NMHA Ch. 41 - Ghosts
A/N -
So it's that time again, time for more exposition!
That being said, hopefully I'll be able to keep a more consistent schedule again.
We'll just have to see, won't we?
Ruval panted, hefting his sword up to rest the flat against his shoulder, keeping his eyes firmly focused on the foe before him as he gauged.
They were taller, meaning more reach. They were faster, meaning he would struggle to approach. They were stronger, meaning that he couldn't force his way through. They had more stamina, meaning that he couldn't outlast them. He was all but spent himself.
That meant he had only one option.
He rushed forward, the eyes of his enemy gleaming as he moved in to meet the Phenex.
Yet instead of meeting his foe in a 'glorious clash', Ruval dove, sheathing his sword as he rolled between his foes legs, and upon rolling to his knees behind, drew his weapon and slashed outward.
It met with the flat of his foe's blade, a resounding clang indicative of Ruval's failure.
"Clever, making use of your small size to flank me," his opponent praised, a grin on his face as he shoved Ruval back, forcing him back further still to avoid being bisected. "But you're going to have to do better than that. Think fast!"
Ruval hopped back, then hopped back again, pulling his blade up just in time again and again to knock away the thrusts meant to perforate his body, extending blue wings to buy himself some distance...
Yet felt the cold stone crash against his back as he fell to the ground, a swift kick disrupting his balance and sending him tumbling forward with a groan.
The Blue Phenex, as others were starting to call him, sorely wished he could get away with turning to fire at will. But he knew that if he tried that, then he'd be punished severely for it.
Not many Devils could make fire bleed, after all.
This was one of the few that could.
He rolled to his feet, pulling up his blade as his foe raced back in, grunting as ground gave way beneath him, the Devil on the other end pressing his advantage. Ruval finally let out a yell, the air around him glowing blue before detonating a moment later.
The brief moment between glow and explosion was all it took for his tutor to pull back. "Your magic and your swordplay should flow together; use your flames to punish me for overextending, and your blade to act as the head to your assault!"
He would have pressed the charge, but his legs failed him, long hours of intense training finally taking their toll, panting, drenched in sweat as he used his blade to keep from falling over outright. The other Devil stopped upon seeing this, lowering his stance.
"Ah. I suppose we should take a break for the time being," a hand rose to run through its owner's hair, the other sheathing his weapon before walking over to Ruval to hold out a hand. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't realize you were already at the edge of exhaustion. C'mon, let me help you up. We'll go get something to eat and drink."
Ruval stared at the hand, before reaching up with his own to take it. A pull later, and he was back on his feet, if somewhat shakily.
"You... are a merciless instructor... Master Eospa."
"I have to be. If I don't train you to the bone, how can I expect you to survive if war breaks loose?" Bright eyes peered down at the teenaged Phenex, putting his other hand on blond hair to ruffle it. "It'd be a mark of failure for me: as a soldier, as a teacher... and as a friend. I'd have to live with your death over my head forever, and forever's a long time y'know!"
Ruval lifted a hand to push the one ruffling his hair away. "C-could have fooled me. I'm pretty... sure I almost died... a few times right there."
"Then how about I treat you to some iced candies to make up for it?"
The Phenex's lips pursed. "...Is there... kiwi?"
"You know I wouldn't offer if I didn't have your favorite." His instructor chuckled. "C'mon. Let's get you enough that you'll be set for a week."
The blond smiled. "Hahah... sure."
Ruval sat up, holding a hand to his head.
That dream...
It was familiar.
The gaze.
The swordsmanship.
That complete control of the battlefield.
Ruval's thumb shifted, flaking away the last of a scab that had formed on his forehead, a remnant of the ambush he'd intercepted.
How was it that the mercenary could make fire bleed?
"A ghost of the past, huh...?"
Was that, in and of itself, a clue?
Who was that mercenary? Why was he there?
What sort of fighter could remind Ruval of his late instructor?
Why did said fighter have his instructor's sword?
He shook his head, climbing out of his singularly-occupied bed meant for two, and stepped past the pile of ashes where countless letters from suitors had met their singular fate.
The blond had to wonder, was the Underworld really so barren on opportunity? Or were they just that shameless?
He'd lost a fiancee, after all. Yet, instead of giving him distance, the letters had increased not even days after Lunarunn's 'death' was announced to the Underworld.
They just wanted him to marry anyway. His own family was no exception.
Yet he had no interest in doing so.
It wasn't a matter of attractiveness - Devils were creatures of Id, and as such had bodies that suited their preferences. There were many that Ruval found exceedingly attractive, and had taken to his bed even in the past several years.
But it never lasted.
Ruval chuckled as he stepped into the shower, turning on the faucet and stepping in, shivering as the cold water met skin, several seconds passing before it heated up.
How ironic, that he would desire that which he could not have, at least not in the foreseeable future.
'If I can't have her though, then why not take the next best thing?' the Phenex thought bitterly. He could sleep around, have any woman he wanted, make a harem if he so chose, and he'd be lauded for it. He'd be praised for it.
He'd be praised for indulging in such base activities.
His parents would be proud if he took any and every woman who he deemed attractive, and used them as he saw fit-
He heard sizzling, and blinked with the realization that the water was turning into steam upon contact with his skin at this point.
