WARNING: Extreme violence, blood, mild gore, death, psychological torture, depiction of slavery, child slavery, alcohol consumption.

Ikki's Interlude

The way to Death Queen's Island was a long one; its remote nature made it an undesirable destination to nearly all who had knowledge of its existence, and therefore a refuge to whoever wished to operate outside the eyes of normal civilization.

Ikki wore the Phoenix Cloth, paddling towards the island's outline in the distance. The tall mountain amid it was the easiest form to identify it, and the mist that grew as he approached the shore as well, sea spray dragged upwards by the crashing waves and the wind which dipped the arrival in a grisly atmosphere.

The canoe took long to hit the black sand of a beach outlined by volcanic dirt. The Saint situated himself by viewing landmarks from the found land, and went off to a particular place he still finely remembered.

He sat in front of the same grave of his dreams and nightmares, and paid respects to Esmeralda's etched name while holding the helmet under an armpit. "It has come to my attention that I have not become a monster due to this fire in me, Esmeralda…" he whispered with the head lowered "… but because of what I have chosen to do with it." Crawling forward, the man placed a hand gently onto the mound, and that vision of the reflected Demon Fist came to mind; for a brief second, he expected her decrepit hand to unearth and grab his fingers. "I know I have failed you before. Give me some time, as what I will do next should make you no prouder." He got up and concluded before walking off: "I promise it will be the last time."

The villages of that island could survive despite how inhospitable the earth was at first sight; volcanic activity brought rich soil to the farmers, and since the traps had become largely inactive in the past centuries, there was no fear of exploring this benefit. If anything, the place's bad reputation gave landowners a great opportunity to thrive where they were expected to fail, and this not only enriched them, but also generated a great power imbalance between those with the means to enforce property and those without.

So as to not waste more time, Ikki crossed through the land straight to the village deemed Death Queen's capital, which rested under a hill not as tall as its largest mount. All architecture resembled a colonial style derived from Neoclassical, seen in basic homes or massive halls and farmhouses. At the very top of the neighboring mountain was perhaps the most luxurious of them, a multi-story mansion guarded by high cement walls.

As the Saint passed, civilians demonstrated both dread and respect. Some dared salute him, although he gave little back, largely ignoring them and heading to the foot of the hill. A subtle commotion had ensued with that arrival, some people exchanging words, running to warn others and, eventually, word had gone up to the Dark Saints that he had set foot on the island.

He reached the wide path of dirt and rocks, and stared at two men in false Cloths that slid down a steep drop. "Ikki!" one of them called. His expression to them was so austere it almost fell blank. "So you have returned too."

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Not at all, since it seems you are going up. Jango wants news of the Gold Cloth."

"Right." He continued walking and no longer looked at the two Dark Saints, who followed after, the first coming to his side to continue pestering him.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Dead."

The man paused and looked back at his colleague, however, they had to increase the pace to keep up with Phoenix, who relentlessly pressed towards the iron gate. "Every single one of them? If I remember correctly, you and Dark Hydra went out with more than ten people."

"They are all dead."

"And what about the Gold Cloth, did you get it?"

Ikki growled loudly, burned the Cosmos with immediacy, and pierced the Dark Saint's stomach with a spear-handed strike, pulling out to let the arm drip a mix of his insides and blood. As he had interrupted the walk, he looked back to the other one, who shockingly witnessed his friend's body fall limp to the floor. Although he still groaned and agonized, the intense bleeding invalidated any chances of survival.

"Hey… he was just asking, Ikki. A question isn't an insult," he said amid stutters.

Making a final decision, Phoenix grabbed that one by the throat and tightened it with grueling force, clenching the airways tight. "Had he stayed quiet, he would have died anyway," he stoically said. The man couldn't respond in that state, and the effort by punching back at the other's face and arm was futile. With a single hand, he was strangled, and his corpse fell before Ikki went on.

