X-Men: The unnatural omega's, Volume 4 Endgames Chapter 18, a X-Men + X-overs Crossover fanfic

X-Men: The Unnatural Omega's Volume 4; Endgames

Chapter 18: Sheep in Wolves Clothing and Wolves in Sheep's Clothing, Part 2

…

Upon arriving in Toussaint, Eskel, Derreck, Hange, He-who-reads, and the two young Witchers were immediately greeted by Guillaume de Launfal and a contingent of local guards. The guards were already briefed and were spreading the word throughout the region—alerting the populace to be on the lookout for unusual creatures that matched specific descriptions. They were instructed to avoid engaging and to report any sightings directly to the authorities.

In the quaint town of Beauclair, townsfolk exchanged puzzled glances as they listened to the guards' instructions. The recent strange events had already stirred much talk and speculation, so while the new warnings added to the sense of unease, the people trusted that these measures were for their safety and related to the ongoing peculiarities shaking their world.

…

Without wasting any time, the group divided into two teams to begin their search. Eskel led one team, taking the southern swath of the expansive and lush forests surrounding Beauclair, while Guillaume led the other team northward, each accompanied by a few guards familiar with the terrain.

For hours, both teams scoured their respective areas, moving quietly through the underbrush and keeping their senses sharp for any sign of the creatures. The verdant forest, usually teeming with life, seemed to hold its breath as they passed.

Tomas, with his heightened senses fine-tuned by Witcher training, eventually picked up on a faint residue trail similar to the one left by Morwen. His group followed these elusive traces, which were intermittently dotted alongside distinct armored human footprints. The pattern suggested a group of knights or heavily armed men had passed this way recently.

"Looks like we're not the only ones interested in our quarry," Tomas remarked, pointing out the direction the tracks were leading.

As they followed the trail, the quiet of the forest was suddenly shattered by a distant but powerful roar, mixed with the shouts of men. "THERE IT IS!" one voice yelled. "WHY IS IT RUNNING? IT SHOULD HAVE ATTACKED BY NOW!"

"DOES IT MATTER? WE'RE BEING PAID TO TRAP IT, THAT JUST MAKES IT EASIER FOR US!" another voice responded, the sound of rushing footsteps and clanking armor echoing through the trees.

The group quickened their pace, moving towards the source of the commotion. As they approached, the roars and shouts grew louder, and the tension among Tomas's team spiked. They were close now, and it was clear that whatever was happening involved the creature they were searching for, now caught in a human-led confrontation.

With Eskel signaling for caution, the team prepared for what they might encounter, ready to intervene if necessary to prevent harm to a potentially sentient creature like Morwen. The situation was delicate, and the presence of armed men complicated the dynamics considerably.

As they edged closer, the sounds of struggle and human shouts provided them with the final bearings they needed. They stepped through the underbrush and into a clearing, where a scene of chaos and confusion awaited them. A group of knights had cornered what appeared to be a massive Kikimora queen, her chitinous body gleaming under the sun, as she darted frantically trying to escape the traps and nets being thrown towards her.

As the confrontation in the clearing reached its peak, the metallic nets thrown by the mercenaries entangled the giant Kikimora queen. She crashed to the forest floor with a heavy thud, her chitinous body rattling against the constraints. The noise she made was unlike anything the Witchers or the mercenaries had heard before—a guttural, gurgling sound that seemed to convey distress, akin to weeping, though it was difficult to assign such human expressions to a creature known for its predatory nature.

The mercenaries, hardened by countless battles but unprepared for this level of sentience in what they assumed was mere vermin, paused in confusion and fear. The Kikimora queen, her eyes large and multifaceted yellow like a witchers, caught the gaze of Eskel and Tomas. In a moment that shattered any preconceived notions about her kind, she articulated a plea that resonated with a chilling clarity, "Please... I don't want to go back, I haven't been hurting anyone..." Her words, formed through the clicks and whirs of her mandibles and pincers, carried an undeniable emotion.

The mercenaries, visibly shaken by this display of sentience from what they expected to be a mindless beast, stepped back involuntarily, their grips on their weapons loosening. A murmur of unease spread among them, their mission suddenly cast in a morally ambiguous light.

Eskel, taking the lead and sensing the tension, stepped forward with his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Hold your weapons," he commanded calmly to both the mercenaries and his own team. "We're not here to cause more harm. This creature is sentient and capable of reasoning. We need to reassess our approach."

Tomas, ever the scholar and mediator, approached the Kikimora queen slowly, making sure his movements were non-threatening.

"Can you tell us more? Why are you afraid to go back? Was it someone with pail skin and a Dimond on his forehead that went by the name sinister?"