He also looked down, and scowled at his body's reaction to the thoughts.
How despicable, a Devil's instincts could lead them to be.
The thought was tempting even to him, to indulge in that fantasy, to fall back asleep in a land of milky skin and sweet honeypots.
Devils were creatures of instinct and Id.
But that didn't mean they shouldn't try and rise above it. To be better than their desires.
Yet the Underworld wanted even the Devils to succumb.
"What a rotten place," he murmured, running a hand through his hair, both in an exasperated gesture and to lather it. "Little wonder Luna broke down in the end."
Perhaps that was what the mercenary who couldn't be Eospa had been trying to determine from their fight; if Ruval recognized the perverse nature of the Great King's Underworld.
It still didn't justify the mercenary's going after innocent people, but it did put it into more perspective. Perhaps they wanted to know if Ruval's mission was just for image or if the blond actually cared.
The water stopped pouring from the showerhead, the knob controlling the water turned shut, as Ruval stepped out and over to the sink to finish grooming himself.
The face that met him in the mirror was that of a Devil unsatisfied with his lot, sapphire eyes burning with an ambition that, ironically, would see him ostracized by his fellow aristocrats.
He inhaled, exhaled, then blinked, and a moment later that man was gone, masked by a smiling, pleasant expression, one he'd worn for so many years as to fool even himself.
Yet even so, Ruval felt an ugly roiling in his chest at what he saw.
The lies.
The exploitation.
The idolization.
The... stagnancy.
But it was a mask he had to wear, so he would wear it.
However long it took.
He refused to fall asleep again.
"Are you here for something, Lord Phenex?"
Ruval blinked, snapping out of his thoughts to realize he had somehow wandered into the servants quarters. He turned, seeing that a young Devil, perhaps in her twenties, had voiced the question to him.
"My apologies. I must have gotten caught up thinking about the raids I put an end to. I don't usually lose track of where I am going these days."
"Mh." She nodded and beamed at him. "It is your house, milord. There is no need to apologize. Just let me know if you need anything at all; I would be happy to serve."
It was an innocuous enough question, but the way she bowed ever-so-slightly and puffed her chest out suggested that she meant her words in more than one way.
It irked him, that she would offer, and that the offer was an appealing one. As were so many of them.
Ruval smiled back and nodded. "If you could deliver some tea to my office, that would be appreciated."
She bowed deeper and left for the kitchen, though Ruval caught a brief glimpse of disappointment in the maid's gaze as she did.
Had she really thought that he would be interested in bending her over the table in the common room?
Yet as the Devil's advocate, why not? She was clearly willing, he had an itch after not getting any for a while, it was a win-win!
'Enough.' He lacked the patience to argue with such tripe arising in the back of his mind, so he shoved it aside entirely and left, this time focusing on actually going to his office rather than wandering.
That being said, on his way there he noticed a woman with long, rough black hair and yellow, canid eyes.
"Mornin', boss,'' she started, falling into line behind him. "You're lookin' pissed right now. Somethin' on your mind?"
"I'm not," he replied lightly, glancing back with a lifted brow.
"Oi, oi, I ain't one of your servant girls. I'm your Rook, ain't I?" Tanya clicked her tongue as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark jacket. "So lay it on me, what's got you on the wrong side of the bed?"
Ruval looked back forward, letting out a sigh. She was right, of course. "Let's talk in my office."
The woman lifted a brow, eyes glinting in recognition, then nodded.
"Ah, must be 'bout the Initiative, then."
Perceptive.
Indeed, even as he met Pierre and sent him off to gather the other Peerage members, the Rook and Queen had exchanged nods, as though sharing some form of wordless communication.
He still wasn't quite sure how they managed to do that after all these years.
As Ruval closed the door behind him, Tanya strolled over to one of the seats and dropped into it, closing one eye as she leveled a fingergun her King's way.
"You're seein' it too, eh?"
"More clearly by the day," Ruval admitted, breathing out a long, heavy exhale as he strode around and sat behind his desk. "Ghosts of the past, machines of the now, and storms of the future? I'm starting to realize just how interesting the times are becoming, as well as how the Underworld is doubling down in response."
The werewolf pulled out a pipe and put it to her mouth, a thin flicker of flame from a fingertip lighting the end. She drew it in, then breathed out slowly. "Heh. Must be tearin' your hair out deep down, seeing just how calcified this whole place is."
"And here I had thought you were always just the antsy type," he grunted.
"You sure took a while to hold up your end of the bargain from when you Reincarnated me, y'know." Tanya took another drag of her pipe. "Fighting alongside ya against Belial showed just how much we'd evolved, so consider me satisfied with that for the time being."
She laughed. "Best damn fight of my life, and considering the number of clips I see going around other folks seem to agree! Before that though? Different story entirely."
"I'm aware."
Tanya huffed. "Sure, you are now. Before, though? 'fraid I'm gonna have some level of schadenfreude in saying 'told ya so'. We coulda been at the top of the world ages ago."
Ruval lifted a hand to his face, index and thumb closing in on either side of his nose.
"Noted."
"Please refrain from harassing our King, Tanya."
