:^)
With that,
Lettuce begin.
đø̶ Fear the Reaper
〖ɍɇȺ̶s̶ø̶n̶ ̶ø̶n̶ɇ〗
Within a room that felt plucked from a bygone era of magic, a young sorceress held her ethereal court. The towering shelves, crammed with dusty tomes and mystical grimoires, basked in the soft, flickering embrace of countless hovering candles. The ancient parchments exuded a fragrant blend of knowledge and smoldering incense, as though the very air itself was ensnared in a spell of wonder.
Amidst this arcane sanctuary, the sorceress stood with her short, resplendent purple hair adorned by an array of ribbons, a vibrant contrast to the sinister surroundings. Her ensemble was an elegant and wickedly enchanting purple Gothic Lolita masterpiece, replete with lace, frills, and ribbons that danced like mischievous spirits amidst the shadows.
Surrounded by ancient texts, bizarre contraptions, various-colored vials and a brewing cauldron. Her vivid eyes, bearing the weight of untold arcane secrets, shimmered with otherworldly energy as she fervently delved into her incantations. Her delicate fingers traced invisible sigils and conjured forth luminous bursts of magic that coiled and weaved like ethereal serpents, their violet hues mingling with the velvety darkness.
She remained the maestro of her mystical orchestra, lost in the rhapsody of her own making—unaware of the shadow that lurked within her chamber.
His mission was no trivial matter but straightforward: the capture of the wayward sorceress, Walburga, who was confirmed to possess the coveted Incinerate Anthem. A Longinus imbued with the power to summon and manipulate devastating purple Holy Fire—anathema to creatures of darkness.
A Longinus that would better serve the Templar Order, rather than remaining ensnared in the ambitions of an audacious sorceress.
With eyes like molten amber, his breath dampened by his cloth mask, he watched every subtle gesture of Walburga while he sauntered almost casually through the room, the window behind him remaining open. The only contrast to the darkness being the vibrant red cross emblazoned on his chest.
An irony, present in the childish appellation he had chosen at the tender age of ten, now manifested in his adult persona—Zero, a name symbolic of the void he embodied. Known for leaving naught but an empty echo of his presence, for concealing his arcane aura entirely, an ethereal phantom amidst the supernatural realms that left nothing but silence in his wake
And now, to silence her.
In an instant, Zero's gloved hand clamped around Walburga's wrist and her neck like a vice, and his latent Nullifying ability immediately halting her futile attempts to summon her arcane incantations. The Incinerate Anthem unleashed its holy fire, pulsating with ethereal purple flames. Yet it remained impotent, leaving not even a scorch mark at his sanctified Templar outfit.
"Nice try," Zero's voice held a note of his trademark dry humor as he addressed the powerless sorceress. "But I happen to be a man of faith... Well, not as devout as I probably should, but you get the idea."
Her spells nulled, her Longinus failing to work— he was not a creature of Hell, he was— her eyes widened in recognition, the truth dawning upon her. "Y-YOU'RE—!"
He silenced her with a gloved hand over her lips. "Shh. Quiet, strega. Your fellow witches are sleeping."
Powerless and vulnerable without her Spells, she felt her heart race with dread as Zero forcibly brought her towards the bubbling cauldron that simmered ominously, its green concoction laden with latent enchantments.
"Rizevim Livan Lucifer. Qlippoth. Any of these ring any bells?" Zero's tone remained deceptively casual, though beneath his demeanor, a storm of fear and terror washed over Walburga. "I'll let you talk now, but scream, and you'll be drinking this soup of yours."
"Yes, yes, I know them! I can help you!" Walburga's voice quivered with desperation as she hastily sputtered out the truth, every word imbued with the raw urgency of her dire predicament.
"...Well? Go on."
"R-Rizevim… he… promised power, wealth, and an unending lust for magic. I... I couldn't resist," she began, her tone pleading. "He promised us... me, and my Hexennacht coven, the world in exchange for our allegiance."
"A Deal with the Devil eh? Classic… What's your end of the bargain?"
Walburga's gaze briefly flitted to the simmering pot, the heat radiating against her face, before she mustered the courage to reply, "I-I-I'm tasked with discovering methods to extract Sacred Gears… Our primary pursuit... revolves around acquiring Sacred Gears and siphoning their power."