The Kikimora queen, still trembling within the tangle of nets, struggled to compose herself. "Yes, that's him. I... I was taken from my home, experimented on at a young age, I became... aware in ways I haven't been before."

…

As Eskel confronted the lead mercenary, his voice firm yet composed, demanding to know who had orchestrated this hunt. "Who put you up to this?" he asked, his gaze piercing through the confusion and fear that had settled over the mercenaries.

The lead mercenary, a rugged man with a scar tracing down his cheek, hesitated for a moment before responding. His voice was weary, carrying the weight of a mission now mired in moral ambiguity. "A few nights ago, men from the south came to Beauclair. They posted these notices at the town's edge," he explained, pulling crumpled pieces of parchment from his pocket and handing them over.

Eskel, with Tomas by his side, unfolded the notices to examine them. Each one detailed descriptions and rewards for the capture of three distinct creatures: a giant centipede, a Kikimora queen, and a royal griffon identified as Morwen. The images depicted were crude but unmistakable in their details. The rewards offered were exorbitant, each in the tens of thousands in their currency, a sum that would tempt even the most cautious hunter.

The descriptions on the notices branded the creatures as 'defective' and 'dangerous', yet also noted their tendency to avoid confrontation, suggesting that their capture would be less challenging than expected. "They said they were hired by a man with pale skin and a diamond on his forehead. Claimed his name was Sinister, and he was looking for these creatures specifically," the mercenary added, his tone laced with a newfound uncertainty.

Eskel and Tomas exchanged a look of concern. The name 'Sinister' was already known to them through the stories Morwen had shared—stories of experimentation and fear. This confirmed their worst fears: that the notorious figure was actively seeking out these mutated beings for reasons unknown but undoubtedly sinister.

Eskel, his expression marked with deep concern, conversed briefly with the guardsmen as Derreck carefully worked to free the Kikimora queen from the tangled steel nets. Each movement was calculated to avoid further distress to the creature, whose large, multifaceted eyes watched them warily yet with a glint of understanding.

As Derreck gently lifted the final strands of metal, freeing the queen, Eskel turned to the guards. "Keep an eye out, and make sure no one else comes hunting in this area," he instructed firmly. "We're dealing with creatures that are not only rare but sentient. It's our responsibility to protect them from those who might not understand or respect their significance."

The guardsmen nodded, their faces set with the seriousness of the task. They had seen their share of oddities and dangers, but the day's events had opened their eyes to a new realm of responsibilities.

Meanwhile, Tomas stepped aside, pulling out his communicator with a sense of urgency. He quickly relayed the situation to Alaric K., who was leading another search team in a different part of the forest. "Alaric, we've confirmed it—Sinister's behind this. He's got people putting up notices and hiring mercenaries to capture these creatures," Tomas reported. His voice was steady, but the undercurrent of frustration in his voice.

"Keep your eyes open for any similar notices. We need to collect them before anyone else can act on them. These creatures are not to be hunted; they're to be protected," he continued, his instructions clear.

Alaric K.'s response came through, tinged with the same mix of shock and resolve that had gripped the rest of the team. "Understood, Tomas. We'll spread the word here and make sure our team is on high alert for any suspicious activities. And we'll inform the local authorities to watch out for these notices."

Back at the clearing, as Derreck and Eskel guided the now-free Kikimora queen towards a safer part of the forest, her clicks and soft whirrs conveyed a sense of relief. Eskel assured her, "You're safe now. We'll find a place where you can recover without fear."

…

As Guillaume de Launfal directed some of his guards to return to the town and brief Damian on the situation, ensuring that a vigilant eye was kept for any further notices, the rest of the group pressed on with their search. The forest, usually a place of tranquility, now seemed charged with a tense anticipation of what they might find next.

Hange and He-Who-Reads, ever the keen observers, soon noticed unusual droplets scattered across the leaf-strewn ground. The liquid was bright yellow, almost glowing with an eerie sheen under the dappled sunlight that managed to penetrate the dense canopy. It wasn't just any substance; it was clearly linked to the creatures they were tasked to protect.

Alaric K. crouched down beside the trail of droplets, examining them closely. "This has the same magical signature as Morwen's essence," he noted, his voice low. "But the scent... it's different. This is from the giant centipede, and it's injured."

The realization added urgency to their mission. An injured creature could be unpredictable or in need of immediate assistance, especially if it was as sentient and capable of suffering as Morwen and the Kikimora queen.

Guillaume, grasping the gravity of the situation, ordered his team to proceed with increased caution. "Let's follow the trail, but keep your eyes open and weapons ready. We don't know what condition we'll find it in, or if it's alone."

The group moved forward, following the luminous trail through thicker brush and undergrowth. The droplets became more frequent, a clear sign that they were heading in the right direction. Every so often, they would pause to ensure they were not walking into a potential ambush, their senses strained for any sound or movement in the lush foliage around them.

