Xander Quest

by Throwaway1971

All credit goes to the OG author Judge Mental on SB

317. Happy Ninth Birthday! Omake

Okay. So I ran with this.
Includes invisitext.

###
Xander yelled.
They were fighting for their lives, and losing. As Adam laughed in murderous glee, Xander fell behind a pillar, dropped his weapon and raised his hands to channel ki and magic. Nothing happened at first as he clapped his hands together, then a horn blew, followed by the thunder of hooves.

The battle froze at the unexpected interruption, and then a massive, barded black stallion like right out of a fantasy epic thundered towards the demons and vampires comprising his army. On his back sat a mountain in black-golden full plate, cape fluttering behind him, a massive sword on his back. Then a big, ugly dog wearing a silver collar with a skull on it and reeking of magic jumped off.

"ALEX!" Xander yelled again, looking out from behind the pillar. "THE CYBER-DEMON!"
From behind the mountain, a glowing ball of light and a tiny dragon of all things rose into the air, the latter roaring cutely.

Buffy turned to Xander questioningly, almost missing when the mountain began to exute a gray mist from both his form and glowing ball. The mist solidified into a shadowy copy of himself, only without the horse. The man's copy looked at the enemy, drew his sword and began to chant in a deep voice.

THAT got the attention of Adam's people.
As the copy worked his magic, the mountain lowered his hand, a lance appearing in it. Light shimmered around the lance, then a massive beam shot out, cutting a deep hole into the demonic masses.

"Stand aside." The rider's voice, as deep as his copy's, boomed, and the Scoobies obeyed, hurrying out of the way.

"Khamsin!" Rider and horse crashed into the ranks, stallion rising to kick in a Mohra's jewel as the tiny dragon flew above the enemy ranks, setting many of them on fire while they shied away from it and the dog killed them left and right.

Adam answered, spinning up his minigun and opening fire once again.

This time, it was all for naught.
A spherical shield shimmered into existence around them, turning the fire into so many ricochets and causing chaos in the enemy ranks.

"Harris." Interestingly, three heads turned towards Adam as he spoke. "An alternate version of yourself? That can do the same? I am impressed. This is the first time universe-altering magic hurt me."

"Today" 'Alex' began.

"Will also be the last time this happens." Shadow Alex continued. They both pulled a grenade out, priming them and throwing them in the middle of the rabble.

While utter chaos erupted in the demonic ranks, both giants channeled both ki and magic. The battle froze once again, silent but for Cordelia's gasp.

For directly behind them were countless ranks of mounted warrior-women, wielding bows as well as magic.
On their left followed a legion of nightmares, bellowing bloodthirsty battle-cries. Among their ranks were a boar as large as a house, a titanic dog like something out of the darkest Norse legends, a roaring dragon and a warrior clad in impenetrable darkness, wielding a weapon of legend. On their right, a Roman legion marched under his banner, countering the wild beasts and warriors with professional discipline.

On the rider's right rode another giant, clad in armor sucking in all light, wielding a sword as big as himself.
They were flanked by a deeply tanned blonde in a dress Cordy would fight for, armed only with gauntlets sprouting wings and surrounded by a cloud of bats, one of them really big. She had her fangs - not teeth! - bared, staring at the vampires facing them with pure, primal hate as she gripped an ear ring.
The next rider was a petite blonde clad in armor, roaring dragon and hissing cat resting on her shoulder, fairies surrounding her like bats did fang-girl, and mana gathering all around her. A copy of Cordelia also rode, wielding a shotgun, a sword attached to her saddle.

An old man right out of a Tolkien movie stood in the background, resting on his staff as he looked at Adam's people. And laughed. This all was covered in the presence of unseen watchers paying absolute attention.
How would we not?!
Above them all, countless flags with a single tusked triangle slapped behind them under a total eclipse of the sun.
The pictures gathered behind the giant on foot were similar, just with a palette change and without mounts.
Why are my people there...?
"Interesting." Adam said, still spinning his gun. "Very interesting."

Then the moment was over, the pictures were gone. And the rider exploded back into action."We take the gunner!" Coming in just after the grenade went off, horse and rider cut and trampled a swath through the vampires like so much chaff, footsoldier following and keeping their backs clear.
Xander came back from behind his pillar, making sure his support had free hands.

Adam laughed, extended his bone-skewer to act like a spear, only for it to splinter on reinforced barding.

"Cute." He groaned, grinning as the bone regrew. But then, he was in melee - something his attacker was clearly used to. Magic, ki, psionic energy, all of them helped, clearly insufficient even as the both of them, the dog and the fairies focused on him. And then... "DIN!" Two voices yelled in unison as they released even more of their mana.
A pleasure.
The room went bright. Voices sang, blades clang against each other, the whooping returned and searing light forced them all to shut their eyes closed.

When they were opened, no longer hurting, the mooks were all smoking heaps of ash, Adam yelling in pain, his whole body smoking.
Two bright beams of light from the swords were the next thing hitting him before both men literally hacked him to pieces, supported by heavy kicks from the war stallion and the dog locking his jaws into his leg.

Xander yelled, storming forward and joining the fray. "He got a power core!"

Alex's visor flashed gold as he pushed his divination magic to the maximum. "Nuclear core!" He yelled and Shadow Alex dropped his sword, ramming his hand deep into Adam's guts, pulling out the core before punting it into a new pocket dimension the real deal had opened in the meantime.

Gained Radiation Resistance F

"Leave the dirty work to your clone. Of fucking course." Shadow stated in disgust.

"Not risking future kids and you know that." Alex replied, and Shadow's protest died.

"Got me there."

"Yeah." He did some trick with his hands and the armor disappeared into a triangular amulet, leaving a deeply tanned, tall muscular redhead with pretty golden eyes and a five o'clock shadow wearing an expensive suit, the little dragon landing on his shoulder. "Thanks for the assist, man."

"Always. You get me the best fights." Gray chuckled, then nodded to the others. "And now get me back in before the annoying part starts."

"Ha." Alex chuckled as he sheathed his sword. "Yeah, we need to do this before the exchange." He smiled, causing the Shadow copies to dissolve into mist once again and Alex to shudder minutely.

"A Cyber-demon." 'Alex' grinned after turning to Xander, shaking his hand. "That's new even to me. Cool enemy you got there."

"Cool? You call that thing cool?" Buffy intercepted, causing him to tun to her. "Hey, Buff. Yeah, you need a break after the tenth dragon, or crazy Kitsune. But good thing you called me." He turned back to Xander. "You learned how to do the trick by now?"

"Yep." Xander nodded, mobilizing what little magic he had while Alex did the same, only with his own vast reserves. Then both young men shook hands again, touching their foreheads with a grimace afterwards. "...Yeah." Alex nodded. "I can see why you don't like this stuff, but thanks for the download, man."

"You." Xander shook his head. "That amount of homework? You owe me a pizza, man. A good one, this time!"

"Ha!" Alex laughed. "Fair enough. And my conjuration has vastly improved since then. Gimme a sec."

With a flash, a table with enough chairs for the whole gang materialized out of thin air. On its top sat several large cartered Hawaiian pizzas with cutlery, dinnerware and soft drinks, and a big stack of napkins.

"Cutlery for Pizza?" Buffy interjected "Really?"

"Oh, stow it, Buffster." Xander chuckled as he cut out some pizza. "There's demon gunk everywhere, I don't want it on my pizza." He took a bite. "Yeah, this time it's damn good."

"For pizza with pineapple, yeah." Willow commented, only to get middle fingers. Like Buffy, she ignored it over watching Briar's cutlery becoming active and the fairy devouring her part of the pizza.

"So..." Xander asked. "Think that was it? This download wasn't as big as the others."

"No clue." Alex shrugged between bites of Pizza for himself and held up for the pseudodragon. "I thought that was it when I faced you in that mirror thing, then the Ring. Then you learned how to summon me, and, well. Here we are. Thanks for the download so far, by the way, I knew some things from my corner of the woods, but..."

"Yeah, no Shuzens here, and no comparable Drakes." Xander chuckled. "Trust me, I checked."
"Ha!" Alex grinned as the others looked at them in confusion. "Want another download?"

"Only about threats, not, you know."

"Don't overdo it!" Briar interjected, causing Buffy to turn to her with a wild look. "Who just talked?"

"Yeah, not going to torture you. And yes, Briar, I know." Alex nodded, then let a thumbnail-sized crystal materialize in his hand. "Here. A memory crystal for later use. It shows what we faced and how we beat it. Would give it to the Watcher, but, you know."

"Yeah, we two are as far from each other as one can get for a mostly frictionless transfer." Xander waved him off. "I'll fill him in the old fashioned way."

"Exactly. It contains strengths and weaknesses, I mean, you can't really use the specifics anyway. Which reminds me."

He pulled out a a starburst-shaped crystal the size of a baseball, pressing it in Xander's hand. "It's full. Use it on Angel. We already did on ours."

"... What is ... I see. Thanks, man." They shook hands once again before Alex turned around. "Buffy, Willow, Mr. Giles." They all were clearly taken aback at the formal address. "No idea if we're gonna met ever again, so farewell." He turned to his animals. "Moblin! Khamsin!"

Horse and Dog ran over, Alex helped the dog on the saddle, climbing back on himself and then rode out into the distance, Khamsin phasing out and leaving only shadowy mist.

"Xander."

He stowed away the Gratitude Crystalizer as well as the memory crystal. "Buffster?"

"Explain."

---

Arthur: "Merle Ambrose. Your lord requires vengeance."

Ambrose: "Lord Drake. Your wizard requires hazard pa-."

Arthur: "Double."

Ambrose: "Nope."

Arthur: *without hesitation* "You drive a hard bargain. Triple."

Ambrose: "Nuh-uh. You know what I want."

Arthur: "...Fine. Slay that dragon and I'll let you expand your lab into the storeroom next to the orrery."

Ambrose: "Sold!" *gleefully turns toward the Ring*

Akasha: *smirks at them* "I dedicate my upcoming victory to Issa!" *takes final step, activates ring*

Arthur and Ambrose: "..."

Ambrose: "Dammit, I needed that space."

Issa and Gyokuro: *smugging uncontrollably*

---

When Buffy first heard from Willow that Alex was a two-timing bastard, she took it with a grain of salt. She knew how excitable her friend was, and that she didn't much like the Harris boy. That Cordy had just laughed when Buffy mentioned it had settled things. Or so she thought. When she saw him blithely walking down the street with a girl on each arm, and neither one was Cordy, she did a double take. It wasn't (just) because both girls were far too pretty to be in any way fair. The British babe on his left was carrying a tiny girl, and the Japanese hottie on his right was holding the hand of a small boy, and both children were cheerfully calling Alex 'daddy'. Then Cordy, who was standing right beside her, not only failed to explode but greeted them as old friends.

"So, where's Emi?" asked Cordy.
"I'm afraid she couldn't make it."
"Her kit is down with the flu."

Something in Buffy's mind broke. Seriously, who named their kids 'Sword-chan' and 'Castle-kun'?

---

I'm inspired by the "going out with Altria as dragons" tidbit

"Alex, what do you say of gliding there to that field?"
"Sure, why not?"
Hey, this is sudden, but I am Alex, the 8th grader Interdimensional Kung-Fu Sorcerer, and now I'm flying through an alien sky.
In the body of a midnight-scaled dragon.

There's a good reason for this!
So, uh, I, Kahlua, and Altria experimented with our various abilities, and suddenly Altria's dragon heart went overactive, and she morphed into a big red dragon.
That annoying old guy Ambrose managed to chide us very much - which was so frustating - and finally suggest Altria to spend the rest of the week just being a dragon in a plane out of nowhere full of tasty non-sentient sheep and cows. And since I was the main fault for this, I was roped into acting as Altria's minder. Well, a quick Form of the Dragon ritual, and here I am. Dragon-Alex. At least the Shadow and Fire affinity makes the Black Dragon form I took more powerful?

