Disclaimer: Black Clover is owned by Yūki Tabata, Studio Pierrot, and Shonen Jump.
Saga 8: Screaming for Vengeance Part 3
Magia Academia, Libratium, Spade Kingdom, Afternoon
The entirety of Magia Academia was now at a complete buzz.
Various students from differing classes were swarming the common area of the campus, with numerous booths with magical portals leading to their advertised workshops. Fana herself already separated from the others, alone in the swarm of people of various races rushing like madmen and women towards their workshop of choice.
To put it simply, it must be said again. Magia Academia has now transformed into a fucking war zone.
"... I can't breathe..." heaved Fana as she continued swimming through the crowd that was more or less a viscous tide of squirming limbs and sweat, "... are these workshops really... require this much... fervor?"
Forget finding the workshop of our choice! Elf!Fana advised, go towards where the crowd are the least crowded-
Suddenly, her words were cut off by an oncoming stampede of overzealous applicants running towards the Evocation workshop. And assuming Fana's eyes weren't seeing things from the excessive heat causing her to possibly hallucinate, she saw Peony of all people surfing atop of the crowd.
"Hi Fana! See you at dinner!" she waved her hand hello as she disappeared into the portal before it closed automatically, with the booth-runner posting a sign labeled "workshop at max capacity", curbing the crowd's enthusiasm to a significant margin at the [Evocation] workshop being barred off.
... I just hope that she doesn't get eaten alive over there, Elf!Fana concernedly remarked, for the most obvious of reasons of a literal prepubescent going into a magical boot camp, ... well, at least the crowd's calmed down a little bit-
Suddenly, a horrid shriek was heard from the crowd, followed up by a massive rooster-headed [Drake] being summoned in the middle of the crowd as it proceeded to its rampage. "OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY YOU NECK-BREATHING TROGLODYTES!" the person standing atop of the Chimera yelled out, "THE ENCHANTMENT COURSE AWAITS! ALL NONBELIEVERS SHALL BE PURGED!"
... And I spoke too soon, sighed Elf!Fana, I swear to Sephira, this entire city-state cannot go ten paces without something exploding or a Chimera going on a rampage!
Fana wastes no time and immediately guns for the nearest portal that she can reach, not even reading what sign that was placed next to the portal. As she comes tumbling out to the other side, she suddenly found herself in a massive chapel-like chambers, the stained windows depicting scenes of various-colored Dragons flying about the verdant earth below, with the central mosaic depicting a red and a white Dragon standing before a maiden of light. Around Fana were numerous other applicants, looking bewildered at this place's calm and tranquil atmosphere completely juxtaposed to the outside chaotic madness of Libratium.
"... Huh," Fana remarked as she dusted her knees off while she stood up, "never thought that a place like Libratium would have a church."
For how godless it is or the fact that this place obviously worships Dragons in place of actual gods? snarked Elf!Fana.
But before Fana can answer, the doors behind her open, with a blond nun with an ornate-looking blue and white sister's habit with a golden emblem depicting a Dragon's visage emblazoned on her robes and a dirty-blond and messy-haired priest with a simple black cassock and a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes came into the chapel walking in. Both Fanas felt their manas as they passed by, clearly screaming at their minds that one of them is a Dragon in disguise.
"... Which one?" Fana asked her inner elf.
Dunno, Elf!Fana replied, the emitting mana is so massive that it's drowning out everyone else's individual mana presences. We're all merely droplets to the infinite sea that is the Dragon's mana! I can't pinpoint who's who anymore!
With that in mind, Fana walks towards before the stage for which both the nun and the priest stood upon.
"Apologizes for the delay," spoke the nun with a nervous giggle in her voice despite the suffocating mana filling the room, "apparently, one of the applicants outside brought in a Chimera and I was called to... well, keep it caged until it was put down."
"Regardless, we both thank you all for coming," said the priest as he adjusted his eyewear with tinted lenses, "I am Hama, one of this workshop's main advisors and my specialty is [Sealing Magic], and known by many throughout this godless kingdom as the 'Expeller'," he greeted, "any injuries inflicted during today's workshop will be addressed to and by me."
Injuries? Elf!Fana groaned, I take that we're in for a sink-or-swim kind of learning experience...
"And I am Kouha!" greeted the nun, "I am also one of the main advisors of today's Abjuration workshop and the one who'll personally evaluate your initial aptitude for this branch of magic!"
"... Wait," Fana digested what the nun had just said, "doesn't that mean-"
"Oh look!" Kouha then pointed towards Fana with a smarmy grin on her face, "a volunteer."
Fana wanted to run, but her legs were instead walking the opposite way that she wanted. Was it peer pressure? Was it the choking mana that is making her and her elven half so afraid that it looped back into recklessness? Or was it that the nun might as well be the said Dragon that Elf!Fana was warning about and that the Dragon will get her way regardless if she took the smart option?
Either way, before she knew it, Fana found herself standing atop of the chapel's stage. Standing before the perpetually-smiling nun and the stone-faced priest, the latter performing the sign of the cross towards her specifically.
"Alright, so what's your name?" asked Kouha, her smile unfazed at the girl's nerves.
"... I-I'm Fana," she greeted the whole workshop as the "volunteer", "please go easy on me..."
"Request denied!" the nun did the x-sign with her arms, "I'm coming at you with everything I got!"
Suddenly, a pair of angelic wings of light sprouts from Kouha's back before her human facade began floating off of the ground and into the air. Once airborne, the nun then coils herself into a ball, forming a cocoon of blinding light around herself before breaking out into a humanoid, but feminine-looking Dragon form. Her scales were so incandescent that about 40-50% of her body was glowing with holy light in-between her azure-blue armor-like scales, her angelic wings turned more draconic but still have the giant, angelic feathers of light that made up most of the wings' composition, her tail was serpentine, tipped with a golden crucifix dotted with four multicolored gems at each tip. Her eyes were blood-red, yet instead of exuding a majesty that inspired dread, it was awe-inspiring. The closest that the mortal world has to an actual Angel, both in radiance and might. Compared to Bufu, Kouha's Dragon form was only the half of the size of the cetacean Ice Dragon, but nevertheless shone in an otherworldly presence and Fana herself barely coming up to her ankles.
If Fana didn't believe in the existence of God, she now did. And once reality hit her back to the present, her admiration quickly turned into hellish dread.
"... I-I-I-I-I am-I am-I am-I am g-g-g-going to g-get b-blasted by a-a-a-a-a-a..." Fana foamed at the mouth upon the realization of her current predicament, "... A DRAGON?!"
"Your first workshop assignment," Hama remarked, "block our instructor's attack with your own magic," he instructed, completely disregarding Fana's current crisis, "there's no penalty of failure, aside from me having to collect your ashes and turn it into the nearest MASS system. You'll miss at minimum, 3 days of class, since... well," he the looked towards Fana, the latter now drooling foam from sheer nerves overwhelming her right now, "... procedure to recover from disintegration is at best, experimental."
"Point being, you better not be holding back," warned Kouha, still cheery in her tone despite being able to crush Fana underfoot in her current form, "for I shall not."
A gathering stream of light concentrated into her open maw, forming a growing orb of blazing light that is readied to be shot towards her. Elf!Fana noticed that the coming spell was akin to Patry's [Light Ray of Divine Punishment], but somehow makes that spell look like a mere spark to what was coming next.
... We're gonna die, she croaked, we're dead. WE'RE FUCKING DEAD!
"HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BLOCK THIS WITH OUR MAGIC?!" Fana screamed out, panic and fear completely overwhelming her mind before the maddening might of the Light Dragon, "I DON'T WANNA DIE! I DON'T WANNA DIE LIKE THIS!"
Seconds turned into hours at their pinnacle of primal fear drowning both of them out. Hours turned into centuries as both of their lives flashed before their very eyes. Centuries gave away into the infinite black void of creation, with only a small flame flickering at its center.