"Kh." She leaned back and glared at the black-haired young man that stepped into the room alongside the maid from before. "If he's got a problem with it, then he's welcome to put me in my place. Till' then, though? I do what I want. You should know, bloodsucker."
"But of course. A hound remains a hound, even if she has a wolfsbane pipe to stave off moonrage." Albus smiled, a coldness to his upturned lips.
Tanya leaned forward, a glint of anticipation gleaming within her steely gaze. "Them's fightin' words. You think you're hot shit, just 'cuz you got your arm and sword back?"
"Of course not. Just speaking what I see as the truth, nothing more. I have no qualms with you personally."
"Funny way of showing it, punk," said 'hound' growled back.
Ruval nodded his thanks to the servant girl from whom he asked for tea, and as she scurried out the room he poured himself a cup, briefly tuning out Albus's and Tanya's verbal sparring to enjoy the fragrant smell and taste.
Unfortunately, the moment of serenity didn't last.
As Tanya stormed out her seat to a comment that the Phenex didn't catch, the Phenex's hand lifted and he snapped his fingers, stilling both werewolf and vampire in their tracks.
"Enough," he drawled. "You can squabble after our meeting."
As he took another sip, the door opened once more, this time with Pierre and his three Pawns stepping through, followed momentarily by his bishops.
John and Boris, his other Knight and Rook, were away on a mission to one of the Extra villages.
Ruval stood, clearing his throat. "Thank you all for stopping in. I understand this is on short notice, and I apologize for not giving you additional warning."
He gestured to each of them to take a seat. "I have some important information to go over for the coming months, so make yourselves comfortable."
"It must be quite important, if you summoned us all," Xi Fan said as she sat on the couch, shifting to let the large Polynesian Pawn take one side. "Would it be correct for me to guess it involves the mission you had Albus, Tanya, Boris, and John take?"
"Correct. Though the mercenary leader suggested there would be a respite before the ambushes begin anew, the matter stands that said raids on our convoys will continue." Ruval grimaced. "I personally confirmed that the leader of said mercenary troupe is, at least, well into the Ultimate Class of Devils as far as raw fighting ability goes. Their strength is average, their magic at the very least limited, but their swordsmanship was... I believe a good way to put it is 'transcendent'."
That got hushed whispers, then… "So you got your ass kicked, boss?" Tanya cut in, lifting a brow.
"No. We were both scouting each other out, and it was only at the end of our encounter that I saw a glimpse of the mercenary's true capabilities. Albus, if you would?"
"Of course, my liege." The vampire turned around. "The leader Lord Ruval speaks of detected me as I was watching the caravan, in the event that Tanya was dispatched before she could Castle with our liege. We fought, and I was woefully outmatched despite not facing a single modicum of magic. I was lucky to only lose my arm and escape with it. Even then, I wonder if the leader wasn't simply allowing me to live out of a fit of whimsy."
"Yet you still got a big head. Guess this merc didn't cut where it counts," Tanya scoffed, to which she got narrowed eyes from Albus.
"There's more," Ruval continued, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to pull them away, revealing a red line trailing down his midsection. "The mercenary leader apparently bears the blood-bound skills of the Marchosias family. I got split in half, and even after I pulled myself back together… I bled."
Where his previous comment brought whispers, this one brought silence.
"An Extra Devil that manifested the Marchosias bloodline, perhaps?" Pierre offered as nobody else spoke up.
"I am unsure. This Devil was... familiar, both to and with me." Ruval scowled. "It is almost as if my old tutor has become our enemy."
"You hit your head?" Soatulla hummed. "Eospa died in the Civil War, you said you saw the body and all. You are suggesting the impossible."
"I know, I agree, and I stand by what I said, but the similarities are disturbingly striking nonetheless." The Lord of the household said. "The point remains; this mercenary fights like a Marchosias, and is a lethal foe to boot."
He went through the effort to make eye contact with each Peerage member. "I will say it now, none of you are equipped to deal with a fighter of their skill. If you see a mercenary with gold eyes and copper hair wielding a broadsword, flee, or Castle in your case Tanya."
"You're makin' it awfully tempting to challenge 'em, boss," Tanya hummed.
The Phenex's eye contact with the werewolf sharpened into a glare. "You'll die. It took Falbium Asmodeus himself to put Eospa Marchosias down, and even then he was hospitalized for weeks after the battle. If this Devil has even a fraction of Eospa Marchosias's ability, none of you will walk away in an actual battle."
Albus blinked slowly. "Hang on. Are we talking about the same Falbium that is a Satan now?"
Ruval nodded, turning his attention to the vampiric swordsman. "There's a reason the Marchosias were and still are considered masters of war; where we had Falbium, the True Satan Faction had Eospa. He was the best of the best, and his blade cut the very essence of our being. Nothing could stop its swing, save for Falbium himself. The Last Marchosias had a different moniker, and it suited him well."
He lifted his tea to his lips.
"My old tutor was known as the Warchief of Severance. His body count is indicative of the name's veracity."
"So, how is my favored protege doing?" Rizevim asked, leaning against his throne as the one before him processed the question. The Son of Lucifer's face was flat, his entire posture slouched, tilting his head from side to side while the other Devil was silent.