Zero's eyes narrowed, a glint of dangerous intent in their depths.
Enough to make her feel threatened. "I-it was for his own sinister purposes, I swear! I can tell you everything, every detail, every operation, everything he's done! Just... just don't kill me!"
"What do you know about Rizevim's ultimate goal?" Zero inquired, his voice lilting with his usual disarming carefreeness.
"I... I don't know everything," she stammered, her fear giving way to unfiltered truth. "But he's... he's searching for something... something that he believes will reshape the world. He's been conducting experiments... dark rituals... and using the power of the Sacred Gears to achieve his objectives. I swear, that's all I know!"
He considered for a moment, letting the sorceress feel the stinging heat and the bubbling of the hot green goop. Oh, it just switched color to red.
"Show me how this extraction is done."
"...H-huh…?"
His expressive eyes telling his distaste, Zero brought her face closer to the bubbling cauldron, the searing heat of the pot almost kissing her neck.
"Okay, okay! Th-the extraction, right? I-I'll explain it to you… j-just… it's getting quite hot, wouldn't you agree…?"
Zero chuckled, a hint of appreciation for her dark humor as he lifted her face slightly off the boiling content. "For you, yeah. I'd imagine as much."
"Aha… haha…" Still gripped by Zero's firm hold, she hesitantly revealed the dreadful process. With a quivering hand, she pointed to a set of ominous-looking vials nearby. "You see those vials? Those are the key. Sacred Gears are intrinsically tied to the soul, and extracting them is a matter of severing that connection."
She continued, her voice low and filled with apprehension, "We use a unique alchemical solution, one that resonates with the essence of the Sacred Gear itself. When injected into the subject, it triggers a reaction, forcibly separating the Sacred Gear from its host's soul. The moment it's ripped away, the soul is irrevocably destroyed."
"Living?"
"...That's… optional… As long as the body is fresh enough. Sacred Gears take time before detaching itself from their host's soul, which also takes its own time before detaching itself from its vessel."
"For how long?"
"...About a day. Unless the soul is trapped in the body or it's reaped early by a Reaper..." she swallowed her saliva, though her mouth felt drier than the desert. "...You're… you're not going to… end my arcane research, right…? I can be a valuable asset to your Order, esteemed Templar—"
"Huhs. I'm thinking."
Walburga sealed her lips instantly.
She watched his face, the only discernible being his eyes and a bit of skin not hidden by his hood or his dark cloth mask. There was an expression clouding his hidden features but she couldn't tell what it was.
It was fascination. Interest. With a pinch of genuine amazement.
"And once it's extracted, how do you claim it as your own? Rituals, I'm guessing?"
"N…no… no need for a ritual," Walburga explained, her voice tinged with dread. "Once severed, it's a matter of containment. It's stored within a phylactery, a vessel created for this purpose." She gestured to some jars. They looked macabre, but still, a jar to him. "This phylactery is then prepared for a new owner, typically through a rigorous process of purification and attunement."
Zero's intrigue deepened, and he prodded further, "And how does it end up in the hands of the chosen successor?"
She swallowed hard, her dread growing palpable. "The power within the phylactery can be claimed by a new owner willingly or forced upon them. O-or… the Sacred Gear can be infused to an object, often a specially crafted amulet or talisman. Once the object is prepared, it becomes a conduit for the Sacred Gear's abilities, allowing the new owner to wield its formidable power, but hardly at its zenith… The true power comes from the willingness of the extracted Sacred Gear to obey its new master."
His own morbid curiosity led him to press further, "Can it be claimed without using a talisman or fancy relics? While it's still in the phylactery?"
Walburga hesitated, but the fear in her eyes made her answer clear, "Y-yes, it can. But it's a perilous endeavor, for you see, without the buffer of a talisman, the Sacred Gear might resist the new host… damaging their soul, perhaps even destroying it. It's a high-stakes gamble, and the risk is that the Sacred Gear, in its refusal, may inflict severe damage to the host's very soul. Few are willing to take this gamble, for the price is often their own sanity or, worse, their life."
She glanced at the ominous vials once more, her eyes reflecting the horrors she had witnessed in this chamber of arcane secrets.
