me... What's your full name?"

"Clayton Velkan. What are these town imp games about?"

"Well, basically it's a series of physical challenges to see who's the toughest Imp in Wrath. It's got an obstacle course, lassoing, tug-of-war, and mud wrestling amongst other things. The winner is the one who gets the most first places in all of the events."

"What does... lassoing mean?"

Moxxie cursed under his breath. Glancing around quickly, he spotted some other Imps practicing their lassoing with barrels. "See those guys? The rope they're using is called a lasso. It's used to catch livestock, but you have to lasso other imps in this instance. The Imp who's still standing at the end is the winner."

Striker stared at the ropes with a deep frown. It didn't look that hard.

"The Pain Games are about to start! All participants gather in the main corral!"

"That's your call, Striker! Go to that spot in front of the stage."

Striker did as told and followed the crowd to the area in front of the stage. His tail rattled uncomfortably at the proximity of so many town Imps. Their stench was far stronger than Moxxie's. Many of them smelled of livestock manure, sweat, and testosterone.

However, soon he caught an... unfamiliar scent. It was... salty with hints of gunpowder and blood. Mostly the latter. Looking around, he saw its source: an unfamiliar demon with an... aquatic vibe to him. He wore a white shirt with a black tie, dark blue pants with thin red lines, and a matching hat. A gold tooth stood out in his row of sharp teeth. His pale greenish skin stood out from the Imps' red skins.

Striker made a mental note to keep an eye out for that one.

He recognized the mustached imp on top of the stage. The logger he and Jake had healed a month ago. Hopefully, the guy wouldn't recognize him.

"Welcome, I say-a, welcome-a... all to Wrath-a Ring's-a annual-a Harvest-a Moon-a... a-Festival! To kick things up, we have the great Prince Stolas-a, here to usher in this here Pain Games!"

Striker's stomach sank as a tall, regal owl demon with grayish-blue plumage took the microphone. So that's what a blueblood looks like.

"How kind, Wackford. Greetings, tiny... Wrath Ring Imps! I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!" Striker frowned deeply, tail rattling. And he wasn't the only one. Many other Imps in the group were glaring daggers at the blueblood. "I'm happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest Imps to show their skill in dominance. Good luck to you all!"

Wackford was handed back the microphone. "Without further ado, let's commence with the first event: the obstacle course! Most of you know the drill, the first one to cross the line will win this round. Everyone get to the starting line!"

Striker followed the rest of the competitors to a chalked up-line, ending up right next to the aquatic demon.

The Hellwalker quickly eyed the obstacle course: some wooden structures—including a ramp structure next to a moat, tires, and ropes, amongst other things. It didn't look that hard. From how Jane described it, it was similar to running through the woods, but with a 'Town Imp' touch.

"Ready... set...!"

PAM!

Once he dropped Striker off, Moxxie hurried toward the stands. Most of them were overcrowded with Imps from Lamian or the neighboring towns who visited the festival.

"Moxxie?" He barely had time to react when a pair of green arms wrapped around him from behind. "Dai sette anelli, Mox! It really is you!"

That voice! Turning around, Moxie met the dark cyan, lime green-ringed eyes of a short, aqua pearl shark demon wearing a sleeveless white shirt, dark blue pants, and a matching cap.

"Donnie? Wha—OW!" he yelped as something smacked him in the back of the head.

"Still as slow as ever, Mox!" Turning around, the thespian met with another shark with a near-identical appearance to Donnie, but his skin was a greener turquoise.

"Frankie?!"

"Aw, look, he hasn't forgotten our names."

"Man, you've grown up from the last time we saw you!"

"What's with the long face, kid? Aren't you happy to see us?"

Admittedly, as much as Moxxie wouldn't want to recognize it, part of him was happy to see these two. They'd been like big brothers to him growing up—the kind that would drag you along into their schemes, but out of all the syndicate members, they were the ones who'd always make time for him the most.

"It's not that, you guys just caught me off guard completely," Moxxie admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "What are you doing all the way here?"

