Disclaimer: Black Clover is owned by Yūki Tabata, Studio Pierrot, and Shonen Jump.
Saga 7: Screaming for Vengeance Part 2
Château d'If, Western Waters, Morning
Château d'If. An island about 13 miles away from mainland and Libratium's maximum security penitentiary facility used to detain the most dangerous of people in all across Spade Kingdom. Usually, the current inmates consist of magical scientist who murdered his whole family to summon a Thaumael-rank Demon only to instead killing off about 60% of the surrounding residential area, someone who actually used living humans as a way to create a "Super-Sith" only to end up unleashing a Chimera so horrific to look at that it gave 10% of all of Spade Kingdom's overall population PTSD to the point where both the culprit's name and the thing's existence were completely scrubbed from all existing public records, a murder-cult leader who previously served the Zogratis clan then later endlessly preached of the coming world's end before inciting a violent mob against the current Libratium government that has led to 34 deaths and 109 people being gravely injured, a cartel of non-affiliated Ulsterians who ran an illegal Relic trafficking ring that exported magical tools and empty grimoires to outside countries' black markets, and a sect of Thaumaturges called the "Lost Legion" who have committed acts of indiscriminate terrorism against the Libratium populace, ranging from firing at the crowd or bombing the main government building itself in an attempt to assassinate Charlemange and his council of 12 Paladins.
And the casualties inflicted by these criminals occurred before Libratium was able to perfect their MASS (Magical All-Surgical System), meaning that those who were slain by these inmate could never come back to life or have their injuries fully recovered (due to the 3-day threshold the system requires fresh tissue to create replacements). Those living with prosthetics were the ones who were forced to bear the reminders of Libratium's "dark ages".
Those were all the people that were detained since the dawn of Libratium's independence from the Zogratis clan's rule. And now, the most recent of inmates, Heracles and Bizon...
... Were now the two "bosses" of the general inmate population, due to how both of them, whenever they're not fighting against each other, were practically unstoppable even if all the prisoners and jailers worked together to jump on the two.
"GOOD MORNING SIRS!" all the inmates and jailers bowed their heads at the two buff men walking past the two lines of opposite prison lives.
"Sup!" greeted Heracles as both he and Bizon walked towards their reserved table, waiting for them a luxurious three course meal of croque madams with golden-yellow yolks atop the milky whites, cinnamon muffins stacked like a tower of fluff, rich, dark-brown chocolate bread, freshly sliced radishes with stacks of warm toast with literal bricks of luxury "Midas-brand" butter from Lunar Milk Emporium next to it, rolled up pastries dripping with sweet, warm, amber-brown syrup dotted with powdered sugar, bowls of golden-yellow scrambled eggs topped with fresh chives, a tower of glazed donuts, hearty buckwheat crepes filled with savory mushrooms and cuts of tender cuts of medium-rare steak wrapped betwixt in the flow of warm ocean of savory white cream and spinach, and multiple tubs of orange juice and boiling cauldrons of black coffee (Bizon declined to have milk in his coffee, but he does take a tiny cube of sugar in it, presented on a gold tray not at his request, but out of respect).
And the rest of the prisoners and jailers alike all ate regular oatmeal with smiles on their faces, lest their stay at Château d'If turn into a possible DEATH SENTENCE. Even the warden himself was scared shitless by those two freaks of nature that even Ulster's greatest and most dangerous of Elderbeasts would have a hard time bringing down.
"Blessed be Sephira, of our world's bounty as we are about to partake," prayed Bizon as he traced the sign of the cross in front of his forehead, chest, and his shoulders, "látom."
"Látom," everyone else echoed (sans Heracles, he was already eating/inhaling his food before anyone else could) before they all ate their breakfast.
As both prison bosses gorged themselves like kings while everyone else watched in awe like peasants at a royal feast, the warden observing from above his station heard a ring coming from his desk.
"What now?" he groaned as he picked up the long-distance communicator, "if this is another message from a week prior due to the swords that fell into the ocean around us, I swear to god-"
About face, warden, spoke the man from the other side of the communication, depicted as a young man with a stoic, business-like face with short blue hair topped with a very, very tall hat that looked like a cross between a priest's cap and a city watchman's helmet, communications with this dot of land in the middle of rushing waters has now been cleared thanks to Bufu's willing. He was still able to aid us without breaking his kind's non-intervention vow, citing "it was in my way as I got to work".
"... P-P-P-PALADIN RINALDO OF THE COUNCIL OF 12 PALADINS?!" the warden cried in surprise before composing himself, "... how may I help you?"
The sentences for both Bizon Reznov and Heracles has been passed, spoke the Paladin, after deliberation between the Council and Tokarev of the Order of the Spade Cross, they are to be released tomorrow on the counts of leniency and to avoid a diplomatic incident. You do not need to know anything else.
The warden was flabbergasted, for conflicting reasons. On one hand, letting go of the those two will most likely cause the general inmate populace to fall back into disorder and the enforced harmony between them and the jailers breaking could cause the biggest riot in the prison's history. On the other hand, letting those two go will finally allow the prison staff to stop gorging their now-scarce funds to simply feed those two behemoths.
"... May I request an escort of Dragoons in case of a potential riot?" the warden whispered into the communicator on his desk, "those two effectively turned the whole populace of both inmates and jailers into their own mini-serfdom through their strength alone. I'm... admittedly a little terrified of what would happen if they're no longer around to keep order..."
Rinaldo then lets out an annoyed sigh. I'll send Roland to calm them down, he dryly replied, he hasn't gone outside in a while after the "march of the nudes"-incident, so maybe his display of his own strength would... persuade them to stand down.
"Or ends up fighting all of them naked..." the warden grumbled at the strongest Paladin's reputation of being an exhibitionist rivaling Bufu's streaking habits outside of his mobile icebox, "... and destroy the entire island in the process."
You have 24 hours, warden, warned Rinaldo, ignoring the latter statement, see to it that your head remains squarely on your neck by then.
After the channel shuts off, the warden the continues watching the two finish their breakfast which was large enough to feed an entire village for three days as everyone else returned to their cells in an orderly manner of their own free will.
"... It is going to be hell to deal with non-docile prisoners after a month of them behaving," he groaned to himself as both Bizon and Heracles returned to their maximum security cells.
Back at their cells, all of the prisoners were busy about their way of rotting inside their own cells, but significantly calmer than they usually are before the arrival of Bizon and Heracles, nowadays being found playing cards or craps with each other rather than trying to shank each other. Even the formerly-fanatical Lost Legion were now playing marbles inside of their own cell like children on the streets.
In fact, ever since the two of them arrived, the air of animosity between the two bloomed into an uneasy friendship, albeit the one that recognizes their strengths and straightforward natures. In fact, Bizon, completely out of his character, forgave Heracles after two weeks (and a fight that nearly leveled the whole island into bedrock even those two wearing mana-dampening collars that completely prevented them from using magic, meaning that they've caused about 900 billion yul's worth of property damage through sheer muscle alone), and since then, everyone has remained civil towards each other.
Inside of their respective cells, Bizon was found meditating, taking Vice-Inquisitor Makarov's words to heart and began taming his primal rage against Demons into something more precise and honed, while Heracles was doing his usual training regimen of 1,000 handstand push-ups, 1,000 suspended sit-ups (without [Gravity Magic], his toes were dug into the concrete ceiling like a bat), 1,000 pause squats, and running in place without moving forward an inch for 100 kilometers (miraculously, not breaking the concrete floor of his cell), every day, as a morning workout.
And even then, Heracles doesn't consider it enough for him.
"You know, I've been wondering," spoke Bizon as he continued meditating, taming his rage like an unruly beast inside of his soul, "you can easily break out if you wanted, am I wrong?"
"Eh, free food and a room over my head," Heracles replied as sweat rained down from his body, "never had em since I left for training at a young age."