"EXCALIBLAST!" the she-dragon shouts, before shooting a prana blast from her mouth. Right on a bunch of sheep, with the epicentre just... gone. Becoming one with the earth's rubble.
"Why don't you act like a real dragon and use your fire breath, Altria?" I ask, wrongly.
"Why don't YOU?" she replies, as she swoops down and eat some of the sheep. I followed her, scaring the walking mutton at the edge, before trying to firebreathe. "Urgh, it's itchy. Like trying to spit when your throat is dry."
"You see?" Altria says as she eats, and eats, and eats. I copy her, though less ravenous. I don't really need to fuel up a mana furnace, after all.

"Alex?" someone whispers, as I wake up from a nap on a mountaintop. "Yes?" I reply, before something rammed into me and I fall down the side of the mountain. Sleepily, I beat down my wings, and fly up using the winds. Not that much harder than using ki to fly, to be honest. And then I see Altria, seemingly sheepish- from her diet? - a traitorous thought comes unbidden up to the tip of my tongue. I have enough sanity to not say that, of course. "Sorry, Alex, but you just won't wake up, and I still don't have a quite good control of my strength in this form. I apologise."
"Apology accepted. It'd be sad if I can't recover by myself, especially after, what, 3 days in this body?"
"Yes, please take care of me for another three days." Let me tell you, seeing a dragon bowing while flying - it's a really weird experience. But my life is composed of capital letter Weird anyway. Let's move on.
"Well let's train more befo-" a portal goes up on top of us, "-re something happens. But I guess I'm too late."

A big black bat came outside the portal, and it almost immediately flies to me. But I keep my cool.
"Aleeeeeeeeeex! Don't leave me behind!"
Altria mutters, "This voice... Is it you, Kahlua?"
"Yes- I managed to unlock the secret of becoming a big, bad, great monster! Not thanks to you two" I can almost hear her typical pouting there "But now we can all play here!"
... "Kahlua, this isn't playing-" Altria starts to say, before shutting up. Huh?
"Oh yeah, Alex, Uncle Arthur got a message for you! He says if anything happens, he's ready to chase you to the end of the universe! It's a promise!"

===
No, I don't know what made me came up with this omake.
Enjoy I guess.

---

SIXTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #1
GILGAMESH

Gilgamesh was vexed.

This was not a new state of mind for the King of Heroes, and had, in fact, been a recurring one since the first moment of his incarnation for the so-called Fourth Holy Grail War.

In another World, across the shimmering borders that separated the infinite possible outcomes of Reality's unfolding, the King's annoyance would have arisen from his sheer dissatisfaction with the modern era. To be sure, the society that now spanned his kingdom frustrated the ancient ruler greatly, what with the wasteful damage they were inflicting upon his domain, and their willful ignorance of his ancient rules in favor of the soft, empty existence that ruined the promise of so many.

In that World, such was Gilgamesh's distaste that he could only endure it by drinking the elixir of youth he kept in his treasury, thereby reverting to not only the physical form of his childhood, but also the mentality. As a carefree young Prince rather than a ruling King, it had not yet been his place to enact judgment; that would have trod upon the rule of his father. With that mindset restored, Gilgamesh would have been able to ignore the waste and weakness of the modern age, seeing only its many bright distractions.

But in this World, Man's deplorable state was not wholly of his own making, for the troublesome gods yet meddled in his affairs. True, they were more restricted in their interference than in the days of old, a state of affairs that the lore of the modern age granted to him by the Grail credited to the so-called "Powers That Be," supposed overseers of the Balance of the World. The King had his own thoughts on the matter, but the point remained that even restricted interference was still interference, and thus unacceptable.

Nor were the gods alone in their offenses. Dark things lurked in the shadows of the King's garden in numbers uncountable, fouling the earth, the seas, and the skies with their presence. Some were mindless brutes, spreading death and destruction for no better reason than that they could, and that they enjoyed it; others whispered false counsel into the ears of the foolish, the greedy, and the vile, offering ill bargains and twisting the potential of Man to their own unholy ends; but all such things had contributed to the long, slow decline of the glory of humanity.

And amid these offenses was a single light of hope, for heroes yet stood where the gods could not or would not venture, striving to beat back the things lurking in the night—lesser heroes, perhaps, their strengths and skills laughable even when compared to the least of those who had earned the Throne, but still brave enough to take up fire and steel against the monstrous and the demonic, and capable of winning their small victories.

While these flashes of valor in the dark were not the grand effort that the King might have hoped to see from his subjects, they had nonetheless eased the King's disappointment in the greater mass of humanity. What frustration remained could be easily vented upon the demonic filth and the interfering agents of the divine, and had been.

Yet as days dragged on into months and the months in turn became years, Gilgamesh found himself no closer to bringing an end to the games of the gods or the unholy infestation plaguing his garden than he'd been at the beginning.

Hence his vexation.

The Oldest Hero's lack of progress and according frustration could ultimately be laid at the feet of the second-rate charlatans who had designed the Fuyuki Grail, and whose arrogant attempts to ape one of the World's defensive measures for their own purposes had led to the shortcomings of the Servant System.

He could have accepted the ambition of those so-called Magi, for it was the nature of Man to dream of greatness, and reach for that which was beyond his grasp. Though the King would never condone or abide mere imitation, to find inspiration in the creations of past masters and greater authorities, and to produce works of your own while guided by that wisdom, was only right and proper. So long as the result of those labors was of sufficient quality, a certain lack of originality could be overlooked.

Likewise, he could have forgiven—though never forgotten—the presumption of those lesser men in daring to summon and bind their betters. It had ever been the way of the weak to look to the strong to do what they could not do for themselves, for the base and petty to envy the great and glorious, and for the sweet voice that offered a fine treasure to be accompanied by a poisoned knife in the dark. Any Hero worthy of the title could look past the former, smile in the face of the second, and crush attempts at the latter, while those beneath them would either learn swiftly how to properly conduct themselves, or else pay the price for their insolence.

Even a modicum of failure could have been tolerated, for the King was patient and generous, and he knew that his people were imperfect creatures. Even in glorious Uruk, there had been too few who approached the height of perfection he himself occupied, and modern Man was heir to all the same flaws and failings that had hampered and hindered his ancestors. Those shortcomings were simply compounded and made more evident by the weakness and lack of purpose engendered by this soft, empty society.

But the King's generosity was not boundless. Past a certain point, unrealized ambition was just so much empty boasting, dreams of treachery grew all too likely to blossom into reality, and what had been an exercise in patience became a simple waste of his time.

The Fuyuki Grail had tested him mightily on all fronts from the instant his imperfect vessel opened its eyes.

To be stripped of so much of his power and fundamental nature; to have his vast repertoire of skills and knowledge constrained by the parameters of a "Class," as though he were some piece on a gameboard; to be made dependent upon a lesser son of lesser sons, who bore no more of the blood of true heroes and nobility than a mere rock—less, even, considering the blood spilled upon some stones…!

Suffice it to say, had it been Tohsaka Nagato, Founder of the Fuyuki Grail War, who presumed to summon Gilgamesh, the King would have expressed his royal displeasure with the entire arrangement as soon as he realized the indignities visited upon him, and how they would complicate and hinder his response to the downfallen state of the World.

Since Tohsaka Tokiomi was not his forefather, and merely the latter-day Head of a Founding Family, he was spared the King's anger, at least until such time as he earned it on his own merits.

Which, ultimately, he had.

But even with a measure of justice for those insults finally meted out, the limitations of the Servant System yet remained. And while the Class Skill of Independent Action freed the King from any need for a mortal anchor to keep his vessel from being worn away by the Will of the World, it had not freed him of the need to expend mana to assume and maintain a physical form.

It was that particular weakness which was the greatest source of Gilgamesh's current frustration.

While wandering Europe some weeks earlier, the King's attention had been caught by a voice speaking a debased and corrupted form of Sumerian. Equally intrigued and angered by the abuse of his native tongue, Gilgamesh had stayed his hand long enough to investigate the source. His curiosity shortly led him to a demonic cult, which was using the ancient language in their rituals and private communications on account of it having being revealed to them by their "god"—in truth, nothing more than a demonic pretender that happened to be old enough to have learned Sumerian while it was still spoken among men, and now claimed the dead tongue as its own.

Gilgamesh had expressed his displeasure for this thievery at some length, but in his righteous anger, he had been less than wholly mindful of just how much energy he was using. It was only when the demon and the last of the cultists finally succumbed to their wounds that the King realized how much power he'd spent, and how little he had left.

Little enough, it happened, that the least objectionable course of action open to the King was to return to Fuyuki City, where, much as in another World, there dwelt an ally that could assist him in recovering his strength.

Though once again, this ally was of a rather different nature than the one the King would have chosen in another timeline.

Not the least of these differences was the fact that said ally did not conduct his business from within the walls of a church, upholding the rituals and duties of the faith with one hand while abetting atrocity with the other. This one worked from an office in one of the gleaming structures of concrete, glass, and steel within Fuyuki City's Shinto District, though where all its neighbors were tall, straight towers with little to distinguish one from the next, the building in question dared to express individuality and character by taking the form of a pyramid.

As the King made his way inside the unconventional structure, the guardians placed around it regarded him briefly. Those that had no minds of their own turned away, heeding their programming and identifying the figure that approached as one who had full clearance to enter any part of the building he cared to at any time. The living guards, meanwhile, bowed their heads in respectful recognition and opened the doors, knowing better than to impede their master's most honored guest.

Inward and upward Gilgamesh traveled, via a concealed elevator whose doors opened silently at his approach, revealing a compartment that gleamed gold. The symbols worked into the material were not the language of his beloved Uruk, but the hieroglyphs of Egypt, which the King had deigned to tolerate out of mutual respect for the lord of this place.

The doors closed with no more noise than they had made upon opening, and there was a soft hum as a beam of light passed from the floor of the cab to the ceiling. It lasted no more than two seconds, three at the most, and when the doors opened once more, what lay beyond them was not a bland modern hallway, but a sumptuous apartment, its contents such that the directors of the most luxurious resorts and the best-funded museums in the world would gnash their teeth and wail in envy to behold.

The floor was marble tile, each polished until they gleamed under the soft light of cleverly-concealed lamps, save where the richly-woven rug lay or a display case stood. Even then, such was the careful arrangement of the room that those stands—carved from rare woods, inlaid with traceries of gold and jewels, and bearing protective covers of crystal as clear and near as hard as diamond—cast no shadows, save directly beneath themselves. Panels of the same design as the displays covered the walls, interrupted now and again by a window, an ancient stone fresco under another layer of diamond-glass, or banners of spun gold.

In contrast to the Egyptian design of the elevator, the relics housed in this chamber were all of Sumerian origins. Some bore the signs of their antiquity, cracked and weathered stone painstakingly reconstructed by expert hands; others were fashioned of untarnished metal and smooth cloth, whole and gleaming as if newly-made, yet carbon dating and stylistic examination would put them at the correct age to have been fashioned by the artisans of Uruk—and so given the archaeologists a whole new reason to rant and rave.

As he always did, the King took in the majority of this little collection with a glance, making sure everything was where he had left it, and summarily ignoring it as he walked on by.

And yet—as he always did—Gilgamesh paused before one of the recovered stone tablets, upon which was pictured his own unmistakable visage, and across from it, a long-haired figure that might have been man or woman beneath its plain robe.

"Where is your master?" the King spoke aloud, gaze still on the ancient carving.

Behind him, having approached with tolerable grace and speed, the woman who he permitted to act as his housekeeper bowed low and said, "He attends a performance by one of his children, Your Majesty. He sends his apologies for his absence upon your arrival, but he had given his word that he would attend that event before he became aware of your return."