"Well, you know how the Boss is fond of having hellbeasts as guardian dogs or to dispose of 'undesirable people'? Well, the last one he had got sick and died." Frankie explained.

"I can't blame the poor thing. I mean, Greed is a polluted wasteland from wherever you look at it. It was bound to happen eventually, but he doesn't seem to figure that out." Donnie added rather sourly.

"Anyhow, we heard that there's a merchant here selling a hellbeast and the Boss is interested in acquiring it. Can you believe he even came here to acquire it in person? And we all know how he hates Wrath."

"Frankie, we all hate Wrath. It's too hot and dry for our species!"

Moxxie stopped listening to their bickering when they said he'd come in person. All color drained from his face, heart pumping so fast that he was sure it burst out of his chest at any moment now.

Let this be a lesson, Moxxie.

He's here.

This is what happens when you cross me.

Crimson's here.

Another smack on his head snapped him out of it.

"What the fuck?!"

"You okay, Mox? You look like you saw a ghost." Frankie said.

"It's been years since he saw Crim face-to-face, You can't blame him for being like that." Donnie retorted. "Before you piss your pants, Mox, the Boss ain't here. He and Alessio are inside the town with the others trying to find a decent place to stay." Moxxie sighed, somewhat relieved.

Wait, if Dad is here and he brought his inner circle, that means the name in the signing up...

"Is Jawns here?"

"Heck, yeah. You know how he loves games where you kick other people's asses. He says he loves a good challenge."

"We came to see him get his ass kicked for once." the twins snickered at this.

Moxxie recalled he was supposed to meet Millie and Jane at the stands. "Guys, it's been nice catching up, but I really have to go—" he didn't get to finish as Frankie grabbed his neck in an armlock.

"Oh, no, kid! You're not ditching us when we've only talked for about five minutes! We have a lot of catching up to do!"

Moxxie cursed under his breath. "F-Fine, you guys can come along!" he snapped, getting free from the shark's hold and catching his breath. "Just a thing, my wife doesn't know my father is a—"

"Wife? Heck, you even got married, and we didn't find out?"

"Would you please listen?!" Moxxie raised his voice, patience at his limit. "My wife Millie doesn't know I come from a mobster family, so I'd be very grateful if you guys didn't spill it to her. Also, please don't tell Dad I'm here, I doubt he'd be... happy to see me."

Frankie and Donnie exchanged knowing looks. They seemed to figure out what he meant with that. While they weren't present when Crimson had 'disowned' Moxxie, they probably heard about it from the others.

"No problem, Mox."

"We're a grave!"

Reluctantly, Moxxie led the twins toward the stands. It didn't take him long to find Millie, Jane, and Jake in the front rows. The three were quite surprised when they noticed he had company, though.

"Alright, who's the lucky lady, Mox?" Frankie inquired, eyeing both Jane and Millie. Moxxie gestured to Millie. "Nice to meet ya, Mrs. Moxxie!"

"Oh, it's... nice to meet you too..." Millie laughed awkwardly.

Moxxie stepped in. "Millie, Jane, these are Frankie and Donnie. They're friends from way back—"

"We've known him since he was a tot!" Donnie pipped in happily.

"Yeah, we worked for his... family. Sometimes we got stuck keeping an eye on him."

Unfortunately for Moxxie, Frankie's statement caught Millie's curiosity. "Oh, you know his family? Mox has never talked much about them. Only his ma occasionally."

"Oh, yeah, Mrs. Knolastname was a nice woman. She was even nice to the employees."

"Yeah. The Boss adored her, even if they didn't always see eye to eye in—OUCH!" Frankie suddenly yelled in pain. That's odd, Moxxie hadn't stepped on his tail yet. He looked down and saw Jake had bitten into it.

"Jake!" Jane scolded while Frankie rubbed his sore tail.

"What do you think you're doing, kid?!"

"What kind of Imps are ya? Ye smell funny."

"Thank you, kid!" Donnie remarked, shooting his twin a knowing frown.