Zero's eyes bore into Walburga's as he inquired further, "Who else knows about this? Apart from you?"
"Only me and my journal," she confessed with a trembling voice, "The secrets are safely hidden away within its pages." Her gaze shifted towards a dusty tome on a nearby shelf, the repository of her dark knowledge, a solitary witness to her sinister dealings.
Noting the book, Zero then continued his interrogation, "And the instructions within your journal, are they explicit enough for a lower-tier magician to utilize them?"
Walburga nodded, her voice growing weaker, "Yes… it's detailed enough for someone with modest magical abilities to follow. That's why Rizevim was so keen on keeping it in his grasp."
Her admission revealed the inherent danger in the knowledge she had guarded. And why this knowledge must never see the light.
His own Order, or the world.
"I see…" Zero nodded with an eerie calmness, his voice devoid of emotion. "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Haha… you're welcome… Reaper…" A faint, trembling smile touched Walburga's lips as relief coursed through her. She felt like she had narrowly escaped the clutches of death. "...You're surprisingly well-humored."
"Mhmm. And you're surprisingly optimistic."
Before she could fully grasp his words, with a well-practiced maneuver, Zero's gloved hands swiftly guided her head inside the cauldron. Her hands scrambled, attempting to claw at his face though her struggle didn't even last five seconds, as her muffled screams silenced in the unforgiving, alchemical depths.
Don't Fear the Reaper
〖Reason 4〗
|| He Likes New Toys ||
"Our world is tainted by these unnatural ilk. Filth that tarnishes the world.
We embrace the divine responsibility of collecting their powers,
to purify them and ensure they are used for the greater good.
For we are guided by the Father of Understanding. They do not."
-
In the stillness of the night, Zero and Rias continued their journey towards Pisa, the rhythmic cadence of their horse's hooves serving as the metronome of time. Rias, wrapped in sleep, clung to Zero, the remnants of her past trials manifesting as nagging injuries.
Years had come and gone since that memorable showdown with the unfortunate witch, yet the memory clung to Zero's mind as tenacious as a bad habit. 'Ah, the good old days,' he mused with a wry smirk, concealed behind his dark cloth mask. 'Fireworks to die for, really.'
After briefly comparing that night's firework to the recent one in Florence, a hint of wry amusement tugged at his concealed lips as he recalled the mixed reactions that had followed his actions.
He got flak from The Church, especially from the stern Griselda. They hadn't exactly thrown a party to celebrate his decision to expedite Walburger's reckoning.
They seemed to prefer long, drawn-out trials, but Zero was never a man for bureaucracy. On the flip side, the Templar Order had given him a standing ovation for his pragmatic approach. Their objectives had been met, and Hexennacht had crumbled without its leader, its wayward members promptly hunted and dismembered by the relentless Knight Orders. Walburga's nefarious research had met the same fiery end as its creator, the twisted sorceress mysteriously dissolved into the very magical stew she had been brewing. And the sinister secrets of Sacred Gear extractions were snuffed out…
With the exception of the one that now nestled within his head.
Who would've thought that enduring Griselda's tedious lessons would pay off one day?
Zero continued to steer the horse through the inky darkness of the mountain range, the Arno River reflecting the early moonlight, the searing pain he'd endured that night resurfacing with perfect clarity. How could he forget it? It was like receiving a thrilling new toy, one neatly concealed without having to clutter up his belt.
He hummed a certain melody—Beethoven's "Lacrimosa", one that Irina liked to play in the organs the most during her visit because it sounded hauntingly cool—and, in idle amusement, conjured ethereal purple flames that danced before him, his brown eyes alight with a vivid violet glint.
The Incinerate Anthem.
Not that he'd had much of a chance to play with it… more firecracker than an apocalypse. They were quite useful in destroying bodies though, provided they fulfill the 'creatures of the dark' criteria.
But now, as he faced the impending brand of a Rogue Templar, his self-imposed restriction that had kept the Longinus under wraps had been lifted. Maybe he never had to hide it in the first place since he got Dulio to cover him and talked out the higher ups that should be in the now; specifically those Angels and their pretty Halos, but he couldn't be too careful.