"What did you left behind?" Bizon replied, "what made you deem it necessary to leave it behind for the sake of your..." he stared at Heracles' overly-muscular body, still taken aback of how did the person with said considers that "insufficient", "... training?"
"I dunno," he answered as he continued doing pushups, "all I know is that I left because someone told me that I had to become stronger for something. Dunno what that is, only that I made my choice and vowed not to come back until I became the strongest in the whole world. That's why I like fighting stronger guys and heard that Ulster's the perfect place for me. Then I saw people that needed help and... here I am."
"What will you do after you achieve your dreams?" asked Bizon.
Heracles smiles as he finishes his 1,000th push-up before hopping himself up into the ceiling with nothing more than his upper body strength before digging his toes into the indentations that he'd left up there beforehand. "Then maybe... I can finally stop," he answered somberly as he began his next workout, "... and figure out why I started my journey in the first place."
Terra Cotta Dormitory, Residential District #2, Libratium, Spade Kingdom, Morning
"Morning everyone..." yawned Fana as she came downstairs last, with everyone else eating their breakfast of eggs and biscuits, "... where're Dune and Lotus?"
"Work," Krieger replied as he placed Fana's portion down on her table, "they got called in early. Akane and Mari left soon after for emergency summons."
"Dad's working hard, for sure," Violet remarked, "gotta do the same for him."
"Hell, he's the only reason why I haven't given up finding a stable job," Fanzell yawned out as he sipped on his coffee, "the man's the family's man of family's men."
"Right, we're all counting on you," Dominante pointed out, "... no pressure or anything."
"Mom, I think you're making it worse," Mariella remarked, to which both Daisy and Peony nod in agreement.
"Don't worry!" Klein reassured the downtrodden man, "you can fail as many times as you want! You'll always have a place to come back to!"
"I know my husband," Iris nodded, "he's quite the man of character, to say the least."
After breakfast and words of encouragement, everyone then gets ready to leave for the day. Both Iris and Dominante were applying for their first PTA meeting, the kids were headed to Magia Academia for the day, and Fanzell himself was about to apply for another job and this time, hold it for more than a day.
"The two of you," Krieger remarked as he carried [Salamander] and Smurf in his arm, "can you take those two with you for today? I have to clean up the whole place and already called an exterminator for a potential infestation. Point is, I'm gonna need the whole place cleared out for the time being."
"Uh, sure," Fana remarked as [Salamander] jumped into the pages of her grimoire and Smurf sitting on Klein's shoulder, "goodbye, Mr. Krieger. See you at dinner."
"Bye dad!" Klein waved goodbye to his father (really uncle) as Krieger looks out at them and makes sure that he's the only one left there.
The lie held up the facade. For the time being. But after Dune's unexpected but preventable intervention from last night, Krieger knew that he now more holes in his plot to fill in. Normally, a sane man would call it quits after killing his intended target (being Lotus) and live out the rest of his life in relative peace.
But seeing his family, being happy and fraternizing with the last of his own blood? Suddenly, the ugly hatred inside of his heart didn't go away. It simply grew, hungering and demanding for their woman and her children's blood and despair.
Only then, he believed, that his hatred would finally be lifted from his heart and be able to live free. Loki was merely a means to an end. Even if his great powers was a decent enough bludgeon, Krieger knew that he can't be complacent in his own schemes.
Therefore, he now needs to make a contingency plan. Make a convincing copy of Dune through Loki's powers by gathering the former's personal information in case people around him start asking questions. With that in mind, he uses the master key and tries to unlock Dune's room before entering it.
"Lotus was the kind of man who always wore his heart on his sleeve..." Krieger growled to himself as he turned the key, "... I've known Dune for 5 years since he moved here for his studies at Demonology, but aside from that, he never did really talk to me about himself outside of Libratium."
Upon entering, he found that Dune's room felt... oddly warm, to say the least. The walls were covered in portraits of seas of sand and rugs with two-tone, kaleidoscopic patterns that bloomed outwards from the rectangle's center. His desk was surprisingly organized, with all the papers that he'd previously seen with mountains and mountains of papers and reference materials being cleared out, now leaving a lone booklet that simply laid there by its lonesome. The bed itself was lettered open with one corner of the blanket being draped outwards, of which Krieger straightened it out to not raise any suspicions. The rest of the room itself was relatively tidy, almost contradictory to Dune's previously-neurotic personality when he was working on his thesis.
Simply put, the ambience almost warmed Krieger's black and cold heart drunk on revenge. Only a little before it came back blacker then ever.
"Perhaps I can get started with this notebook of his..." he muttered to himself as he began leafing through the pages, only to find something unexpected. "What the?!" Krieger sputtered at the letters of which were written in Dune's notebook, not an iota of a word being familiar to any system of writing that he knew in the slightest, "don't tell me..." he began to sweat nervously, "... encrypted writing?!"
Ideas and speculations alike began popping inside Krieger's already-jumpstarted mind, with his suspicions already screaming at him that Dune was already onto him and Loki this whole time. For 5 years. Beneath his notice.
"... You know what," Krieger grinned manically, "maybe last night wasn't just a coincidence after all," he remarked to himself as he took the notebook into his own possession, intending to translate it later, "maybe last night was just the universe doing me a favor."
As soon as he got out of Dune's room, he then locked the door as he cleared out his dormitory building upon the exterminators showing up.
Despite Krieger thinking that he's managed to get a vital piece of evidence away from prying eyes, the truth of the matter was that the booklet he took from Dune's room was really his daily journal, with the so-called "encrypted language" being Dune's own native Dama tongue.
Not that he knew, or anyone else but Dune did know. The latter being no longer around Libratium at the moment.
Geatland Hills, Ulster Territory, Spade Kingdom, Morning
Geatland Hills. Or as some Ulsterians simply called it "Geatland". This place was a place of grand lore and myth, told from parent to child regardless of species of the tale between the first Relic holder and the first Elderbeast.
The first of the Relic users was Beowulf, the "Hero", a human who's forged the world's very first Relic known to man, [Hrunting, the Hunter], a blade so sharp and durable that entire forests and mountains were felled with a single swing. The first of the Elderbeasts were that of Grendel, the "Invincible", his scales being developed from his days as a normal Drake to an exclusive organic material that was so durable that even the gods themselves couldn't pierce through it.
The two faced at this very spot of earth, fighting for 1,000 days and 1,000 nights without sleep, subsisting on each other's spilled blood as their sole nourishment, blade and scales clashing against each other, flying more sparks between each blow than there were stars across the eternal sky, the labels "predator" and "prey" no longer applying to either of them, for they weren't simply a human with a Relic and an Elderbeast first of its kind trying to kill each other for food.
They were warriors. Both breaking the boundaries that once separated the two kinds as irreconcilable forces at the whims of nature's wild dance and rhythm. They were the first, true warriors of Ulster, who kept fighting even after Beowulf's [Hrunting] worn itself down to a dull iron rod that had lost its fabled edge and Grendel's adamant scales that could be the last thing remaining of this world if it were destroyed, all shaved off of his flesh and naked of his protection, the two kept fighting to the death even after the fateful 1,000th night had long since passed.
At the 1,001st sunrise, the two were found by their own people. Dead, still standing. Breathless, but immortal. Still, forever fighting. Silent, roars echoing. Forever, a moment.
Since then, legend goes that their undisturbed corpses eventually gathered the earth from the four winds around themselves until an unbreakable hill was formed. Atop the very hill, the dulled [Hrunting] and the last, intact scale of Grendel was found, waiting for the next legend to be reenacted upon these hallowed grounds.
"Geatland". "World's Iron Heart". That was the name given to those who've witnessed the legend of Ulster's very, unbreakable heart.
"AND HERE WE ARE!" Dagda cried out as he stood atop of the tavern's rooftop, "GEATLAND!"
"Ugh, bossman..." Cernunnos yawned out as his tired face burst out of the windows from his room, "... you're too loud in the morning."