"... Are we..." Fana then looked towards her side, finding her elven counterpart floating next to her in the void, "... back to where-"
"Where we first met," Elf!Fana remarked as she looked around, only to spot the flame before them gradually grow bigger and bigger, within the blaze being [Salamander] himself, slowly growing bigger himself as its reptilian body became more draconian in appearance, a pair of wings slowly sprouting from its back and its neck becoming more serpentine as he approached the two of them.
"... Tell... me..." spoke the [Salamander], struggling with its words akin to a child learning how to speak, "... do... you... die?"
"... No," Elf!Fana shook her head as she remembered the tragedy that spurred her journey in the first place, "I don't want to die again! I don't want to be reminded of my own powerlessness from that day!"
"Me too!" Fana also spoke, "I scared of dying like this! I want to live because Mars gave himself up for me! I don't want to break his promise of seeing the outside world together!"
The [Salamander]'s flames around himself flickered, becoming more wild and brighter akin to a living being than a simple spark running wild. "... Fight..." he declared, "... fire... do not... put out!"
Suddenly, in that instant moment of calm, the two Fanas found themselves back to reality, only completely frozen in time, slowly the clock ticking back to normal.
"... Hey," Fana remarked in a moment of clarity, "... what are the properties of [Fire]?"
It burns... emits light... and... Elf!Fana then hit something that was conceptually so stupid that it just might be ingenious, ... it has no one form.
"And light..." Fana then pieced the magical logic together, "... can only exist in one form!"
An omnidirectional rays of emitted energy! she remarked as her and her human half's minds then came up with a formula for their way out, [Light Magic] needs to be concentrated towards one direction in order for it to be utilized offensively.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Fana asked her elven half.
Fuck yeah, Elf!Fana smirked in agreement.
... Me... help... too, [Salamander]'s voice echoed in both of their minds, ... not... fight... alone!
Instead of two mana sources converging towards Fana's grimoire, there were now three.
Flames that refused to be petered out even before the strongest of winds or the heaviest of waves. A formless, intangible force of nature that brings warmth and light instead of death and destruction.
[Abjuration], the ability to deny harm and death itself. [Fire], which never stays in one form. The phoenix, a creature that never dies just once. The [Salamander], a mere spark that can grow into a wildfire.
"Here it comes!" Kouha cried out as she readied to fired her orb of light, "[Primal Light Magic: Phosphoratorium]!"
The orb of light then shoots out into a engulfing beam towards Fana.
She woke up, she saw the light, and fear gripped her very soul.
That fear turned into resolve to not die where she stood.
Fana first then unleashes her [Fire Magic] to its most basic and loose form. Then her elven half kept the flame burning even before the scorching light approaching before them. And finally, [Salamander] took those flames and made them grow.
Fana became [Fire] itself. The immortal flame that cannot be touched or put out by anything as long as all three of their wills refused to yield.
"[Fire Spirit Abjuration Magic]!" Fana cried out as her flaming form stood its ground.
[Salamander Soul]! Elf!Fana declared as her flames resisted being put out by the overwhelming heat of the blazing light before them.
"... [Immortal Flame Cowl]!" roared [Salamander] as it kept feeding the flames that bore all three of their souls to keep burning.
The light completely fills the chapel, blinding everyone who dared to keep watching. As the light dies down, the marble stage beneath the still-standing Fana turned into glass from the sheer heat of Kouha's [Phosphoratorium] spell. The flames that made up her body slowly turned her back to normal, but sadly, her clothes didn't survive the process, resulting her to show her birthday suit to everyone.
"KYHAAA!" she screeched as Fana tried to cover up her bits with her hands and knees, "DON'T LOOK AT ME!"
"Congratulations," Hama then draped his coat over the naked Fana, "you're one of the very few that passed on their first try. Saves me the trouble of having to collect your ashes."
"Not perfect..." Kouha remarked as she turned back into her nun form, "but well done! Now let's improve that spell so that next time, you won't have to join Roland's band of nudists! And don't worry about being seen naked, about 90% of the audience has gone blind. The 10% being on the ground, foaming."
"Uh, yeah," Fana looked at the audience, too busy being completely dazed, twitching on the floor or foaming out of their mouths to even ogle at her before looking towards Hama, "... you can still see me."
"Tinted glasses," Hama pointed to his eyewear, "also, what am I? Astolfo? I'm a man of cloth and a part-time surgeon! Nudity no longer turns me on anymore after seeing what's further underneath..." he shuddered as the priest looked away, "... and Lady Kouha would have my testicles in a vice if I so much as ogle."
"... Alright," Fana mumbled before she looked at the perpetually-beaming nun, "... how the fuck did I do that? Like, how did I survive your blast that was hot enough to turn marble into glass?"
"You know how [Abjuration] magic is formed in the first place?" Kouha replied, "the answer is simple: the fear of death."
"Your fight-or-flight instincts needs to hit beyond a certain threshold to truly have your own magic to... cooperate with you in order to not perish, hence the earlier hazing that me and my lady had to... well, establish, to weed out any sense of bias or security in all of your minds to remind you all that you're all mortal at the end of the day," Hama explained, "tell me, how did you and your three souls feel when my lady had you by your metaphorical balls?"
"... Uh," Fana droned, "... how do you know that I have multiple souls-"
"I see all, little lamb," Kouha pointed out, still eerily smiling, "for the Dragon's eyes sees everything, including the fact that your preincaranation and a contracted [Fire Spirit: Salamander] bunking inside of you. Honestly, more of a hinderance than a benefit, for numerous reasons."
"Back to the question prior, please," Hama sighed.
Fana lets out a sigh as she recall what she felt. "... To be honest, all I remember in our heads is that we don't want to die," she explained, "my brain was screaming "I don't want to die", completely disregarding the MASS system bringing me back. It almost felt... primal," she pointed out, "I started to think... is this how animals feel when they're about to die? Is this... what it means to live? To hold onto what's left of you were born with despite everything that had happened before?"
"That feeling?" Hama knelt down and placed his hand on her shoulder, "don't forget it. It'll save your ass more times than you can ever count."
"To live is the greatest honor that Lady Sephira has bestowed upon all mortals," Kouha declared, "to live in a world that is the endless sea of darkness and death, the journey to find the one light becomes ever more meaningful. An honest miracle in a world of lies and sin. Really, I have the power to solve all of the world's problems, but that would render everyone's efforts and potentials completely inert!" she beamed before looking off to the side in subdued terror, "... that and well, grandma would give me the spanking of a lifetime if I so much as intervened without her permission."
Fana lets out a sigh before standing up, only to crouch back down realizing that the coat draping over her wasn't long enough to cover up her buttocks. "Can someone get me some new clothes?!"
Hama then places a paper talisman onto Fana's bare chest. "[Sealing Magic: Unleash]," the priest then snaps his fingers, the paper talisman turning into a set of simple black-and-white nun's habits for Fana to wear, complete with boots and socks to even underwear, "you may keep the habit. Consider that your compensation for your lost clothes. Joining our religious order is entirely optional. I myself am an Apostate, ex-Sephiran to Dragon-worship, but I take both of my given jobs seriously nevertheless."
"... Okay, I'll think about it," Fana chuckled nervously, "can I go now?"
"Sure!" Kouha nodded as the girl walked off the stage, "oh and by the way, about my [Phosphoratorium] spell?" she spoke with a giggle, "that was only .001% of my true power. I may be the smallest of my hatchling-kin, but my god I can probably turn this whole fucking continent into a snowglobe by myself if I wanted to!"
The girl in the habit then faints as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her heart completely stopping in pure terror at the revelation that she was told.
"I got it," Hama sighed as he tossed another paper talisman towards the collapsed Fana's back, right above where her still heart was at, "[Sealing Magic: Unlock]."
With [Unlock], Fana's heart was then immediately restarted, waking her up back to reality screaming like a madwoman before Hama himself came down and slapped her across the face.
"You okay now?" Fana nodded as Hama glared at her, "good. Stick around. The others are taking notes even as their eyes are burnt out," he remarked as he looked towards the inquisitive audience before taking out a bundle of paper talismans from his sleeves, "... speaking of which, I should probably get their eyes working back to order... but before that."