Nevertheless, like many of his instruments, Zero was prepared to unleash the full extent of this 'righteously repossessed' arsenal. Sticking around with Rias promised an abundance of opportunities to test his fancy tool of his trade to its fullest extent, and his heart was tippy-tappy-dancing from the prospect.
As Zero's musing simmered, a groan of pain from Rias cut through the night. Her stirring was accompanied by a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Zero swiftly cast aside the ethereal flames, his focus now fully on her well-being.
"Principessa," he called softly, concern veiling his otherwise unreadable demeanor. "You're awake a bit too early. We're not there yet."
She winced, struggling to sit up, and nodded, her voice strained. "Yeah, just... a little worse for wear."
"Well, might as well change your bandage then… This is the last one, though. It should do the trick."
"Ngh… alright…"
Zero's gaze swept the surroundings, and he spotted an old, dilapidated shed in the distance. It wasn't much, but it would have to suffice as their temporary refuge. He had to make sure her injuries didn't worsen anyway.
Swooping down, and after guiding their horse to a nearby spot for grazing and rest, he gently helped Rias to her feet. "Off you go," he urged, his gloved hand guiding hers. "Let's get you patched up and rest for a bit."
Rias nodded weakly, her dress shirt drenched in sweat and matted with dirt, her dark brassiere contrasting starkly against the once-pristine white fabric. For now, Zero refrained from his usual playful banter, sensing that Rias wasn't well enough to engage.
As Zero and Rias made their way into the rundown shed, the lack of light was immediately apparent. Zero, in his usual preparedness, reached for a small case on his belt, extracting a pair of night vision goggles. The shed was plunged into darkness, and he wasn't about to let that hinder their progress.
With a flick of a switch, the goggles illuminated the space in a ghostly shade of green. The shed, which must have had some purpose in its prime, now sat as a forgotten relic on the desolate mountain trail. Its walls bore the scars of time and neglect, with peeling paint and splintering wood. Once, it might have housed tools, offered shelter to travelers, or served as a rest stop for weary hikers.
Now, it was an isolated refuge for those who dared to venture into the unforgiving wilderness instead of taking the train. The air within was musty and tinged with the scent of decay, a testament to years of abandonment.
With the green-tinted world revealed by the night vision goggles, Rias remained nonetheless quiet. She was too weak to comment on Zero's choice of gear, and Zero recognized her state well enough not to press for conversation.
The small space within the shed offered a modicum of privacy, a rarity in their world. Zero knelt beside Rias, his expression still tinged with that carefree demeanor, but his eyes held genuine concern. "Rias," he began softly, "I need to change that bandage. Do you mind if I unbutton your shirt? You know I've seen your form before, bella."
"Uh… hu…h…" Rias, her voice frail and filled with pain, managed a nod, her trust in Zero evident. She knew that in her new line of work, vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't often afford. It wasn't the first time she had faced peril together, and it wouldn't be the last.
With her consent, Zero gently began to unbutton her shirt, his movements delicate and focused on minimizing her discomfort.
"You… do this often…?" She managed despite her condition.
The Templar chuckled softly, his voice a soothing presence in the dimly lit shed. "I am a sinful man," he replied, the words laden with a mix of humor and self-awareness.
With a practiced touch, Zero unwound the bandages that had concealed Rias' injuries. She winced as he exposed her wounds, the raw pain coursing through her body. Zero's fingers, now ungloved and gentle, navigated the task with precision and care. He examined the extent of the injuries, the faintest lines of concern now completely hidden by his hood, goggles, and mask.
Having planned his new journey in haste, he had only limited supplies at hand, and the alcohol he retrieved from his pouch was his last. He soaked a clean cloth in the alcohol, the pungent scent stinging the air, and began the meticulous process of cleaning her wounds.
Gently, he applied the alcohol to a clean cloth and began to clean the wounds on her stomach and the back of her shoulder.
"—!" The disinfectant immediately stung, and Rias clenched her teeth, her hissing growing more frequent.
His movements were steady, proving his years of experience in the field. He worked methodically, ensuring every trace of dirt and infection was eradicated, his care for his patient evident in his every touch, be it his fellow brother Templar or Devils.