As they navigated through a particularly dense thicket, the sounds of soft rustling ahead caught their attention. The team halted, signaling each other to stay silent. The rustling continued, accompanied by a faint, pained hissing that could only belong to the giant centipede.

Hange signaled to the group, her expression one of focused concern. "It's close. Be ready to provide aid rather than aggression. Remember, our goal is to protect these creatures, not threaten them further."

With a nod from Guillaume, the group cautiously approached the source of the sounds. As they parted the last of the underbrush, they came upon a clearing where the giant centipede lay. It was indeed a magnificent and daunting sight: much larger than any normal centipede, with segments that shimmered with a mix of natural and otherworldly hues.

The creature was curled around itself, and the source of the yellow droplets was evident—a wound along one of its segments, still seeping the glowing liquid. Its antennae twitched weakly, sensing the group's presence.

Alaric K. stepped forward slowly, speaking in a calm, reassuring tone. "We're not here to harm you. We want to help." His words, though spoken to a creature many would consider a mere monster, carried the empathy and respect he held for all living beings, mutated or not.

The centipede's response was slow, its body language showing both caution and curiosity as it uncurled slightly to regard its would-be rescuers.

As the giant centipede articulated its questions with a series of deliberate clicks and hisses, the air was thick with tension and anticipation. It paused thoughtfully between phrases, clearly considering each word before speaking, indicating a level of intelligence that surprised even the most seasoned among them.

"Do you know Morwen? Did she send you? We haven't seen each other since we escaped... If you know her, then you can tell me if her eyes were green or red?" The question seemed like a test, one crafted to gauge their honesty and connection to Morwen.

Hange, understanding the implications of the query, promptly responded to allay the creature's suspicions. "Her eyes are like those of a Witcher, cat-like, reflecting light in a way that's hard to miss," she said, confirming their genuine knowledge of Morwen without directly answering the trick question about the eye color.

The centipede's body relaxed visibly at her response, its segmented form uncoiling slightly as the tension dissipated. Convinced of their sincerity, it began to share more freely. "I can't say for sure, but Sinister may be north of here, in Toussaint, near the Blue Mountains. He's... capturing monstrosities. There's something else; I'm pretty sure he doesn't know who any of you are, so he's most likely a Sinister from another world—one that you haven't encountered yet. He arrived here some time ago... that's all I know."

The mention of Sinister's activities in Toussaint added a layer of urgency to their mission, but the immediate concern shifted as the centipede winced in pain. "Do you have anything to help with the pain? I ran into a large bear earlier... as you can see, it didn't go well."

Hange nodded and quickly motioned to He-Who-Reads, who carried a small kit of potions and medicinal supplies tailored for such emergencies. "We have some pain-relieving salves and potions that should work even on your unique biology. Let's take care of that wound first," she said, her tone both professional and compassionate.

He-Who-Reads approached carefully, his movements calculated to avoid startling the injured creature. He applied a thick, viscous potion to the wound, designed to numb pain and promote healing even in creatures enhanced by magic or mutagens. As he worked, the centipede's hisses softened, a sign that the potion was taking effect and providing some relief.

With the immediate crisis managed, Alaric K. turned his attention back to the broader implications of their encounter. "Thank you for trusting us with this information," he said to the centipede. "We'll take steps to investigate Sinister's activities in Toussaint and try to prevent him from harming anyone else."

Guillaume de Launfal, who had been silently observing, added, "And we'll ensure that no further harm comes to you or your kin. You have my word as a knight of Toussaint."

Minutes after the centipede's revelation and subsequent medical care, the group organized a move to a more secure location in the forest, where they could also provide safety for the Kikimora queen. The Dutchess's guards, under instructions from Guillaume de Launfal, set up patrols around the area to protect these unique creatures from any further threats. They also sought out suitable food sources for the centipede and the Kikimora queen, acknowledging their needs had been neglected for too long.

As the guards worked to secure the area, Hange, He-Who-Reads, Eskel, Derreck, and Tomas prepared to ride to Toussaint's capital to plan their next move. While the others mounted horses, Derreck, ever the anomaly with his teleportation abilities, chose to transport directly to their destination for preliminary planning.

The ride to the heart of Toussaint was brisk and filled with a tense atmosphere as Hange mulled over the details they had uncovered. The presence of creatures mutated with Witcher-like enhancements and yet designed for docility and communication rather than combat posed a disturbing question: was Sinister intending to create a counterforce capable of challenging the new generation of Witchers?

As the landscape of vineyards and rolling hills passed by, Hange voiced her thoughts to the group. "Based on what we know about these sentient monsters, all partially Witcher, it's possible Sinister is trying to engineer beings that can match Witchers in battle. Fight fire with fire, as the old strategy goes."