"Come now, little one," Lugh remarked, his giant body standing before the rising sun, "let us greet the sun that matches my own brilliance."
"Breakfast is ready!" Cissonius banged his pans together from the first floor, "come and get im'!"
Everyone then goes downstairs for their morning meals and drinks before they all came out of the building atop of Twrch Trwyth to see the hills for themselves.
"... You know," Dorothy remarked, "one would think that they would get sick of seeing grass and more grass after entire weeks of seeing nothing but it, but holy crap! This place looks gorgeous!"
"I think I see a sword and... a shield up there?" William squinted at the top of the hill, spotting the rusted and dulled [Hrunting] and Grendel's last scale.
"Don't bother," Danu dismissed William's enthusiasm, "even I couldn't pull it out of the earth when I was giant-sized. The Hill literally cannot be destroyed like, at all."
"Hm, guess even these brutes have a sense of aesthetic," huffed Kirsch, "there is some beauty in the natural world that one can't find at even the world's most tended and cared-for gardens."
"Nevermind that," David looked over the lands around the hill, spotting tents and teepees spread through like a nomad camp, "I can't wait to meet the people there!"
"David, we're here for work, not pleasure," snapped Letoile, "take your gambling elsewhere."
"Eh, this place will be open for any gamblers for the whole week where The Thing will take place, and I'll be in charge of watching for the cheaters," Ogmios informed before he spot a look at the three little Zogratis siblings, "children better be on their best behavior unless they want to be eaten up by the big bad wolf, don't you all agree?"
The three nod, realizing that their current impotence would get them killed in a really stupid manner. Even the hyper-sadomasochistic Vancia wouldn't even dream of getting killed by a mere animal.
"Hehe... omigod..." Salim then vomits over the side, still not used to Ulster's wild and turbulent mana, "... the amount of magic coming from the tents... it's so... too much to bear!"
"About face," Nozel ordered before he looked at Nebra, "you too."
"... Oh right," she shook her head back to focus, "silly me."
"Alright everyone!" Aengus cried out from the top of the tavern building, "please get off now! Twrch Trwyth is about to dig itself under and we're not responsible for any ankle-related injuries!"
One by one, the Magic Knights all come down the rope ladder before Aengus herself rolls the ladder back up before getting back into the tavern as the giant boar began burrowing itself into the earth, exposing only its tusks and the tavern building itself.
The others then headed towards the nomad camp, already buzzing with activity upon seeing Dagda. His description of the tribe was indeed the truth. There were a lot of different races and children from said races running about, all of them both dazzled by the newcomers and the return of the old legend among their current generation.
"Oi, is dat Dagda boyo?!" an ax-bearing dwarf with a braided beard spoke out.
"Ye no wat dat means!" an elf woman with a short brunette hair and a bow replied.
"Twrch Trwyth is bak in business!" a [Lizardman] with a spear hissed out in joy.
"I got me return fee for the damages from last time!" a human male with a sword and shield sheathed around his back and a sack of yul tied around his waist.
"Are dez people from outside?" a horned boy remarked.
"Why do they wear cloaks when it's Summer Solace? asked a Jotun girl the size of a fully-grown adult.
"They like you," William remarked as they passed by the bewildered crowd.
"Eh, der a handful," Dagda brushed it off, "but like four-eyes said, we're here for work, not pleasure, ainnit?"
"Please don't call me that," Letoile sighed out, "that was Klaus' thing."
"Who's Klaus?" asked Cissonius.
"He's dead, unfortunately," Shiren closed his eyes in solemn calm, "a rising star in our ranks before he was taken from us too soon."
"Sorry for askin'," the silver-haired man apologized.
"Focus, all of you," Nozel remarked, "... we have to meet with this tribe's chieftain, and regardless of how he... is, we must show him the utmost respect towards a foreign leader-"
"OH MY GOD!" Nebra screeched out, closing her eyes shut while covering them with her hands, "WHY IS THAT MAN NAKED?! AND HAS THREE LEGS?!"
Everyone looked towards where the female Silver Eagle Magic Knight had seen, and everyone not from Ulster wanted to bail at that moment upon what they were looking at.
The naked man in question was a large, bear-like man with a potbelly and trunk-like muscles that made up his whole body in a perfect melding of muscle and fat, both of which were cranked past the proportionate limit of what is considered acceptable in the Clover Kingdom's standards of male beauty. All over his nude body were various tribal tattoos colored and inked in bright blue, each line depicting a pattern that all converged into that of a snarling face of a beast at his chest. His hair was like fire; wild and burning bright when held against the sun. His beard was also akin to a burning bush glued over his pout lips. His eyes were fierce and wild yet wise and steadfast, a dichromatic fusion between a wild beast and that of an enlightened sage. And weirdest and the most off-putting of all was his "third leg", which everyone knew it wasn't actually a third "leg".
"DAGDA BOYO!" The wild, bear-like man then lunged himself towards the half-Demon before lifting him up in a crushing hug, "IT'S BEEN A WHILE!"
"Hey Fergus..." he grunted, his own [Counter Magic] flaring wildly, offset by Fergus' own brute strength actively resisting the pushback, "... can ye let go? ... We got other people!"
"Oh right," Fergus then let Dagda go from his hug, "sorry bout' that," he then turned his attention towards the Clover Kingdom Magic Knights, "me name's Fergus. Ye probably heard the full name, but please, just call me Fergus, because I'm a man first before I'm a leader. Or a king, or whatever ye outsiders prefer."
"... Well," Nozel smacked his lips in a dull surprise, "that was unexpected-"
"You there," he pointed at Nebra before pointing his thumb back at the tent, with a slew of nude and satisfied women of all races (and species, one of them including an anthropomorphic she-wolf with a heavy blush visible through her furry face) coming out of the cloth flaps, "would ye like to come into me teepee and have sex with me?"
"NO!" she screamed out.
"Okay," Fergus than turned towards Letoile, "would like to have sex with me?"
"Denied," she deadpanned.
"You?" Fergus looked at Dorothy.
"Sorry," she apologized, "saving myself for someone else."
"What about ye?" he looked hungrily at Kirsch, "ye look cute enough to bang."
"I DON'T SWING THAT WAY!" he screeched out, "WHO WANT TO GET SOME WITH YOU, YOU FATTY?!"
"Aw come on, everyone like der lover with a little meat on der bones!" Fergus shrugged before snickering to himself, "life's too short to be picky! If der's a river, drink it and all of its fishes until it runs dry! If der's a hunk of meat, eat it down to it marrow, bones and all to savor all of its different tastes! If der's a partner, love and care for im' or er' with all yer heart and soul and make em feel so good dat dey go to heaven before coming bak down to earth for another! If der's a fight, fight like it's yer last on earth and hold nothing back and struggle and fight without any regrets! Live and die for everythin' dat de world's got to offer! That's the Ulsterian's Offsprings' way!"
As Fergus then bellows out a hearty laughter after indulging everyone of his hedonistic philosophy, everyone present gave each other awkward looks with each other.
"... Well, at least he asked and accepted 'no' for an answer," Dorothy nervously grinned, "dunno how to feel about that, but could've been worse."
"Should I be offended that he didn't proposition me for sex?" Corrin pointed out, "don't get me wrong, not in a million years, but he still could've asked!"
"The man is... honest, to a fault," sighed Jericho, "... I think I know why my mother left this place for a reason."
Fergus, out of a whim, sniffs Jericho's navy-blue mullet, much to the Black Bull's discomfort. "... Scent of a bear... mixed in with a little nutmeg and pine... with a touch of maple..." the chieftain muttered to himself before looking the boy in the eye, "... yer Artio's boyo, aren't ye?"
He sighs in defeat. "... Guilty as charged."
