CHAPTER 1: THE DEVIL WENT TO MAGNOLIA
Thoughts: 'What is this...?'
Speech: "How are you doing?"
Moves: "Fire Dragon's Iron Fist"
Welcome to Dolomite, a remote village nestled in the southern expanse of Vacuo. This hidden hamlet was the proud abode of the warrior tribe known as the Hayabusa clan—famed cultivators of some of the greatest Shade Graduates and Huntsmen in Vacuan history. Despite their present prestige, the Hayabusa clan had humble beginnings, initially seen as savages. Originating from Mistral, they had migrated to Vacuo in the days predating the great war.
The history of the clan, from their ragtag warrior roots to their present prestige, was a tale worth recounting, but for now, our focus is on a modern-day Hayabusa embarking on a quest to find his father. "Be sure to stay safe, darling, and update us as soon as possible," his mother urged, her hand gently patting his cheek. "Be safe, Obsidian," she added, her eyes warmed by a mother's love as they gazed at her eldest son.
"Of course, Mum," Obsidian affirmed, his voice carrying an undertone of steely determination. "I can't make promises, but I'll make sure the old man is whole and sound when all is said and done."
Obsidian had truly come into his own as an exceptional Huntsman, much like his father in his prime. However, he bore an unmatched strength in every aspect. While he may have lacked in experience, he compensated with an unyielding spirit, raw power, and a keen intellect.
Three months had passed since they embarked on their mission. Such prolonged absences were not uncommon in the life of a Hayabusa, often dedicated to perilous quests and endeavors. The passage of time carried the weight of anticipation and uncertainty, an echo of a journey that held both great risk and potential reward.
However, it struck Obsidian as highly unusual for his father not to have at least reached out to his mother, given his consistent habit of checking in. His father had undertaken a mission to safeguard an archaeological site that had unearthed an enigmatic underground tomb in central Vacuo. The contents of this tomb remained shrouded in mystery, making the site a challenging discovery for most. Despite the ambiguity, Obsidian had faith in his father's meticulous nature—he was certain his father would have left behind some sort of marker or clue regarding his last known location.
Having an intimate understanding of both his father's habits and the treacherous terrain of their homeland, Obsidian was confident in his ability to navigate the perilous wasteland and trace his father's steps. It wouldn't come as a shock if the site had come under attack; after all, a new breed of Grimm, known as the Der Tyran, had surfaced years ago, initially dismissed as a cryptid but later confirmed with photographic evidence. There existed a plethora of possibilities to account for his father's prolonged silence, but he knew it wouldn't take too long to narrow them down once he got the chance to survey the site.
Obsidian's stride came to a sudden halt as a glint of light caught his eye, reflecting off an intriguing material. He swiftly dropped to one knee, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the object—a charm shaped like a sword, a gift he distinctly remembered giving to his father. Pinching the charm between his fingers, he stood to his full height and tossed the small trinket into the air, catching it with a deft snatch. The rhythmic rattle of the charm filled his enclosed hand as he meticulously scouted the area, his eyes scanning for any signs of an entrance to the elusive tomb.
Continuing to pace the perimeter from the point where he discovered the charm, he methodically scoured the vicinity. The hours passed, but his determination was unwavering, and he knew this meticulous effort was bound to yield results. His persistence paid off as he finally noticed a hole roughly two miles north of his starting point. Without hesitation, he quickened his pace, moving purposefully toward the opening.
Upon peering into the hole, he realized there was no clear way to descend—no stairs, no remnants of a ladder. Tucking the charm into a breast pocket, he activated his trusty black gauntlets and made a swift decision. He jumped, his metal-clad fingertips digging into the cavern walls to regulate his descent.
As he landed in a crouched position, he straightened, scanning the eerie surroundings with a flashlight in hand. Cobwebs hung in the air, and dark corridors seemed to manifest from the depths of his imagination, akin to the nightmares of his little brother. The steel-covered soles of his boots tapped against something hard on the ground, catching his attention. Frowning, he examined a small bust with features resembling an animal, complete with a majestic headdress signifying its elevated status—a jackal, perhaps.