He then takes out a stamp before bopping her face with it, inking her with a green-ink stamp across her whole face reading "PASS".
"You pass," said the priest before scattering her paper talismans into the air, all of them sticking onto the other applicants' faces, curing them of their blindness after Hama's [Sealing Magic] "unlocked" their eyesights, "alright, who's next?"
Applicant after applicant, those who weren't able to protect themselves were scooped up into urns before a red "FAIL" stamp was put onto their vases before being carted off to the MASS program, and those who succeeded managed to create a proper [Abjuration] spell before they were blasted. Fana herself was rather impressed, taking notes of the other applicants' own [Abjuration] spells, with one applicant using [Sound Magic] to distort the trajectory of Kouha's [Light Magic], which resulted in mass vertigo from the brown note and her [Phosphoratorium] hitting everyone else instead, which thankfully, no one died, but left most of them injured to be sent to the MASS to have their limbs replaced. Another example came when an [Ice Magic] user formed a polished ice mirror to redirect the blast, but upon the flat mirror surface shattering, underneath the facade was a second layer of mirrors that were arranged in a prism-like pattern, first refracting the light then sending the attack back to Kouha herself, albeit, the latter didn't even suffer so much as a scratch due to her holding back.
Pass and fail rates, despite the odds, were an even split. And with that, the workshop was dismissed as the passed applicants left with green ink stamped onto their faces.
... You know, you don't look so bad as a nun, Elf!Fana smirked at her human half, might get more boys that way.
"Fana!" she winced, "you know that I can't abandon Mars!"
Well, he's been too dead after the first date, so better time as any to find someone else, Elf!Fana remarked, besides, girls like us need to fly and all. I mean, from personal experience, I was a bit of a heartbreaker myself.
"... Weren't you like... 12 before you came back?" Fana pointed out.
Damn right, sister, Elf!Fana grinned, I was the prettiest girl back at the village. All the elf boys around were fighting over me.
"... Please, give me some time," Fana tried to hold her old demons back, "... he was special, okay? Like, Mars was the only light in my whole life. Or at least, the parts where I was conscious."
... Right, sorry, Elf!Fana apologized, guess we can't afford to rush things in our new life here.
"Right, all the time in the world, with nothing after our heads, or at least, on purpose," Fana then let out a relieved sigh as she looked at the stained glass windows around them, the one she's looking at depicting a bestial-looking Dragon standing atop of a hill above a ruined world, "... speaking of, I wonder how the others are doing?"
Hopefully, not involving getting blasted by a Dragon, snarked Elf!Fana, even in Libratium, nothing can top a Dragon in terms of sheer brain-fuck.
Elsewhere at Libratium...
"Get out of here, you degenerate!"
Fanzell was quite literally, thrown out by a furious [Asterius] bartender after he'd slipped on a spilled drink, flinging off his pants and boxers midair and landed on the bartender's daughter's face dick-first. Another job he's been fired from, due to his curse of losing his clothes at the worst of times yet again.
Come to think of it, part of the reason why he went AWOL from the Diamond Kingdom in the first place was that he was accused of being "underdressed" for the job, with the breach of conduct guaranteeing a death sentence from the Diamond Kingdom's authorities. Not his problem. It just kept happening. Clothes slipped off of him as if his skin were made of butter.
"Silver lining, at least he gave me my clothes back..." Fanzell muttered as he put his pants back on before he walked the streets once again, "... fucking hell, getting a job like this is going to be an ordeal-"
A stray breeze then comes by, almost blowing off his duster while his belt snapped.
"... You've got to be kidding me..." he sighed as he grabbed onto his pants from falling onto his ankles, "... am I actually cursed?"
"You there!" spoke a stern, youthful voice, "halt!"
Fanzell turned around, only for his eyes to nearly pop out of their sockets at the man he saw.
"Uh, sir?!" Fanzell exclaimed, "where are your clothes?!"
"Questions later!" spoke the nude man with a giant sheathed golden broadsword strapped around his shoulder, "for now, come with me!" he then grabbed Fanzell's wrist before dragging him elsewhere.
"H-Hey!" Fanzell cried out, "where am I going?!"
"The nearest Chevalier station!" he replied.
"For what?!" Fanzell asked, "indecent exposure?!"
"Just shut up and come with me!" the naked man then hoists Fanzel over his left shoulder before taking off elsewhere.
As the naked man ran like the wind, Fanzell's clothes were left behind in a trail that ended with him also completely naked at an alleyway.
"... What am I doing here?!" asked Fanzell, "I'm pretty sure this isn't the Chevalier station!"
"Well, used to be, before it got relocated elsewhere," said the naked man, "but you my man, you've been chosen!"
Around the two, various naked people of all genders and races gathered.
"Fanzell Kruger, former Captain of the Diamond Kingdom's 5th Division Army," declared the naked man with the golden broadsword, "you have been reported of 6 counts of public indecency and 4 counts of indecent exposure to the opposite sex!" he listed Fanzell's rap sheet, "however! We, the Nomenclature of Nudists, the Brotherhood of Bare Buttocks, the Chevalier Order of Aurora Amaryllis, have found you innocent, for you have been called by the spirit of pride and freedom!"
"... Wait, what?" Fanzell remarked, "Nomenclature of Nudists? Chosen?!"
"Point being, you're in good company, my man!" spoke the man, "it's not that clothes reject you! But rather, you yourself reject clothing!"
"... What," Fanzell droned, feeling as if her were losing brain cells with each passing second, "how... clothes rejecting... me?"
"You hide your wondrous body through the indoctrination called 'shame'! Your body rejects all clothing because you dare stifle its true powers!" the naked man roared out passionately, "don't deny your destiny! Freedom is calling! For nudity! Is! Power!"
The naked man then strikes a pose, flexing his biceps and glutes, the muscles bulging and hardening like gemstones.
"... Uh, yeah," Fanzell remarked, failing to digest what he'd just heard, "I get that you're trying to get me to join your cult or something... but, I need a job," he pointed out, "also, I need your name."
"My friend! Just call me Roland!" the naked man then struck another pose, this time, flexing his triceps and thighs, "I am one of the peers of the Council of 12 Paladins and leader of the Chevalier Order of Aurora Amaryllis! And you, my good man, have been chosen!"
"Put it simply, we'd like to hire you," spoke the naked elf woman, not bothered by her lack of clothing like everyone else present, "we have benefits, paid sick leaves, and our pay per hour is rather generous. We only have two rules in our order."
"Don't wear any clothing while on work," spoke the naked Dwarf man.
"And do not harass the passersby," spoke the Jotun twins in unison.
"So what do you say, dear Fanzell Kruger?!" Roland then extended his hand out towards the confused man, "will you accept destiny's call or will you repeatedly get kicked out of those who reject you for your true calling?!"
Fanzell began contemplating. On one hand, someone was willing to offer him a well-paying job as a Chevalier like Akane and Mari. On the other hand, said Order of Chevaliers are nudists-only, and the reason of Fanzell's chronic unemployment was because he kept losing his clothes. Either way, he's going to have to explain to the others soon, and might be labeled as a freak by his own wife and adopted daughter.
"Don't worry," spoke the naked human next to Roland, "no one's judging. Because our boss is weird to the point of making other perverts around this Kingdom look like choir kids in companion."
"It all evens out," spoke the elf woman, "besides, we're all born naked, so why judge at all?"
Fanzell lets out a sigh before taking Roland's hand. "... I'll join," he replied, "so when's my first job?"
"Tonight!" Roland answered, "a certain mission requires me to act as an escort for a very important people of interest!" he shared, "meet me by the gates of Libratium at 2300 hours! Tell your loved ones you found a job and that you'll be working late!"
"We got potluck supper tonight for you," spoke the Joutn woman, "I'll bring the meatballs!"
"I'll bring mead!" spoke the dwarf, "that stuff is just as good as Dagda's!"
"We'll go kill a [Lindwyrm] and bring a roast," spoke the twins, "don't worry about the time. We have a pressure cooker the size of a whole village."
"Hope you like the quiche I make," said the elven lady, "I have a mushroom farm back at my place."