Fergus then bellows out another laughter hearty and hale as his last. "OH BOYO, DO I HAVE STORIES TO TELL YE ABOUT ER'!" he cackled, "SHE NEARLY BEAT ME ONE TIME WHEN WE WERE CHOOSING THE NEXT CHIEFTAIN! SHE WAS STRONGER THAN ME IN BARE HAND-TO-HAND, THAT I WAS FORCED TO DRAW ME [CALADBOLG] JUST NOT TO DIE!"
"... Whoa," Salim gulped, "a Black Bull and a disgraced backwater noble's mother had such a pedigree?"
"YOU ME BOY, YER GONNA GO FAR, I'D TELL YE!" the chieftain slapped his fat and stony hands onto both of Jericho's shoulder with such force that if it were any other person that he was doing it to, their collarbones would've snapped like twigs, "AS LONG YE KEEP PUSHING AND STRUGGLIN', YOU'LL BECOME THE NEXT CHIEF HERE AND SIRE THE NEXT GENERATION!"
"Coming from a man who quite literally thinks with his cock..." grimaced Nozel, "... of course he would start talking about siring..."
"Did ye say..." the Offsprings' chieftain leaned towards the Silver Eagle Captain, "... 'cock'?"
He then began chuckling to himself, creeping out everyone around him.
"... What's... going on?" asked Salim, anticipating that something bad was about to happen, but can't quite tell what it is going to occur.
"OH SHITE! EVERYONE RUN!" Dagda screamed as he and the rest of the tavern mate quite literally ran for the hills.
"No really!" he again asked, "what's going on-"
And with that, Salim was given his answer. With it, everyone flew off of their feet from the sheer force of what came next.
"ME COCK IS MUCH BIGGER THAN YOURS! ME COCK WALK RITE THROUGH THE DOOR!" Fergus sang bellicosely as his "third leg" rose towards the heavens above, "WITH A FEELING SO PURE! IT'S GOT DEM SCREAMIN' BACK FOR MORE!"
Nozel and the others that were left behind found themselves laying on the ground, flat on their backs, twitching and foaming at Fergus' horrid singing as if they were all remotely poisoned by an unseen force. "... Someone," the Silver Eagles Captain begged, "... please... kill me."
"... I'm willing to..." groaned Dante as he and his siblings were all reduced to a semi-cationic state while their minds were being assaulted by this horrid vocal rape, "... if I... could."
"... This really hurts..." Vancia started nose bleeding while Xenon himself was completely unresponsive, "... and not in a good way..."
"NOT ME PROBLEM!" Dagda hollered from a distance as he and the others familiar with the chieftain's "habit" kept running for it, getting away from the belching that was somehow classified as"singing", "... and dis is why we left ere'."
"I like Fergus, as a customer," Lugh spoke over the singing, "as a partier... even my own brilliance fails to dampen his... enthusiasm."
"My ears are bleeding..." Danu winced as she clasped her ears shut, only to feel something wet spreading around her palm, "... no exaggeration."
"I think my bodily composition is about to be compromised if I am exposed too long!" Brigid pointed out as she shifted between her "Anima Form" and his "Animus Form", "Fergus is the most dangerous human who've ever lived in all of Ulster's history!"
"I concur," Ogmios pointed out, "I can hear their thoughts all way from here, and they're all begging for a swift death."
"I think I'm gunna be sick..." Cissonius then faints mid-running, only to be caught by Cernunnos' stuffed dog and bear plushies, "... thank ye."
The levitating youth flips him off. "I can't sleep like this," he remarked while laying on his flying pillow, "I demand compensation later on."
"ALL OF YE SHUT THE FEK UP AND KEEP ON RUNNIN-" Dagda then bumps into something soft before rolling back a few paces.
"Amazing," spoke a sultry voice before the half-Demon, "always took Fergus to be the bold one but you are a close second."
A growl followed up by a guttural snarl was heard next to the female's voice. "The boy is singing about his overcompensation again, isn't he?" it snarled, "it's a miracle that he hasn't killed anyone with that roar of his just yet."
Before the Twrch Trwyth group were a pair consisting of a woman and a beast. One was a floating pale woman with raven-black hair that reached all the way down to the grass that she's levitating over. Her flat-topped, but wide-brimmed hat curtained a black veil from around its rim, shrouding her body in all directions save for the front, exposing her black leather crop-top and thong that exposed her barefoot and slender legs looking more akin to polished marble than human flesh. And before her left eye, three different-colored roses were tattooed, one red, one blue, and one black. The other was a beast large as a house, its golden-brown fur having spots that ebbed and flowed like endlessly moving inkblots being dropped into the water, its sabreteeth were each crowned with a pair of hook-like blades that pointed towards its prey, of which its slit, golden-amber eyes focused at before itself. And around its back and waist were an array of metallic-black blades of different shapes and sizes, each being more than sharp enough to cleave through an entire block of iron without so much as a nick to its unparalleled edge.
"... Scathach... Cath Palug..." Dagda chuckled as he got back up, "... ye guys ere' for The Thing-"
"Save your breath, halfling," snarled Cath Palug, "cease that three-legged bastard's bellowing or I'm going to help myself on his tribe's children."
"Got it," Dagda then draws his [Fragarach] from his back before jumping towards the sky and meteoring himself towards where Fergus was singing at, putting his [Counter Magic] at maximum output to simply make him stop singing about his junk and killing everyone around him/the non-Ulsterian natives.
Everyone outside of the nomad camp saw a massive dust cloud rise all the way towards the morning sky followed up by an encore of screaming as all of the scattered people fell back towards the earth. "Hm, new record," snorted Scathach, "normally, any sane person would say that this is where he learns his lesson..."
"... But Fergus is ever an eternal child," Cath Palug sighed in disappointment, "... at least my own children and their children are now free of this torment. That is, until some blithering idiot says the 'magic word'."
Behind the two, a group similarly-fetish-dressed witches of the Twisted Sister Covenant and a herd of various Wilderbeasts and a couple Elderbeasts from The Animals all converged towards Geatland Hills.
"Rest of you, you're in crowd control," Cath Palug ordered the Twrch Trwyth Tavern group, "The Thing will proceed as planned, without any further interference."
"Yeah, well, some folks from the Clover Kingdom wants to join The Thing," Cissonius pointed out, "they got their own thing to share with the rest of us."
"Let them," Scathach nodded as she floated along, "send in their representatives."
"Since we're here," Brigid spoke out as she stabilized her "Anima Form" upon the singing being ceased, "Lugh and Dagda will act as our tavern's representatives. We're here to act as vouchers for the Clover Kingdom, given that we... you know, went there and saw their plight."
"If it has to do with their city-dweller problems, we will not bother hearing," snarled Cath Palug as he walked towards the hlll where the rusted [Hrunting] was planted at, "nevertheless, I expect them to respect our conduct and in turn, we shall hear what they have to say. But it better be worth our time!"
The Thing now begins, with all the Cheiftains and their representatives all gathering towards the central hill.
Around the buried sword, the people gathered in a circle. Jericho, Nozel and William act as Clover Kingdom's representatives. Dagda and Lugh act as Twrch Trwyth's representatives. Fergus (now fully clothed in armor and fur that still left him shirtless) and his best man/dog breeder, Conchobar, acted as the Offsprings' representatives. Scathach and her blind twin sister, Aife, representing the Twisted Sister Covenant. And finally, Cath Palug alone acted as the sole representatives for The Animals.
"Alright," growled the giant predatory cat, "shall we begin?"
"I'll start," spoke Scathach, "as you know, I've been informed that the Valley of White Death has begun expanding once again. Evidence of stray [Dragur] were confirmed upon one my own... securing it and using it as a lab rat as we speak," she sighed out, "... unfortunately, she got bit, turned into a [Dragur] herself and had to be put down."
"Who'd be dumb enough to keep a feking undead as a pet?" Fergus scowled, "also, yah. Saw a couple shambin' me way. Got rid of em meself before anythin' funny happened."
"Should this be of concern?" asked Nozel, "and what is this Valley of White Death?"