Gilgamesh shook his head at that, wondering not for the first or last time at what had possessed his associate to lie with a woman of these times, much less sire children upon her. Still, it was a king's prerogative to choose who shared his bed, and if these pale echoes of the maidens of Uruk were indeed to the man's taste, Gilgamesh would hardly gainsay king's right.

And if his meeting with his fellow monarch had been delayed on account of a child? Well, royalty must keep its promises, and a father who went back on his word to his own child was a poor father indeed. Besides, he knew of this particular child and their siblings, and while none had yet distinguished him- or herself from the rest enough to merit a meeting with the King, the mere fact of their existence put them a clear cut above the common rabble, earning them his forbearance in such small matters.

Setting that line of thought aside for the time being, the King turned and entered the main apartment, housekeeper trailing a respectful distance behind. As he settled himself on one of the chairs, another servant took a particular bottle down from a well-stocked liquor cabinet, a bottle that bore no commercial label and was not sealed with wooden cork, metal cap, or even glass stopper. The mouth appeared to have been melted shut, but when the man ran his thumb around the neck, the glass opened up, straightening and smoothing itself out until it looked to be a perfectly ordinary open bottle.

The same could not be said for the contents, a clear, colorless substance that poured like a liquid, but gave off copious amounts of a grey-tinted vapor, neither hot nor cold. The stuff also glowed slightly, and the servant was careful to ensure that none of the vapor spilled over the rim of the glass as he poured.

Glass filled, the man place it and the bottle on a small golden serving tray, and carried the lot over to the table at the King's right hand.

Without a word or a glance, Gilgamesh took up the glass and drank, the tense irritation in his posture easing slightly as the smoky sublimate went down, and his diminished reserves slowly began to rise.

Servants summoned by the Holy Grail were constrained by their mana reserves, their every action consuming power: sometimes in trivial quantities; at others, enormous amounts; but there was always some cost. It was a fail-safe built into the system by the Founders to help enforce a measure of compliance from the proud, powerful entities they planned to call forth, and also to ensure that, once the Grail War ended and the cup stopped providing for the competitors from its own abundant stockpiles of power, the last, victorious Servant would fade back into history and legend where he belonged.

But there were workarounds, some more practical or tasteful than others. A strong Magus could dedicate the lion's share of their power to sustaining a Servant. Any Servant willing to sacrifice human lives for the sake of his own survival could feed directly upon the souls of the living. Casters, or those with certain suitable Skills or Noble Phantasms, had access to a variety of other means.

Gilgamesh had no Master and was no Magus, but the Gate of Babylon held within it all the fruits of Mankind's knowledge, including devices designed to gather ambient spiritual and magical energies as raw material for certain experiments. With the sheer populations of this age, it was a simple matter to place one such device in an arena hosting a sporting or musical event, and let it run for a few hours. In this way, instead of draining debilitating amounts of energy from fragile modern souls, it was possible to accumulate the excess energy given off by thousands of such souls in their collective excitement, while leaving no trace of one's involvement.

The catch was that Magi, witches, sorcerers, and other wonder-workers had ever been jealous of their power, and the finest of their tools almost invariably required at least some level of training in the mystic arts to correctly operate. Incarnated within the Archer Class as he was, Gilgamesh's aptitude for and knowledge of such things was deliberately limited, and the tools themselves would have reacted poorly to attempts at experimentation.

Enter his ally. Though he was no more a Caster than Gilgamesh, that one had a particular Skill that enabled him to correctly utilize the device, and he had shared the King's desire to remain active on the level of a king and Servant after the Grail War had ended. He also held goals that could only benefit from association with the King and the bounty of his Golden Rule, and so was more inclined towards a partnership, even if it did place him in the inferior position.

Perhaps most importantly, the man's company had been and continued to be remarkably tolerable, and his word good, though the latter was only to be expected of one selected to be the Ruler of the Fourth Holy Grail War.

And so, in the wake of the final battle, the deal was struck. Gilgamesh would grant his patronage and the use of one of his treasures to his associate, who in turn would use these resources to gather the sustenance that both Servants required to maintain their powers. Whatever wealth remained beyond that was his to do with as he pleased, minus certain considerations for his financier, such as the maintenance of this room and the acquisition of its treasures.

It was not a perfect solution. Gatherings of the sort necessary to fuel the device without drawing attention did not happen every day, and even when they did, the energy accumulated from them was a miasma of conflicting essences, debilitating and toxic if ingested by mere mortals, and disorienting and vile to a Servant. Filtering out the compatible "flavors" of the most similar souls and concentrating them into the half-liquid, half-vapor substance that the King now imbibed took time; this single bottle represented weeks' worth of work on his associate's behalf, and though its contents raised the King's reserves considerably, he knew that he could and would burn through that energy in a single battle, if he fought in the manner to which he was most accustomed.

There was also the little matter of how the spiritually-charged substance acted very much like the wine it was bottled as. As a rule, Servants were not able to get drunk on mundane alcohol unless excess and inebriation formed a major part of their legend. Mystical drinks were another story entirely, as Gilgamesh and his associate had discovered when an impromptu celebration of the first batch of this particular brew got somewhat out of hand.

The King still could not account for where the tiger had come from, but he firmly maintained that the fire had not been his fault. It wasn't as if there had been any deaths, and the building was an eyesore anyway; if anything, its damage, condemnation, and subsequent demolition had been a public service!

Still, the loss of several bottles of the spiritual wine had been regrettable, and he and his associate had taken the whole incident as instruction to be more cautious with the precious substance, and sparing in its use.

And so it was that, instead of circling the world aboard his shining Vimana to reach the next site of demonic infection or divine interference, the King was forced to rely on the paltry imitations of flight that the modern era could provide. Instead of opening the Gate of Babylon to rain well-earned and long-overdue death and judgment upon the predators, deceivers, and corruptors of Man, he had to make due with a handful of weapons and tools, chosen more for their low cost and ease of use—another curse upon those fool Founders and their arbitrary Class limitations!—than for their raw power.

And instead of wiping out the invaders fouling his domain and stealing his treasures in the blink of an eye, the King was forced to do them an honor they did not deserve, hunting each down in turn and granting them death by his own hand.

And this still left the matter of the bothersome gods unattended to.

Among the capabilities that Gilgamesh's incarnation as an Archer had denied him was the sublime awareness of the World that—for vessels belonging to other Classes—would form the Noble Phantasm Sha Naqba Imuru. While not wholly lost to him, that superhuman comprehension of his kingdom and the flow of events within and around it was now greatly diminished, such that what had once been a voice as clear as if spoken before him was now ten thousand whispers on the verge of utter degraded sense, which the feeble sight of Masters in a Grail War would not even recognize as a Skill unless he actively invoked it in front of them, was yet enough to allow the King to see through the common tricks and deceptions of the gods and their servants when they intruded upon his presence. Beyond that, he was as blind to the movements of the divine as modern men.

This was an ill state of affairs for one who ever had the eyes of the gods upon him, yet did not call them friend, and it had forced him to draw more of his treasures from the Gate for his and his ally's use, that they might quietly ward off the attention of those on high.

Much as it galled him to hide in this manner, Gilgamesh knew that it must be done. Striking openly against the Powers and their agents would not end well. Oh, their common patsies and mortal dupes were no threat, but in dealing with those, the King would unavoidably reveal himself—and if there was anything that could cause a Divine Spirit to manifest on the world in this benighted age, non-interference agreements or no, it would be the continued presence of the King that had come so close to breaking their dominion over Mankind forever, so long ago.

That was a confrontation Gilgamesh simply could not countenance in his current state. The bodies of Servants had never been intended to contest with true gods, and even with his golden armor, he was too vulnerable in too many ways for the outcome of such a meeting to favor him.

He may have disliked the gods, but the last time he had dismissed their power, it cost him Enkidu. He would not make that error again.

But what was to be done, then?

The King had pondered this much during his wanderings over the last half a decade, and his conclusions had ever and almost inescapably spiraled back to that sorry cup.

Imperfect and limited as it was, the Fuyuki Grail did hold the capacity to grant a single wish. Simply purging the Earth of the touch of all things demonic or divine was assuredly beyond its scope; the task was just too far-reaching and affected too many beings of too many different kinds to be feasible. Destroying all demons of a single species on the planet might be possible, though the King suspected that the strongest and best-protected specimens might yet survive such a cleansing. Affecting the agents of the gods would be trickier, thanks to the favor and protections they enjoyed; most likely, the Grail could cut off any existing connections between Earth and the Divine Realms in an area the size of a modest country, but that would do nothing to prevent them from being re-established after the fact.

Directly affecting the gods themselves in any meaningful fashion was likely altogether impossible. If a single god were to manifest in Fuyuki City, the Grail might possibly be leveraged to cast it out, but the King would not have cared to wager on the outcome. And even if it did succeed, destruction of an avatar was a temporary inconvenience for most deities, whereas the Grail would exhaust its power in the doing, and be utterly vulnerable to the inevitable counter-stroke.

But if the Grail could not be used against the gods directly, that yet left indirect uses, and one in particular had been teasing at the King's thoughts for some time.

The King of Conquerors had sought the Grail for the purpose of reincarnation into the modern world, that he might begin a new global conquest. It was an amusing notion from an amusing man, and it held potential—as it should, coming from one that the true King had deemed worthy to die upon Ea. It was not Gilgamesh's way to offer a second tribute to a fallen foe, but neither was it a mark of a good ruler to pass up a useful idea just because of the source.

More to the point, Gilgamesh could see no other path that might grant him the power he needed to secure his realm.

For a time, the King sat there, lost in his musings and the rejuvenating drink. Then, abruptly, he raised his glass in a toast.

"Hail, Ozymandias," he announced. "I have returned."

"Hail, Gilgamesh," the man who had just entered his quarters replied. "Welcome back."

Other incarnations of the Pharoah so boldly proclaimed as King of Kings would not have been dissimilar to the King of Heroes: youthful and strong; possessed of unearthly good looks and a proud demeanor; and clad in gold and the very finest and most eye-catching of modern clothes. The face now worn by Ramesses the Second was older than that, belonging to a man of middling years, with lines about the eyes and grey creeping in among hair that had once been as black as the soil of the Nile. But if his youth had faded, his strength, pride, and handsomeness had not been diminished by time, only tested and tempered. His clothes were still of the best materials, but the style was now that of a high-class businessman or politician, rather than the bored young man of means that Gilgamesh appeared to be.

The still-present manservant presented his employer with a glass of the spiritually-charged drink, which was accepted with a nod.

"So," Ramesses inquired, as he settled into another seat. "How was your hunt?"

OOC: I was about a thousand words into writing the Willow Omake when Gilgamesh just strolled into my brain with one of his stolen bottles of wine, looked at what I was doing, and then scoffed, "A spiteful child preceding the King? Ridiculous. Scribe, attend me."

And then he just would not shut up, until I finally managed to throw more booze and Ramesses at him. Of course, that immediately threatened to become a Drinking Party of the Kings, but as much fun as that sounded—can you imagine what Iskander's Banquet must have turned out like, with the likes of Ozymandias and Dracula added to it?—I figured I'd better get out of that headspace while the getting was good, before I ended up writing a whole novella about it.

---

Omake- Like The Justice League, But Smaller.

"Are you ready to go back to school next week, Zelda?"

Zelda glanced up at her mother,then looked away sullenly.

"I don't wanna! School is boring!"

The seven year-old's mother sighed softly and shook her head.
"I'm sure you'll grow to enjoy it. Perhaps if you try making some friends you'll be happy?"

Zelda looked back at her, outrage written upon her face.

"I have friends! Lots of them! There's Kokoa, Yumiko, Cecillia, Karin, Yuzu, Mio, Miu,-"

"-All of whom live very far away and can't be visited without either a plane trip or your brother's magic. You need to make friends that you can go see every day."