The real intrigue lay in what followed. Picking up the artifact, his narrowed gaze traced at least ten distinct sets of footprints converging at this very spot, each heading in disparate directions. Yet one set stood out—the marks of a struggle, as if someone had desperately tried to escape, but something held them captive, preventing their flight. If he were a betting man, he knew in his gut that these were his father's footprints, a poignant sign of struggle and mystery in this enigmatic tomb.
Taking his eyes off the enigmatic footprints, Obsidian's gaze fixated on the relic before him. 'What was this artifact's role? Could it truly be responsible for the anomalies I've encountered so far?' These thoughts raced through his mind. Although not one to believe in superstitions, even he recognized the undeniable peculiarity of his discoveries. Standing back to his full height, he carefully placed the artifact into his satchel and raised his flashlight, determined to delve deeper into the heart of the tomb.
Reaching into his satchel, he retrieved a dust flare, his metal-clad thumb igniting it before dropping the flare to the ground, marking his path. Simultaneously, he grabbed a medium-sized book and a pen, swiftly sketching a map of the areas he had already explored, designating his current location as the chambers. After jotting down necessary details, he closed the book and secured it back in his satchel.
Advancing down the corridor, his flashlight swayed methodically from left to right, vigilantly scanning his surroundings. He came to a sudden stop at the sight of a doorway ahead, proceeding cautiously. As he rounded the corner, he was greeted by an altar featuring a statue eerily resembling the relic he had picked up. "Put it back where you found it," he mocked, his thick accent dripping with sarcasm, skeptical of the room's intentions.
Upon a closer look, he noticed a raised pressure plate near the altar. This discovery made him halt, scrutinizing the area more intently. Shining his flashlight on the floor, he spotted small holes—just large enough for the head of a spear to fit through. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and carefully placed the relic back on the altar, applying the appropriate weight to the pressure plate.
In that moment, nothing immediately transpired within the room. However, a distinct audible click echoed from down the corridor. Turning toward the doorway, he made his way out and continued his journey down the corridor, heading toward the source of the sound—a sense of both anticipation and caution guiding him forward into the unknown.
He came to yet another abrupt stop, the echo of the click drawing his attention to what lay before him—an imposing gate reminiscent of the first line of defense in a medieval castle. Thinking on his feet, he produced another dust flare, lighting it and tossing it behind him. As the flare cast its glow, he meticulously sketched his current location, jotting down details of his findings and the questions that had multiplied with this new area.
Turning his focus to the walls, he deactivated his gauntlets and ran his bare hands over the stone, searching for any activation sequences or hidden pressure plates. After finding nothing, he shifted his attention to the ground beneath his feet. Letting out an exhausted sigh, he stomped on yet another pressure plate, causing the gate to slowly rise. He shook his head in disbelief, muttering to himself, "What have I gotten myself into now?" He often wondered why it was always him thrust into these unnerving situations.
As he passed through the gate, he glanced back, eyes widening in shock as it began to close behind him. "Shite," he cursed under his breath, but pushed forward with a resigned sigh. The mysteries of this place were unfurling rapidly.
His exploration revealed a bloodied knife lying in plain sight. Hurrying over, he picked it up, studying its features. It was his father's knife, a basic dust knife—simple yet versatile, serving as both a sidearm and a tool. His heart sank at the implications of finding this artifact. He scanned the surroundings, keen on discovering any more items that might shed light on his current quest and the enigma surrounding his father's disappearance.
Seeing the red runes come to life shocked the Huntsman. The eerie glow they emitted and the foreboding aura they carried sent shivers down his spine. The air crackled with an unsettling energy, and he couldn't shake the sense of impending danger.