Her comment stirred a thoughtful silence among the group. The implication of creatures with Witcher capabilities, potentially able to wield magic akin to Witcher signs, was a significant escalation in the kinds of threats they might face.

"It makes sense," Eskel finally responded, his voice tinged with concern. "If these creatures can use signs, or even basic magic, that changes the nature of any potential conflicts. They wouldn't just be monsters; they'd be tactically aware opponents."

He-Who-Reads, the Argonian mage, nodded in agreement, his own experience with magical creatures giving weight to his words. "Magic in creatures is usually instinctual, but if Sinister has found a way to imbue them with true magical understanding… We could be facing a new kind of warfare."

As they approached the gates of the city, Derreck reappeared, having completed his initial survey of the area near the Blue Mountains where Sinister was believed to be operating. "The region is heavily wooded, difficult terrain even for those familiar with it. If Sinister is there, he's chosen his location well for defense," he reported back to the group.

Upon their arrival at the palace, they were met by Damian, the captain of the Duchess's guard, and preparations for an expedition were quickly underway. Hange took a moment to record her observations and theories, noting the potential for these creatures to use Witcher signs. This information could be crucial for their strategies moving forward and would need to be verified and understood fully.

As the meeting concluded, the plan was set. An expedition to the Blue Mountains was scheduled for the following morning, with the dual purpose of locating Sinister and understanding the full extent of the capabilities of the creatures he sought to control.

…

By nighttime an unease had settled over the guards and group as they were taking the night to recuperate in preparation for tomorrow, The threat of Sinister and his monstrous experiments loomed large, casting a shadow over their temporary peace. Derreck, ever vigilant and not needing rest like the others, kept watch outside the encampment. His unique abilities allowed him to monitor shifts in reality, a necessary precaution given the unpredictable nature of their foe.

As the night deepened, Damien, a contingent of the Duchess's guards, and Derreck remained alert. The stillness of the night was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Derreck's senses, attuned to the subtleties of dimensional vibrations, picked up an anomaly in the distance. His eyes flickered black, the color of void between realities, signaling his use of his powers to peer across spatial distortions.

"Sinister is moving," Derreck murmured, his voice low but urgent. "He's preparing to leave his current location, and he's taking whatever Witcher serums he's created with him."

At that moment, Eskel, who had been trying to catch some sleep nearby, and Hange, who had just risen with the dawn, snapped to alertness. The grogginess of sleep quickly washed away by the adrenaline of the moment.

"Open a portal, now!" Eskel commanded, strapping on his gear with practiced speed.

Without hesitation, Derreck extended his arms, his hands clawing through the fabric of reality itself. A portal ripped open in the air before them, a swirling vortex of energy that led directly to Sinister's last known coordinates. Damien, quick to react to the urgency, dashed to alert the others who were scattered around the camp.

"Everyone, to the portal! We can't let him escape with those serums!" Damien called out as he ran.

The warriors, mages, and strategists of their group converged rapidly at the portal's entrance. Hange grabbed her bag of tools and potions, essentials for dealing with whatever they might find on the other side. The Duchess's guards, briefed quickly, formed a protective ring around the portal to ensure their safe passage.

With no time to spare, Eskel was the first to step through the portal, his figure swallowed by the swirling energies. One by one, the rest followed, their faces set with determination and readiness for conflict. Derreck maintained the portal, his hands steady despite the strain, ensuring everyone passed through safely.

On the other side, they emerged into a scene of chaos. The landscape was marked by the signs of a hasty departure. Tracks led away from a small, concealed laboratory nestled between the folds of the rugged terrain. It was clear Sinister had been alerted to their presence and was attempting to relocate his valuable research and creations.

"We must move quickly!" Eskel shouted, leading the charge. The group spread out, following the tracks that Sinister and his cohorts had left behind. The urgency of the situation lent them speed and a fierce resolve to stop Sinister before he could disappear into the labyrinth of the Blue Mountains with the potential to unleash untold horrors upon the world.

As they pursued the trail, the sky lit up with the first hints of dawn, casting long shadows and painting the chase with an eerie, surreal light. The race against time and the cunning of a mad scientist spurred them forward, each member of the group driven by a common goal: to prevent a disaster that could ripple across worlds.

As Sinister spurred his horses through the rugged terrain of the Blue Mountains, his escape seemed almost certain. The bags filled with carefully synthesized serums clinked and clattered against the sides of the animals, each vial a potential catastrophe waiting to be unleashed. He paused momentarily, pulling out a high-tech device from his coat to check the readings. The screen flickered and buzzed, indicating an overwhelming surge of power approaching at an alarming rate. The numbers were incomprehensible, far surpassing anything documented even in the annals of his extensive research into the powers of gods and monsters.