"Poorly," the Devil replied. "He is troubled. He isn't learning as he used to, and it has become a point of contention for Lord Creuserey."
"Troubled, you say? Any ideas why that might be?"
"I feel as though he is concerned about how his talent in mentalism might tempt him down the path of Dantalion."
Rizevim shrugged. "It's a pretty valid concern. Little Dio's already had a taste of the sorts of pleasures it can bring even in its darkest aspects, and it's not easy to step back to a purely physical sort of enjoyment once you've gone beyond that."
The concealed individual before him shifted uneasily.
"Hm. If you say so, milord."
Rizevim waved the digression off. "Beyond that though, how are the raids going?"
"They are going... well."
The white-haired Devil lifted a brow. "You have an issue with how I want them conducted?"
Seeing as their superior had asked a question, the mercenary replied, tone tighter. "I do not take pleasure in killing civilians. Ideally, I would see their goods stolen but they themselves minimally-harmed."
"Fair enough. I don't really care what happens to 'em, just that a message is sent." Rizevim shrugged, waving that complaint away as well. "You succeeded on that front, so I'll leave the details to you. As long as you continue to do so, I don't care if a thousand civvies get their heads lopped off or zero."
He lifted a finger to his cheek and tapped it. "Is that why you're bringing your A-team for the next one, since the last one finally got a reaction from the Phenexes?"
"No, milord." A beat passed, voice returning to its usual cadence. "Not wholly, at least. Primarily, it's to test Lord Ruval."
Rizevim's head stopped bobbing from side to side, gaze locking onto Creuserey's subordinate. "Really, now? And you feel the need to... test him, as you say?"
"Our last meeting ended in an unsatisfactory fashion. I would much rather our next have a more forthcoming conclusion rather than the withdrawal I performed in the last one."
"Most Devils would just kill him then or there. Or be killed, for that matter."
The mercenary shifted, hands folding behind back. "I am not most Devils, nor is he."
"Oh?" Rizevim drawled, flipping around on his throne to sit upside-down, back on the seat and legs against the back. "You mean to say the 'Phenex Flame of Sinai's' showing during his last Ratings Game wasn't just for the views?"
"Perhaps. That is why I aim to test him, after all." The mercenary's eyes narrowed, what little could be seen of their brow drawing together. "Also... why are you upside-down?"
The Super Devil grinned. "Because I want to be, that's why. So, you're hoping he can put the pieces together?"
More shifting. "For someone so blase about mentalism, you certainly have a knack of reading minds like a practitioner."
"Naaah. When you've been around as long as I have, you just get a good idea how people tick. I don't doubt your loyalty, but you've always been so unerringly curious."
The mercenary's voice tightened again. "Is that a problem, milord?"
"You wouldn't be around if it was." Rizevim shifted a hand from his crossed arms to his chin. "On another note, you're overdue for a visit with a certain someone, aren't you?"
"It has been a while since we last spoke," the other Devil confirmed, bowing their head. "However, I would not be against doing so again."
"Sure. I'll work out the details with Creuserey, but consider any protest he makes beforehand overruled."
"I... am not sure how to feel about such unilateral action."
"You did say you wanted to see her, did you not? You've been doing a good job so far, and I figure she needs some more company as well. I may be a tyrant, but I know how to treat my subordinates well."
The mercenary paused, then bowed. "...Thank you, milord."
"Alright, alright, enough with the formality! I'm upside-fucking-down, bowing to someone sitting like this just makes you look ridiculous!"
The mercenary strode through halls seldom traveled. It was darker here. Both due to its remoteness from the rest of the compound, and for the inhabitants that did live within these walls.
The leader's gaze shifted from the torches to the servant that seemingly melted into existence from the walls, placing a hand on the back of their escort.
Isaiah stared back up at the mercenary, then swallowed, firming his gaze as he stared at the gaunt, pale individual before them.
"Ah. You two are here to see the young master and mistress?" the servant asked, tilting his head to the side.
"We are, yes. If we could also receive some refreshments and sweets from the kitchen, that would be delightful."
"As you wish. The master and mistress are in the usual room, and refreshments will arrive shortly."
"Thank you."
The servant bowed, and stepped into the shadows cast by the light of the torch. A flicker later, and he faded behind those shadows.
"...Whoa..." the pre-adolescent breathed, glancing between the mercenary and the place. "Was that...?"
"A Vampire," Creuserey's general confirmed. "A servant, and so one you could easily slay, but a vampire nonetheless."
"Then if a vampire is a servant, who are we visiting?"
"Why, a pair of Dhampir, of course."
"Dham...pir...?"
"Half-human vampires."
"Oh." Isaiah blinked. "...Are they gonna drink my blood?"
"Only if you want them to. They can get by without, thanks to their human heritage." The mercenary started walking, pupil walking alongside. "I do hear it's not an unpleasant experience, however, as long as it's done in moderation."
"So why bring me along?"
"I figured you could use some friends." The corner of the Devil's aurum eyes crinkled. "They are of a similar age as you, after all."
"Really?" The young swordsman stared down the hall they were traveling, toward the flight of stairs ahead. "Then why would they be here? Didn't you say that vampires usually live on the surface world?"