Zelda's look of outrage became one of utter frustration, the kind familiar to all children with parents who think they know best. Eventually she stomped away, hand on her chest.

---

In her room, Zelda quickly shut the door and examined the Locket hanging down from her neck that had started pulsing mid-conversation. It just went to show how wrong her mom was! She saw her friends all the time...even if she wasn't supposed to be talking about it. There were rules to this sort of thing after all. Speaking of which...

"Viridian Gateway Powers Activate!" she whisper-shouted, before activating the locket on her chest.
A large whoosh echoed as the ground disappeared beneath her and she fell into the green void between realities. Her big brother had enchanted her locket so she could teleport to any of the matching lockets her friends had. Sadly, it only worked if she went to them; he'd said something about how she had a natural talent for bypassing...some long, fancy word she couldn't remember. Oh hey, there was her green friend!

"Hello [Fighting {Visiting (Have |Kick Butt!| Fun!) Friends?} Evil?] again!"

Zelda nodded and waved, as she zoomed through nonexistent space. She didn't have long before reaching her destination, so she triggered the second part of her locket's powers. Magic twisted and warped her appearance, turning her hair blonder, shifting her clothes until they resembled the outfit of a woman with the same name she'd seen many years ago, and causing a wand with a small crystal inside to drop into her hand.

With one last pulse of energy, she reappeared in normal space on a normal suburban street. Well, normal except for the scary monster, the screaming boy, and the other Magical Girl standing between them; obviously posing and talking to buy time for everyone to arrive.

"-I, Magical Martial Artist 'Trouble Sweeper', will see you defeated by the powers of Justice, Gratitude and Friendship! At my side are my fellow guardians of righteousness-"

Ah, right. As the first to arrive, that was her cue. Zelda stepped forward and struck a fighting pose like she'd seen her brother do a million times.
"Definitely a Magical Princess, 'Viridian Gateway' has arrived! I'm here to kick butt and make people smile, and I'm all out of...um...butt!"

Midway through her speech, flashes of green light heralded the arrival of three more friends. A girl with fox ears and a bushy tail was next to speak.
"Unique Mahou Shoujo 'Coolest Fox' is here!"
Zelda glanced over at the speaker and wracked her memory. 'Smartest, Trickiest, Coolest'-Ah, so that meant that Miu had been the one to steal the Transformation Locket this week.

Beside her, one human girl shifted into an incredibly complicated series of poses before pausing.
"Friendly Mahou Shoujo Precure 'Spirit Archer' is ready to help!"

Zelda tried not to frown as she noticed the extra addition slipped into her friend's speech. This wasn't a cartoon!

...
"Egyptian Magical Pharaoh-Princess, ' ', is here to fix the world!" shouted a darker-skinned girl.

...On second thought, Spirit Archer was fine. Nebettawy couldn't even decide which language she wanted to use.

Another flash heralded the second last member of the team.
"Determined Superheroine, Destiny Breaker is ready to kick butt!"

There was a pause as everyone waited for the last flash of light to appear. The demonic monstosity opposing them let out a polite cough. Destiny Breaker looked around for a moment then quietly mumbled "She should be along soon. Um, I think."

After a wait long enough that Zelda was beginning to worry that the Suggestion magic discouraging monsters from attacking while speeches were going would time out, a final flash of green light occured. The new arrival was much taller than everyone else, and didn't look particularly enthused to be there.

"Impatient Sorceress Beryl, yada yada."

The demonic entity opposing them took the opportunity to speak up.
"Well then, it is only appropriate that I introduce myself, so that you may all tremble in fear and rue the da-OH GODS BELOW MY LEG! MY LEG! AAAGHK, IT HURTS SO MUCH! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT MID-SPEECH? AAGH!"

Zelda glared at Beryl, who had the guts to yawn back.

"Look, can you just do your thing already? I have places to be today."

Grumbling quietly, Zelda raised her Gratitude Crystal Blaster and prepared to exorcise the monster. Cecilia's sister was not going to be getting invited along next time.

"GRATITUDE EXORCISM RAINBOW AWESOMENESS BEAM!"

Such was the life of a Magical Girl.

---

"Hey Archer."

"Hello sorcerer. Looking for some last minute advice before the war starts?"

"Actually no, we had an interesting idea we wanted to try out. Ambrose thinks it'll give us an advantage for the war."

"I regret this already."

"No no, it's brilliant. Servants can be summoned to more than one class right?"

"Yes, most heroic spirits qualify for more than one. Why?"

"And it should be possible for different masters to summon different versions of the same spirit in a single war right?"

"In theory, if you could find a catalyst that resonated strongly enough with only one person's legend. But it would be almost impossible for something to only link to a single legend. You would probably end up summoning other people who were associated with them."

"And you do know who Altria is right?"

"Since I met her ye... You are absolutely insane sorcerer. "

"But?"

"But this isn't a timeline that I care about, so let's see what happens."

---

Vampires Terrorize a Deathworld, or, The Shuzen Family's Misadventures in Hyrule - A Photo Diary

[The entire family of living vampires stands, grinning, inside a diagram on the floor of a triforce inscribed in a runed circle. They're wearing durable clothes and carrying stuffed backpacks, and various amulets and runed bracelets are in view. Alex waits outside the circle.]

Gyokuro: Thank you again for the transportation and the amulets, Alex. Translation spells are so much nicer than interpreters, and we wouldn't have been able to consider a vacation at all without the protective enchantments.

Alex: Happy to help, ma'am.

Kokoa: *vibrates with excitement*

[Darkly forbidding trees, thick mist, and hasty, almost panicked composition result in a confused view of what might charitably by called a fight. The Shuzen family stands in a circle, facing outward with variously martial stances. Grey blurs depart with haste in every direction, some willingly, others clearly assisted - the common wolfos, after all, is not known to fly under its own power.]

Kahlua: I'd say that I can't believe that you managed to drop us into the middle of a pack of wolfos, but I was honestly almost expecting something like it to happen.

Alex: I've long since given up trying to fight it. Sorry, everyone.

Akasha: Don't worry about it, Alex. It was a perfectly enjoyable start to our vacation.

Kokoa: *can't contain herself any more* Yes! That one! *points gleefully at the flying blur nearest to herself in the picture* I did that one!

Gyokuro: *ruffles her hair proudly* Yes, and a wonderful hit it was.

Kokoa: *squees*

[A faintly-mortified Navi greets Issa and Gyokuro while Akasha checks over the girls, who are chattering excitedly. Kokoa poses dramatically, reenacting her part in the altercation that, judging by a crumpled pile of fur barely visible in the shadows in the background, finished only seconds ago.]

Briar: Going to be honest, I actually blame Mom for this one.

Alex: Even with the Lost Woods interfering, I should have landed them *inside* her Fountain, not on her doorstep.

Briar: Yeah, but it's her fault that her welcome mat was made of angry wolfos.

[Tiny fairies are busily braiding the girls' hair as they sit around Robin's forge, watching a distorted Akasha brandish a giant, familiarly blue-hilted sword with a critical eye and disproportionately long limbs. The forge is cluttered with other parts, ranging from green pieces of armor to shining silver servomechanisms. Robin himself stands across from Akasha, watching and listening intently.]

Akasha: I never imagined I'd end up modeling for a half-complete fairy death machine so they could make sure its sword's balance was right before they'd gotten the machine itself working well enough to test.

Kahlua: Alex is good at making that kind of thing happen.

Gyokuro: Before you ask, I did make sure to study its internals. When it inevitably ends up rampaging out of control here on Earth it shouldn't be hard for me to put down.

Akasha: It might take some effort, though. It's shaping up to be rather more dangerous than the one Issa fought.

[In the middle of Hyrule Field, Gyokuro fist-pumps victoriously while Akasha fake-grumpily digs in her purse. Issa is bent double with laughter, and Kahlua is giggling hard enough that she can barely keep hold of the basket of rocks. Akua hefts a rock of her own, casting a considering gaze out at a band of bokoblins in the distance that's fleeing, screaming, from an enraged Hinox.]

Akua: I still can't believe how bad that thing tasted.

Akasha: I've had worse before, but only barely.

Moka: *looking faintly ill*

Kahlua: I can't believe that you all actually *ate* it. It smelled like death and only got worse when you cooked it. The ground near that firepit will be barren for generations.

Briar: You... tried eating Hinox.

Issa: Who am I to argue with tradition? *shrugs artfully* We were the first vampires to kill one. It was our duty to find out how edible it was.

Kokoa: *eyes him with suspicion* You and Mom just wanted to gross everyone out.

Gyokuro: I think that I prefer Kokoa's interpretation, dearest. I was quite impressed when you managed to go back for thirds.

[Kokoa teeters precariously under the lopsided mass of a savage, hooked blade, moments away from bringing it down on a magnificently seared roast that's almost as big as she is. The other girls set up a massive tent while Akasha absentmindedly tends a pot over the campfire and directs. Issa and Gyokuro, in the background, are skinning a distinctive purple-striped silver pelt off of a colossal hoofed carcass. The lynel's horned, severed head hangs by a rope from a nearby tree.]

Issa: This one, on the other hand, was worth the trip all by itself.

Akasha: It put up an amazing fight *and* tasted heavenly afterward. It took all three of us together to put it down safely and then we ate like kings for two days.

Alex: That's lynels for you. They're up there with darknuts for scariness. Though I'd have thought that the meat would be inedibly gamy; the only use I know of is as an alchemical reagent. Vampire taste buds?

Kahlua: Vampire taste buds. *grins toothily*

Gyokuro: *gleeful satisfaction* To top it all off, the pelt made a set of coats that will make our girls the envy of the school even before people realize they can be worn into fights.

Issa: *smiles hugely* Only the most fashionable armor for my little princesses.

Kokoa: Daaaaaaaad! *embarrassed pout*

[A family portrait, the Shuzens gathered on a stone platform and smiling for the camera while the Desert Colossus looms forebodingly in the background. The women of the family show off a rainbow of traditional Gerudo garb, blood-red accents tying the colorful assemblage together. Issa's bare-chested, golden-hued armor, on the other hand, is Gerudo fashion in the same way that Star Wars is a historical documentary.]

Briar: *chokes*

Alex: And, I guess, speaking of fashionable armor…?

Briar: *coughing*

Kokoa: Are you okay, Briar?

Briar: Yes! Just fine! *cough* Very traditional! *cough*

Kahlua: They didn't have any idea how good our hearing was. Listening to them fake up the most touristy armor they could was hilarious.

Akasha: And Gerudo men being less martially inclined apparently didn't mean the women couldn't make a man look good in armor. Right, Gyo?

Gyokuro: Oh *yes*.

Briar: *gives up and starts giggling*

Issa: *carefully ignoring his wives' predatory intent* It's surprisingly comfortable, too. I almost regret that I won't be able to wear it next time business takes me to a hotter climate. It's too good to risk losing if there's any unpleasantness.

Moka: *glaring at her parents as if they've turned into walking masses of cooties*

Gyokuro: Although, can you imagine the look on Arthur's face if you showed up to a fight in that outfit?

[Red dust puffs into the air around Kahlua's feet and a mangled dodongo sails away from her in a graceful arc, headed straight for a cluster of boulders further up the mountainside. Moka covers her back, gleefully tearing a tektite limb from limb. A distinctly goron-looking rock cowers between them, hiding from the small horde of monsters gathering to investigate the ruckus.]

Alex: Getting some casual heroism in on your vacation, I see?

Kahlua: *shiftily* Less heroism, more greed.

Briar: Ahhhh, gem hunting, I see. *slyly* Found anything good?

Kahlua: You might say that...

Gyokuro: You might also say that flight, vampire eyesight, and the ability to go claw-to-tooth with the mountain's monsters almost felt like cheating.