"We ain't Imps, kiddo. We're sharks." Frankie retorted.

"What's a shark?"

"Seriously? Have you never gone to Greed or Envy? There's a lot of us there."

"Guys, maybe you should sit down. The first event is about to begin." Millie pointed out, hurriedly motioning them to sit down.

Jane pulled Jake away from the twins and made him sit right next to her, whispering that they'd have a talk about biting into strangers' appendages when they went back home. Frankie made the smart decision to sit as far away from Jake as possible, but just for precaution, he kept his tail wrapped around his legs.

Moxxie spotted Striker in the finish line, and right next to him was none other than Jawns Fangs, the Family's underboss. He and Alessio—his father's right-hand shark and consigliere—additionally acted as Crimson's bodyguards, but Jawns was the one who liked to get his hands dirty. Moxxie sometimes remembered him having blood stains on his hands or clothing, but other than that, most memories of him were quite fond.

Still, Moxxie couldn't help but worry about Striker. He had probably never seen a shark demon before and might be caught off guard with Jawns's tactics.

The gun was fired, signaling the start of the race. Unsurprisingly, Striker and Jawns were at the front, followed by Travers, Blitzo, Sallie May, some of Millie's brothers, and the rest of the competitors. All around him, the crowd went wild, cheering up for their friends or relatives competing: Jane and Jake for Striker, Millie for her family, and Frankie and Donnie for Jawns.

The Hellwalker seemed to be at the top of his game here, particularly in the balance bridge, stepping stones, and rubble obstacles. The obstacles involving ropes were more unfamiliar, but it didn't take him long to adapt once he saw his opponents doing it.

Then again, he's lived in the forest his entire life. This is probably like running through trees, rocks, and obstacles on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, his rivals—Jawns amongst them—took notice of this. While climbing the wooden ramp structure, Blitzo leaped down ahead of Striker by pushing him down. While in the mud crawl, Travers 'accidentally' struck him on the nose with a boot. In the water crossing, Sallie May actually pushed the snake imp into the water out of nowhere. Granted, this merely slowed Striker down a bit, but Moxxie could tell these 'attacks' were riling up his temper.

In the final stretch toward the finish line, the Hellwalker finally lost it when Jawns smacked him in the face with his tailfin—Donnie made a comment that it'd hurt in the morning. That seemed to be the last straw for Striker.

"Sweet satan, did that one just take off his boots—? What the—? He's running on all fours!" Wally Wackford spoke through the microphone.

Indeed, Striker had taken off his boots and, abandoning 'town imp courtesy', ran on all fours, advancing through the runners who'd gotten ahead of him with newfound agility. On the way, he made sure to make Travers and Blitzo trip as he ran past them. The pièce de résistance came when he leaped into Jawns's back, making him lose his balance and fall face-first into the mud to impulse himself forward, crossing the line first. Jawns barely had time to get up and cross in fourth place after Sallie May and Travers.

"Holy mammon! Donnie, tell me you recorded that!"

"Do you really expect me to be recording at such a time?"

"Way to go, dad!" Jake cheered.

"Man, I've never seen an Imp running on all fours like that! And he was really good at it too." Millie commented.

"Aye, miss. I'd even say that guy was moving like a hellbeast." Donnie added, to which Moxxie swallowed hard.

...

With the race over, the competitors were given twenty minutes to take a break before the next event began. Striker, covered in sweat and mud, followed the rest of the competitors into a tent with water and towels. He felt many eyes staring at him—either warily or in awe—as he went to grab a glass of water. They were whispering about him, wondering where he came from and why he moved like that. Striker snickered internally. If they knew.

He gagged unto a mouthful of water when someone struck him on the back.

"That was amazing, pal!" an Imp with big horns and a strange tattoo on his forehead laughed. "Man, you caught me off guard back there!"

Striker wiped his mouth, glaring daggers at the perpetrator. Wait. Big horns, white marks all over his body, heart-shaped tattoo on his forehead. This was the one who'd taken Jake's body inside the town walls. His tail rattled.