"They do. But remember, these two aren't vampires."
"...Half-vampires."
"Yes."
They started to ascend the staircase. "But they aren't half-Devil or half-Fallen. So... what gives?"
"That is not my story to share. If you truly want to know, hear it from them."
"Oh. Okay."
"I will warn you though, it's a sensitive subject. Much like how your origins are for you. If you push for the details, you may make them angry at you."
"Oh," Isaiah repeated himself, before his brows drew together. "Then... they were hit a lot when they were younger, too?"
"I will say no more on the matter," the golden-eyed Devil declared, though a brief glance meant that the young human could see his Devil mentor's eyes crinkle again.
They continued up the stairs for a while.
"...How long do these stairs go on for?" Isaiah had to ask.
"They live in the highest tower of the castle."
"Like how princesses do in fairy tales?"
"I suppose you could say that," the mercenary chuckled. "Unlike those princesses however, the only reason they're up there is because they like being high up."
"Oh." The pre-adolescent tilted his head from side to side. "Okay."
After what felt like forever to Isaiah, the stairs finally led to a small, curved hallway, with a door at the end, Creuserey's general walking up to the door and lifting a hand.
"Ready?"
Isaiah stiffened, surprised by the question. "Uh... yeah."
The mercenary nodded, before knocking on the door. Yet before he could even knock for a third time, the door opened.
"It's you. It's been a while."
The young blond rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was seeing right, before deciding that maybe his prior analogy wasn't far off.
She certainly looked like a young princess. Flawless, pale skin and long white hair framed a regal face, and though her expression was neutral he could almost liken her appearance to that of a doll, down to the elaborate dress she wore.
Then those blood-red eyes focused on him, and Isaiah found himself unable to look away. That gaze was haunting, piercing, as though she were staring not at his face, but at his very soul.
"...And who are you?"
"I... uh..." he swallowed, before bowing. "I-I'm Isaiah."
"My student," the copper-haired Devil explained. "I figured you all might get along."
The blond stayed bowed low, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, though whether that was from embarrassment at being caught so off-guard, excitement, or something else, he couldn't tell.
"He's like us," he heard her say.
"You've been practicing. Good job, you're absolutely right."
"Like you?" That caused Isaiah to exit his bow, looking between the dhampir girl and the mercenary in curiosity. "What do you mean?"
"I never did tell you, did I?" The mercenary's eyes crinkled again, gesturing between the dhampir and the human. "They're Sacred Gear users. Valerie, meet Isaiah. Isaiah, meet Valerie."
The mercenary peered through the doorway briefly.
"Speaking of, where's your brother?"
"On the ceiling, ready to ambush you the moment you step in."
"Valeriiiiiiiieee!" someone else cried from above. "You weren't supposed to say anything about that!"
Perhaps it was only because he was paying attention at that exact moment, but Isaiah could see the dhampir's - Valerie's? - lips quirk upward ever so slightly. "Oops. I forgot. Haha."
"Why do you have to be so mean to me?!" Valerie's sibling bemoaned, even as a blur dropped into place behind the girl, revealing...
'Wait, brother?'
It certainly was difficult to tell. While somewhat less so than Valerie herself, her brother still had a very effeminate face, with similar long white hair as his sister and a slim figure that, in the right clothing, could certainly cause confusion as to what gender he was.
The fact that he too was wearing such kind of clothing didn't help matters in the slightest.
That brother's eyes locked onto Isaiah, before stiffening and shifting, moving behind Valerie as though to hide himself.
The questionably male dhampir's eyes flicked over to the mercenary, before he gulped and spoke again. "U-uh... h-h-hi."
Isaiah lifted a hand to wave, almost confusedly, as the mercenary continued. "There you are. Should have figured you'd be excited to see me. Isaiah, meet Gasper. Gasper, meet Isaiah."
"I... I wasn't e-e-expecting there to be someone else." Gasper looked between Isaiah and his mentor, swallowing again as his gaze landed back on the blond. "U-um, hi Isaiah. N-n-nice to meet you...?"
The mercenary chuckled. "It was a surprise. I didn't want you to hide in your box because you got too worked up over meeting a new person."
The dhampir in question pouted. "I don't like surprises..."
"Gasper, be nice," Valerie turned partway to stare at her brother. "If Isaiah is a student, then he's the same as us in more than one way."
Her eyes shifted back onto him. "Though we'll see if there's more to it than that."
"B-but..."
"No buts. Besides, you don't get to meet new people that often."
Isaiah blinked at the way Valerie said that. Then discarded it as he bowed again. "It's nice to meet you too, Gasper. But... why are you wearing your sister's clothes?"
He looked back up to see the male half-vampire pinching the fabric of the dress he was in.
"...It looks pretty."
The swordsman tilted his head and scratched it.
"Huh. Well, I suppose it does?"
The mercenary stepped over the boundary. "Why don't we all sit down, and we can all talk in a more comfortable setting? If that's alright with you two?"
"Of course. You're always welcome here!" Gasper cheered, before quieting as he looked over at Isaiah again. "Uh. I... I guess you're welcome too?"
The young blond smiled. "Thank you."