[Hyrule Castle's gardens are beautiful, architecture and foliage elegantly framing a small patio and its meeting space. Akasha and Link are frozen halfway through a respectful handshake, identical expressions of surprise on their faces. A younger, red-haired Zelda expresses surprised confusion as Issa joins his daughters in a mass facepalm. And an excited Gyokuro stands tall, arm outstretched and finger pointed challengingly at an older, golden-haired Zelda, whose eyes are wide - and her hands halfway up and forming defensive signs - as she rounds a shrub to join the meeting.]

Issa: We *told* you she wasn't going to be the one you fought in the Ring.

Gyokuro: *grumbling* The wards were powerful, I was being polite, and she felt like she might have been concealing her true power.

Akasha: And that was supposed to be a formal reception.

Gyokuro: You know as well as I do that there wasn't any risk of them reacting badly. An exaggerated mistake eased tensions and let us bring up the Ring of Trials, which established us as allies and started building a rapport.

Akasha: *sighs* The way she immediately blamed Din for her suffering did inspire quite the kindred spirit. *grins teasingly* It was almost like she already knew you, Alex.

Alex: *winces*

Kokoa: Is this about the thing in his hand that felt like Alex does when he powers up and that we weren't allowed to talk about?

Alex: *grimacing* Not… exactly. And thanks for not talking about it. I'd really prefer that that didn't become common knowledge. *nods gratefully at the adults*

Akasha: Don't worry about it; we assumed there was something going on when you declined to join us for the trip.

Alex: *nods*

Alex: To change the subject abruptly, do you mind if I ask how the rest of the meeting went?

Akasha: Excellently, actually. We were able to negotiate a lucrative trade deal given the parameters you and your young business partner provided.

Gyokuro: In particular, we were able to bring a number of more exotic offerings to the table that were inaccessible to Ms. Chase due to her age and her family's uninvolvement with the Moonlit World.

Akasha: That's all business talk, though, which we can save for later. Shall we continue?

Alex: Sounds good.

[A complex, multi-layered wooden diorama occupies the vast majority of the room, painted trees and bushes concealing a maze of tiny mechanical tracks. Red crystal shards glitter throughout the room, hanging in the air and pinging off the walls and ceiling, as Akua follows through on a powerful throw. The game operator stares in shock at the ignored superfluous slingshot on the podium in front of Akua. The rest of the vampires are cheering and pointing, clearly hoping that she'll win the piece of heart hanging enticingly behind the operator.]

Kahlua: I almost feel bad for him. He clearly hadn't designed the game with vampires in mind.

Akasha: On the other hand, Hyrule hosts a number of races that are stronger, faster, or more graceful than humans. Or Hylians, I suppose. And the game was tuned for martial adepts like, presumably, the knights. I was still quite surprised to see games like that in operation, though.

Alex: ...Games, plural?

Akua: *evil grin* We made perfect scores at two of those shooting galleries and one game that used these strange self-propelled explosive crawlers, all got master-class scores at the Gerudo archery range, and tore through a small dungeon that they maintained as a training ground.

Issa: We decided that Gyokuro deserved the heart container we assembled. *smiles happily*

Gyokuro: *leans over to accept a small hug*

[Gyokuro, Issa, and Akasha hold a huddled conversation in the middle of a distinctive blue-tiled room. Kokoa, bored and angry, sits on a small treasure chest and bangs half-heartedly on a nearby wall with an ancient, rusty sword, her uncomfortable choice of seat explained by a thin layer of water on the floor. Kahlua points at a piece of paper that Akua holds as they and Moka compare it to something they see through a doorway opposite the chest, the impenetrably heavy dungeon door hanging open while they discuss.]

Briar: …*How*.

Gyokuro: None of us know either.

Akasha: We were enjoying the fishing and going scuba-diving in Zora's Domain - thank you yet again for that, by the way. Then we decided to spend a day floating down the river to see Lake Hylia, and the next thing we know we're lost in a dungeon.

Briar: You got lost in the *Water Temple*.

Kokoa: It was boring! There weren't even any really strong monsters. We just walked in circles for six hours.

Kahlua: And solved the occasional puzzle. I remembered you complaining about the Hylian puzzle-locks before. I will never doubt you again.

Alex: Never mind how you got in, how did you get *out*? The Water Temple is legendary.

Briar: People say that it reconfigures itself to make maps useless.

Alex: It's known to have inhabited at least three different places in Hyrule throughout history.

Briar: Mom said that she and her Link got so bored while dealing with it that they took a break in the middle to start a trading business and get rich.

Alex: And… you were only lost there for six hours?

Moka: *proudly* Mom got super angry and smashed holes in walls until she found the ocean.

Akasha: *cough* Not my greatest demonstration of intellectual prowess.

Alex: The ocean.

Gyokuro: *nods* We were surprised too. The entire dungeon had been pure water, some of the cleanest we'd ever been forced to deal with, then she gets through the last wall and it's mud and saltwater everywhere.

Briar: You all got out safely, though, no injuries or unpleasantness?

Issa: We did. The enchantment of Protection from Water served perfectly, and we'd recently spent time swimming at Zora's Domain so everyone was able to get to the surface easily.

Alex: Glad to hear it.

[Navi, Robin, Summer, and a gaggle of indistinct smaller fairies cluster around the Shuzens as they pose on the pedestal in front of Navi's fountain, smiling, for a last picture in Hyrule.]

Alex: Hold on, who was taking all these pictures?

Merlot: *squeak!*

Kahlua: She is the best photographer.

---

You know, there is another option there.

Flinching at the suddenly blinding sun you contemplated the arena of the seventh trial. The sight of a circular stone dias perhaps fifty feet across sitting in the middle of a vast empty desert that stretches out to the horizon does not fill you with joy. Despite the previous challenges being the Chosen of Wisdom and the Chosen of Courage, and part of you was still grumbling about her managing to beat Link, you had held out hope that the pattern wouldn't be finished. Still, you supposed the Goddesses must think you can handle it.
Have some faith kid.
Bringing all of your mental and spiritual defenses to bear, plus a brief prayer to the Goddesses, you brace yourself and look down at the dark figure standing in the center of the circle steeling your mind against...

That's not Ganon.

Oh he could certainly pass for Ganon, if someone didn't know him. But you know Ganon better than any other mortal being ever has, and that is definitely not Ganon.

He's probably Gerudo. Red hair and tanned skin isn't completely uncommon, but that particular shade of golden eyes is unique to Gerudo in your experience. He certainly looks large enough to be Ganon. At easily seven feet tall he towers over Akasha and is broad enough at the shoulder that if the sun wasn't directly overhead them she could probably comfortably stand in his shadow to protect herself from it. But even so, he's not big enough. Ganon had massive muscles on his frame from using a greatsword and heavy armor in battle. This man has the whipcord muscle you associate with martial artists and the only visible weapon on his robe clad frame is a fairly plain looking hylian style bastard sword sheathed across his back.

Blinking with confusion you ignore Briar's sudden inexplicable giggling with long practiced ease and glance over to Navi in the hope that she recognizes the man. But she's just nodding with a look of satisfaction on her face, as if confirming something she already expected. Even more confusingly several other people in the crowd seem to know exactly what is going on and are reacting in some very strange ways.
Really?
Akkiko is laughing and shouting something about "good looking grandkids". The Drake family is concentrating harder than usual on the fight, with even Ambrose abandoning his usual facade of indifference and actually leaning forward on the edge of his seat. Gyokuro is grinning about something while Issa glares at the man as if personally offended by him. And Emiko's tail and ears have once more made an appearance while the girl herself blushes bright red.
I guess so.
Finishing your glance across the audience you look back to the arena and try to think what could cause such a thing. The man must be one of the Gerudo Kings, but why would that cause those kinds of reactions, and in any case you're very sure that Ganon was the only one even close to the level of power needed to be in this fight. So who could that possibly be?

Oh. Right. Duh.
There it is.
In your defense, you've never really had cause to seriously consider what you would look like as an adult.
That's always one of the biggest problems with mortals. They always think so linearly.
CHOSEN OF POWER: ALEXANDER HARRIS

At least this should hopefully be a good fight.

---

SIXTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #2
WILLOW ROSENBERG

Being the smartest kid in your class wasn't easy as it might look from the outside.

It wasn't just a matter of studying and working enough to get the highest mark on a test or a project; it was about studying and working enough to get the highest mark on every test and project. You had to answer all the questions, get the correct answers for each of them, and show all of your work in the process—and then you had to go back and check everything, just to be sure.

That was the Right Way To Do Things, and it was hard.

Even on a test that the teachers gave you an entire class to finish, it wasn't uncommon for the bell to ring before you could do more than review maybe half of your answers. Things only got more difficult when you were taking a pop quiz, or one of those math exercises where you only had one minute to answer twenty questions.

And homework assignments? Extracurricular projects? Oh, boy.

Sure, you had a lot more time to read the material, do the work, check it over, and make your corrections, but you also had a lot more time to think about what you might have done wrong—or, if not wrong, then at least not as good as it could be.

And that way lay nervous re-reads and rewrites, rewrites of rewrites, and not sleeping well, so that the next day you were all tired and fuzzy-headed and not doing your best, meaning you either lost a whole day that you could have spent doing work and made the rest of the weekend that much worse, or else you had to hand in a bad report that got an A or an A– or even a B+ instead of an A+, and that went on your report card and in your permanent file, so your perfect record was ruined forever…

But the worst thing about being the smartest kid in your class, Willow Rosenberg reflected, was when you put in all that time and effort to do everything the Right Way, and then somebody else came along who wasn't doing things the Right Way—and was, in fact, doing a lot of things wrong—but still got marks just as good as yours, when they weren't better.

And it was the absolute worst thing when that "somebody else" was Alex Harris.

It had been bad enough when he was "only" getting good marks, while hanging out with the Worst Girl Ever (also known as Cordelia Chase) and being better at sports than just about everybody in their year. It wasn't fair that somebody got to be smart, popular, and athletic all at once, but Willow was grown-up enough to admit (even if she kind of didn't want to) that it also wasn't fair to blame Alex for being born smart or strong or not-bad-looking. Nobody got to choose that sort of thing for themselves, only how hard they worked at making the most of what they already had. And if Alex put the same kind of effort into playing sports and hanging out with people that he did in studying…

Well, it still wasn't fair to everybody else, but it wouldn't exactly have been fair to him if he did all that work and didn't get better.

If that were the end of things, Willow could have gotten over it. Eventually. Probably.

…mostly.

But then Alex Harris went and proved that he was a bully, a cheater, a delinquent, and just plain Not A Good Person.

And maybe that sounded harsh, but what other words were there for somebody who had an advantage that nobody else had, and used it to get his own way all the time?

Someone who'd brought their dog to school every day for a year and not only never got in trouble for it, even though it was against all the rules, but had the teachers just ignoring the big, slobbery, so-ugly-that-he's-kind-of-cute pooch sitting in the aisle next to his desk.

Someone who skipped class on his birthday—two years in a row, now!—and pulled his friends out of class with him to go to a party, but didn't get into trouble for that, either.

Someone who hit people and not only didn't get in trouble for it like everybody knew you should—because hitting other kids was wrong, all of Mom and Dad's books and all the teachers said so, and it was even more wrong when you did it for fun—but had all the adults going on about how he was a celebrity and an example that all the other kids should try to be more like.

Someone who must have been using magic to break the rules, because she knew he could do magic, and there was no other reasonable explanation for how he kept getting away with everything.

…and that right there annoyed her almost as much as all the rest of it; the thought that magic was the reasonable explanation for anything.

Three hundred years of scientific progress, poof, up in smoke. Forget physics, chemistry, and biology, the Answer was Actually Magic All Along. Arrgh.