"Ya didn't do that bad yerself." Striker retorted dryly.

"Yeah... Sorry about that. Everything is fair in the Pain Games, pal. By the way, I'm Blitzo — the 'O' is silent, future hellbeast hunter extraordinaire!" Striker clenched his fists. "How about you? What's your name?"

"Ye may call me Striker."

"Man, ever your name sounds hot." Striker took a wary step back, tail rattling. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that!"

The tent went silent again. The aquatic demon from before had just come in and walked straight toward them.

"I think these are yours," he told Striker, handing over his muddied boots. The Hellwalker accepted them. "Sweet mammon, I knew you Wrathian Imps were wild, but I just didn't imagine that wild."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it as you'd like, fella." the demon stretched out a hand, smirking. "Name's Jawns. How about you?"

Striker reluctantly grasped his hand in a reluctant handshake, if only for the sake of courtesy. "Striker."

"Mind if I take some water? My kind doesn't fare well in this hot climate." Striker and Blitzo stepped aside. To the former's surprise, Jawns poured it all over his head and shoulders rather than drink it. "Ah, that's much better!"

"What brings a shark mafioso up to Wrath?" Blitzo asked.

"Nothing escapes your friend, huh, Striker?" Jawns snickered. "The Boss came for some business, and we came along. Hopefully, we won't stay for long. He doesn't like Wrath that much either."

"What kind of 'business'?"

"I'd have to kill you if I told you." Jawns joked. At least, Striker thought it was a joke. "On a more serious note," he locked eyes with the Hellwalker. "Just so you know, I'm not holding back the next time."

"Likewise."

The Games resumed shortly after.

The next event was known as the 'Lassoing Roping'. Striker found himself facing a bit of difficulty in this one, being unfamiliar with the whole 'lassoing' thing. He avoided the lassoes for as long as he could, but eventually, the one known as Travers caught him and tied him up alongside Jawns. As the last standing Imp, Travers was declared the winner.

The 'tug-or-war' game was a bit more familiar. The hellbeasts often practiced it amongst themselves when they fought over a bone or a piece of meat. Striker teamed up with Jawns and Blitzo on that one. They pulled the rope against Travers and two other Imps. This was when Jawns's physical prowess became evident; he only needed to pull once to drag not only their opponents but Striker and Blitzo as well, off their feet and into the muddy pool beneath the ramp.

The final event was wrestling in the mud. At this point, all the competitors went all out against each other. This was the one game in which Striker almost felt right at home, reminding him of times he and Brash would brawl with each other or with Bombproof.

He'd just sent a smaller Imp flying into the muddied pile of the 'defeated' when he saw his wife and children. Jake waved an enthusiastic arm at him. Jane seemed to be feeding Amelia, but she did manage to free an arm for enough time to wave at him. Millie and Moxxie were still sitting beside them, but now they were seemingly accompanied by two green demons. They had a bit of resemblance to Jawns. Perhaps they were of the same species?

Moxxie and Jake began making signs and shouting, but he couldn't understand them all over the noise—

Striker was suddenly pulled by the tail, grabbed, and thrown into the mud. He was barely recovering from the daze when a heavy foot pressed down on his chest.

"What did I tell you, pal? I'm not holding back!"

Jawns.

Striker used his tail to throw mud in the shark's eyes, distracting him long enough to get free of his foot and tackle him to the ground despite his smaller size.

"And I told you that neither would I!" he hissed, tail rattling.

The bastard sneered. "Good! It's been a while since I had a good challenge!"

Today was probably the most interesting day she's had in a while. She didn't quite understand what Royalty had against Imps. They were actually fun to be around.

So far, Octavia had engaged in some of the games—balloon darts, apple bobbing, ring toss, amongst others—in the festival. Most of them reminded her of the family trips to Loo Loo Land when she was an owlet. There were others, such as 'guess the hog's weight', that were completely new to her. She was glad not to have entered that one when she learned the prize was a live piglet. Mom certainly would have killed her if she had taken one back to the castle.