As the process continued, the dimly lit shed was filled with a tense atmosphere, the only sounds the occasional hiss of pain and the soft rustling of their movements.
Cold sweat now pouring her features, Rias decided she couldn't bear the pain just by keeping silent; "How much... further...?"
Zero glanced at his wristwatch. "We should be there in seven."
"Seven hours...?"
He chuckled softly, trying to offer some reassurance. "No, bella, seven in the evening. Just an hour's ride."
"Oh…" Rias managed a relieved sigh, and the knowledge that their destination was so close offered her a glimmer of hope.
But a distinct howl sliced through the night. The horse tethered outside the shed whinnied in discomfort, a reaction to the eerie sound that had suddenly filled the air.
Zero's attention sharpened with a knowing glint in his eyes. The howl had been distinct, far from that of an ordinary wolf. It carried an air of primal ferocity and darkness, a sound that only one thing could produce—a Werewolf.
"...Wolf...?" Rias murmured weakly, her voice laden with concern.
"Nah," he replied with a touch of excitement. "It's our ticket into town."
The arrival of a werewolf in these desolate mountains was a twist he hadn't expected, but it promised an unexpected thrill, and that was something he could never resist. Besides, the heads of such creatures fetched quite the pretty penny, and in his line of penniless work, one learned to seize opportunities when they arose.
"Stay here," he instructed firmly, his night vision goggles still perched on his face.
Rias gave out a chuckle, "I'll do my best… Be careful…"
With a grin hidden behind his mask, Zero replied, "Careful's my middle name. Next to a slew of others… Ciao."
And with that, The Reaper Templar ventured into the darkness outside, leaving Rias to wait in the rickety shed, the wounds of both body and uncertainty gnawing at her.
Break
With a makeshift gray furred-sack containing a drained and decapitated Werewolf head ominously dangling from the horse's saddle, Zero and Rias reached Pisa, their destination looming ahead. As they approached the city gates, Zero dismounted and guided the horse toward a stationed guard.
In a silent exchange of understanding, The Templar handed the sack containing the severed Werewolf head to one of the guards who held the highest rank at this checkpoint. The head was proof of his skills as a member of the Knight Order, and it served as a subtle "bribe" to discourage the guards from asking too many questions.
Zero offered a knowing wink, and the guard captain nodded in silent understanding. This unsavory gift was enough to dissuade further inquiries about the wounded woman now carried on Zero's back.
"Bastarda nearly got her," Zero explained to the guard captain, emphasizing the threat of the Werewolf, intending to use it as a convenient scapegoat to its maximum capacity. "I need to conclude my Order's business here. See to it that my arrival doesn't make too much noise, aye Capitano? You and your men's discretion is vital to my task in this sweet town."
"Sì, Messere Templare," the guard captain acknowledged, taking the sack without inspecting its grisly contents too closely.
"Good man. Buona serata!"
With that casual parting, Zero left the guards behind and navigated the streets of Pisa, Rias quietly breathing, sleeping on his back. He moved through the city like a shadow, veiled by the dark cloak of the night, passing Rias off as a lady who had overindulged in Pisa's well-known winery.
Zero's steps were light, and his presence almost imperceptible as he made his way to a hidden location—a secret hideout where he could access his connection with a dormant ally.
This underground sanctuary was concealed beneath the bustling city of Pisa, hidden from the eyes of the world. Zero moved through the labyrinthine passageways with practiced ease, tapping into his memory for the hidden entrances that would grant him easier access. Well, of course he remembered this place. This was where Dulio used to take him during his younger years.
Once inside, Zero gently laid Rias down on a makeshift bed to ensure her comfort. He then activated a concealed panel in the sandy wall, revealing a hidden communication device. With a few skilled movements, he initiated contact with his underground ally.
"Hey? Yeah. This is Enzo. I'm in a bit of a pickle and I left my wallet at home," Zero spoke into the device, his words laced with a playful tone.
The seconds ticked by, and as he waited, he took a deep breath. Memories flooded back, and he couldn't help but take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the place he had spent countless hours in as he went on to relit the candles.