But observation was part of the Scientific Method—she'd looked it up several times to remind herself—and Willow knew what she'd seen that day on the beach, when Alex Harris turned himself into a monkey in front of three of his friends and classmates, and then stole Larry Blaisdell's burger while his brain was blowing a fuse.

On a side note, Willow didn't blame Larry for his reaction. She'd kind of had a headache at the time herself.

Not so much of one that she didn't pay attention as Cordelia and Larry–

But not Amy, who'd apparently already known that magic was real and that Alex could do it, why didn't she ever TELL me magic was real, I thought we were FRIENDS!

–went through a rough version of experimentation as Alex proved his magic was the real thing, and not a big trick he was playing on them.

Willow would have liked to stay to the end, to see and hear as much as possible, but between shock and confusion at what she was seeing, the revelation that her best friend in the world was keeping secrets from her, but NOT keeping them from Alex Harris, and a bubbling-up sense of indignation that somebody who was already good at so much else got to have magic on top of that, she'd had to make herself scarce before she blew what cover those rocks had afforded her.

She'd hoped to go back later, to take samples of the sand and rocks where Alex had been breaking the known laws of physics over his knee and try to do some tests of her own, but that hadn't really worked out. Alex and his dog had come running up the beach not long afterwards, the latter with his nose to the trail of her footprints and the former with such a Scary Look on his face that any thought of sneaking back to that little out-of-the-way corner of the beach while Alex was still lurking around—and that Look made it really, really easy for words like "lurking," "stalking," and "ambush" to come to mind!—flew right out of Willow's head.

She still went back the next day, but the tide had been in and out by then, and what samples she got were just so much beach debris: sand; some bits of rock; scrapings of lichen; and a rather nice seashell. Her keen, seven-year-old investigative mind could find nothing magical about any of it, except for the way the shell gleamed when she held it up to the light and turned it back and froth, and Willow was fairly sure that was just regular old optics.

Pretty, but not the kind of magic she was looking for.

The notebook she'd gotten out to record the observations of her experiments had looked so lonely and empty, Willow promptly filled it up with everything she could remember seeing—only in pencil, so she could go back and make edits after thinking it over, sorting out what she'd definitely seen, what she'd only probably seen, and what she was remembering wrong.

And then she'd started writing down questions and theories about all of it.

It was right about the time she was considering the implications of Alex Harris being able to turn himself into a monkey and back again that Willow was struck by a thought.

She couldn't think of a lot of situations where turning into a monkey would be terribly helpful, outside of urgently needing to be able to climb a tree or blend in with a troop of monkeys for some reason, but Alex had cast a spell that did precisely that, and which made all the changes of mass, body structure, and species involved look as casual as putting on or taking off a jacket. If such a spell with so little practical use existed and was so easy to cast, then there pretty much had to be spells for making people smarter, stronger, and better-looking than they normally were.

Because people always wanted to be smarter, stronger, and better-looking.

So. What if Alex Harris wasn't smart, strong, and not-bad-looking in addition to having magic, but because he had magic?

That thought nagged at Willow for weeks, as she tried to find sources that could prove or disprove it.

For once, searching the Internet wasn't helpful. Magic was mentioned in so many different places online—from webpages and message boards to folder menus and text chat—that even after ruling out the obvious made-up stuff like people's Dungeons and Dragons campaign journals and fantasy fiction archives, there was still too much to ever read through, much less make sense of. After banging her head against a monitor for about a week, Willow was forced to admit that she just didn't have enough points of reference yet to tell what was real and what was fake.

Amy could probably have told her in a minute, but she wasn't exactly feeling a lot of trust towards her friend just then. Less, towards Alex Harris.

Ordinary bullies and cheaters never took it well when you told them to stop. Why would a magical one take it any better?

Searching offline had been a little better. She'd checked the school library and the town library, gotten access to the university library with some help from her mother, and finally went through all the local bookstores, as well as a bunch of not-just-book stores.

It had taken forever to finish. The school library was small, but Willow could only visit it for the second half of the lunch hour, after school on days when the librarian was in a good mood and didn't have somewhere else to be, and during the rare free period. The public library was a lot bigger, and wasn't open at night or on Sundays, while the university library was just plain huge. And of course, she wasn't the only person looking for books; a lot of the really interesting-sounding titles seemed to be checked out almost constantly, down to the last copy.

The stores had been their own brand of annoying. If it wasn't a suspicious clerk behind the check-out counter, glaring at her for handling the merchandise and not actually buying anything, it was a "helpful" attendant who kept trying to steer her away from books that were "above her level," "really boring, with no pictures at all," or "not suitable for children." That wasn't counting the shops where she got chased out because the owner didn't like kids, or that were honestly just so creepy that she couldn't muster the nerve to stay.

Frogs. In jars. Brrr.

And then summer rolled around, and not just the schools but the whole town seemed to shut down for a couple of months, putting all that research on hold until people got back from their vacations.

More than once, Willow gave up. Not just in those first few weeks turned months, but over the many weeks and months that followed, when she hadn't found anything, or the books were being more unhelpful than usual, and it felt like the magical secrets that she just knew were out there were being meanie-heads, hiding just out of sight around the corner and laughing at her.

It was enough to make a girl cry, and then get angry about crying, and then give the whole thing up as a bad idea.

At least until dreams of big, scary, friend-stealing boys turning into monkeys chased her back to it, trying to find answers.

Eventually, in free time scrounged around going to school, doing homework, and more entertaining things that kept her from going coo-coo, Willow started to find things.

Her first discovery—beyond words on a page or a screen that could have been true, false, or a mix of the two—had been a pamphlet, folded up and tucked out of sight behind a row of fantasy novels in the public library. It was some kind of announcement about forming a Wiccan reading group, which got Willow's hopes up for all of three seconds before she saw that it was dated to over three years ago.

There wasn't any reading group like that at the library now, and Willow couldn't remember ever seeing anybody dressed like a witch or talking about magic here before, so it must never have formed, or else broken up already. But she kept the paper all the same, and added "Wiccan stuff" to her List of Things To Look For.

That had brought her to a store run by a woman who wore a fluffy sweater in the same shade of bright pink as Willow's old jammies, and had on way too much sparkly jewelry—earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, the whole nine yards. Dark brown roots were showing in her bleached-blonde hair, she spoke in a high-pitched, cheerful sort of voice that honestly sounded totally fake, and she never stopped smiling.

Willow had done her best to ignore the weirdness, because the woman at least didn't carry pickled frogs—brrr—and there had been some really interesting looking titles for sale.

Wicca For Beginners.

Your First Book of Shadows.

The Goddess and You.

Her allowance had only been enough to pay for one, and to Willow's disappointment, Wicca For Beginners turned out not to be a collection of spells and potions and arcane secrets, but one of those books that said people could make their lives better if they did what it told them.

Some checking online suggested the Book of Shadows was more likely to be what Willow was looking for, but when she went back, the lady said she didn't do refunds or resales. Meanie.

Following the winter break, which her parents took her out of town for to visit relatives, Willow had returned to that store one more time, armed with most of a month's savings, the determination to get the book she wanted, and a firm, resolute expression that would tell even that silly lady that she meant business.

She found the store closed, and with an "Out of Business/For Sale" sign in the window.

Happy Hanukkah, and Merry Christmas.

Come spring, a misfiled reference book in the university library led her to a collection room, down in the fourth sub-basement—and wasn't that kind of too many basements for a university building to have? It wasn't a very big collection, maybe a dozen books spread out across three shelves of a steel cabinet with glass doors, but they were large, old books with heavy-looking covers and no titles or library tabs along the spine. What she could make out of the front covers was script that varied between spidery and kind of sharp, some of which didn't seem to be in English, and which included a couple of weird symbols.

In short, they looked very much like magic books, and Willow would have really liked if she'd been able to read them. Unfortunately, the whole collection was quite literally locked down: a big combination lock secured the glass; there were bars across it for some strange reason; and a few of the books actually seemed to have chains attaching them to their shelves. Signs above it read "Librarians Only" and "Handle With Extreme Care," and pretty much said there was no way she was getting in there before she was thirty and ancient.

As it was, she'd spent most of a year on her search and made no real progress. Lots of little hints, but no hard data. Her suspicions about Alex Harris had… not exactly gone away, but they'd cooled off. Mostly because she'd never caught him using magic again, he stopped bringing his dog to class, and as far as rumors on the playground went, for all that he was big and scary and taking karate lessons, he hadn't actually hit anyone outside of those classes.

Willow still didn't entirely trust him, but she was seriously considering just "biting the bullet"—and why was that even a saying? It had to be bad for your teeth—telling Amy that she knew about magic and Alex having magic, and asking for her help making it make sense.

Then Alex skipped school for a week and came back the Martial Arts Champion of the World, kicking off all the celebrity talk. Somebody had gotten their hands on a set of tapes from that tournament, and copies had circulated around the school, shared out between friends, teammates, cliques, and classmates.

Willow managed to get her hands on one set, on the off-chance there was some evidence of magic—there wasn't—but also because some part of her was curious about what Alex Harris had done.

She frowned as she watched him fight a pretty normal looking boy who was smaller than him.

She blinked in surprise to see him enter the ring with a boy even bigger than he was, and then frowned in renewed worry as he beat that guy, too, and made it look kind of easy.

She scowled as Alex Harris beat up not one, not two, but three girls, all of them a lot smaller than he was.

And all of this, while hundreds or even thousands of people cheered.

She went to Amy, and carefully asked if she'd seen the tapes, and if so, what she thought about them.

Amy had seen the tapes, and said that she thought it was kind of cool, but not really her thing. She was practicing martial arts for fitness and self-defense reasons, and because about half of her friends were learning, not because she wanted to go out and kick people so hard their parents felt it.

She said it like it was funny.

Willow smiled along, changed the topic, and buried any thoughts of going to Amy for help.

It was about a month later that her relentless search finally turned up a genuine book of magic spells.

She knew it was the real thing, because the guy running the shop had opened it up, read some of the words off one of the pages, and made a magic light appear.

It wasn't a bright flash or the lights in the store going up because somebody turned a hidden dial. It was a sparkly little ball of light that hovered in mid-air—how did it do that?—moved around to wherever the man pointed—how did it do that?—and wasn't hanging off of any invisible wire.

That was the book she wanted.

She hadn't gotten it.

The clerk—dark-haired, dark-eyed, and sort of pale, with a pointy beard like Jafar from the Aladdin movie, and tattoos that peeked out from beneath his collar and cuffs; all in all, kind of scary looking, but honestly pretty nice once she got past his appearance and started talking to him—had cast a different spell that he said revealed magic, including how much talent for magic somebody in the area of effect had, if any.

When he aimed the spell at the stuff in the shop, a lot of it didn't glow, but sort of shimmered; those were all things that weren't really magic on their own, but could be used to make magic. Components and reagents, he called them.

A few things, including all the necklaces in one case and a miniature totem pole sort of thing hanging on the wall behind the counter, glowed about as bright as candles. Those were actually magical, basically spells in solid form—some wearable, others not so much. They were also expensive, the price-tags asking for anywhere from fifty to five hundred dollars.

Then, after taking off a necklace he'd had tucked under his shirt, the clerk turned the spell on himself. He glowed a bit brighter.

Finally, after putting his necklace back on and then asking permission, the clerk shifted the spell to affect Willow.

She didn't glow.

The shopkeeper had assured her that this didn't mean she couldn't use magic at all, only that she couldn't use it right now. He said that this was normal, and that most humans didn't have any more magic than Willow did. Instead, they had to earn it by making agreements with beings that did have magic, that had enough of it to spare for others to use, and that were willing to trade for it.

He called them "patrons," and said that, right now, Willow didn't have a lot to trade that they'd be interested in. Not anything that would be good for her to trade, anyway.