"And I shall bring a cake!" Roland declared loudly, "one cannot fight on an empty stomach, no?!"
Suddenly, Fanzell felt... accepted. Those people, without shame, were welcoming him with open arms despite barely knowing him.
Still, no matter how odd the job was, he was still able to fulfill his promise.
"... Gonna make you proud, Lotus," he teared up, "... and all it cost me were my clothes on my back that apparently hate me."
Geatland Hills, Ulster Territory, Spade Kingdom, Night
The night sky had set in and the three tribes of Ulster have begun their feast .
Numerous [Lindwyrm] were killed and their giant logs of reptilian meat roasted over a spit made of their own bones, various races from different tribes intermingling and drinking mead and ale out of horns, the Twrch Trwyth Tavern was roaring with gamblers and partiers, and even some Magic Knights were swept up in the revelry, with various receptions.
Shiren was drinking with his usual stone-faced expression, despite being solicited by numerous [Succubus] Demons and other female Elderbeasts in heat due to his taciturn bearing presenting a challenge to the more promiscuous of the Ulsterians.
Nozel was chaperoning Salim while the latter was currently being raped by a [Lamia] and her 9 daughters in a borrowed tepee and the former being in complete indifference to the latter's screaming and his bones snapping like twigs.
Nebra was being carried away by Letoile, both drunk and on the verge of vomiting from overeating and the excessive drinking.
David and Corrin were at the Tavern, the former actually making friends with the tribesmen despite their earlier revelry at the bloodsports he'd initially rejected, while the latter was a reluctant card dealer at one of the tables.
Kirsch and Dorothy were with Scathach and Fergus, the former accompanying the latter in case of something happening, and ended up being kidnapped by the rouge witch chieftain to get a iris and lavender tattoos on his buttocks without his consent while Dorothy tried to life Fergus' [Caladbolg] lying on the ground on its flat despite said blade being the size of the very tower-sized blades that fell from the sky (according to Fergus, he's the only person on earth who can use the monolith that was somehow classified as a "sword", and later confesses that he was the one who got rid of all of the blades that fell from the sky because "he was bored").
The miniaturized Zogratis siblings were strung up on a suspended pole with ropes around their ankles and denied food for the whole evening after Dante tried to steal back his confiscated grimoire, only to get caught in the act by Cernunnos of all people.
And for Jericho, he was still at the very place where he'd killed Full-Gore. His body disappearing after he'd woken up from being blacked out in his trauma. Still lingering about, staring at the small stain of blood that the burst heart had spilled onto.
The images of the blue-faced noble kid and the slain [Asterius] overlapped with each other. Jericho had killed again in the same way. Was it true that his mother did the same? Was it true that he belonged in Ulster rather than the Clover Kingdom, where murder is justified in the name of maddened survival? Is the notion of "eat of be eaten" the ultimate justification for an act of taking a life when all of these people here are alive and sapient?
And worst of all, can Jericho feel guilt for what he'd did, when there was a small part of him that actually enjoyed taking a life? He sat in the patch of grass, still contemplating over the dilemma that he's going through before a bowl of soup was offered to him by a busty, short-haired [Asteria] (female terminology for the male [Asterius]), who looked just like a human woman if one were to discount her different, bovine-like ears and hooves that were in the place of feet.
"Eat," spoke the [Asteria] as she sat down next to Jericho, "you will waste away if you don't eat."
"Just leave me alone..." Jericho moped, "... I'm not hungry."
"You lie," the [Asteria] pointed out, "all beings with blood in them go hungry. It still means that you wish to live."
"I don't deserve to live," Jericho shuddered, "... not with all the blood on my hands."
"Then why, I reckon, did you join the Magic Knights?" spoke the [Asteria].
The Black Bull gulps before giving his answer. "... The truth is, I killed an innocent person when I was a kid," he explained, "I was only a kid back then. Didn't know what to do when the other kids were picking on Taro. He and I fought them off with our bare hands, one of them tried to use his magic to kill my adoptive brother," he shuddered at that sudden flash of instinct that overwhelmed him back when he was only a child, overcome with an unfathomable feeling that felt animalistic and primal, "... when I woke back up, I saw the kid on his back, struggling to breathe as his face turned blue... before... before he died before me."
Jericho's breathing became more erratic, his mind replaying that scene over and over, forcing him to swallow his own vomit.
"... I... no, the whole family was bailed out by the Wizard King himself," spoke Jericho, "my mother and father were forced to relocate to the fringes of the Kingdom to escape the lynching... since then, I kept that shit down for 7 years... I had to bottle up that dishonor that I've inflicted upon everyone in my family!" he screamed, "I joined the Black Bulls to make a statement, that even a scum like me can change the culture of toxic elitism that is prevalent throughout the society with my own efforts alone!"
"You're being unrealistic, boyo," said the [Asteria], "it's not elitism that what makes people toxic. It's denial."
Jericho then faced the cow-lady. "... Denial of what?"
"Death," she bluntly answered, "you're the one who killed Full-Gore, the mate who gave me 6 out of my 7 calves, but you don't see avenging him, because even I know killing you won't bring him back. Outside of the week-long The Thing? I'll probably kill you out of principal of having to feed my kids, and nothing else."
"... Oh," Jericho choked upon facing his opponent's widow, "... I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she rebuffed, "he was ready to die a warrior. Hell, I'm giving you his meat so a part of him can carry on in you."
"Wait, you're eating him?!" Jericho cried out.
"Well, yeah," she replied, "we don't waste meat around here. This apron of mine? Full-Gore skinned 9 humans and 3 elves to make em for me. Hell, I know a guy who skinned and ate my mom years ago. He and I close friends, whenever we're not killing each others' kids. I returned a few skulls of his sons and daughter in turn for my own seven calves' skulls."
Jericho became even more horrified at the way how the Ulsterians treated death as something akin to breathing air.
"I get it, it's hard to understand what I'm saying, isn't it?" she pointed out, "the reason why we despise city-dwellers is that their souls become dirty upon being denied the experience of the dance of life and death, nature's own give and take. We work for what we eat, boy. Killing itself isn't an act of dishonor. Wasting is, just like you should've eaten the boy when you've slew him."
"... You know that cannibalism is against the law back at my home, right?" Jericho remarked.
"About as makes much sense to bury your departed," she clicked her tongue, "why waste good meat and mana when it could imparted to their remaining kin?"
"... I think... I don't think people desire to be animals," Jericho stammered as he took the bowl of soup floating with Full-Gore's meat in-between the boiled grain and vegetables, "I don't think everyone has the stomach to constantly be on the run from nature's wrath every single day. We know because we're weak. Not everyone can run the same marathon like you all. Some lands are just... calmer than here. And we actually like the calm."
"Bah, that's just as reassuring as one covering up their ears with their hands," the [Asteria] remarked, "... but, I guess when other city-states like Avalon and Libratium survive even with walls erected up and able to match blow for blow against us, then there's something to respect about them. Your people however? Do they deserve our respect from the way you've described them? Can they be better than what their calmness has made them fat and lazy from the absolute truth of nature?"
Jericho shook his head. "... I don't know," Jericho remarked, "we're not like you guys. We don't exactly think alike but we also adhere to the status quo. We are a collection of heroes and scumbags who all wish to walk our paths of life. We both can coexist while being unable to stand each other cross-caste-wise. We both desire peace but bully others those who are weaker than us. We believe that magic is everything in this world yet our own world is merely a small part of the whole world that we're born in," he recollected his past and present, both feeding into the vision of his future, "... I think... the best way to describe Clover Kingdom... it's a lot like me. We're caged beasts who wish to remain caged but also desire for spiritual freedom where we can finally accept those who aren't like us. Maybe someday, we may be able to find a balance between society and nature. Tame our inner beasts while being able to not forget them."
The [Asteria] smiles as Jericho finally eats his soup. "Full-Gore has chosen wisely," she remarked, "you're green, but you're open-minded. Perfect for a Highlander in the making."
Jericho looked at the [Asteria] in confusion. "... Highlander?" he asked.