Cath Palug lets out a sigh before facing the Silver Eagle Captain. "Valley of White Death, rarely called 'Valley of the White Shadows', is simply death," he explained, "a land so frigid and so cold that even Demons there are frozen solid there for eternity. An endless blizzard howls, ruled only by the living dead, guided by their hatred towards the living. The sign of it spreading means that its ruler, the Lich King, has now been aroused from his apathy once more."
"I fought him once," Lugh confessed as he took off his right boot to reveal a skeletal hand-shaped burn around his ankle, "my [Solar Magic] was the only thing that kept me from becoming one of his many slaves."
"That issue with the Valley of White Death," William stated, "is it of any grave concern?"
"For now, we are placing it under watch," Scathach answered, "any further actions is... ill-advised, for obvious reasons."
Everyone nods in agreement. Except for Nozel. "What is literally stopping you from simply killing the Lich King?" he asked, "is he really that powerful to warrant caution from you people?"
"Trust me, I tried taking a swing at the thing with me [Caladbolg] at full power," Fergus remarked, "ye know why ye didn't see a giant rainbow all across the sky 10 years ago? Yeah, the Lich King stopped it dead cold. His magic quite literally, sucks de very life out of... well everything. He didn't even touch me and me fingers were already turning black! I had to burn me own fingers black just to save em!"
"Point is, if there was a way to defeat the Lich King," explained Cath Palug, "one of us would've already done so!"
With that statement said, everyone falls silent before going onto their next issue.
"Alright, next issue," Fergus sighed out, "... the hunting rights. Everyone, bring up yer tribe's kill tallies."
"Wait," Jericho remarked, "kill tallies?"
"519 Wilderbeasts, 32 Elderbeasts, 405 adult human males, 322 adult human females, 256 elf adult males, 134 elf adult females, 450 adult male Jotuns, 285 adult female Jotuns, 194 adult male dwarves, 858 adult female dwarves, 123 human children, 243 elven children, 150 Jotun children, and 129 dwarven children," Scathach casually mentioned, "all of them were used as raw material for my tribes practices of creating artificial [Succubus] Demons to counteract a future population crisis by creating additional biological incubators for every single race known. So far, about 9,000 and counting are currently in their own birthing period and waiting for maturity."
"Can't wait," Fergus grinned, "me third leg needs to run."
"453 stray Wilderbeasts, 18 stray Elderbeasts, 798 adult human males, 523 adult human females, 364 elf adult males, 324 elf adult females, 109 adult male Jotuns, 87 adult female Jotuns, 456 adult male dwarves, 374 adult female dwarves, 859 human children, 785 elven children, 599 Jotun children, 764 dwarven children, 657 witches, and 546 [Succubus] Demons," Cath Palug laid out his absurdly-high kill count, cementing the status of The Animals being the most dangerous tribe in all of Ulster, "not a single one was left to rot. We ate them all, down to the last bone and marrow, in honor of their lives serving my kind's survival. Also, Scathach, your [Succubus] Demons need more work. They're not birthing enough Wilderbeasts to counteract our own dwindling population."
"Noted," Scathach remarked as Aife nodded in agreement, "I'll see to it that their eggs are easily more fertilized."
"1,603 Wilderbeasts, 74 Elderbeasts, 903 witches, and 1,647 [Succubus] Demons, all of em dying after giving birth to two children average," Fergus explained, "and don't bother with the ones that already dead. We're birthing around 3,000 children a year. I'm hoping for lots of triplets so we can go on a boom."
"Do your best," Cath Palug rolled its eyes, "more for all of us, and keep your children out of our reach unless they're strong enough to eat and assimilate their mana into ours."
"21 Wilderbeasts and only 1 Elderbeast bandit," Dagda remarked, "and for de record, I'm only feeding me pig and a couple dozen people. So git off me case."
Jericho tried to protest this blatant act of inhumanity, but William grabs his shoulder and shakes his head.
... I would protest too... Patry spoke to William from behind the curtains, ... but the people here are trying to eat. They see themselves and each other as nothing more than animals to hunt and preserve. Even the elves here have ascended into carnivores. Ulster is the life cycle of predator and prey gone mad, and the people living here had accepted death as something natural and be replaced with more offsprings.
"Don't ruin this, Jericho," the Golden Dawn Captain sternly warned, "put your ethics aside and focus on getting their help-"
"Get help?!" he snarled, "from these MONSTERS?!"
Everyone then turns towards the enraged Jericho.
"HOW COULD YOU ALL TREAT LIFE AS SOME SORT OF GAME?!" he cried out, "PEOPLE AND LIVES AREN'T JUST NUMBERS TO BE REMEMBERED AS QUANTIFIED VALUES, YOU KNOW! THEY HAD LIVES TO LIVE! DREAMS TO FUFILL! PEOPLE TO LOVE! AND YOU DON'T TREAT IT WITH THE HONOR THAT IT DESERVES?!"
"Honor has no place in survival, boy," Cath Palug remarked, "you city-dwellers living behind your walls don't know the true meaning of 'kill or be killed'."
"The Zogratis and the Grinberryall were the real honorless bunch," Scathach clicked her tongue, "they claim lives while valuing only their own, never taking into account that those of us that kill are the ones who are ready to be killed, all in the service of preserving Ulster's life cycle. And yet those gutless bastards dare to tell us what to do and think, when they've not known what world that they truly live in?"
"I've seen me fair share of castles and civilizations," Fergus pointed out, "it makes the people inside grow weak an' slow. It makes der minds and souls rot away into self-centered complacency. And above all else, they stand still, begging to be broken by nature's wrath," he stated, "point is, lives and civilization come and go, but nature will outlast all of us combined, a thousand times over. Why fight against the tide when ye can ride on and become a part of it?"
"That also sounds like complacency to me," Nozel snarked, "yes, we are cowards. We hide behind walls because not all of us are born to be killers or be born to simply just die the day after!" he snarled, no longer holding back the contempt that he's held on for so long against them, "but at least we don't lie down and submit to nature simply overtaking us! We fight for our own identity and not stick to the very ones that the higher powers have labeled us with! All of this power, in your hands, and yet all you lot can do is kill things with it, like a bunch of petulant children that refuse to learn discipline!"
"Try building a castle in a middle of ere'," dared Fergus, "see wat happen-"
Dagda then plans his [Fragarach] onto the unbreakable hill, releasing a shockwave across from the peak of the hill above.
"All of ye, shut up," he snarled, "from de beginnin' I knew that it would all come to dis," the half-Demon then turned his head towards Jericho, "Jerry-boyo, ye said ye wanted to be a diplomat?"
"... Yeah," he replied, "... why?"
"... If ye can't ask for respect, then yer gunna have to earn it," Dagda pointed out before facing Cath Palug, "... so, ye up for it?"
Cath Palug then observes Jericho, his eyes now flickering with embers of untapped potential for a half-Ulsterian, ready to be aroused in full with a little push. "Very well," he scoffed, "I deem the boy ready."
"Ready for what?" asked William as Dagda lets out a sigh as the latter gave it to him and Nozel straight.
"Dornálaíocht," the half-Demon answered, "or in yer words... trial by combat."
Around the Roaring Crowd...
"... This... is an unprecedented disaster," Nozel grimaced among his seat in the frenzied crowd, "of course the only way you reason with these savages is to stoop to their level of thinking."
"Even worse, they're actually betting on who's gonna die," David pointed out, "I'm a gambling man myself, but bloodsports?!"
"... Curious, but what are the odds?" asked Letoile.
"70% says it's Jericho who's gonna die first," Salim observed the crowded betting pool manned by Aengus and Moccus, "the fact that Jericho's not at 100% death means that there are actually some people who believe in him..."
"Finally," Dante remarked with a malicious grin, "I get to see one of them die before me."
"I hope there a lot of blood splashing about!" squeed Vancia, "make room for the splash zone!"
"And I for one," Xenon rolled his eyes, "don't care."