It wasn't long before all of the attendees gathered in the stands to watch the so-called Pain Games. Octavia knew it was her cue. Dad would surely leave his grimoire back in his tent while watching the event. It was her chance.

Octavia waited until Dad had gone to his seat before making her way towards the tents. On the way there, though, she stopped briefly to watch the first event. One of the competitors caught her eye: a pale snake Imp. His movements were unlike any Imps she'd seen so far. He completely caught her off-guard when he took off his boots and ran the final stretch on all fours.

Octavia found herself watching the entirety of the Pain Games—especially the Pale Imp. There was something... familiar about him. It wasn't until she briefly caught a glimpse of his ringed, pale yellow eyes that she connected the dots.

They were the same as Brash's.

That imp must be related to him in some way. He'd mentioned a brother before, this could be him. But why would he be dressed like the townsfolk and participate in the Pain Games?

She realized the answers to her ever-growing questions would have to wait. She'd lost track of time. It grew late into the evening, and Dad would retrieve the grimoire. She better hurry.

As Octavia ran towards the tent, she was stopped by two guards.

"Scram, filthy Imp! This area is strictly off-limits."

Oh, right. She's still in her disguise. Octavia exhaled, briefly letting her glamour vanish so the guards could see who she really was. Their faces changed instantly.

"Our apologies, your highness. We didn't recognize you."

"That's the idea. The Imps around here don't seem very fond of the Goetia family." Octavia cleared her throat. "In fact, I've gotten so tired of mingling with the 'riffraff' that I'd like to take a break!" she whined in the tone her mother sometimes used when 'moody'.

"O-Of course, Your Highness!"

And so, Octavia walked into the tent with no further incidents. She let out a sigh of relief.

She couldn't help but feel weird about talking about the Imps in such a demeaning form after hanging around them. After meeting a Hellwalker.

Octavia shook her head. Don't get distracted, you have a job to do.

Dad's grimoire was right there, on top of the table. He must be really confident in the security if he leaves it out in the open like that. Guess the Imps were smart enough not to try and sneak past those guards.

Octavia ran a finger on the book's cover. She'd seen its powers from a young age, back when Dad would open portals into space to show her the constellations and planetary events that made up the universe.

The Goetia princess warily glanced back one more time. If Dad caught her, she'd be in big trouble.

"Okay, book... Show me your memory-altering spells."

The grimoire snapped open and flipped its pages rapidly. It came to a halt seconds later, depicting two pages with illustrations of brains and magic effects on them, particularly regarding memory. Octavia quickly read through the pages until she found something that might be useful.

Unsupressing memories

The way minds work is simple: whenever something is too unpleasant, shameful, or traumatic to entertain, the mind rejects it, and it's erased from memory. But the imprint is always there, nothing is ever truly forgotten.

Obliviatus does not remove a memory from its host. Rather, it just locks it away and seals it within the mind. To unlock it, one must go into the recess of their own subconscious via self-legilimency.

Bingo. Octavia quickly slipped her phone out of her pocket and snapped a photo of the spell requirements. It didn't look that complicated.

"Via?" She jumped, dropping her phone to the ground as she heard Dad's voice. He was standing in the tent entrance. "Is something wrong? The guards told me you were in here." Damn snitches.

She quickly turned to face Dad, closing the book from behind.

"Oh, Dad!" Octavia laughed nervously. "Nothing in particular. I just needed to take a break."

"Is that so? How did you like the festival?"

"It wasn't that bad. It was more fun than the Goetia family parties."

"Oh, I'm sure!" he laughed. She quickly moved her phone closer with her foot. Thankfully, Dad didn't seem to notice. "You won't believe this, Via, but this year there were two winners for the Pain Games."

"Is that legal?"

"They won the same number of events and tied in the mud wrestling match, so the jury declared them both winners. I think it's the first time it's ever happened, isn't it fascinating?"

"Who were the winners?"