"There are those who remain within their tribe of birth, those who create their own smaller offshoots, and there are the Highlanders," she explained, "solely independent hermits who wander the world to find meaning in their lives. They are both strong and wise, living up to both Beowulf's or Grendel's ideals. The kings and queens of their own world that they've chosen to break away from. Those who answer to no one but themselves. The sages of nature. The Highlander."
"... That sounds a lot like Dagda," Jericho pointed out.
"That's because he is. He outgrew Ulster and chose to move out on his own, gathering other Highlanders to start a tavern with him," she answered, "I think there was also another Highlander who joined the Order of the Spade Cross out of curiosity? Eh... I remember him without the beard. Think his name was Wotan."
Suddenly, a passing image of a certain bearded Inquisitor flashed before Jericho's mind, only for him to dismiss it as a pure coincidence. Instead, he opts to focus on the soup, the thought of eating someone's husband being more an appropriate line of thought (and the kind of words that he would've never thought that he would deem of all things, appropriate).
"... Ugh, too much," Jericho sighed as he ate his Full-Gore soup, the [Asterius]' residual mana slowly becoming integrated into his own while the flavors of meat and herbs choking the daylights out of his taste buds, "... I feel weird. Like... something tingly is now inside of me."
"You'll get used to it," the [Asteria] smiled, "my first human that I ate 76 years ago made me feel a little weird at first. But that's really the mana being enriched by someone else's."
"Oh right, Elderbeast," Jericho stopped himself from asking the [Asteria]'s, who despite being an Elderbeast who has no qualms hunting and eating human beings, was still a woman, and Jericho considers rude asking them of their age, "... how did you and Full-Gore meet anyway?"
"Oh, we just fucked," she dismissively answered, "monogamy is functionally impossible in Ulster due to family units being the kind of lot that asks for trouble. But still, the moment he and I connected, where our thighs met and our snouts touched and blessed me with children after children, I was glad that he was in my life, and meet the man who's slain him with an act worthy of a warrior... albeit, still green."
"I'm sorry, I don't think I can live up to your husband's... prowess," Jericho backed away at the [Asteria]'s proposition.
"Oh silly, you're still young," chuckled the cow-lady, "... and besides, someone already has eyes on you during the Dornálaíocht earlier on."
"Corrin?" Jericho asked.
"Boy, there's dense, and then there's ignorant," she sighed, "just fuck her and leave her with at least 10 children before either of you bite it. For us Elderbeasts, human lives are short, so we highly encourage initiative."
Jericho sighs before chugging his soup down with a single gulp. "... I need her consent first, and it's not like... I..." he trailed off awkwardly, "... come to think of it, I never... actually felt... a sexual attraction to the opposite gender like... at all."
"Not even your own mother?" asked the [Asteria], to which Jericho shook his head, "... well, life is too short to not try everything, so might as well try something new, should you not?"
"Please..." Jericho sighed, "please just give me... uh, what should I call you?"
The [Asteria] sighs in bemusement. "Honey, call me Thud-Ner," she answered, "I only got that name because my udders were massive compared to the other girls and I kept... uh, knocking other people out with them. It's honestly embarrassing and I'm only telling you this just so you don't ask me about my name later."
"Never planned to in the first place," Jericho shook his head before he let out a sigh, "... listen Miss Thud-Ner, I... I thank you," he stated, "... thank you for... being a person that I can talk to."
"Well, at Ulster, food and friends hold no distinction," she pointed out, "saves a lot of time and heartbreak from holding grudges, no?"
"... When you put it that way... yeah, makes sense," sighed Jericho, "you kinda remind me of a fellow Black Bull. If she were here, I'm afraid that she would suffer a relapse back into alcoholism."
"Small world, I reckon," Thud-Ner shrugged, "life is worth living for how strange it can get."
Jericho lets a mirthless laughter, still uncomfortable of the sin that he's been forced to relive but gradually coming to terms with it himself. Who knows? Maybe someday he may be able to forgive himself, but there was that block in his heart that prevented him from telling the truth to the other Magic Knights.
"... Perhaps," he remarked, "but let's not get too crazy and suggest that the stars start disappearing from the night sky all of the sudden."
"Now that, would totally suck," snickered Thud-Ner before she got up, "... wanna meet my calves?"
"Sure, why not," sighed Jericho as he got up and followed the [Asteria], "happiness is like having booze at a really bad day. I think drinking ale with some company might do wonders."
Château d'If, Western Waters, Dawn
"There you guys are!" spoke the warden as he greeted the boat that carried Roland, Fanzell and Rinaldo came towards the prison island.
"Anxious to part with your star inmates?" snarked Rinaldo as he adjusted his tall helmet-cap, "never took you for the possessive type."
"No, apparently, the news of their release got leaked and now it's not safe for me to be even in my office anymore!" he jittered out before he looked at the man next to Roland, "and you are...?"
"A new member of the Brotherhood of Bare Buttocks!" Roland boldly declared as he slapped Fanzell's bare backside, "this is his first mission as a Chevalier of the Order of the Amaryllis! He's here to take notes!"
"You know that this mission classified, right Roland?" glared the clothed Paladin, "is he a capable fighter and strong enough of mind to keep this whole affair under wraps?"
"He is able!" Roland boasted, "a former regime personnel is no slouch on the battlefield and the art secrecy, my peer!"
Rinaldo rolls his eyes as he walked past the warden. "We're going in," he declared before he looked back at Fanzell, "and new meat, try not to get eaten alive."
The four enter the Château d'If, the cells and the halls around them emitting an aura of great hostility and agitation in the air. The lynchpins of order about to be removed from the floodgates holding back the torrent of repressed anger and madness from the other, less sane inmates who were no longer about to be cowed by the two titans.
"Any possibility of a riot?" asked Rinaldo as the four of them headed towards the maximum security cells.
"I ordered an inspection for all of the inmates cells," the warden explained, "... unfortunately, a small riot did occur and we were able to stop it... after all the jailers had their heads ripped off or quartered by the Lost Legion. All of them are at MASS right now, having their heads and limbs stitched back at mainland."
"Any suspected contraband?" asked Rinaldo.
"Well, I did spot a couple lockpicks and somehow, a homemade explosive made of piss and shit fermenting inside an empty wine bottle... both of which are disposed of after the initial riot was quelled," answered the warden, "I requested for Chevaliers from the Orders of Ghost Lavender and Aqua Peony just a few hours prior... and they were all sent back to mainland for MASS after all of them got melded together into a faux-Chimera that caused the remaining Chevaliers who weren't caught to get fatal heart attacks upon seeing the horror brought to life. Don't ask me how that that happened. Apparently, the PTSD guy's cell had a lot of superglue tubes hidden in places that we wouldn't have ever expected."
"I thought the inmates were all wearing mana-dampening collars-oh, right," Rinaldo corrected himself, "those lockpicks actually work?"
"Those that disabled their collars were immediately put to death by the Chevaliers before the latter retreated," the warden remarked, "now I'm the only one left in the den of lions."
"It matters not!" Roland boasted, "I will destroy them all and their clothes!"
"And the surrounding area if the whole situation goes completely FUBAR," snarked Rinaldo as the warden slid his trembling hand holding his keycard before the sealed doors were opened before them.
"... Um, captain?" asked Fanzell.
"Just call me Roland, fellow nudist!" he rebuffed.
"Uh, right, Roland," he corrected himself, "isn't this a little too high of a standard for a first mission?"
"There ain't no getting off now, if that's what you're suggesting!" he laughed off at Fanzell's concern, "life shows no mercy to anyone, so pucker up your buttcheeks and stand your ground tall and proud!"
"Uh... right," Fanzell sighed before asking another question, "... by the way, who are the two that we're releasing-"
As the four came to a stop, Fanzell's question was answered, to which he expressed with a double-facepalm and a stifled groan.
"Oh! Hi Fanzell!" Heracles waved through his cell door, "been a while!"
"So you fell in with the Paladins orders..." commented Bizon as he looked at Fanzell's state of undress, "... I do not judge you."