When he approached the gate, a voice yelled from within the walls: "He's here!" The iron gate was opened to allow entry, thus he went through a path of large stones to the porch. Without looking to the sides, he opened the door and entered.

At the end of the hall he could see the living room, and a burgundy couch with its back to the corridor. On it was a man, that sideswiped head of black hair announcing his identity to Ikki long before he saw the face. Phoenix calmly walked to the room, boots knocking on the wooden flooring, and went around it to look the other side.

Dark Hydra, who had been spared by Shun, sat on an armchair, eyes to the ground in shame as soon as Ikki came to view. He still wore his copy of the Hydra Cloth, although the man drinking something out of a bottle wore a different kind of armor, not built after that of a Saint's.

That was Jango, a tall, taupe-skinned, toned man. He sat comfortably, arms and legs spread, dressed in a black attire and a set of black-stained metal, the shoulder pads studded with bright steel. "Heard you already made an impression on your way up," he said with a joking tone, as the Saint's hand still dripped blood from one of his latest victims. Said man was the head of the Dark Saints, the effective governor of the island, and the one expected to wear the Sagittarius Cloth had they attained it. "Sit down right there," he motioned to the other armchair behind Ikki, "I want to hear what happened in Japan."

Phoenix sat, lied back, and crossed one leg over the other, intermittently staring at an avoidant Dark Hydra.

Jango noticed and chuckled. "Yeah, that guy came back a while ago. He said things didn't go well on his end."

"He deserted," Ikki claimed.

"No!" Dark Hydra rebutted. "The Saint who took the piece from me spared my life!"

"And then you abandoned them," Jango said with an acidic tone, a cruel grin to his lips.

"No! No, that's not it! I looked for them, but then found two of us dead on a pass, plastered in ice. I thought of going back to Ikki, but was afraid everyone was already dead."

The leader of the Dark Saints waved the bottle at Phoenix after a long sip. "He seems pretty alive right there," he commented, "and as angry as ever too, if the two bodies he just left behind give us any clue."

Ikki sighed and said: "It does not matter, the others are indeed dead. You were useless and would have died as well."

"So that means you failed to get the Gold Cloth," said Jango.

"Obviously," Ikki responded, looking with fury from the corners of the eyes.

The man stood up and walked to an end of the living room, leaving the bottle below a window and looking at the plantations behind the mansion. "That's a shame. It seems you got pretty close, based on what this deserter told me," he said.

"Did not matter in the end."

"You can still make up for the failure. I'll send you two and a larger team to get it next." Ikki stayed silent, as did Dark Hydra. Jango grabbed the bottle and turned around to look at them. "Any objections?"

Phoenix stood, put on the helmet, then refused: "It will not happen."

Jango gave an awkward smile, both eyebrows raised. "Excuse me, friend…? Don't make a scene," he said.

"Soon there will be no more Dark Saints. There will be no means for you to seek this Cloth."

They all paused in silence for a few seconds. At first Jango was dumbfounded, chuckling genuinely, but soon laughing with nervousness. "What's that…? Do you think they will come all the way here and end us — all the way to this forsaken hole? You've gone mad if you believe that."

"They do not have to."

"Then what do you mean, friend? Speak up."

Ikki stared at him with disdain. "I am here to end this organization once and for all."

Jango's face went from confusion to a mix of concern and anger. He didn't know for sure how unlikely this was, but were there a person capable of single-handedly clearing the ranks of the Dark Saints, he knew it had to be the one in front of him. "Even if you kill me, then what, huh?" he began rambling, "this place is surrounded by dozens of soldiers. Let's say you kill them all, what comes after? This island will fall into complete chaos without our guidance, Phoenix Ikki. We are the best thing to ever happen to those people."

"Are you?" Ikki questioned him curtly.

But Jango kept going: "When was the last time you saw a landowner fight around here, eh? No, if there's a dispute, they all put their heads down, come up here, tails between their legs, we solve it all with a conversation… because they know!" He grabbed and waved the bottle aggressively between pauses. "They know that if they step out of line, we can kill them, they have no way to fight back! This is balance, my friend!"