His red eyes widened at the sight, "What the bloody hell is that?!" His instincts screamed at him to flee, to escape this growing peril. He was all too familiar with the unpredictable nature of the Grimm and the supernatural. This situation felt like a dangerous twist in an already perilous tale.
Unbeknownst to Obsidian, the room that housed the altar where he had placed the relic earlier began to glow with an ominous red hue. Back with the Huntsman, Obsidian could see a red light shining from the ground. Each one emanated a different rune, and suddenly, a red portal unleashed an ear-piercing sound, sucking everything around it into its awaiting mystery. Every stone that entered was destroyed.
Desperately, Obsidian dug his hand deep into the stone wall, holding on for dear life as the suction threatened to pull him in. He could feel the powerful force tugging at him, the pressure pulling him closer to the dreadful portal. His eyes widened in panic as he tried to think of a way to escape this impending doom.
In a split-second decision, he released his grip on the wall and reached out, attempting to grab hold of a nearby pillar. But the Grimm was quicker, lunging at him and knocking them both towards the swirling portal, the force too powerful to resist. As they were pulled through the portal, the disorienting array of colors left the Huntsman in a state of confusion. Swirling hues clashed and merged, disorienting his senses and robbing him of any semblance of balance. The kaleidoscope of colors seemed to dance around him, a chaotic whirlpool threatening to consume his focus.
The lack of stable ground amplified the feeling of helplessness, but there was a silver lining. While suspended in this strange portal, the Grimm couldn't get the leverage needed to inflict any real harm on the Huntsman. It was a precarious reprieve, a moment in the chaos where he clung to the hope that he might survive this perilous journey.
LOC: Magnolia TIME: 12:00
The portal spat out Obsidian and the Beowulf, hurling them into the side of a building. The impact sent them crashing through a famous bakery, shards of glass flying into the dining area and injuring a few customers. Three meticulously crafted strawberry cakes, perched on the counter, met an unfortunate fate.
In that chaotic mid-air moment, Obsidian reacted swiftly. He brought his foot up between himself and the Beowulf, activating his semblance, and kicked the Grimm away with formidable strength. The Beowulf hurtled into the upper floors of an apartment building, vanishing from sight.
However, the force of this maneuver propelled Obsidian into the ground, sending him skidding into a magical shop, where various displays were reduced to debris. A vial of fire dust fell from his satchel, shattering upon impact. The fire dust reacted violently with a basic fire magic, resulting in a powerful explosion that engulfed the building in flames.
Amidst the chaos, a woman's scream pierced the air as the Beowulf landed on the ground, gripping her in its menacing claws. It prepared to feast on its helpless captive, its hunger evident in its gaping jaws. Suddenly, a voice rang out, cutting through the tension.
"Oi!"
Startled, the Beowulf turned to face Obsidian, still unharmed and standing in front of the blazing building. A Vacuan through and through, he embodied stubbornness, fearlessness, and resilience. The Beowulf tossed the woman aside, focusing its attention on the Huntsman who had defied death. Obsidian's gaze shifted to the woman on the ground, concern flickering in his eyes. However, his resolve was unwavering. "Piss off." Turning back to the Beowulf, he wore a feral grin, showcasing his silver canine implants that gleamed in the light. He taunted the Beowulf forward, inviting chaos with his daring spirit. "Right then, let's cause some chaos, ya gormless tosser."
The woman was too stunned to move. Who was this monster, and who was this wizard? He wasn't a familiar face from the Fairy Tail guild. Recent events had seen a few members return after seven long years of being missing. Could this man be one of them? As soon as the creature and the Huntsman clashed, it became evident that this man did not bear the marks of a Fairy Tail wizard. While Fairy Tail mages were undeniably fierce, their battles were typically aimed at bruising, not killing.
As the fierce combat unfolded before her, she was pulled from her thoughts by a man grabbing her, helping her to her feet.
"Let's go!"
It was Romeo, the young boy who had always been a helping hand around town. Protecting this woman and getting her to safety was his first priority. The young man got the woman into an alley and poked his head out look to witness the battle.