This remote and small hideout was once used as a base during his younger years. A dimly lit and compact space, hidden away beneath the bustling city of Pisa. Its walls were made of rough-hewn stone, and they bore the scars of countless years of use. The flickering light of a few strategically placed candles cast dancing shadows on the stone surfaces. Along the walls, there were shelves that held various items—a mix of trinkets, books, and tools—all relics from Zero's past.
The silence within the hideout was welcome, save for the occasional drip of water from a hidden source. The faint echo of footsteps and whispers from the city above quieted down through the stone, a reminder of the world beyond. A musty scent, the result of years of being sealed beneath the ground. It was a scent that Zero associated with his childhood, a comforting reminder of the years he had spent learning the ways of the world.
The makeshift bed for Rias was a simple cot, its wooden frame worn smooth from use. A threadbare blanket covered it, offering some semblance of comfort. The walls, cool to the touch, radiated the history of the hideout, their rough texture a tactile reminder of the passage of time.
A place where Zero had spent many hours studying and learning. The memories of shared meals and conversations with Dulio lingered, leaving a bittersweet taste in his mouth as he looked around.
In this place, Zero had forged a bond with his mentor and had learned the skills that would shape his future as a Templar. The hideout was more than just a physical space; it held the essence of his youth and the foundation of his experiences. Now, it served as a sanctuary for Rias, a place of refuge in a world fraught with danger for her kind, and now, perhaps him specifically as well.
As Zero was taking in the atmosphere of the hideout and reacquainting himself with the memories of his youth, the intercom suddenly sparked to life with a familiar voice.
"Enzo? Is that you? Or your place is haunted…"
He quickly approached the panel, pulling down his cloth mask to reveal his face. He absently licked the thin, new scar on his lips he had earned from his recent tussle with the female Werewolf.
"Boo," he started with a chuckle. "Good to know you're not ashes, V."
"And good to hear you haven't changed… and are still in one piece." Her chuckles filtered through the intercom, and there was a sense of relief in her tone. "Sit tight, my men will be there soon."
Zero nodded absently even though she couldn't see it. "Oh, I have an extra guest."
"Oh? Dulio's there with you?"
"No. A Devil," Zero bluntly stated, a hint of curiosity in his voice. The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and he was eager to hear how she would react.
After a significant pause, her voice held a note of wariness as she responded, "…Who is it?"
"Rias. Gremory Clan. She's…" he took a glance at her. Yep, still writhing in pain. "...pretty banged up. Heard of her?"
"Of course. I'll be right there." Her swift acknowledgement indicated that she understood the gravity of the situation.
Valerie Tepes was not a typical ally—not even close to being an ally of the Order. But her skills and connections had proven invaluable in the past. And tonight, it seemed that sparing her was indeed the right call. Vampires didn't normally act on their own, after all.
Yesterday's enemies and all that jazz…
Seated on a creaky chair that protested under his weight, Zero stretched out his legs and began to softly whistle the tune of Lacrimosa. He couldn't help but recall Irina's dramatic performances on the organ, a fond memory that had been etched in his mind from countless renditions, or way too many.
His eyes sparkled with a violet glint as he harnessed the power of his reaped Longinus, its tiny purple flames dancing in the confined space of the hideout, casting a surreal glow that added an otherworldly ambiance to the surroundings.
The flickering flames were a silent testament to the newfound power he wielded, and as he watched them twirl and spin, he couldn't help but wonder about the path ahead.
With Rias's safety and his ticket to the thrill rides in the Underworld hanging in the balance and his own complicated connections in the supernatural world, the night was far from over. But the journey so far had been anything but ordinary, a perfect blend of thrill and danger that quickened his pulse.
It was like savoring a perfectly seasoned dish – a taste of the unexpected, with a dash of danger and a pinch of intrigue. A culinary masterpiece in the making.
To be continued…
Go ahead. Tell me he's edgy. You're goddamn right he is :^) Ezio Auditore 2.0 wannabe lookin ass
I ain't gonna label this story as a masterpiece. It's more of the 'tune your brain out and enjoy the ride' sort of story. This isn't Dragon Age: Origins, this is Assassin's Creed: Origins. You just don't expect insane storytelling from ubisoft
danzisoft?
Anyway, he's got the Incinerate Anthem, a way to extract more of those sweet babies, and a dark side he's more than ready to embrace. The Reaper indeed