"How did you two meet?"
Isaiah looked up from his cake as Valerie asked that question. He glanced over at Creuserey's general, who tilted his head from side to side.
"I was ordered by my liege to take another pupil under my wing. Alongside him came Isaiah, as said pupil is Isaiah's patron."
"And how did you and he meet?" the girl continued.
"How did you two get to the Underworld?" Isaiah asked back. "We all came from aboveground, after all."
Gasper flinched, cringing as the blond asked about what was clearly a bad memory.
Valerie's eyes simply narrowed faintly, staring straight at the human.
Once more, Isaiah felt as though she were rummaging through the very deepest parts of him, and this time he wasn't as keen on the idea.
Was that her Sacred Gear, maybe?
"Stop that."
The dhampir looked away, and the feeling faded.
"I think I was right when I said it's not just Sacred Gears that we all share," she finally said.
Gasper blinked, then looked at Isaiah again.
"Eh? Were you locked up or called a monster?"
Locked up? A monster?
"What are you talking about?"
"That's what I was called," the dhampir said, quietly. "I... might be one. I dunno. I don't feel like one. But... maybe I am?"
"Just because you're half human?"
"No. I was shut away for that," Valerie said, face completely straight. "Gasper's situation is... different."
Gasper looked down, swallowing hard as he stared at his tea. He nodded, once, but did not speak any more about the subject.
There was a long, awkward silence until the blond finally broke it
"Oh, right! You said we all shared Sacred Gears, right teacher?" Isaiah held his hand out, from which a small dagger formed. "Why don't we share what they are? Mine's called Sword Birth. I can make swords in any way I want. Swords that are strong against Devils, swords that consume holy light, or demonic energy, swords that are on fire, I can make them all!"
He put the dagger away, careful not to point it at the others he was sitting with.
"It's... why I was kept in a Church research site. That, and a strong holy sword... aff..."
"Affinity?" Valerie offered, voice flat.
"Yeah, that! Me and a whole bunch of other kids." Isaiah swallowed a lump in his throat as the memories started to come back.
The crossdressing dhampir tilted his head, brow furrowing in concern.
"Did... bad things happen there?"
Isaiah twitched, a grimace rising over his face. Finally, he nodded slowly, hesitantly.
"Y-yeah."
Gasper nodded. "Ah. Um. S-sorry for prying."
"No, no..." the blond shook his head, though he wouldn't meet either dhampir's eyes. "It's fine. I can, I can share. We were... we were hit a lot. We were tested on, 'taught' to fight when they weren't really trying to teach us anything at all, and... I think they were gonna... No, I'm sure they were gonna kill us, before we were rescued by Lord Astaroth."
He set his small plate of cake down as his hands started trembling.
"Just like they'd ki-killed a bunch of us already. It... it was disgusting. I-I saw pic-pictures of what they did to them. To my... to my brothers and sisters."
The blond drew in a shuddering breath. Then exhaled. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier.
"We nearly died too. My remaining family and I are only alive because Lord Astaroth burned that place to the ground."
"So you got a happy ending, in the end," Valerie drolled. "Good for you."
"It wasn't a happy ending!" Isaiah stood sharply, causing Gasper to yelp and duck under the table. "I never asked to be sold for... for some sick priest's project! I never asked for my brothers and sisters to die!"
"At least you still have people from the place you called home," the dhampir still above the table was unfazed. "Gasper isn't even my brother by blood, but as far as I care, he's more family than my own father. Everyone else either hates us, or wants to use us. Sometimes both."
Blue eyes met red, and after a few moments the blond sat back down, slowly, taking a deep breath. "...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
More silence.
"They aren't related to me either. Tosca, Gil... the other kids, I mean." Isaiah stared down at the table again. "But when each other is all we have, coming to care for each other like we're related is... it just happens. Gasper might be the only 'family' you have left, but even if I have more people, my life was still horrible until Lord Astaroth saved us."
He swallowed. "We all went through a lot, I dunno the details about you two, but I can tell that we're all... we all have to live with what we grew up in. Can't we just... not, argue about who had it worse, and focus on the things we share?"
Several more seconds of quiet filled the air, before the table shifted slightly, and Gasper peered over the corner, hesitantly glancing between Isaiah and Valerie.
"I... I wouldn't be against t-that," he stammered out, audibly gulping as he and Isaiah locked eyes, moving as if to hide under the table again. Yet, he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching on the table, and remained. "I... Valerie always said I n-need to make more f-f-friends."
Again, the specific wording tugged at Isaiah, causing him to look over at the girl. "And what about you?"
The slightly older dhampir looked away. "I have enough people to talk to already. I'm fine."
"And how many of those people aren't apparitions you can see thanks to your Sacred Gear?" the mercenary asked, lightly.
Yet Valerie flinched, almost as if slapped.
"...Two," she admitted, begrudgingly.
"Two," the copper-hair Devil echoed, chuckling lightly as they lifted a hand to wrap a lock of their own hair around their finger. "Hm. I'm not sure. It sounds to me as though you might want to think about extending your boundaries a little bit as well. Perhaps it would help filter out the voices in your head?"
Isaiah blinked, and this time he asked a different question. "So if they're not imaginary friends, then...?"