As Sinister puzzled over the data, trying to make sense of the impossible energy signature drawing near, his moment of analysis was abruptly cut short. A black, worm-like mass of tentacles erupted from the underbrush, moving with startling speed and precision. Before he could react, it tackled him from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground with a thud. The device flew from his hand, its screen cracking upon impact with the rocky soil.

Sinister, caught completely off guard, struggled against the constricting mass. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered or created—a being whose power seemed to defy the very limits of science and magic as he knew them. The tentacles, an extension of Derreck's will, held him firmly in place, rendering him powerless to escape.

Staring up at Derreck, who now stood over him, Sinister's mind raced. This being before him, manifesting power on a scale that his device couldn't even properly measure, was both a terrifying threat and a subject of intense scientific interest. Sinister had never heard of Derreck or the conjunction event that had brought together elements from different worlds, making this encounter both a dire threat and a remarkable opportunity.

"Who are you?" Sinister demanded, his voice a mix of fascination and alarm. "What are you?"

Derreck, his presence dominating and his power palpable, looked down at Sinister with a measured gaze. "I'm the one stopping you from causing any more harm," he stated simply, the power radiating from him making the air around them thrum with intensity.

The device on the ground continued to buzz erratically, its sensors overwhelmed by Derreck's presence. Sinister, despite his precarious situation, couldn't help but marvel at the energy emanating from this unknown entity. His life's work had been dedicated to enhancing, mutating, and controlling, yet here was a force that seemed beyond any form of control or understanding.

A few minutes later, Sinister, now securely bound and seated against a tree, watched the group of interlopers that had thwarted his escape. Derreck, flanked by Eskel and Hange, stood over him, their expressions a mixture of caution and determination. The morning light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground and highlighting the tense atmosphere.

Eskel, always direct in his approach, was the first to question Sinister. "How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice low but forceful.

Sinister's eyes flicked from one face to another, gauging the seriousness and potential threat each posed before he replied. "It's been several weeks," he began, his voice calm and controlled. "I was in the middle of a cloning experiment in my world when, quite unexpectedly, I found myself transported here, along with my laboratory. The transition was... disorienting."

Hange, curious and ever the scientist, pressed further. "And the circumstances of this arrival? Was it an accident, or were you brought here intentionally?"

Pausing, as if considering what to divulge, Sinister finally shrugged, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Imagine my surprise to find such a universe teeming with genetic potential unlike any I've encountered. The possibilities here are endless."

Derreck, not satisfied with the vague answers, narrowed his eyes. "You've been experimenting on creatures in this world—turning them into something not meant to be. Why? What's your endgame here?"

Sinister tilted his head, looking at Derreck with a mix of amusement and contemplation. After a moment of silence, he answered nonchalantly, "Why not? I was bored. The witchers of this world, their mutations, their capabilities—they intrigued me. Creating those creatures was... a diversion, an experiment to see how far I could push the boundaries of what's possible."

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Sinister's cavalier attitude towards such profound alterations of life was unsettling. Hange took a deep breath, her scientific curiosity battling with her moral compass. "You've unleashed potential calamities into this world, all because you were 'bored'? Do you not consider the consequences of your actions?"

Sinister's smirk widened as he leaned back against the tree. "Consequences are for those who lack the vision to see through the chaos they create. Every significant advancement in science comes at a cost. I'm merely accelerating the process."

Eskel stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "Your 'advancements' could have catastrophic impacts on this world. We cannot allow you to continue."

Sinister chuckled, unfazed by the threat. "Oh, I believe you'll find that stopping me isn't as simple as you might hope. This world, like every world, is ripe for change. And change, as you know, is inevitable."

As the interrogation continued, the group became increasingly aware of the dangerous mind they were dealing with—a mind that saw ethical boundaries as mere obstacles to be overcome in pursuit of knowledge and power.

Eskel, always direct in his approach, was the first to question Sinister. "How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice low but forceful.

Hange, curious and ever the scientist, pressed further. "And the circumstances of this arrival? Was it an accident, or were you brought here intentionally?"

Derreck, not satisfied with the vague answers, narrowed his eyes. "You've been experimenting on creatures in this world—turning them into something not meant to be. Why? What's your endgame here?"

Eskel stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "Your 'advancements' could have catastrophic impacts on this world. We cannot allow you to continue."

As the conversation progressed, Sinister's keen observational skills began to piece together the unfamiliar context in which he found himself. His gaze flickered between the communicators and the diverse group confronting him, and a realization dawned upon him. "Have you encountered other versions of me before?" he inquired, his tone hinting at a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Hange responded with a calm, measured voice, maintaining a professional demeanor despite the tension. "Yes, we've met variants of you from your multiverse before. Your reputation precedes you."