"Are you the best thing to ever happen to those people?" he repeated, but this time he burned his Cosmos. At that point Jango's strategy changed, raising energy to fight for his life.

The trigger was the bottle, thrown in Ikki's direction at a speed so great that it immediately shattered into pieces in the air. Phoenix instead sped through the growing cloud of shards, sending some of the contents all over the place. In order to protect himself, Dark Hydra flipped back over the armchair and hid from them.

The speed of their fight was as impressive as ever, and it was clear that, no matter his role as a Dark Saint, Jango was well at the level of the strongest of Bronze Saints before their extra training. This also meant he could only hinder some of Ikki's strikes, rarely ever connecting any of his own.

With a blast of flames, the Dark Saint got thrown against the couch whereon he sat before, and some thin thread burned into ember due to the heat transferred by the armor. When he tried to get up, Ikki kicked him so violently against the temple that he was launched onto a line of slender vases, crashing down the glass table below them.

Walking over to him, Ikki crouched, punched him in the face, and lifted the elbow for another strike, yet Jango, already weakened, pushed the fist away in vain. "Hey, won't you… at least give me a few last words?" he said between sarcastic chuckles, then took another punch to the face that made him groan aloud. His face was swollen from the bruises, and the brow bled from a corner. "Come on, friend. Give a man his due right."

"You are undeserving of the benefit," Phoenix affirmed. The last strike was one doused in Cosmos, ripping a splatter of blood from Jango's head and dropping him limply to the side so that he rested on pieces of glass.

Behind, fingers and three fangs threatened to take Phoenix from surprise. Once they swung down, he turned, grabbed the wrist, and slammed the gauntlet from below, bending and cracking its brittle material. From the way it twisted, Dark Hydra's arm seemed to be broken then, so he screamed desperately from the pain and fell back.

Seeing that killing machine looming over him, he had to rise above the unbearable pain and reason for his life. "W-what's this about, Ikki? Why turn on us?" he exasperatedly questioned.

"I was never on your side."

"Then what was this whole thing about? Why go as far as joining us?"

"I thought you would be a good medium for my rebellion, but I was wrong." He extended the fingers of one hand, joining them tightly together, and pointed them down at the fallen foe. "Tell me, who was the Saint who spared your life?"

"A-Andromeda!" he confirmed. "It was the Andromeda boy, your little brother!"

That simply, Phoenix lowered the arm and nodded with a smile his foe could not process, whether it bore pride, kindness, or sadism. "As expected of him," said the Saint. Dark Hydra gradually grew relieved at that sight, but feared the man's unpredictability nonetheless. "To end your life gratuitously would be to disrespect my brother's mercy. A sentiment so precious deserves better." Nonetheless, Ikki stepped forward and pointed the same hand to the Dark Saint's neck. "I will let you live, but remember this is about my brother's mercy, not the value of your life. Stand in my way once again, and this privilege will be revoked."

The other one babbled and sobbed, nodding intensely with tightened eyelids. "Thank you, thank you so much!" The Saint, however, was already on the way to leave the manor.

Outside he felt the stares from intrigued Dark Saints seeking answers. Some of them were on the higher stories of the mansion, even atop the ceiling, and had definitely heard the commotion inside. Others walked on the walls, while others watched from higher portions of the hill, vaguely planning on something.

"Ikki, what is the meaning of all of this?" a man's voice called on top of the gate. "Killing us for no reason… you can't do as you will just because you're Jango's favorite!"

Phoenix scanned around some more to count the number of fighters who watched the scene, noticing their number rise by the second. "You called me Jango's favorite," he yelled back.

"That's most certainly what you are."

"You must be mistaken! Dead men have no preferences."