In the heart of the chaos, Obsidian and the Beowulf clashed in a merciless dance of combat. Obsidian's eyes blazed with an unwavering determination, his movements a blend of swiftness and calculation. He was a whirlwind of force, striking with unrelenting precision. Every punch and kick landed with thunderous force, resonating with the sheer power within him.
He expertly ducked, dodged, and countered, his strikes finding their mark unerringly. The Beowulf fought fiercely, but Obsidian's skill and ironclad determination surpassed the creature's savagery. His black gauntlets became a tempest of steel, each blow a testament to his relentless spirit.
With a bone-crushing uppercut, he sent the Beowulf soaring into the air. The Grimm roared in defiance, but Obsidian remained unyielding. In a practiced display of agility, he reached out, seizing the Beowulf by its hind leg, and brought it crashing back to Earthland, slamming it into the road beneath his feet, shattering the ground! Raising his foot, he delivered a relentless stomp onto the Grimm's back.
The battle raged on, a clash of titans leaving destruction in their wake. Obsidian's ferocity was unparalleled, his resolve unwavering. He fought for survival, for the primal thrill of battle, and for his purpose in this bewildering new world. The moniker for the Hayabusa clan was 'The Devil's Cast,' and the resident Hayabusa made it glaringly clear that it wasn't just for show.
Pinning the Grimm to the ground, Obsidian straddled its body, pressing its head firmly into the earth. Activating his semblance, a golden aura came to life around him, exuding raw power. The Beowulf growled and fiercely attempted to claw and bite its assailant, but all its efforts were futile against the augmented might.
With his semblance at its peak, Obsidian delivered the decisive blow, a sickening crunch echoing through the chaos as the Grimm met its end. The battle was over, leaving Obsidian standing amidst the destruction, the embodiment of relentless determination and unmatched strength.
Obsidian's head snapped around as he observed a young boy sprinting away, likely to alert the authorities of the town. Glancing at the Grimm's lifeless body and then around for an escape route, he made a swift decision to flee. As he sprinted through the town, he spotted a tree line in the distance and aimed to reach it for concealment, seeking a safer location. This unfamiliar town presented unknown risks, and he preferred not to engage in a battle just yet. Staying focused, he retrieved the knife from his satchel, knowing his father would attempt to stay inconspicuous. However, that plan was now compromised—Obsidian was not hard to identify.
Obsidian, a towering and robust young man, possessed a sun-kissed complexion that complemented his short, tousled brown hair. His physique bore witness to battles, adorned with a tapestry of scars that narrated stories of resilience. Inked on his skin was a saga of his life—Todeszelle etched on his left shoulder, a tribal Bull entwining his throat, and a haunting half sleeve portraying a broken home, a testament to resilience. On his back, a casket and solemn phrase, "all wolves die dirty," symbolized his unwavering spirit. Beneath his red sash, a sturdy black mesh provided protection, complemented by formidable black iron gauntlets named Krono and Sheeva. A scarlet sash elegantly draped from his brown leather belts, while leather padding guarded his thighs and steel plates shielded vital areas of his legs, culminating in robust leather boots with overlaid shin guards. Notably, his canine teeth were replaced with sterling silver implants, adding an intriguing touch to his enigmatic aura.
He shook his head at his own carelessness. The battle had consumed him, causing more destruction than he intended. Perhaps then he could have come up with a believable story, but it was obvious he was no longer in his familiar territory. Without another thought, Obsidian ventured further into the forest.
AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter of The Devil's Cast. I haven't written a story for almost a decade, I think. Please understand that all other stories I have no interest in continuing. This includes and is not limited to Broly Fairy Tail's Unbreakable Shield, Legends Never Die or Bleach Valhalla's War Through Time. I wanna have fun Writing again. I hope you all have a fantastic day and stay safe. Chapters will be updated, every Sunday is the plan. If I do go silent for a few months it means I finally shipped off to basic training.