"That's the most curious thing. A shark demon, most likely from Greed, and a snake imp. Those two were toe to toe in almost every event." Snake Imp? He must be talking about that pale Imp from earlier. "Anyhow, I was about to open the harvest moon portal. Would you like to join me?"

"Actually, Dad, I think it'd be best to return to the castle before Mom sends a whole squad to fetch me."

Dad went blank for a moment. "Oh, dear, you're right. Knowing Stella, she'll think you were abducted and send an entire squadron looking for you. The last thing we need is another witch hunt."

Seeing that Dad was nowhere near suspicious of her presence there, Octavia calmly picked up her phone. After sharing a brief, affectionate hug with Dad, she hurried out of the tent and away from the arena.

Once she was certain she was at a safe distance, Octavia scrolled through the screenshots on her phone. She'd need to get some ingredients, but most of them weren't that hard to get. Still, she better ask Brash for some advice.

Striker murmured under his breath and wiped some remaining mud from his face.

A big hand smacked on his back, knocking him off his feet again. "Nice fighting, Imp! I wasn't expecting that biting on your part!"

"Ye weren't makin' it any easier for me either, sharky," Striker murmured with a frown.

Jawns laughed heartily. "Sorry, us sharks can get... carried away when there's fighting involved."

"I say, I say, for the first year ever, we have a tie for the Harvest Moon Pain Games winner!"

The Goetia prince took it from there. "The winners are Striker and Jawns Fangs!"

Striker cursed under his breath. Apparently, the two thousand bucks would be split in half since there were two winners. That left him with less money to get Jane's girdle, the doctor's appointment, and Amelia's supplies.

Jawns, unaware of his inner thoughts, patted his shoulder. "Well, that's our cue!"

He begrudgingly walked onto the stage alongside Jawns. The bastard was excitedly basking in the crowd's cheers. They were handed over a slip of paper with some writing and symbols on it. Striker examined it curiously. So this is town Imp money? It doesn't look that impressive.

"And now, my dear commoners of the Ring of Wrath!" Striker watched as a blue book, enveloped in a magic blue aura and adorned with a gold sigil, flipped its pages in tandem with the Goetia's fingers. "I, Stolas of the Ars Goetia, hereby curse this year's harvest with the glow of the true harvest moon!"

The clouds swirled and twisted as a giant hole—or portal—opened up above them. The living world's sky was a deep navy blue, unlike Wrath's dark red. The round moon was a mix of reds and oranges bathing the atmosphere in a scarlet light.

Striker stared up at it in awe. He'd occasionally caught glimpses of it from the forest, but it was even more beautiful up close.

The crowd began to disperse as the festival concluded, and Prince Stolas retired, though the portal remained open. Striker guessed it was his cue and hurriedly walked down the stage to look for his family, followed promptly by Jawns.

"Wait a second, Striker. Are you casually looking for a job?"

"No," Striker answered curtly.

"You sure? I can put in a good word about you to my boss. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to welcome someone with your skill into the Family."

Striker wanted to tell the shark to fuck off, but decided to play it 'polite'. "Thank you, but I'm not interested in... whatever yer boss does. 'Sides, my wife had a new baby, and I'm kinda busy with that."

"Oh, yeah, I know the feeling." Jawns seemed disappointed, but thankfully he seemed to understand. "Well, I'll see you around, I guess! I can't wait to see Alessio's face when I tell him I won. He owes me one hundred bucks...!"

Striker sighed in relief as the shark walked away toward the town walls alongside the rest of the town's imps. Still, as annoying as Jawns seemed to be, he had to admit he was skilled.

Okay, now to find Townie and his family.

What did you think? I bet I surprised you! Crimson has yet to appear but'll act as a major antagonist in future chapters.

BTW, the characters Jawns Fangs belongs to Noody_Noodles, and appear in her comic The White Sin. It's a good comic, and I love it, though it has... strong themes that might be uncomfortable for some people. Anyhow, thanks for borrowing me your OC, Noodles!

Now I can work on finishing Unhappy Campers and start working on Oops!