"I see dead people," Valerie said, bluntly. "I hear them too. All the time. They don't stop making noise. You get used to it, after a while."
He blinked again, turning to Gasper, who nodded in confirmation to his sister's claim.
"Uh-huh. She really does."
His teacher reaffirmed that confirmation with a nod of their own.
Isaiah blinked, returning to Valerie. "...That's so cool. So you can see, like, the spirits of dead people?"
Her eyes narrowed but she nodded her head. "That's what I just said, yes."
"However, unlike with your Sacred Gear, Valerie's doesn't have an... off switch, like yours does," the mercenary supplied. "Imagine if you kept making swords all the time, random swords, without any ability to stop it, except to slow them down just a little, and it gets really painful to do so for long. It's like that for her."
Suddenly, that didn't sound nearly so cool.
"Oh." Isaiah tilted his head. "How do you sleep then, if you're always hearing people?"
"You get used to it," the dhampir repeated, dully. "The noise never really goes away, though."
That didn't sound nearly as cool as Isaiah had initially thought.
"That doesn't sound like a Sacred Gear at all."
"Then you know nothing about Sacred Gears despite having one. Gasper was considered a monster for his, and mine..." Valerie tilted her head up, closing her eyes as she took a slow breath. "I am very glad to have it recognized by Lord Lucifer and be taken away, before my father figured out what exactly it was."
"...What is it?" the blond asked, tilting his head.
"Sephiroth Graal. A special version of it."
The name sounded familiar, before it struck home.
"The Holy Grail..." he breathed out, eyes wide in wonder.
"It's not holy." The dhampir bit out as straight white hair shook from left to right and back again, sharpened eyes reopening. "If it was, maybe things would be different. It's a curse."
"It's a tool, and one you shouldn't have had to hold so early on," the mercenary disagreed, lifting a brow at Valerie as he said it. "That's why I'm here though, to help you master it."
"...I'd prefer if I didn't have it at all," she admitted.
"But you do," Creuserey's general shut her down before she could continue. "Again, that is why I'm here."
"And is why Lord Lucifer took Gasper and I away from that horrible place to begin with," Valerie finished, as though she'd heard the same thing a dozen times before. "I know. I will always be thankful for him taking me away from that awful place, even if I know it was because he wants to make use of me."
"So..." Isaiah jumped back in. "I know it's super rare, a Longinus and all, and super powerful, but... what does the Sephiroth Graal actually do?"
"The Sephiroth Graal directly works with what humans call the 'soul'," Isaiah's instructor explained. "Valerie can intertwine essences of different sorts of beings to grant advantageous traits, remove weaknesses, heal or inflict wounds, cure or create disease, create hybrids with strength beyond the sum of their parts..."
The mercenary's voice lowered. "...and bring the dead back to life, even. But the cost of that is as horrible as the experiments that killed your family, Isaiah. The last time Valerie tried, it almost destroyed her."
The warning almost, almost went over Isaiah's head as he stared at the dhampir in newfound appreciation, but he recognized that tone of voice.
If he tried asking her what he wanted, it would end badly. Really badly.
He fought the urge to say that question at the forefront of his mind, beating it down with a not insignificant amount of effort and succeeding.
But Isaiah could feel the urge to speak bubbling up all the same. So instead, he asked a different thing instead.
"Oh, that's why you're so pretty!"
The entire room froze and stared at him for the question.
"I'm sorry, what?" Valerie asked, completely taken aback by Isaiah's blurting that out.
"Because there's no way a girl could be as pretty as you are," he pressed forward, both to distract himself from the fact that she could bring his lost family back to life, and to keep from freezing up. He could deal with the rising mortification at what he was saying later, even as his ears turned red. "Both you and Gasper, for that matter. I know that Devils and whatnot are supposed to look super good, but neither of you are Devils, and even then I don't think I've met anyone nearly as pretty as you two! And Gasper isn't even a girl, so it has to be the Holy Grail!"
The blond's mentor's chest started spasming, as they lifted a hand to their mouth and closed their eyes, while Gasper's eyes slid below the table, visible forehead flushed red.
Valerie was similarly flushed, pale skin across her cheeks lighting a brilliant rose, and she leaned forward on the table with both arms. "Excuse me!? I didn't do anything to myself or Gasper with the Holy Grail!"
"I don't believe you!" he argued back. "Am I supposed to think you two would be that pretty even if you didn't have it?"
"...you think I'm pretty...?" Gasper murmured from his hideaway, ducking beneath the table entirely. Aside from an increased spasming of the mercenary's chest, his words went unnoticed.
"Yes!" the female dhampir lifted an arm and pointed at Isaiah. "I can't believe you, that's the thing you'd bring up? Not that I can literally bring dead people back to life, but that you think I'm too pretty? Are you a pervert or something!?"
"It's true, though!" Isaiah protested. "What else am I supposed to believe!?"
As the blond and the dhampir princess continued arguing with each other, Gasper eventually peered up from his place beneath the table, over at the other participant of their meet-up.
"Am I going to share my Sacred Gear too?"
"I'm not sure you'll get the chance, not right away at least. Isaiah and Valerie seem rather animated, right now." There was a distinct hint of amusement in the Devil's voice.