"So..." William spoke to Fergus and Scathach, "... if we somehow get through this, preferably alive," he pointed out, "then will you join us in a united anti-Demon front?"
Fergus shrugs. "I'll think about it. If he wins, dat is."
"Either way," Scathach watched the fervor smiling, "at least we'll be entertained."
At the circle's edge formed by the roaring crowd, Corrin was seen with Jericho.
"Jericho," Corrin spoke to the Black Bull, "normally, I'd say that you don't have to do this..." she then looked to the side at the betting pool just outside of the ring, "... but I don't think they're gonna let us go."
"... I know," he replied as he banged his [Stardust Knuckles] together, "I know. But I will not let anyone compromise on my principles and dishonor life itself."
As he then readied himself for his fateful match, he saw Cissonius acting as the referee.
"Sorry kid, gotta be unbiased," he pointed out, to which Jericho nodded, "as long as ye understand."
The frenzied crowds roars echoed towards the Summer Solstice skies above.
"Iiiinnn the right corner, hailing from Clover Kingdom, bearing the blood of the Jotun and human, comes our challenger!" Cissonius announced, "standing tall at 204 cm, weighing in at 103 kg, the Knight of Justice, the Shining Diamond of the Black Bulls, and the Son of Artio, the "Bear-Killer"! Iiiittt's, JERICHO PLATNIA!"
"COME ON, JERICHO!" Corrin cheered over the roaring crowd, "KICK HIS ASS!"
"Iiinnn the left corner, here comes the home! The Animals' rising star of carnage and destruction! A regular [Minotaur] six moons past, now already claiming a total of 127 kills after its evolution towards becoming an [Asterius]!" hyped the kitchen hand, "standing tall at 465 cm, weighing in at 701 kg of pure muscle and badassery! The Fledgling God of Thunder! The Lighting of Bloodshed! The Animals' Newest Rising Star! And the Roving White Widowmaker! Heeerrrreee's, 'RAMPAGING' FULL-GORE!"
"... Full-Gore?" Dorothy remarked at the strange name before a lighting bolt struck the ground before Jericho before revealing itself to be a towering humanoid bull with snow-white fur, blood-red horns, bucking its hoofed feet back, hyping himself up for the upcoming deathmatch, "... yep. Definitely screams 'full-gore'."
"Oh my god," whimpered Salim at the towering bull-man, "... he's gonna die."
"Forget that," Kirsch whimpered out, "how can such brute have such radiant and luscious white fur and dare to mar it with blood repeatedly?!"
"That's what you're worried about?!" Letolie barked before knocking atop of the narcissist's head, "get your head out of your behind, you masturbating self-fucker!"
Both Jericho and Full-Gore stepped towards the center of the ring, standing between in front of Cissonius. "May de gods smile upon de victor, and may best man win," he declared as he raised his hand into the air, "TAKE YER STANCES!"
Both fighters then take their respective stances. Jericho raising both of his fists up close to his proximity while Full-Gore got onto his fours with his head tucked back and horns pointed towards his next prey.
"LET THE DORNALAIOCHT BEGIN!" Cissonius then throws his hand down as he jumped away from the two, "FIGHT!"
Full-Gore makes the first move, charging towards Jericho like a bolt of lightning. The the lightning-fast horns make contact, but it was blocked by Jericho's [Stardust Knuckles], the armor crackling with residue electricity, causing him to flinch long enough for Full-Gore to deliver a flurry of punches that forced Jericho on the defensive.
"HOLY SHIT!" Salim exclaimed at the [Asterius]' speed, "HOW DID HE NOT RUN OUT OF THE BOUNDS?!"
"It's control of its own [Lightning Magic] is more sophisticated than he would initially seem," William remarked as he noticed the bull-man using his own magic to increase the speed of his blows to add more weight behind each punch, "on the other hand..."
"... Jerry-boyo's holdin' on," Dagda remarked as he sat next to Cath Palug, watching the match together as Jericho then delivered a counter by slipping through one of Full-Gore's lightning-speed blows, clocking him across his face and sending him reeling back long enough for Jericho to tackle him down to the grass and began beating his fists into the bull-man, "he's still fresh, but he's got de bloodlust."
"Bah, the boy's only getting his feet wet," snarled Cath Palug as Full-Gore used its superior size to grab and lift up Jericho by his head before driving him headfirst into the earth with a one-handed piledriver, "Full-Gore is still young for Elderbeast standards, but he's more adept in the art of savagery. He's now going to finish him off in one blow."
Full-Gore then jumps high into the air, forming a T-pose before diving back headfirst towards Jericho as a bolt of lightning.
"HERE IT COMES!" Cissonius announced, "HIS FINISHING BLOW! THE WHITE LIGHTNING SKYDIVE!"
The crowd cheers as the bolt of lightning came down towards Jericho.
"It's over," Scathach sighed on the behalf of everyone's disappointment.
"JERICHO!" Corrin cried out.
But just as the thunderbolt would make its landing, Jericho was somehow awake this whole time. He knew that the way in he was now: back on the earth, arms splayed outwards, and his eyes being shone by the bull-headed lightning.
He knew that it was too fast for him to roll out of the way, but what if he instead stayed right where he was, and use Full-Gore's own momentum against himself? After his ki-sensing pretty much telling him where Full-Gore will land and how much impact will be emitted onto landing, through picking up the Elderbeast's breathing, muscle palpitations, and heartbeats alone.
... Only one shot at this to not die! he then slammed his left arm back into the earth, sending him flying off of where he laid, slipping below Full-Gore's trajectory as the whole ring explodes upon the [Asterius]' impact.
"HOLY SHITE!" Fergus bellowed out, "DID DAT ACTUALLY OUTSPEED THE LIGHTNIN'?!"
The [Asterius] then looks around the fog of its own creation, trying to sniff him out but only to smell nothing by dirt and grass that he'd kicked up upon impact. With sight and smell no longer a viable option, Full-Gore uses its [Lightning Magic] to pick up traces of conductivity from his prey's [Platinum Magic].
He hears a spark coming from behind itself. Turning around quickly, the [Asterius] uses its [Lightning Magic] to deliver another lighting-fast jab towards Jericho.
However, Jericho uses his lesser size to his advantage, and with one last moment of desperation, Jericho slips past the bull-man's punch and has his sights on the [Asterius]' groin to incapacitate him in one blow and hopefully end the fight without anyone dying.
Again, however, Full-Gore sees through the slip and attempts to jump back from Jericho's finishing blow before charging back towards him to deliver his own reversal, ending with both fighting punching each other in their faces, knocking them both down at the same time.
"A CROSS-COUNTER DOUBLE-KNOCKOUT?!" Salim screeched out as the crowd went wild at the two intersecting blows.
"COME ON YE BIG LUG!" one man shouted out as he climbed over David's head, being in too much of the heat of the moment to even notice or even care about the Magic Knight below him, "I BET ME ENTIRE LIFE SAVINS ON YE!"
"SON OF ARTIO!" a witch cried out as she was shaking Letolie back and forth like a ragdoll, drunk on the fervor of the deathmatch, "YE BETTER NOT LOSE!"
Over the crowd's cheers, both fighters got back up to their feet, cracking their necks back into place before adopting their fighting stances again.
"... Come on," Jericho spat out a loose molar, "let's end this now!"
Full-Gore brays out a hellish moan as it charges towards Jericho without hesitation, going fast as its body can take with all of his [Lightning Magic] mustered into his final charge.
Jericho meanwhile, remained stationary, bearing all of his ki into one point of focus for the next final blow. His sight was shut, entering concentration. His hearing filtering out the noise into silence. His taste becoming picky, choosing the right flavor for the next action. His touch soothed, no longer feeling even the very earth below his feet. He has now completely detached himself from the material world around himself, chastising himself for his reckless ki usage prior and swears to himself to do this next one right.