The warriors became agitated and held themselves back to not promptly attack. It all made sense now; Ikki's sudden reappearance, his lack of respect for fellow Dark Saints, and the fighting heard inside the house… the once thought impossible event of a power shift in the island was finally taking place. Unprepared for it, they had no idea how to react if not with violence.

"Every single one of you here, listen to me!" Ikki interrupted their murmurs with a stately shout. "From now on, Death Queen's has an open season policy on Dark Saints. Either fight me, or leave this place for good. Those who reach far enough into the sea will be allowed their lives."

They felt more apprehensive, unsure of how full of himself that man truly was. Since most wished to attack, despite their hesitation, the first Dark Saint to confront him riled them up: "Hey, come on! He can't defeat us all!" Having done that, he jumped in with a burst of Cosmos, which many followed suit.

The first one was thrown aside by Ikki with pure fire and force, and he then parried another's gauntlet, cracking it in the process. He spun in the air, a blazing trail behind the heel, and struck a third's mouth so hard he spat an assortment of saliva, blood, and teeth. Landing, he parried an oncoming blow and countered it with a flaming palm to the chest, holding it in place while he pushed that foe by the throat. The metal heat up, so the man's clothes and skin smoked from inside, causing piercing pain that led to loud shrieks.

When Phoenix let go, the victim fell and began hurriedly removing the pieces of armor, but there were too many for him to do so at once. As he saw another flying kick coming his direction, Ikki elbowed the leg aside and hammered the assailant's mouth with a palm, swinging his whole body to the floor. After a jump, he crushed the man's skull under both boots.

He then saw that a line of fighters had formed ahead of him, and although some seemed hesitant to go in, Phoenix wasted no opportunities and slid in at the speed of sound, a broadening line of fire being dragged along with the right arm. As it grew, it eventually exploded behind like a bomb, and blasted off pieces of armor from the row of soldiers.

"This is useless. Let's get out of here!" a Dark Saint said and bounced off over the gate. Ikki quickly took note of it and chased after him, easily outpacing him in the air, albeit followed by those behind. He punched the runaway's neck, which undid his balance such that he fell face first onto the path outside the walls.

When he landed near him, Ikki had to turn back and deflect a well distributed barrage of moves from three foes, using a wall of fire to give himself time. He grabbed the crawling man by the hair, lifted him towards the village beneath, and punched him with even greater energy than before. A bang and a flash ensued between the fist and the enemy's body, and at the same time that parts of the body and armor were crushed by the blast, he was also sent off into the distance, probably to be found as remains in the outskirts.

One of the other three who came after tried to catch him by surprise, but with a Cosmos-fueled strike, Ikki penetrated all the way through breastplate and chest. With a hand out the other side, he spread bloodied fingers towards the remaining two and shouted: "PHOENIX FLIGHT!"

The following explosion carbonized part of the body of the man he injured, then raged at the others, blistering their skins and leaving them to suffer on the ground. With a now enlarged hole deep in his chest, the Dark Saint fell lifeless after Phoenix pulled the arm out. Showing more mercy than for most of his opponents, he swiftly finished the fallen foes with neck strikes, that they no longer felt unnecessary pain.

"I do not feel like counting, but it seems no more of them have escaped," he said, looking out into the village's premises. "Now comes the time for closure."

Ikki zigzagged down the hills back down to the village, and went to a slightly isolated farm, closer to his old training place. He remembered the location from earlier years, and knew that it had grown considerably in the past years. The cornfields were more sizable, and the owner's home, grander and beauteous.

He crossed between the fields on the corridors of dirt, aiming to enter the house through the back rather than the front. Before he reached the destination, he saw a small group of enslaved locals, each carrying a wooden basket wherein they placed the corns they harvested. They were all simple men, but knew the area's politics enough to respect his presence.

"Is that a Dark Saint?" one of them said.

"Don't be so loud. That's Ikki," the older one quietly responded.

Ikki stopped and stared at them, thus they deviated their eyes to focus on work and not anger him. "You are his new slaves, are you not?" he asked.