"...I think she likes him," he whispered to the mercenary, whose rumbling chest finally gave way to chuckles.
"Yes, I get that idea, too." Golden eyes peered down at the crossdresser. "And you?"
Gasper lifted his head from beneath the table to look at Isaiah. "He seems nice. Maybe we could be friends."
"Hmh." The mercenary's gaze returned to the squabbling Isaiah and Valerie. They were in each other's faces now, pinching and pulling.
The golden-eyed Devil let them. "Everyone needs someone to stand with. That's why I introduced you three."
As the two walked back down the stairs, the older individual glanced over at the younger.
Isaiah was looking back, a contemplative expression on his face as his thoughts were very clearly on the two dhampir that they had just met.
The mercenary's turned back to the stairs beneath them, and their eyes closed.
"Isaiah. Do you know what would happen, if knowledge of that girl's ability to bring the dead back to life?"
"I..." The swordsman-in-training frowned. "Would people come after her?"
"Correct. I brought you because I felt as though you had the ability to step past your desire to see the ones you lost. I was correct on that count. But I also have to ask that you keep Valerie's Sacred Gear secret from Diodora."
"What?" The question took Isaiah aback. "Why?"
"You're not the only one who lost someone important to them," the mercenary answered. "And for him... you could say that the one he lost was the only person important to him. Everyone and everything else paled in comparison."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I spoke with her spirit." Golden eyes reopened. "Valerie had a bad episode a few years ago; she was practicing with Sephiroth Graal, and there was an accident that nearly broke the floodgates open. Some of the spirits helped stem the tide, Diodora's late fiancee included, but even so we barely kept Valerie's mind intact under the strain of her Sacred Gear. Before Tara - Diodora's fiancee - disappeared, she asked me to look after him, which is why I agreed to train you both in the first place."
"And you never told him?"
"Even now, Diodora's haunted by his past. I'm not talking about the ghost of his loved one, but rather the impact of seeing her passing. Death can be a brutal, horrifying affair, and I can see the brittleness of seeing it in his eyes. If he ever thought there was a chance he could bring her back..." A hand lifted to the other arm, rubbing it. "I shudder to think of what evils he might do."
Isaiah stopped, prompting the copper-haired Devil to pause and look back up at him. His fists were clenched, and he stared defiantly down at the steps.
"But Lord Diodora saved us from that facility. He even took me under his wing, because I wanted to look after my brothers and sisters."
"Did he ever explain why he did?"
("...Maybe I'm just sentimental.")
The young human furrowed his brow.
"He said he was... sentimental? What does that mean, though?"
"Maybe his fiancee and his actions are related somehow."
Isaiah frowned and fell silent.
"I do not mean to say that Diodora is inherently a bad person," the mercenary soothed. "I would even go so far as to say that he loved perhaps too much, if what little I know is true. That would mean he's the kind of person who'd stop at nothing for their sake, and that sort of dedication makes for the most dangerous people when put to the test."
The blond shivered. Then, a moment later, he gave a slow nod.
"Alright. I... I promise to keep Valerie's Sacred Gear a secret."
The golden-eyed Devil smiled, even if they knew that Isaiah wouldn't see it.
"Thank you."
A/N:
So someone mentioned Valerie and Sephiroth Graal in the review-
Funny they should say that since the first parts of this chapter were already done when that review showed up-
A bit more focus on Ruval and his pieces. This time, it's a bit more exposition on his past. He mentioned a while ago that he'd been taught by one of the Marchosias Devils, so as far as I can tell this fits pretty cleanly.
Before you get any ideas about Isaiah/Kiba being out of character, allow me to elaborate.
Isaiah is not Kiba. The two share similar pasts, but the instant that Diodora saved the Holy Sword Project test subjects Kiba and Isaiah split apart. Isaiah still for the most part has his family. He has a different teacher too, and is being given a slightly different sort of skillset than the 'Knight of Gremory'. All that, plus his relative youth, means he's more likely to be willing to be open to others, and even if he's still a relatively introverted individual that doesn't mean he won't speak his mind, or something else on his mind to keep from saying something he recognizes could be offensive.
On a similar note, Valerie's certainly more... lively, than her LN counterpart. When she's provoked, at the very least. Perhaps due to her own differing circumstances. She's still the supernatural schizo who can bring back dead people, but I figured I'd give one of Sephiroth Graal's most miraculous powers a bit more weight than just being the supernatural MacGuffin that Ishibumi uses to let Team Gremory square off against the likes of the Evil Dragons.
Such a miracle must have a price, especially in one so young, much like how the Boosted Gear consumes its wielder if they don't have enough strength to handle the output. But, in return, perhaps she lacks the same degree of complete apathy she's shown to have in the Light Novel thanks to the changes in her own path.
Speaking of which, Valerie and Gasper! Also part of the Rize Squad? Le gasp!
that should lead to some interesting interactions, i feel, particularly later on once the kuoh academy days start.
The pieces are coming together, each side in preparation of what is to come. We should be ready to move into canon soon. It's about time, too. Everything's starting to move, and I for one can't wait to start watching them fall into place.
Tempura Wizard out.