Sinister paused, absorbing this new information with a thoughtful frown. "Multiverse? So you're indicating there's more than one multiverse? Fascinating..." His mind raced at the implications, the scientific possibilities expanding exponentially in his thoughts.

Noticing the communicators again, particularly as Derreck briefly interacted with someone on the other end—apparently assuring a person named Laura—Sinister saw an opportunity to delve deeper, to probe for personal connections that might serve as leverage or at least provide insights into the motivations of his captors. With a sly grin, he ventured further into personal territory, a tactic to unsettle his captors.

"So, you and Laura, huh? Tell me... do you have any kids by any chance?" Sinister asked, his voice dripping with insinuating curiosity.

The atmosphere tensed immediately. Derreck's expression stiffened; a clear sign that Sinister had touched a nerve. The rest of the group also reacted, their discomfort more than apparent, recognizing the potential threat that Sinister's knowledge and interest could pose.

Sinister, undeterred by the change in the air, leaned into the discomfort he had stirred. His mind buzzed with the genetic implications of such a lineage. "So many possibilities," he murmured, almost to himself, his scientific mind racing through the potential genetic traits and abilities that the offspring of such a union might possess.

Despite the provocation, Derreck maintained his composure, though his eyes hardened. He chose not to divulge any information, keeping his personal life and especially details about his children shielded from this man who viewed everything through the lens of experimentation.

Hange, noticing the tension, intervened, her voice sharp. "That's enough, Sinister. We're not here to discuss personal matters. We need to focus on containing the threat you pose to this world."

Sinister chuckled, unfazed by the rebuke. "Oh, come now, don't be so stiff. Every piece of information is a tool, every detail a potential breakthrough. But fine, we'll play it your way... for now."

As Sinister was securely led away to await his confinement and eventual trial, the guards diligently sifted through his possessions. Among the items were numerous vials of potions and meticulous notes detailing his genetic experiments. These documents provided insight into his methodical and unscrupulous approach to science. Additionally, they uncovered a list of contacts that Sinister had cultivated during his time in this world. His connections spanned across the northern lands, hidden behind a façade of legitimate jobs and contracts cleverly designed to funnel wealth into his operations without leading directly back to him.

Eskel, understanding the gravity of the situation and the cunning of their captive, decided to remain with the guards and Damian. He was determined to ensure that no slip-ups would allow Sinister a chance to escape. The thorough examination of Sinister's belongings continued, each item catalogued and secured to prevent any further misuse of his dangerous creations.

Meanwhile, with the immediate threat contained, Derreck felt a pressing need to return to his family. The ordeal had been a significant distraction from the peaceful vacation he had planned with Laura and their children. His mind was already drifting to the joy of reuniting with them, to the simpler pleasures of their planned activities in Paradise Island and their upcoming visit to Fearun. The prospect of resuming their vacation, of stepping away from the complexities of interdimensional threats and sinister plots, was immensely appealing.

With a brief farewell to Eskel and a nod to Damian, expressing his gratitude for their vigilance, Derreck prepared to teleport back to Krakoa. His thoughts were filled with images of Laura's smile, the playful antics of Orion and Aurora, and the curious gaze of Damien, whose universe-like form never ceased to amaze him.

For Derreck, the priority was clear: family first, and everything else could wait.

…

As Derreck vanished through the portal, the mood in Toussaint shifted to one of solemnity and expectation. The trial of Sinister was set to commence, a proceeding that would be anything but ordinary. Held in the grand hall of the Duchess's palace, the atmosphere was charged with a mixture of anticipation and outrage. This was not only due to the heinous nature of Sinister's experiments but also because of the unprecedented testimonies expected from the Kikimora queen and the giant centipede, both victims of his cruel scientific endeavors.

The Duchess, a regal and authoritative figure, presided over the trial with a stern demeanor. Her presence commanded respect, and her commitment to justice was well-known throughout her land. As Sinister was brought in, shackled and surrounded by guards, a murmur of disgust rippled through the gathered crowd. The presence of the Kikimora queen and the giant centipede at the trial was a stark reminder of the very real consequences of Sinister's actions.

Sinister, undeterred by the gravity of the situation, wore a smug expression. His arrogance was all over his demeanor. , and he carried himself with a dismissive air that only served to inflame the sentiments of all present. As the trial began, he interrupted the proceedings with a chuckle, muttering an insult directed at the Duchess. His voice carried clearly, dripping with disdain: "Go ahead, dare to put me to the executioner's block. In some universe, somewhere, regardless of how many of me you destroy, I'll always be there. So, do your worst."

His monologue continued, each word laced with condescension and a disturbing confidence. "I am, after all, a visionary who challenges gods and men alike. I give life, I take it away, and I improve upon it," he boasted, seemingly unfazed by the accusations against him.