"Y-yes, Mister Ikki… we've been working here for…"

"Leave this farm."

"Huh?"

"You heard me right."

"But if we do that, Master will hunt after us and punish us," said the slave.

"Take that word 'master' out of your mouth," Ikki reprimanded him. Even meaning well, his aggressive tone took the men aback. "Leave, and from now on, serve no man against your will. No harm shall come to you, and I suggest that you spread the word to other slaves. Jango and the Dark Saints are dead, so no one can stop you."

Almost instantly, most if not one of the slaves dropped their baskets and made a run for it. A few hesitated to ensure Ikki would not react, all while still looking out for a trap outside. Only the older man delayed an exit. He saw his colleagues wave for him to come, but he exchanged a last stare with the Saint before dropping the corn and leaving.

Upon arriving at the back of the farmhouse, Phoenix shattered a wooden door into many splinters, paced in, then searched through the rooms. First he slammed a slim door to a storage room, where he found no one, then he walked back and found an open passage to a bedroom at the end of the corridor.

He entered and was met by a scantily-dressed Polynesian woman, partially hidden under the double bed's sheets. The landowner attempted an escape through the window beside it, and he was an aging, visibly well-fed man, slightly dark-skinned like the locals but with hair already graying. He wore an expensive shirt unbuttoned halfway, and comfortable slacks of some expensive material; at the time, he was barefoot, although the fingers in his hands were full of comically large, fancy rings, featuring all colors and shapes of precious gems.

Knowing it would be futile to escape someone like Ikki, the old man put the back to a wall and lifted hands defensively. "Hey, hey! What's going on? This is my house!" he shouted.

"Save your breath," said Ikki, following it with a well-planted punch to the mouth. The woman cried out, but the landowner was still alive, only falling against the wardrobe behind him in a daze.

The Saint proceeded to grab him by the ankle and trip his feet off the floor with apparent ease, then he dragged him out to the corridor, hitting his head on furniture and edges along the way. "Ow! Jango will have your head for this, you delinquent! You won't make it out alive!" he protested.

Ikki dropped him at the porch, having a good view of the plentiful fields in the back, then knelt to lift the landowner by the neck and bring him face to face. "Jango cannot do anything," he said.

"We will see about that!"

"He is dead, as are all of the Dark Saints."

The old man gasped, trembled, and stared in shock for a few seconds, taking in each of Phoenix's eyes to savor the seriousness of the situation. "No… you…" His face turned to revolt, seeing that no more power backed any claim to authority. "You won't achieve anything like this! You will only make things worse!"

"Save your breath."

"A slave rebellion will only make things worse! You think you're doing these people a favor, but they're much better living under us!"

"SAVE! YOUR! BREATH!" screamed Ikki, enraged at that point. He tightened his grip and almost crushed the man's throat. The landowner only managed a gargle rather than a scream, but the Saint softened the grasp, seeking to keep himself under control. "You will need as much air as you can muster, leech."

"All of this…" he spoke between huffs "… over that slave girl… how pathetic…"

"Slave girl?" Ikki lifted the other fist and pointed at the man's face menacingly, which made him wince and twist away as hard as he could in reaction. "Do you not remember her name? Say the same thing, but use her name this time. She had one for a reason." The landowner closed the eyes and refused to say a word still, so Ikki insisted: "Say it."

"Esmeralda!" he gave in. "All of this over that Esmeralda!"

"Good."

"Please, don't kill me! Please, I beg you!"

The woman who was in his bedroom now watched from the inside, covering her body with the bed sheets tied around herself. Phoenix took note of it, but knew he had to go through with the mission however he could. "Do not fret, I would never kill you," he replied with a suggestive grin. The landowner dared open an eye and look, yet that fist was still lifted. "I will do worse. DEMON FIST!"