Seconds stretched to centuries. Only Jericho was now in the very world that he'd entered, purifying himself to wake back up into the cruel world ahead of him.
As soon as he opened his eyes, without hesitation, Jericho let all of his bodily muscles fly to deliver the strongest punch that he'd ever executed in his life. A straight punch moving in coordination with every single facet and inch of his body, his breath and movement in perfect sync, if one were able to see it fully through the blur of the combat's inherent madness, then that one would have only one thing to say:
"... Perfect," whispered Fergus, his bestial and sagely eyes picking up Jericho's fist digging into the Elderbeast's heart, recognizing its familiar form, "... that blow!"
"Yes," spoke Cath Palug, grinning in a surprised fascination, "he truly is the 'Bear-Killer's son."
"The fabled move that gave Artio her title..." Scathach spoke out as her eyes widened as that single moment flashed before everyone ad infinitum, "... [Flatline]!"
Jericho's perfect straight punch, delivered in an unbent, unbroken flat line, his metallic knuckles punched through Full-Gore's flesh and bone, had reached into the [Asterius]' heart itself.
"... Oh no," Jericho whimpered as the visions of the dead, blue child flashed before his eyes, "... not again."
"DID YE HEAR THAT?!" an elf man cried out, "DAT WAS HIS SECOND PUNCH-"
A small pop-sound was heard from inside Full-Gore, akin to a water balloon being burst upon hitting the ground. Dripping from Jericho's embedded right hand, warm, red blood trickled from the Elderbeast's immaculate white fur.
"AND HE'S DOWN!" Cissonius declared the winner, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IN A MAJOR UPSET, JERICHO PLATNIA HAS BEEN DEFEATED THE ANIMALS' RISING STAR, FULL-GORE!" he announced as Cissonius grabbed Jericho's hand and raised it up into the air, "DE WINNER OF THIS DORNALAIOCHT IS JERICHO PLATNIA, SON OF ARTIO, DE 'BEAR-KILLER'!"
Cries of joy and excitement drowned out Jericho screams of horror and trauma.
Unknown Location, Afternoon
... Is he even alive at this point?
Try again.
*ZAP*
... Unresponsive.
Negative. His soul still lingers in his body. Again.
*ZAP*
"ARGHHH!"
A sharp pain shot up from his chest, causing him to wince. He looked around foggily, spotting old, dilapidated board walls with salty-scented breeze slipping through its cracks, and in it were people wearing the emblems of the Order of the Spade Cross.
"I need to tell you something," spoke the man with the slicked-back black hair with a scythe sheathed behind himself, "please listen, and try not to panic."
"... Where..." Dune groaned out as he looked down at his chest, now sporting a new scar right above where his chest tube was at, and between it being two small pads connected with wires, "... what happened to me-"
The images of Lotus's body sprouting out a Demon's arm with a knife followed up by him and Wadjet being thrown into a burlap sack then tossed onto a wagon before remembering the sensation of cold, raging waters that he'd plunged into.
"... No..." he sobbed, "... it's not possible!"
The man shook his head. "... Your fears are true, I'm afraid," spoke the Vice-Inquisitor, "Krieger's an illegal Contractor."
"... Why..." Dune sobbed at the man's betrayal, "... I thought seeing him with their father planning for his own wife's murder might've been just a bad dream..." he continued sobbing, the pain inflicted upon his soul hurting more than his stab wound, "... why? After 5 years, why?! WHY DID HE BETRAY OUR TRUST AFTER ALL THIS TIME?!"
"I don't know," spoke the Vice-Inquisitor, "but for now, we need to lay low and make him think that you're dead," he instructed, "I have two others waiting to be released tomorrow morning from Château d'If and have them join in our operation to eliminate Krieger. As for his son, we already know who he is."
"... Then, you know..." Dune heaved, "that Klein is-"
"Klein is supposed to be dead 10 years ago," the Vice-Inquisitor revealed, much to Dune's shock, "we've conducted a research at the Abandoned Earth Temple before its massacre. There were supposed to be no survivors, except for Krieger!"
Dune couldn't believe it. Even Klein was lying to him with his existence alone. "... You're lying," he denied the Vice-Inquisitor's words, "... if Klein's supposed to be dead, how is he still here?! I saw and met him! For 5 years straight!"
"... I don't know," he replied, "all we did was confirm the infant's corpse after the massacre. Right after that, we lost 90% of our Diamond Kingdom operatives to a surprise Demon attack that quite literally erased everything in its sight as soon as we were digging up for more information regarding the abandoned Earth Temple. Right now, all we need to do is to stop Krieger from perpetuating his little farce before anyone else gets hurt."
"... Ask me one thing," Dune strained his eyelids, preparing for the worst, "... what happened to Lotus? Is he really in on this?"
The Vice-Inquisitor shook his head. "No, he's dead," he answered, "what you saw was merely a puppet of his Demon. Lotus died earlier this week, his body petrified by a [Cocktrice]'s venom and thrown against the rocks below the cliffs."
Suddenly, Dune felt an odd sense of calm in his soul. A calm so quiet that his internal screams of rage exploded and echoed inside of his very heart. A burning righteousness that is ordering him to save the others before Krieger kills all of them in their sleep.
The man that took him in 5 years ago, a nobody from Dama trying to become somebody through education, using his family's esoteric practices to expand the world of magic for everyone, has been lying to him this whole time.
... Suddenly, the night of his "disposal" followed up by his little "wet nap" felt as if the universe was doing him a favor.
"... Tell me, everything," Dune snarled.
Makarov smirks. "A temporary truce between us, I suppose," he then extended his hand, "I am Makarov Zakhaev, Vice-Inquisitor of the Order of the Spade Cross."
Dune then takes his hand firmly. "My real name is Duhat Zastava," he revealed, "'Dune Pyrite' is my Anglicized name."
"Zastava?" Makarov raised his eyebrow, "... you know the name Azur Zastava?"
"My older brother, we went our separate ways upon arriving to this country," Duhat answered, "is he well?"
Makarov shook his head. "He was killed in a mission few years ago after saving a fellow Inquisitor from falling into a Demon's trap," confessed the Vice-Inquisitor, "... I'm sorry."
Duhat shook his head. "... It's fine," he sighed out, "... because now I can do him proud... by saving my friends and surrogate family from that fucking snake!"
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: One culture shock after another. And one thread of conspiracies being pulled to unravel everyone's sanity upon seeing the truth behind the veil.
Yeah, Heracles and Bizon are still around, and are doing well for themselves. Them being freaks of nature even by Ulster's standards made it really easy for them to simply take over the prison that they were sent to by Makarov and Dune. Needless to say, think of them as Biscuit Oliva and Jun Gueveru from Baki the Grappler: both are semi-friends but aren't afraid to tussle (read: destroy the surrounding area in a 50-meter radius as collateral) with each other for fun. I realized that Bizon being a one-note raging jackass wouldn't fly for him in the long-term, so him developing an odd friendship with the very man that he'd tried to kill would be a next step forward to at least make him three-dimensional. Granted, it's off-screen, but I'm not incorporating an entire prison arc due to scheule conflicts and treating it as a "put on a bus" to get to the more... important matters. As for Heracles' amnesia, his memories start at the moment he'd left for training, but will only end as soon as he figures out what occurred before his journey began.
On regards to Krieger, yeah, he's officially lost it. The man is basically this arc's main villain with Loki as his indirect enforcer, and his hatred has now begun its ascent towards critical mass. He now sees foreign language as encrypted writing, he's actively trying to isolate himself in the dormitory and might be checking on other people's rooms to cover his tracks. Only a matter of time before people start noticing that he's lying. And for the workshops, that'll be the focus of the next chapter before Krieger's lies start to come down.