The testimonies from the Kikimora queen and the giant centipede were powerful and emotional. They spoke not only of the physical transformations they endured but also of the fear and pain they experienced under Sinister's hands. Their voices, though strange and otherworldly, carried a weight that touched the hearts of all who listened.

As Sinister's rant continued, growing increasingly defiant and inflammatory, the Duchess's patience finally wore thin. With a stern voice that echoed through the hall, she silenced him. "Enough!" she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We have heard sufficient to judge your character and your deeds. Damian, take this filth away. He has desecrated the principles of life and dignity we hold dear. His punishment will be determined, but he will no longer pollute this court with his presence."

With a decisive gesture from the Duchess, the guards promptly escorted Sinister out of the hall. His final words lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the enduring threat he posed, yet the firm response from the judiciary underscored the resolve of Toussaint to uphold justice, regardless of the opponent.

As Sinister was removed from sight, the crowd in the hall breathed a collective sigh of relief, tempered by the gravity of what had been revealed.

As the trial of Sinister drew to a close, the council, presided over by the Duchess, deliberated intensely on the appropriate course of action. The chilling testimony from the Kikimora queen and the giant centipede, along with Sinister's unabashedly defiant and disturbing declarations, left no doubt about the threat he posed not only to Toussaint but potentially to the broader world.

The challenge lay in determining a sentence that would neutralize the threat while accounting for the complex issue of his potential immortality through cloning—a tactic Sinister himself alluded to during his trial. The possibility that he might have safeguard mechanisms in place to continue his existence through clones elsewhere complicated any decision to execute him.

After much discussion, a consensus emerged. Sinister was indeed too dangerous to be allowed freedom or the possibility of escape, but executing him could inadvertently activate any unknown contingencies he might have set up, such as awakening cloned versions of himself. This left them with the only viable option they could agree on: solitary confinement under maximum security.

The Duchess outlined the resolution with a gravitas that matched the seriousness of their decision. "Given the unique and severe nature of the threat posed by this individual, and the potential for his continuity through other unnatural means, we hereby sentence him to solitary confinement. He will be held in a specially designed facility, under the strictest security measures we can devise, indefinitely."

She continued, emphasizing the precautionary measures, "This facility will be equipped to handle and neutralize any attempt at escape or communication with the outside world. We will monitor him continuously, and any sign of external activation of a clone or similar entity will be swiftly addressed."

This decision was met with a mixture of relief and somber acknowledgment from those gathered. While it wasn't the closure some might have hoped for, it was the safest and most controlled response to a situation that was seemingly endless.

The Duchess concluded, "Let this be a message to any who would follow in his footsteps: Toussaint stands resolute in the face of such darkness. We will not falter in our duty to protect our people and uphold the sanctity of life, even against threats as formidable as this."

With the trial concluded and the sentence passed, the council disbanded, leaving Sinister to his fate in isolation, where he could no longer harm others.

…

Upon their return to Kaer Morhen, the revitalized School of the Wolf, Eskel and the Witcher graduates Alaric K. and Tomas submitted their comprehensive reports detailing the missions they had undertaken. The new practice of maintaining detailed mission records was part of the school's efforts to blend traditional Witcher wisdom with more systematic academic methods, enhancing their approach to the changing world.

As Eskel handed over the thick folder containing observations, analyses, and samples from their encounters with the sentient monsters, his demeanor betrayed the weight of the responsibilities he had shouldered. The castle's ancient stone halls, usually a comforting presence filled with the echoes of many generations of Witchers, seemed to press close, heavy with the gravity of their recent findings.

Triss Merigold, noticing Eskel's burdened expression as he finished his debriefing, approached him with a knowing smile. "You look like you could use a break," she said gently, taking his hand and leading him away from the bustling activity of the main hall.

Eskel, usually stoic and reserved, allowed a small smile to cross his face as he followed Triss to their shared quarters. The warmth in her eyes and the quiet understanding she offered were a balm to his weary spirit. Once inside, Triss guided him to sit beside her on a soft, plush couch by the fire.

With the door closed to the rest of the world, Triss reached out to ease the tension in Eskel's shoulders with a gentle touch. "The weight of the world isn't yours to bear alone," she murmured as her fingers worked to relax the knots in his muscles.

Eskel let out a deep, grateful sigh, leaning back into her touch. "Sometimes it feels like it is," he admitted. "Today, more than ever."

Triss leaned in and kissed him softly, a quiet promise of support and shared burdens. "Let's just take a moment for ourselves, then," she suggested, and Eskel nodded, the stress beginning to ebb away under her care.