Mr. Marks—that was his name—had sold her a different book instead, one that only cost about thirty dollars, and talked about the dangers of magic and the supernatural. For no extra cost, he'd also given her a list of websites that he said were "accurate, but not the full story," and urged her to read up on the "hidden world" she was "putting her toes in." He told her to think about what she read, and then decide if getting involved with magic was worth getting mixed up with all the risks.

Willow took her book and list of sites home.

She read.

She read a lot.

She had bad dreams about a lot of what she read, because it wasn't just about magic and the people using it—and so many different kinds of magic, too; witches were completely different from wizards, curse you J.K. Rowling for your misinformation!—it was also A Lot of Really Bad Things. Things like vampires–

Dracula was real!? Not just Vlad the Impaler with a lot of bad press, but actual vampire Dracula!?

–werewolves–

Not the friendly teenage kind that played basketball, but people with a mean and nasty disease that turned them into monsters three nights a month, and made them attack anyone they met, and other werewolves who were full-time monsters, and even if they didn't go around biting people, they sounded way scarier because of how fast and strong they were supposed to be.

–demons–

Why were they all so gross!?

–and all the fairy tale creatures, only about a thousand times more horrible!

Disney had lied to her! Why, Mickey? WHY?

And as much as she didn't want to, she thought about it for a really long time—all the rest of the summer break, in fact, which had snuck up on her while she was reading, and why did it have to be so easily to think of things being sneaky and surprising these days?

It didn't take that long to read one book and half a dozen websites, of course, even if Demons, Demons, Demons was really big and full of yuck. Instead, Willow had taken the book and those sites and started cross-checking them against all the other sites she'd been uncertain of, as well as what books she could get from the public library.

A lot of things fit.

They made sense, in a way that was really, really scary, because while this book might disagree with that webpage about who the worst vampire was—after Dracula, anyway; everybody seemed to agree that he was the Scariest Vampire Ever—they both agreed that any vampire was Bad News. Another page described fairies as invisible, kind of dumb, and basically harmless, which one old book from the library agreed with—but only for the smallest fairies. Big fairies were only invisible sometimes, they could be smart or dumb or just very, very strange, and they were never harmless—especially not the ones called "the Fair Folk," who from the way that book talked about them, didn't sound very fair at all.

Finally, when school started up again, Willow went back to Mr. Marks's store.

And she kept going back, two or three times a week for the next four months, because while Mr. Marks wouldn't sell her anything he considered dangerous for a girl her age, and she didn't always have enough money to buy the safe stuff yet, he also didn't look at her suspiciously or talk down to her like the employees in the other stores. He may have seemed a little scary at first glance, but he wasn't silly, like the lady with the pink sweater and too much jewelry—and really, Willow was starting to think that a little scary was a good thing, when it was on your side. Kind of like having a big dog to keep people off the lawn by growling and looking mean, without ever having to bite.

Not that she thought of Mr. Marks as a dog! That would have been wrong and rude and anyway he struck her as more of a cat person—not that she thought he was a cat, either!

And not that there was anything wrong with cats or dogs, or cat people or dog people!

Mostly, what Willow thought of Mr. Marks as was kind of like a teacher. As long as she was quiet when he had customers, didn't break anything, and didn't mess around with the stuff he told her was dangerous, he didn't mind her hanging around and asking questions about magic and monsters and how to be safe around them.

"Don't go out after dark," came up a lot.

Other times, the answer was, "Run away as fast as you can."

And not infrequently, it was, "Be on your best behavior ever."

When it came to magic, Mr. Marks had confirmed that yes, there were spells to make you smarter, faster, stronger, or "better" in a bunch of ways. The ones he knew of were pretty limited, though. He could make himself a lot stronger for several minutes, get a smaller boost that lasted over half an hour, or get a really small, barely-notice-it improvement that would last for hours—if he got up at six, he could make it stretch until noon-ish.

Or he could bind the spell into an item, but that got expensive. Like, thousands of dollars for something that would work all the time, and keep working until it broke—which could take a while; Willow had learned that magic items were tougher than regular ones, though they still shouldn't be handled carelessly—and hundreds even for things that only worked temporarily. And that was just for the weakest spells! The strong ones cost ten times as much, if not more!

Alex Harris didn't have that kind of money. He didn't wear jewelry, funny-smelling pouches of herbs, or any of the other things Mr. Marks showed her and said were normal for magic items. So he probably wasn't cheating that way, then.

…probably. Willow couldn't rule out the possibility that he was wearing toe-rings or had magic tattoos that could turn invisible, because those were things, too. Mr. Marks sold the former, and knew a guy in L.A. who could make the latter.

She'd asked about the monkey thing, too, and that turned out to be a little more complicated. Mr. Marks didn't know any spells that turned people into animals himself, and not just because he didn't have any real use for them—though that was one of his reasons, and the way it echoed Willow's thoughts on the matter from so many months earlier made her smile a bit from the simple satisfaction of being right.

Aside from not needing them, the main reason Mr. Marks didn't use spells like that was that he didn't know how they worked, and experimenting with magic you didn't understand was dangerous. If you couldn't describe exactly what you wanted, your patron had to fill in the blanks on their own, and some of them would do what you wanted, but others were selfish or lazy or mean and would give you the least amount of effort they could get away with, while others didn't really get people and would make the spell work in weird ways…

Basically?

You could end up as a monkey forever because somebody forgot to carry the one.

Or if they thought it was funny.

Or even because people and monkeys were both primates, and the bodiless intelligence powering the spell didn't see a big difference.

That was almost as scary as frogs.

Brrr.

That unsettling notion was still haunting Willow's thoughts when the holiday season rolled around again, and she found herself getting an unexpected present.

…okay, it was a little weird to call it a "present" when she'd paid for it herself, with a combination of saved-up allowance money and the recent addition of her Hanukkah gelt—the non-chocolate kind—but Mr. Marks had picked the book out especially for her, and if it wasn't the book of spells she'd wanted that first day she found his shop, it was still a book of real magic, instead of another book about the history of magic or a copy of Who's Who and What's That.

More than that, after all the time she'd spent in his store and how she'd reacted to his answers to her questions—and also how she'd answered questions he put to her—the tattooed shopkeeper said he believed he could trust Willow with the book, and the information inside.

Which wasn't to say he was telling her to go out and start casting spells right away. The opposite, really; he wanted her to keep coming by the store and review everything with him, so that he could make sure she had everything right before she went out and did it all for real.

"It's not really a book of spells," Mr. Marks explained. "It'd be better to say that it's a book that is a spell—one ritual, to help people with little or no natural magical talent find and call out to the patron that's best-suited to them, plus the information you need to figure out who that patron is and what they'll want from you in exchange for their help with magic."

It would take time before she could cast the spell, Mr. Marks had warned her. Months at least, maybe years. This wasn't the sort of magic you could do whenever you wanted to; there were certain days, certain hours, that various patrons favored—or didn't favor—and you had to do the ritual on one of the right ones for your patron, because otherwise you couldn't be sure who or what was answering. And there were all the other things you had to do before the ritual: exercises to build up your spiritual strength and mental focus; little-r rituals that helped to get your energy moving in ways it wasn't used to, and to clear bad things out of your system; and a sort of mystical "who are you and what do you want?" questionnaire, which was what helped you figure out who and what, of all the spirits and beings out there, you could work with.

In other words, it was the Biggest Homework Assignment Ever, and Mr. Marks was definitely a teacher now, even if this wasn't school and the results weren't ever going to go on a report card.

But that was fine. Teacher or not, school or not, this was one project Willow was determined to do the Right Way, and do better than Alex Harris.

And with no monkeys!

Or frogs!

Brrr.

OOC: This one wanders a lot, but I was trying to condense two years of what Willow's been up to when Alex and his friends weren't looking (and sometimes even when they were) into a single post, while retaining her tendency to babble. Word count alone isn't enough, although going by that, she beat out Gilgamesh by about 800 words.

I'm slightly concerned that having Willow hold a grudge against Alex and especially Amy for most of a year is too far out there to be believable for a seven year old girl, even given the circumstances: Willow is alternately shy and opinionated but exceptionally smart; Alex is the Big Scary Guy With Magic Who Beats Up Smaller Girls For Fun and Steals Friends and Classroom Rankings Because He Can; Amy is the friend who's keeping a secret from a friend who knows about it; the Moonlit World being a meanie by not showing itself when Girl Detective Rosenberg knows it's out there; and the Hellmouth doing its best to make things and people go wrong.

…and I just pictured the Hellmouth as the Abyssal version of Kancolle's Fubuki. I think that's as good a sign as any that it's time to call this one done.

---

Random idea considering magic and what we can do with it. Permanence is 10th circle, which needs CL20, aka Magic Prowess A, Summoning and Conjuration all at A. Those are currently at B++, A and B, so saying we reach that at age 11 seems reasonable. Same for the spell to teleport between planes, if that isn't covered already anyway.

Antarctica, 2002.

"There's one more thing I want to do for you guys before I leave." Alex stepped forward in his antarctic clothes set before smiling at Tiriaq.

Then he raised his hands in a dramatic gesture. "RISE."

Gained Ice Affinity D
Gained Ice Elementalism C
Gained Words of Power A+

All around them, ice walls rose in an area large enough to hold all of the Water Tribe village.

Then he began to talk in the language of ice and winter as he lowered his right hand in a slashing gesture, removing the nearby village wall to form one single defensive structure and follwoing it up by moving them to the sides, causing watchtowers to expand the existing walls.

Gained Gelian E++

"Alex...?" Sokka raised his eyebrows "Thanks, but wha...?"

Alex's hands rose again, but this time, a Resplendent Mansion rose from the ground. Five stories high and over ninety meters to the side, it filled up most of the room the new area held.
Besides the garage doors, there were two doors, one human-sized, the other twice as big.
Antennas rose from the roof, as did solar panels and massive skylights.

"I split that one in two." Alex pointed to the doors. "The left side is double height and holds apartments for yetis and other big inhabitants, the right side is normal height. Fifth level is single height and holds some greenhouses, solar power, utility rooms and roof heaters. Below that, there's apartments, offices, storage rooms, hotel rooms. Should easily hold double your village. I'd have liked to connect it to the hot spring caves, but well." He shrugged. "Geography didn't allow it. Removed these annpoying alerts whenever someone uses a door, though. It's also permanent."

A few spells later, clear ice roads connected the entries to the village as such, expanding its infrastructure.
"That's it. Until next time."

Then he teleported out, appearing in a refridgerated storage area in his own mansion. Here, he changed clothes before stepping out.

"Phew." Briar shuddered. "Home back home. But really." She shook her head. "Still think training your magical muscle is worth that much ham?"

Gained Magic Power C
Gained Mana Recovery D++

"Absolutely." He grinned. "SO worth it."

---

Omake:A Sister's Secret

"Good night, Mommy," she said as she hugged her mother.
"Good night, sweetheart"
"Could you turn my nightlight on?"
"Of course, dear. I love you."
"I love you, too, Mommy."
It still surprised her that she meant it. It would be hard not to, but that didn't make the feeling any less strange. (It feels right.)

She looked up at the illusion of the night sky, at once alien and yet achingly familiar. (So pretty.) Silently, she named all the stars she could see and many more that she could not. She closed her eyes, and sighed. It was going to be another restless night. (Briar forgot my story again.)

Alex's birthday was a lot to take in. (My birthdays aren't like this.) She knew Cordy and Larry of course, even Mister Lu, but this was the first time she had met Alex's other friends. (Briar's not a friend. She's family.) Vampires. (They made Briar's house!) Foxes. (So fuzzy I could die!) Knights. (Not dragons?!) A whole army of ghosts. (Spooky.) She wasn't even sure what Sokka was. (Baa~con!) Even Briar's mom was here. (Beautiful!) She'd heard stories but that was nothing to meeting them in person. They were an eclectic group, if she was being kind. Monsters, the lot of them, and she loved them all. Even that crazy old man with the hockey stick had come. She didn't know what he'd done that time, but she felt so much better, like a weight had been removed. (Mommy smiles more.) The nightmares weren't as bad, either. She really should thank him.