As for Ulster and its... anarchical culture of mass-slaughter, it's basically the logical extreme of Magic the Gathering's Red-Green color pairing to Clover Kingdom's Blue-White Azorius mentality. In Magic the Gathering, there are five colors that represent a certain part of humanity. Red is passion, Blue is knowledge, Green is instinct, White is restraint and Black is desire. Red-Green Gruul Clans are the most destructive color pairing in the game, prioritizing field destruction of creatures, land, enchantments, artifacts and spells, leaving the enemy player open up to a full frontal assault... at the cost of being able to anything else. Ulster is the antithesis of human civilization; nature is cruel and indiscriminate, and so are the people of Ulster. They have no respect on those who look down on them, but they're inclusive on both friend and food alike. And for the Clover Kingdom being Blue-White Azorius Senate, they're the closest to what both Ravnica and Black Clover have to today's contemporary society. Knowledge and restraint to maintain order through the use of humanity's wisdom, preserving the status quo and caste system, and while Julius tries to make it more flexible through enforcing a meritocratic system among the Magic Knights (making him sort of Red-Blue but nowhere insane as the Izzet), even then, people, normal people are more concerned of living out their lives beyond simple society, with the higher-ups taking advantage of that lack of general passion to make sure that it stays that way. Point being, Ulster and Clover Kingdom are polar opposites with each other, and Jericho being from both worlds by blood and legacy is his main dilemma. His act of killing that child when he was a kid? Ulsterians are more upset that he didn't eat the kid and are disappointed in him for "wasting perfectly good meat". It's obvious that what the Clover Kingdom would do. Expect me to use the Magic the Gathering's color pie to explain the differing nation's "alignments".
Speaking of Jericho, his signature move, the [Flatline], would be the very same heart-stopping punch that he did back when he was a kid. He's screaming towards PTSD-land at rocket-speed. More on that in a bit. Also, I am not going to drag out the fight into a tournament arc. Everyone involved in this arc is on a "24" style-timetable, and I rather not have anyone running late for the climax.
And finally, Dune, or rather, Duhat. He trusted Krieger, with his life. For five years. He stood there in complete shock of a man who took care of him like a father would, talking about murder, and attempting to murder him for knowing too much.
... Yeah, expect "revenge" to be this arc's theme. And more people are gonna jump onto the vengeance bandwagon soon enough!
References:
- Château d'If is a real-life island fortress/prison and a setting where The Count of Monte Cristo takes place in.
- One of the inmates, a terrorist group labeled the "Lost Legion", are named after the general term that correlates to a lost group of soldiers that went MIA en masse. This particular Lost Legion are based off the Crusaders who got lost on their way to Jerusalem, becoming more or less bandits in the eyes of Islam civilization.
- Rinaldo (the Italian pronunciation of the French name, Renaud) is one of the 12 Paladins/Peers of Charlemange from Matters of France, wielder of [Froberge] and Bradamante's older brother. Described as a peerless master of the magical blade, yet overshadowed compared to the better-known members like Roland and Oliver (at least domestically, in Renaissance Italy, he was all the rage in their stories, hence why I chose his Italian pronunciation rather than his French one for that reason and another reason which will be explained in-universe later on in the fic). With what little information I can find of Rinaldo, I can sort of see him as the more bureaucratic and disciplined out of the 12 Paladins, but still prone to antics because the 12 Paladins were originally conceived as a parody of the Knights of the Round Table of Arthurian Lore, in this case, being the "comedically serious" of the group. Basically Batman but with a couple screws loose. Also, his appearance is loosely based off of Kiryl from Dragon Quest IV.
- Roland going nude? It's actually a thing in one of the stories in Matters of France. One of his solo outings had him take on an entire herd of Centaurs by using one of them as a bludgeon, while completely in his birthday suit. Yeah, Roland is the French's take on Lancelot, and they cranked up the crazy to past 11.
- Heracles' training regimen during his incarceration is based of Saitama's from One Punch Man, only with harder version of each exercise while adding an additional 0 at the end of each count.
- "Geat" is a channel or a funnel where molten iron would pass through and into the mold. So in a way, "Geatland" would mean "Molten Iron Channel World", which when it comes to Ulster's "forged by fire" mentality present it its crazed and demented wildlife that are all in an eternal free-for-all called "natural selection" along with its whole "heart" analogy, the meaning behind the name I've chosen for it is rather fitting. As for Beowulf and Grendel, it's all self-explanatory, with a little embellishment on my part because all old legends of pre-medieval Europe was bombastic and something worthy of an Epic recited at a mead hall.
- Fergus' design is based that off of Thor's from God of War: Ragnarök. Originally, I was going to base it off of F/GO's Fergus, but upon reading an interesting tidbit about Thor's "truer to the text" design, it turns out that a bodybuilder shape is considered the ideal for old Nordic men before the Greco-Roman marble statue-like build became the norm. That and Fergus being a massive man with an even more massive appetite for food, drink, sex, and fighting, a bodybuilder physique more fitting of him that the typical macho-superhero build. The demonstration of his "prowess" is a reference to Raiden Tameemon's debut scene from Shuumatsu No Walkure: Records of Ragnarok (the cameo of the wolf-lady in particular) and Muteba Gizenga's own "prowess" from Kengan Ashura. His Relic [Caladbolg] literally means "hard cleft/blade", being an obvious double-entandre to his "third leg", and it's a sword that can slay entire armies with a single swing while leaving behind arcs of rainbows. Also, his singing about his massive junk is based off of the opening lyrics of System of a Down's "Cigaro", just because, and I just wanted to give someone Shirogane-levels of awful singing just to add suffering for fun.
- Speaking of, everyone/Clover Kingdom Magic Knights' reaction to Fergus' singing is based off of Fujiwara's reaction to Shirogane's horrid rapping from Kaguya-Sama: Love is War, down to the foaming and twitching on the ground.
- Conchobar means "lover of canines" in Gaelic, and his design is loosely based of Leif "the Lucky", Son of Erik from Vinland Saga.
- Scathach's design is based off her Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner design. Again, like with Fergus, I originally had a plan for a more F/GO reference but with her leading a group called the Twisted Sister "Covenant", I had to give her a more witch-inspired designed compared to her more-popular "Scottish warrior woman" design. As for Aife, her twin sister, I based her design off of Lightseeker Hyetta from Elden Ring.
- Cath Palug's design is based off of School Hunter, Leo-pald from Cardfight! Vanguard. Cath Palug in Arthurian lore is described as a giant cat monster, so a leopard roughly a size of a house is big enough indicator of how powerful he is, and is based off Magic the Gathering's "Green" color philosophy of nature naturally having big predatory animals. Don't ask where he got those blades coming out of his back.
- Dornálaíocht is a Gaelic fistfighting or bare-knuckle boxing.
- Full-Gore's design is based off Lostbelt 1's Minotauros from Fate/Grand Order, and it's name being a pun to Killer Instinct's Fulgore, whose name means "brightness, splendor, and radiance". Its evolved Elderbeast species name, [Asterius], was the given birth name of the fabled Minotaur from Greek Mythology, meaning "starry", alluded to his status as The Animals' "Rising Star".
- Dune waking up from his little "wet nap" is a reference to the "Hospital Escape" beginning scene from Metal Gear Solid 5: The Phantom Pain.
- Dune Pyrite's native Dama birth name, "Duhat Zastava"; the first name is Arabic for "intelligent, sensible", and the last name is a reference to a Serbian gun manufacturer (there is a pocket of Muslim population in Serbia, most of them are expats from surrounding counties). Also, his older brother, Azur, his name in Arabic means "assisted, God is Help", and his appearance is based off Adriel from Radiant.
Hypothetical Voice Actors:
- Rinaldo: Chiyaki Kobayashi (JPN), Yuri Lowenthal (ENG)
- Fergus: Hisao Egawa (JPN), Cyrus Rodas (ENG)
- Scathach: Kimiko Saito (JPN), Rachael Robinson (ENG)
- Cath Palug: Taku Yashiro (JPN), Zeno Robinson (ENG)
And as usual, please leave a comment or a review, for I'd love to know what my readers think!