…

Meanwhile, back in the main hall, Geralt, Letho, and several other Witchers and sorcerers gathered around the table where the serums developed by Sinister were laid out. Each vial was sealed and marked with detailed notes provided by Eskel and his team.

Geralt, examining one of the serums under the light, voiced the collective concern, "These could change the nature of what we do, for better or worse. We need to understand them fully before making any decisions."

Letho, ever pragmatic, added, "Studying them under lock and key seems our best option. If these can indeed grant sentience to feral monsters, we might find ways to use this technology responsibly, maybe even ethically."

The group agreed to establish a secure research initiative within Kaer Morhen, appointing a team of their most trusted and skilled members to oversee the study of the serums. The potential to turn a tool designed for manipulation into a means of redemption for creatures otherwise doomed to be slain by Witchers was too significant to ignore.

"We're not just hunters anymore," Geralt concluded. "Maybe we can be guardians in a new way." This sentiment, radical yet rooted in the evolving ethos of the School of the Wolf, marked a significant shift in their age-old mandate.

With the decision made, the Witchers began the careful process of integrating this new knowledge into their repository, hopeful that what was born from sinister intentions might one day contribute to the greater good.

…

Hange, having settled into her quarters after a long and taxing mission, took a moment to relax. Her companion, He-Who-Reads, was busy organizing his notes from their latest endeavor, while Hange fed her pet mole rat—a small creature from Jake's radioactive world that had been cured with the mutation cure they developed. The mole rat nibbled happily on a piece of cabbage, oblivious to the complexities of the world above.

As she was about to turn away, Hange noticed a sealed letter placed next to the mole rat's habitat. Puzzled, she picked it up, examining the envelope. "He-Who-Reads, were you expecting a letter?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet room.

He-Who-Reads looked up from his notes, his expression one of confusion. "No, I wasn't expecting anything. It must have been placed there by mistake, or maybe it's for you?"

With a shrug, Hange tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Her eyes scanned the letter quickly at first, but then her pace slowed, and her expression shifted from casual curiosity to shock. Inside the letter, a photograph slipped out, landing on the table. Hange picked it up, and her shock deepened.

The photograph was shocking—a clearly alive Willy Tybur, a figure who Eren Yeager had publicly crushed during his devastating attack on Marley, a memory that haunted both nations. Willy was pointing a gun at the camera, and behind him, a group of familiar faces, bound and gagged, conveyed silent pleas for help. Among them was Yelena, her eyes wide with fear.

Hange's hands trembled as she read the ominous words of the letter: "Bring me Eren Yeager, the devil who killed my sister, or they die. You have one week to decide." The letter was dated four days ago, leaving them just three days to respond.

With a sense of urgency, Hange and He-Who-Reads hurried to the royal chambers to inform King Eren and Queen Historia of the grim situation. The couple was in the midst of a meeting, but the severity of the news brought an immediate halt to their discussions.

"Eren, Historia, this is urgent," Hange began, her voice tense as she spread out the photograph and letter on the table. "Willy Tyber is alive and he's taken hostages. He's demanding you, Eren. He wants retribution for his sister's death, whom you killed during the attack on Marley."

The room grew cold with the weight of past actions and present threats. Eren's face darkened with both surprise and a defensive resolve as he picked up the photograph, his mind racing with implications. Historia, ever compassionate, covered her mouth, shock evident in her eyes.

"We must handle this carefully," Eren stated with a stern look, his leadership never more needed. "He's clearly playing a deep game. We need to understand how he survived and what exactly he wants besides vengeance."

As they strategized into the night, the castle's atmosphere was one of grim determination. The past had reemerged in a most violent form, and now they had to face it head-on—not just for their sakes but for the innocents whose lives hung in the balance.

Eren clenched his fists, feeling the weight of his historical actions pressing down on him anew. "We need a plan that considers all our options," he said, pacing slowly. "Willy Tybur's survival and his current actions must be understood in depth."

Historia reached out to touch his arm, grounding him. "We'll manage this together," she reassured him. "Our first priority is to ensure the safety of the hostages. We can't let personal history cloud our judgment."

Hange, always the pragmatist, was already listing potential allies and resources. "I suggest we also reach out to our international contacts. If Tybur is moving openly, he might be seeking broader support or trying to destabilize our current peace efforts."

Eren nodded in agreement, his mind racing through scenarios. "Set up a meeting with our intelligence teams and prepare a crisis response unit. We need eyes on all possible Tybur movements and any sympathetic factions that might harbor him but do so with their permission only, we must work in cooperation with them in this."

He looked out the window, the weight of his responsibility as a leader was never clearer. "This is a chance to correct past mistakes, not just with Tybur but in how we handle threats to our peace. We must be strategic and humane in this, the last thing we need is another endless cycle."

Eren could only pray that he would make the right choice.