"... Kill me now," Fanzell groaned, "... you two of all people?!"
"Know them?" Rinaldo asked, to which he was met with another stifled groan, "another time, I presume."
"Time for you two to fly!" Roland declared as their doors were released of their locks, "come now! Don't cause any trouble for us!"
"Roland," Fanzell looked towards his superior officer with a look that screamed half-murder and half-disbelief, "... did you recruit me into your Order because you knew that I happened to know one of them?"
"Not quite!" he rebuffed, "it's merely destiny calling!"
Fanzell then looked at Rinaldo, the latter not batting an eye. "... I had suspicions," he confessed as he looked away from Fanzell, "it was a gamble. I had to make assurances that our two high-hazard inmates had to... cooperate."
"As expected of Libratium's head of intelligence!" praised Roland, "an invisible hand that guides us all towards victory!"
"That's how you dug up my past in the first place?!" Fanzell remarked before connecting the dots himself, "and why you put me into positions that had me fired several times from different jobs?!"
"No, that was all you," Rinaldo deadpanned, "although that did save me a lot of legwork on my part. You make Roland here have shame in comparison for how many times your clothes fly off of your body."
"It is fate, my peer!" shouted Roland, "he has been chosen to walk with my kin! Free of shame and modesty that binds us all!"
"It is true that getting naked makes you stronger?" asked Heracles.
"Not a fact, big guy," Fanzell rebuffed, "it's just that clothes apparently hate me... but not having to tighten my belt to the point where it nearly snaps under pressure is quite... liberating... and something that I have to get used to."
"Your posture's improved," Bizon commented, "now there's nothing holding you back. And from a practical standpoint, your clothes are to be spared of the wear and tear of the battlefield."
"... Wow," Fanzell remarked at Bizon's cooled temperament compared to last time he'd seen him in action, "... you've calmed down significantly."
"I've... took some words to heart," explained the Inquisitor, "... and I took up mediating during my stay here. Don't assume I have grown dull. I've simply learned focus."
The warden then leads them to the room where all the contrabands are secured. A jewelry box-sized spatial storage system which only the warden himself can pull out objects from within. Bizon gets his armor and [Labrys] while Heracles retrieves his Diamond-Grade grimoire.
"... So... I think you should know that while you were put away, the spells in all the grimoires have been... taken away," explained Fanzell as Heracles opened his blank grimoire, "... you're going to have to rewrite and relearn all of your spells from scratch."
"... About that," spoke the warden, "the contraband chest is actually immune to all outside interferences," he stated as he took out another inmate's grimoire and opens it, the pages still written with the owner's spells completely intact.
"Wait," he then look towards Heracles, "then all of your spells..." he then recalled the giant amnesiac's [Vector Ray] and [Dyson Sphere] spells that he'd used ever since when they first met, realizing that his [Gravity Magic] spells weren't written down, implying that Heracles had a blank grimoire since the beginning, "... they were you... half-assing? ... This whole time?!"
"Eh," he replied with a shrug, "master never taught me how to read or write. Only taught me how to break stuff."
Fanzell then promptly forgets what he'd just asked and heard before he loses any more of his sanity as the two inmates were guided out of the Château d'If.
"Alright, from this point on, both of you are free men," spoke the warden as he was about to undo their mana-dampening collars from their necks, "... I hope that I never see the two of your ever again-"
Suddenly, a segment of the prison complex explodes, causing a wall to be breached and spilling out the rioting inmates.
"THEY HAD ANOTHER BOMB?!" cried out the warden, "I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE SENT THE LOST LEIGON ON SEWAGE DISPOSAL DUTY LAST WEEK!"
Roland then bellows out a laughter as the inmates rampaged towards them. "FINALLY! I GET TO FIGHT SOMETHING!"
Instead of unsheathing his sword around his back, Roland instead ditches it in favor of using grabbing Bizon by his ankle and using him as a weapon, bludgeoning him against the mob and sending them all flying into the air, swing after swing.
"WHHYYY MEEEE?!" Bizon cried out as he was flung around like a rag doll as his head struck the inmates like the bluntest end of a club that was him.
"... Uh," Fanzell then picked up the sword that Roland had left behind, "he has a sword right here, so why?"
Rinaldo sighs as he unsheathes his sword, only for it to not have a blade. "Apologizes. Roland, by all accounts, is insane," he stated, "he believes in the integrity of the human body above all else and sees his own sword as a restraining bolt that he can easily hoist off at any moment and yes, you assume my implication correctly," the Paladin's bladeless sword then grows a liquid-metal blade from its hilt, "lethal force is authorized."
The segment of the prison mob escaping the island then rush towards Rinaldo, to which the latter decapitates all of them at once with a single swing of his liquid metal blade that lashed itself out like a whip.
"[Mercury Magic: Snakehead Slasher]," the Paladin's amorphous bladed sword squirmed and slithered through the air like a cut serpent, "come you imbeciles. [Froberge] awaits your executions."
The two Paladins then began quelling the riot of prisoners with excessive violence that was more akin to barbarians fighting than knights of an order that they claim themselves to be. Roland, nude and proud, swung Bizon around like an improv club, batting away prisoners after prisoners, sending the likes of the entirety of the Lost Legion flying into the air again and again. Rinaldo himself was letting his amorphous [Froberge] snake around him, cutting down anyone that came close to him so fast that the blade itself was seen in multiple places at once.
"I wanna go! I wanna go!" Heracles then put back his mana-dampening collar back on before bulldozing his way through the crowd, somehow outperforming the Paladins in sheer kill count without his magic in less than seconds, "BEST! TRAINING! EVER!"
Fanzell himself was mentally taking notes on how they all fought, if there were anything feasible to take note of to begin with. All of were performing feats of physical and magical might that was beyond his human comprehension that Fanzell couldn't hope to emulate any of them.
"How am I supposed to fight like them?" Fanzell muttered to himself before he noticed a crazed inmate running towards him with a shiv the size of a person, instinctively fending him off with Roland's sword, drawing the golden blade from its massive sheath.
But as soon as the blade had left its scabbard completely, images flashed inside Fanzell's mind.
An endless rain of meteors that hammered the earth around him.
A pool of bubbling and hissing magma that seeming flung itself towards him.
A sucking black hole that tried to make it bend in a thousand different directions.
And an army of Demons and Angels alike, ripping and tearing itself through the hordes and legions alike.
Is this... Fanzell struggled through this sudden fever dream inflicted upon him, ... no, it can't be. Surely this can't be the memories of Roland's sword!
It is, a voice spoke before Fanzell, manifesting itself as an amalgam being that was quite part-everything, yet somehow the mishmash of all of the world's creatures both alive and extinct not being discordant enough to send Fanzell spiraling into further madness, too long. Endless battle. Many tried. Failed destroying. I immortal. I [Durandal]. [Durandal, the Immortal]. You use. Me fight. Again again. Forever ever.
Get out of my head... Fanzell wrestled to get his mind back from the cursed sword, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
Fanzell feels as if his hands finally let go of the Relic. His eyes open back to reality, finding the prisoner that he'd fended off completely butchered like an animal. It's limbs hacked off into stumps. His organs gutted like a fish's. His bearing being completely far removed as possible from a once-living human being. [Durandal] itself was planted into the ground before him, thrown by Fanzell in his episode of madness.
"... What... what happened?" asked Fanzell before Roland walked up to him, dragging the gravely-injured and unconscious Bizon behind him before scowling at the red-haired man before taking the Relic back.
"My man!" he scolded as he sheathed his sword, "that was careless, even for me!"
"To be fair, you were the one who ditched that cursed blade," Rinaldo pointed out.
"Is that so?" he remarked before turning back to Fanzell, "in that case!" Roland then drives his head into the ground in an exaggerated bow that craters the earth below where it lands, "I APOLOGIZE!"
"Uh... yeah, it's... alright," Fanzell winched at Roland cracking his head open and spewing out blood from his forehead, the only injury that was inflicted onto the naked Paladin (self-inflicted to boot), "... you alright? You're losing a lot of blood."
"DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF!" Roland laughed out triumphantly, "I FUCKING LOVE BLOOD!"
"Sad but true," sighed Rinaldo before he turned towards the warden, who was now being juggled by Heracles while he was standing around in a field of dead and mutilated prisoners, "warden, don't mind if we go now-"
"JUST TAKE THESE FUCKING PSYCHOS WITH YOU AND GET OFF MY ISLAND!"
Back at Mainland...
"So," Makarov spoke to Duhat/Dune, "how are your injuries?"
"Chest is still hurting and numb at the same time, but I think I should be able to walk it off," he remarked at his bandaged upper torso.
"It's honestly a miracle," a Thaumaturge spoke, "we've extracted [Lamia] venom from your veins. They're paralytics used for MASS surgeries for patients suffering from muscle spasms. That shit should keep person down for a week at least, but you slept it off after one day!"
"Back at Dama, poisonous creatures are the norm, so we're used to poison more than most people around here," Duhat remarked, "I once got stung by a Deathstalker when I was 4. I almost died. After that, I got infected with malaria from a mosquito at the Heart Kingdom when I was 9 and lived through it."
"You my friend, are more resilient then you look," complimented the Vice-Inquisitor, "that may prove to be crucial to our investigation."
"Yeah..." sighed Duhat, still hung over by Krieger's betrayal, "... son of a bitch thought a knife to the chest was enough to kill me. I'll make him regret his carelessness."
Suddenly, two distinct knocks were heard from the door. "Our contacts," spoke the Thaumaturge, "they're here."
"I got the door," Duhat then opened the door, only to be greeted with an ugly mug that was all too familiar to him, only beat-up and hanging upside-down, causing him to fall back in terror, "BIZON?!"
"Wait," another, familiar voice called out from behind, "Dune?!"
"Fanzell?!" Duhat exclaimed upon hearing him, "what are you doing here?!" he then ran out the door, only to see him with Heracles and without clothes, "... and where are your clothes?"
"Hiya!" Heracles greeted with a wave of his hand.
"Fancy seeing the publisher of the Twelve Tyrants Thesis here of all places," spoke Rinaldo.
"Ah! So you are familiar with this man, I presume?!" Roland pointed out.
"... Hey Dune," Fanzell sheepishly greeted, "... I have way too many questions to ask right now."
"So do I," Duhat replied, "... wanna go talk inside the boathouse?"
Upon Makarov's detachment making contact with the Paladin's group, the two groups finally talked. Except for Bizon, who was now being treated for his injuries, wrapped up in bandages head to toe.
Makarov reveals the details of the investigation to get the other side up to speed, such as Krieger's little conspiracy/revenge plot and the fact that he's and unregistered and illegal Contractor, the current Lotus actually being a doppelgänger created by the dormfather's Demon, with the real Lotus being petrified and had his remains tossed off the seaside cliff and shattered against the rocks below, his "son" Klein actually being his nephew and that the real Klein might've been dead a decade prior, or that the "Klein" of right now might not be even aware that he's a fake, and the fact that Krieger might be the last Earth Temple Acolyte who's survived the massacre sanctioned by the Diamond Kingdom's king, explaining his bloodlust and agenda against Lotus and his entire family.
"... Oh my god," Fanzell sobbed, "... my wife and kid are living in a literal house of lies!" he panicked mid-sob, "his wife and girls are also living in that lie! Fana and others too!"
"Right underneath our noses this whole time..." growled Bizon, suppressing his volcanic rage underneath, "... his deception will be answered for soon enough."
"Is the Krieger guy strong?" asked Heracles before he was conked on the head by Duhat, "what?"
"Not cool, man," Duhat remarked, "... and about Lotus, I'm sorry."
"Why..." Fanzell then turned towards Makarov before grabbing him by his collar, "WHY?! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HIM SOONER?!"
"Because I'm not like my subordinate Bizon," Makarov replied curtly, "I actually try and minimize all possible collateral damage. Even worse, we only know that there's a Demon. It's just that we don't even know it's name, what it looks like, nor we know what it's fully capable of."
"All we know so far is that it apparently replicated Lotus' look and stabbed me and the real Lotus," explained Duhat as he showed his bandaged chest, "clever bastard was smart enough to not show his face or use his magic enough for me to discern it. So far, my best educated guess is [Copy Magic], given that he needed to kill Lotus in order to wear his face, so there's that for a limitation," he sighed with a squint, "and given that he tried to ice me, I suspect that the culprit might be in the process of creating a copy version of me to prevent anyone from asking questions."
Fanzell lets out a frustrated sigh at the revelation at the fact that Lotus had to die because the Demon that killed and replaced him was a majority-unknown factor. It's not enough for the Order of the Spade Cross to simply acknowledge a threat and destroy it. He can tell that Makarov was a tactical and prudent kind of fighter, the one that thinks before he sends his men out to attack the Demon. He was the complete opposite of an overzealous warrior of faith that Bizon initially was. However, Makarov had the same eyes when Lotus went to his "work mode". A level of detachment that was willing to sacrifice many as necessary for the greater good, but however, there was a shadow of humanity within him that balanced his zeal and sanity together. Still, despite everything, Fanzell couldn't bring himself to forgive the man who'd let his close friend and an honorable family man die simply to save the rest of the family from the Demon.
He promised himself that he would make Lotus proud. Now it's on him to make good on that promise by avenging him and saving his family that he'd spent his entire life to protect.
"... I know that look," Makarov looked towards Fanzell, "... you're not allowed to forgive me. You can hate me, spit on me, and curse me with all of your being. But right now, this situation requires surgical precision, and if you compromise that, then I will dispose of you."
"... Crystal clear," Fanzell gritted, choosing to bottle up his resentment after this situation is over.
"Anyway," Duhat sighed as he looked towards Fanzell, "... just for the record, my older brother Azur was also an Inquisitor. He died on duty years ago and Makarov informed me of his death last night."
"Man, people are dropping like flies," Heracles pointed out before he was slapped aside the head by Rinaldo.
"I'm... sorry for your loss," apologized Fanzell.
"No need," smirked Duhat, "because I know what my next paper is going to be about," he snickered menacingly, "[Rusulka] is going into a jar, under the name Dune Pyrite, Duhat Zastava, brother of Azur Zastava!"
"I can still call you 'Dune', can I?" asked Fanzell, to which Duhat nods, "... at least when this is all over, we'll have a helluva story to tell to the kids."
"For now, the Demon," spoke Makarov as he turned towards the Paladins, "... so, does Charlemagne know of this?"
"Down to the last detail, all confidential from all public eyes and ears," Rinaldo confirmed, "my Order of Crimson Lotus has been dispatched throughout Libratium and are working to keep tabs on Terra Cotta Dormitory with your men's help."
"And of our help?" asked the Vice-Inquisitor before Roland gagged out a small marble a size of a cherry onto the ground.
"Give me a sec!" Roland then tapped the marble before it faintly glowed in a pinkish hue, "and yeah, I snuck that into my cake when I helped myself on the first slice."
"That is disgusting," remarked Fanzell. But just before he can follow up on his snide remark, the marble began speaking.
Sorry for the wait, boys, spoke a distorted voice, the marble revealing itself to be miniature magical communication device, shall we get to work?
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Sorry for this chapter being late. Got sick with a cold and had to get situated back to normal while shaking off the wooziness of the cold medicine. I'm better now, but the creative process has take a bit of a hit since I intended this chapter to be a bit longer/about 3k-5k word of content had to be cut due to their filler spiel-nature. Overall, this chapter is a bit of a mess even for me, but considering what I have planned and how long this arc is going to be, compromises will have to be made.
Anyway, this part of the arc is a breather episode before building up to the confrontation. I'm giving myself an in-story's worth of 18 hours before the climatic battle to occur, but in those 18 hours, a lot of things are going to go down, both slice-of-life and the emotional buildup before the payoff.