He suddenly lifted the index, casting a burst of light through the man's retina; he then stood and threw the man down to the floor. For a while the landowner looked transfixed at the blue sky, but soon he began screaming, tearing at his own hair. At times he would subside and quiet down, tumbling around on the wooden floor till he tensed up to screech as loud as last time.

After admiring the disorder for a few seconds, Ikki went back inside and, as he passed by the woman, assured her that she would be fine. "You can go," he said. "He will not be able to stop you."

The woman nodded and ran outside. When she tip-toed by the rolling old man, she looked back, crouched, and slipped a few of the expensive rings to herself before escaping. Phoenix noticed what she did and shook the head in disapproval; that notwithstanding, he didn't mind, as the man wouldn't miss a thing with the radical changes to come.

He studied the insides of the house, how much bigger it must've gotten over the years as that man got richer, and how clean it looked despite its size. It was nowhere as opulent as Jango's mansion, but the elements it boasted were envious. He couldn't help but imagine the ghost of a young Esmeralda doing the chores with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, enduring the ill treatment while envisioning a better future. Ikki wished he had somehow brought that to the people of Death Queen's Island with those recent killings, but the image of Esmeralda having worked there most of her life only depressed him further.

At some point he was in the kitchen, with a view to the dirt road in front of the building. The dishes were washed and the floor there was only partially cleaned. There were boxes storing ingredients and vegetables on the sides, but in a shadowed corner formed by a cabinet and a counter, he saw the outline of what seemed like a sitting girl.

Coming closer, he came to note she hid her face in her knees and sobbed as quietly as possible, and the more he stared, the clearer her features became. Like Esmeralda, she had Polynesian features; also like Esmeralda, she wore the poor attire of that man's house slaves. However, unlike Esmeralda, this girl couldn't be older than seven years old, and this only fed the wrath Ikki believed himself to be quenching.

"Perhaps I should kill that parasite after all," he said, grunting and tightening a fist with anger. That only made the girl cry louder, nudging him over the insensitivity. He rose both palms beside the head and knelt without coming any closer. "Wait, wait, I apologize. I did not mean to scare you. I did not come to hurt you, I promise." She continued to sob, albeit more calmly. "I am Phoenix Ikki, a Saint. I have come here to free the slaves. I suppose you are a slave as well." The little girl only sobbed and gasped, thus he insisted: "Are you a slave?"

"I don't know," she finally responded, her muffled voice as vulnerable as she looked.

"Sure, that's alright. Even if you are not, I would never hurt you, okay?"

"Okay."

"What is your name?" he asked.

She paused for a moment. When she lifted the face and eyes to look at him, her skin was a mess, and some of the black hair got stuck to the tears on the cheeks. "I… I don't know," she replied.

Ikki stared stupefied. An emptiness sunk into his chest, and a cold feeling crawled to his stomach. By a hair he didn't feel nauseous, dismayed by the heartlessness of some. He was reminded that, in the past, he refused to take a Saint's pledge of protecting humanity due to this, yet now he felt differently. Phoenix came to know that by protecting humanity, one also meant protecting them from themselves when necessary, and he knew it was his duty both as a Saint and as the one blessed by Esmeralda's hope to save that girl from hell.

There was a last thing he promised himself to do. He remembered that, years before that time, Esmeralda had told him of a seemingly impossible spot near her master's home; there he was, sitting in a field surrounded by ferns, numerous tiny flowers blooming and spreading petals about. He had the helmet on the lap and felt a breeze caress his hair, which carried a bundle of plants gliding along its direction. Reaching for them with a palm, he took in their tenderness.

"It is true after all…" he whispered with a smile "… even in the land of death, there can be life."

A small, frail hand tapped him from the side. He looked, and it was the little slave girl, this once wearing flowers on her hair. "Mister Ikki?" He tilted the head inquisitively. "Where are we going next?"

Ikki smiled at her and allowed the plants to slip out of the palm down to grassy patches below, however, the breeze washed them further back. He stared at the sea in the distance and felt the sun warm his skin. "Home," he said.