Fana's workshop hopping? She's gonna need that since at the middle of everything, she'll have to fend off Krieger and Loki's consequences, so learning to expand her magic repertoire to simply beyond burning everything to the ground and healing with flames, and to be fair, both The Thing and the workshops are tied together chronologically. So that way, I can cram one more training session for Fana before her ass is thrown into the fire. And her getting used to Dragons? Yeah, that's gonna be a critical factor when Fana ends up the same way that both Dune/Duhat and Lotus went, but unlike those two, she's not coming alone. She's now got her shield with [Fire Spirit Abjuration Magic: Salamander Soul - Immortal Flame Cowl], now she's going to earn her spear. Elf!Fana is opening up and [Salamander] is regaining its sapience.
As for Fanzell, he's effectively "cursed with awesome" on two legs. On one hand, he's "cursed" (not by a Demon BTW) to lose his clothes at the worst of times to be unable to hold down a job, but on the other hand, he's now directly working under one of the 12 Paladins and the benefits that come with it, and despite the eccentricities from the whole Order of Aurora Amaryllis being solely composed of nudists, the fact that his "curse" has been effectively canceled out by not wearing clothes at all, it's something that he'll have to get used to.
For Jericho's mini-arc, he now has a path forward: become stronger than Ulster to become a Highlander like Dagda to find himself in a world that doesn't make does not make sense due to contrasting ideas from differing cultures. That way, he'll become the beacon that unites all the people through his will, not through subjugation, but through enlightenment. It's wishful thinking at best, but Ulsterians aren't the kind of people who take "no" for an answer (aside from sex, which half the time, they'll ask for consent, but not always, as evidenced by Salim's "tryst"). Meeting with Full-Gore's mate was his way of opening his mind up a little. A way to make him accept his dual heritage of both Ulster and Clover Kingdom. Or at least, make him ask the right kind of questions that will help him in the future. Jericho, I see him as a bit of a reconstructive example of Suzaku from Code Geass, trading in his self-destructiveness for a genuine desire to do good, albeit for a selfish way to exonerate himself just like Suzaku. Here, he's now witnessing a culture that sees no distinction between friend and food, and it will be at that point where Jericho has to mediate between the wild-landers and the city-dwellers, and him eating Full-Gore's remains in a soup is meant to be a symbolic first step to forgive himself while not compromising his morals. Also, I meant to include a discussion involving Taro and the concept of "sepukku", but the segment was already going on for too long and I had to cut it. Might show up later on, but gonna have to find a place for it.
And speaking of the prison release, a complaint I've heard is that the prisoners weren't menacing enough to be locked away on an island facility. Here, I decided to show some teeth by making them a match for the rank-and-file Chevaliers and being cunning enough to secure enough nitroglycerin from their own excrements and urine to make an improvised IED to escape, only to get worfed by Roland, because he's just crazy. Roland himself, he's a clown in every sense, but he's the kind of clown who will kill you by accident by using a random schmuck (like Bizon) as a weapon in lieu of his Relic, [Durandal]. Speaking of, yes, [Durandal] is the cause why Roland is so loopy. It only too a second for Fanzell to hold onto the sword and send him on a blind murderous rage that he doesn't even remember doing, imagine having to contend with a cursed sword for years. Roland has brain damage, but is charismatic enough to lead his own dedicated group of nudists and functional enough to follow orders and make cake. Because real men cook, dammit. Also, it does make sense that Heracles' grimoire being blank to begin with, since he's the epitome of "Unskilled but Strong" cranked up to 11. In a way, the precedent that Rades set up in the canon (powerful grimoire, only one page) is something that I flipped on its head when it came to the amnesiac Goku-clone: an apex-tier grimoire thick as a brick, with not a single page written, and all of Heracles' spells being all improv. Might be the fact that he's legitimately cursed, or he's just that dumb. Or both.
And finally, Fanzell getting dragged into this mess. It was just a way to get him involved. I mean, who expects their first day on the job to be so high-stakes? Makarov not taking action has a point, since not only they don't even know Loki's name, but if he took the Bizon approach of going in guns blazing on a first instance, he would easily slip away into the chaos, and while Krieger would be stopped, Loki would still be out there, ready to menace another day. Makarov intends to kill two birds with one stone, and Dune/Duhat got a firsthand taste of how slippery the bastard is by the latter simply now fully showing himself. This specific Demon hunt is game of chicken: whoever gets careless first loses.
Overall, only 18 in-story hours remain until the climax begins, and I have way too many things to tell while getting the players to their rightful places. This arc, is gonna be long. Bear with me just for about... 2 or 3 more parts. The cold a week prior wasn't fun for me.
References:
- Kouha and Hama are named after the light-elemental spells of Shin Megami Tensei franchise. Her human form is based off Lucy from Fairy Tail with Sister Irvy's outfit (and small bits of her sadist personality manifesting into her semi-troll nature) from EDENS ZERO, while her Light Dragon Form is based off Soul Saver Dragon from Cardfight! Vanguard. Hama himself is designed after Loke/Leo from Fairy Tail with some elements of Dungeon Fighter Online's Priest's [Exorcist] Awakening use of paper talismans (and Hama's skill animation in SMT games being depicted as paper talismans surrounding the target before the insta-kill if successful) and his personality is partially based off Hermit Mio's from EDENS ZERO.
- Eiha's [Primal Light Magic: Phosphoratorium] spell is named after Jota's Limit Break with the same (localized) name from Azure Striker Gunvolt.
- Roland's credo of "Nudity! Is! Power!" is a reference to Dragon Ball Z Abridged, specifically Raditz's similarly-worded line of how on Earth, nudity makes one stronger. Also, the whole "Nomenclature of Nudists" for his personal order of Chevaliers, the Order of Aurora Amaryllis, are named after the Yu-Gi-Oh! Trap Card named "The League of Uniform Nomenclature", depicted with three Ojama Yellows (I will not explain the last part, figure it out, it's easy to see the parallels). Also the amaryllis that Roland's Order is named after, the flower itself symbolizes pride (nude and proud), strength (he sees his Relic as something he uses when holding back, or implied at least), and determination (the guy's super-insistent).
- Full-Gore's mate Thud-Ner's design is loosely based off of Ukraine from Hetalia. The gag of her sounding "familiar" is a reference to how Ukraine and Vanessa share the same English dub voice actor, Lydia Mackay. Also, the female terminology of [Asterius], [Asteria] is named after the Greek Titaness of the stars.
- Rinaldo's Relic [Froberge] is the French pronunciation of Flamberge, a multi-cutting sword with a squiggly blade that is meant to resemble a flame on a wick, and its design takes the Dragon Quest staple of its "Liquid Metal Sword" into a literal statement.
- Roland himself is generally based off his Fate/Grand Order iteration for this fic. And Roland's characterization from "Matters of France" is their answer to Lancelot's cuckoo-crazy-bananas berserker rage, but played more for laughs rather than for the latter's horror of his savagery juxtaposed to his chivalric and noble facade. Also, his personal Relic [Durandal] is a sword that literally cannot break, and the fic-design (and properties of inflicting its users with demonic madness) is based off of Symphogear's golden BFS iteration of [Durandal] while it's "Immortal" title (conveyed by its visions) is based off Bravely Default's lore of the [Durandal] weapon, said lore being blade that survived a [Meteor] spell repeatedly before being thrown into an active volcano in countless futile attempts to destroy the cursed sword. It's apparition is loosely based off of The Winged Lion/"Power" from Delicious in Dungeon.
- Roland's apology towards Fanzell is based off Inasa Yoarashi's exaggerated mannerisms from My Hero Academia.
Hypothetical Voice Actors:
- Kouha: Yukiyo Fuji (JPN), Natalie Hoover (ENG)
- Hama: Hiroyuki Yoshino (JPN), Nazeeh Tarsha (ENG)
- Salamander: Yoshitsugu Matsuoka (JPN), Jason Marnocha (ENG)
- Roland: Yuki Kaji (JPN), Joel McDonald (ENG)
- Durandal's Appiration: Takahiro Sakurai (JPN), Matthew J. Kok (aka: YamatoSFX) (ENG)
And as usual, please leave a comment or a review, for I'd love to know what my readers think!