And once again she found herself marvelling at the utter absurdity that was Alex. She hadn't realized how much she depended on him until the first time she had attended daycare. The first time she had interacted with children. She shuddered. She would go mad if she had to act like that at home. If she didn't have Alex to hide behind, to make her seem normal. (He really is amazing.) He was also the only person who had ever noticed her. He even called her out on it once, called her a prodigy. It had terrified her, but even he didn't seem to realize what it meant. To be honest, she hadn't realized what it meant about him either, until today. Two serially reincarnating Heroes. (I'm named after one of them! A real princess! So cool!) The Champions of a creator trinity. (Alex is the Champion of Din.) He'd always been her hero. She hadn't realized he was a Hero, too. In hindsight it was so obvious it hurt. She wondered if their parents would ever figure it out. Do they even suspect? (Probably not.)

Grimly, she contemplated her own life. Almost three years old, she was tiny and pathetically weak. Limited. Fragile. It was hard to reconcile with how she saw herself. With what she had been before. She wasn't a good person, a realization that she still hadn't come to terms with. She'd always known that she wasn't nice, but she had always believed that her ends had justified her means, that what she had done was right. How much blood had been spilled for her arrogance? How many innocents had she brought to ruin? How many more would perish before her sins caught up with her? There were times when she wanted to tell him, to confess, to beg for his help, but she couldn't. The way he smiled at her, the way he was proud of her. Even though she didn't deserve it, she couldn't bear to lose that. It would break her. He was a Hero, and she...she was a Villain. She screwed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears. They were out there, she knew, lurking in the darkness, and she wondered if they knew. If they were watching. She wondered which side she would take in the coming conflagration. Which side Alex would take was obvious, but would she join him or would she betray him like she'd betrayed so many others? Or would she sit on the sidelines, paralyzed by indecision? By her own guilt? In the end, would it even matter?

And yet...Alex's magic lessons. She'd never taken them seriously before. True, the potion was pretty silly, (Just cooking.) but he'd shrunk her down to visit Briar's house. Why had she dismissed that? Teleportation. (GREEN!) That took real power. The tournament tapes. (Fight!) How had she not seen? Suddenly, the fog in her mind cleared and she understood. Her eyes shot open and her blood ran cold. Mental contamination. (The monsters under the bed are real!) Screwing up her courage, Zelda Harris grabbed her Altria plushy and fled for the safety of her brother's bedroom.

---

Alex glared at the temple before him and considered his options. After months of work, it was almost complete. The shining stone edifice was built into the side of an active volcano (for Din), heated and lit by a lava flow. A hot spring (for Nayru) flowed through decorative paths, fountains, and waterfalls to a central garden (for Farore) where Hylian plants and animals of every variety grew in abundance. Maintained and protected by powerful enchantments, it was a fortress that would provide refuge for the faithful even through a siege. All that remained was to finish and dedicate the chapel at the summit.

There was just one problem: He couldn't unlock the front door.

---

SIXTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #3
AZULA

Somewhere in the territorial waters claimed by the nation of Japan, there is a certain island whose existence is not known to the general population.

It is not unique in this regard. Islands, mountains, forests, fields, and even caverns and small sections of the cities of Man; there are many little pieces of the world that have been removed from the awareness of the common masses down through the centuries, some via creative map-making and bribery, others through political and military pressure, and a few via more… esoteric methods.

The reasons for which this particular island was secluded are likewise nothing unusual. Many years ago, a scion of a wealthy and powerful family happened upon a place of great beauty, and wished to claim it as a private refuge for him and his kin. As it happened, that young man's family lacked the means to accomplish this goal alone, but by bringing in other families and pooling their resources—among them a certain amount of the aforementioned esoterica—they realized success.

Once hidden from those deemed "unworthy," the island paradise was carefully divided among its new owners. Plots of land were claimed, residences built, and servants acquired to staff them year-round, that they would ever be ready and welcoming to their masters. And, in a show of foresight rare among the mortal races, human or otherwise, the masters and builders were careful to protect the beauty around them. No tree would feel the bite of the woodsman's axe, nor stone the quarryman's pick; hill and field would not bear the ugly scars of roads, gouged out of the earth to convey timber and building stone from source to building site; and while the servants were given leave to farm, gather, and fish in order to feed themselves and their masters, strict limits were placed on how much might be taken at one time, and from where, while much food was and would continue to be imported from the mainland.

Even collectively, families that were merely materially wealthy would have eventually exhausted their resources—or at least their patience—in pursuit of their ideal, but the combination of wealth, mystical ability, and connections with the wider world of the supernatural saw the venture through.

Decades passed, and the fortunes of the ruling families waxed and waned in accordance with events beyond the island. Some were destroyed, or lost the privilege to travel to the island after an offense saw their fellows close ranks against them; others were assimilated into stronger families; and yet others invited members of lesser lineages beholden to them to their private paradise, to awe them with the beauty and luxury that few other nobles in their land could claim.

Somewhere along the line, some bright spark had the idea to turn their family's private compound into a resort hotel, for the use of those outside the immediate circle of their peers and most favored retainers who still met certain standards of wealth, ancestry, conduct, and awareness of the hidden world.

The elders of the reigning clans were almost unilaterally opposed to the idea, and quite irritated when it not only went ahead anyway, but enjoyed much more success than it had any right to, at least in their minds.

But then, it has ever been the place of elders to grumble and disapprove of new things, just as it has been the place of the young to do as they will regardless.

One such young person could be found occupying a small outdoor training ground located on the island's shore, a field of packed sand framed by two walls of stone, set far enough back from the tide line that only the most violently storm-tossed waves or a tsunami might reach it. At the end of each wall, a single stone statue faced the ocean, masterfully carved in the shape of a coiled dragon—curiously Western in design, hairless and with wings like a great bat, rather than the lion-maned serpents commonly depicted in this part of the world—silently roaring mouths stained dark with ash and soot from the currently extinguished braziers concealed within the stonework. At the opposite end of the field, broad, shallow stairs rose to a flat stone stage of a perfect shape and size to host an energetic spar; beyond that stood a stone-walled, tile-roofed complex of modest dimensions, its walls covered by elaborate carvings.

Dragons featured prominently, once again of that oddly Western style, but foxes, firebirds, great cats, and human—or at least humanoid—figures were also present, the latter depicted in an assortment of martial stances, the others posed in ways that the human(oid)s were clearly emulating. Wavy flame-patterns and hues of red, orange, and gold dominated, broken up by the jagged, stylized bolt of lightning above the fox, and again above a weasel-like creature.

Standing alone on the stage, back turned to the figures of painted stone, was a girl with Japanese features. Still a year or two shy of her second decade of life, she wore her long black hair tied back in a style that left flowing bangs to frame a young face a bit too cute for the impassive mask of tranquil focus it was trying to wear.

The pink one-piece and baggy, knee-length white shorts worn over it did not exactly help the girl achieve the impression of Zen dignity.

Fortunately—and quite intentionally—there was no one around to comment on that.

Regardless, if she didn't project the detachment of a master of meditation, the girl had at least achieved the state of concentration she set out for. The steady sigh of the waves, the intermittent breeze overhead, and the occasional cry of the birds or little animals native to the protected island—all were registered, catalogued, and then set aside without ever impinging on her consciousness.

All that she heard, and all that mattered, was the sound of her own breathing.

Breathe in.

Then, breathe out.

Inhale again, a little deeper than before, and exhale in kind.

Breathe in for a third time, deeper yet–

Eyes flashed open, revealing irises of the deep, dark brown so common in the Far East, but marked with starbursts of burnished, burning gold that seemed to erupt like twin coronas from the pupils.

Begin.

–and push out, breath to life to will to power–

A small, delicate hand shot forward, and a gout of flame burst forth from the raised palm, red with an orange core, flecked here and there with yellow.

–to fire.

Palm thrust to off-handed flourish to cartwheeling kick, flame followed the form set forth by flesh, erupting in clouds, then a spray of sparks that fell like rain over the stone stage and the girl herself, burning too coolly and too briefly to register even against exposed skin, then gathering in trailing streamers that billowed around their mistress as she moved.

Underneath the pyrotechnics, the girl moved like she was performing the sort of fast, flashy dance meant to be accompanied by bright colors and loud, percussive music, drawing attention and distracting the senses—either as an end in and of itself, or as a prelude to sudden and unexpected violence. Yet the girl's age, the smile that kept trying to creep onto her lips and shone in her eyes all the same, and the excited energy and air of playfulness that hung around her, made the thought of violence untenable.

The fire might yet have given the lie to that innocence, were it not so unfocused and short-lived, bursts of light and color that would dazzle almost as much as an old camera's flashbulb, and would surely startle those not expecting them, but lacked the controlled intensity to truly burn.

A final backflip sent a single spark nearly the size of the girl's head soaring skywards–

Bang!

–where it burst asunder a few seconds later.

It had the look and feel of a finale, and indeed, the dance had ended.

Landing from her flip, the girl made a grand sweeping motion with both arms, as if gathering something up or casting it aside. She reached the end of the movement just as her small firework went off, and under its brief red glow, her hair cast a shadow across her face as her stance shifted from playful, to controlled… to menacing.

And then she moved again.

From dominant punch to off-hand punch to crescent kick to rapid flurry of knife-hand strikes—the blows came almost continuously, one chaining into the next in a relentless onslaught that never once hinted at blocking and only rarely considered evasion. And even then, the same flip that carried the girl out of the path of unseen dangers would either start or finish with another fireblast—or, more often than not, both.

Even without the elemental accompaniment, it would have been a display of pure, focused aggression, a fighting style designed to pursue, corral, and corner the foe, overwhelm their defenses with speed and power, and rend the helpless and exposed body.

With the flame, now tightly focused into short, intense jets and compact orbs that carried further without losing cohesion, and burning an almost consistent yellow…

Perhaps the most frightening thing about this new style, however, was that the girl's face remained blankly controlled throughout it, all traces of innocent enjoyment swallowed behind a mask of indifference, as if the idea of savaging her opponents with searing blasts of fire was somehow unworthy of consideration or comment.

And then, the final move. An arm wheeled about, as if to gather power, and thrust forward–

At the last moment, instead of a closed fist, two fingers jabbed straight ahead.

–and what shot forth was not red or orange in the least, but purest, palest yellow, wrapped around a single shard of brilliant azure.

It rocketed away from the stage and across the sandy beach, breaking up somewhere over the waves.

The girl stood frozen in her last stance, breathing hard and staring down the path of her final fireblast. Despite the warm mid-day air, the sheer effort she'd just expended, and all the flame that had been flying about, not a drop of sweat marred her appearance.

Quite to the contrary: she was shivering.

OOC: Shorter and less eventful than this year's other omakes, but it felt right.

Regarding the style of Azula's performance, I'm thinking a little bit Capoeira, a little bit fire dance - something that still shows off the power of the element, but more in a sense of awe and excitement rather than standard Firebending's deadly focus. No idea if there's a dance style like this native to Japan - the ones I'm even remotely familiar with are all slower - but fire dancing was a thing with the Aztecs, so it kind of ties back to the Sun Warriors of Avatar canon that way (dancing dragons!).

---

Later when everyone asks Alex for a full power spar.

"After powering the ring for everyone yesterday I only have enough power for a single full power spar"

The girls all glare at each other. It is clear that there is about to be an all out fight between them in a second or two.

"So could I please fight you all at once?"

All of the glares are now back on Alex.

The fight was short after all it was in a small ring. Din's fire was made for this sort of situation.

---

Alex asks Kahlua for blood, shouldn't this be the other way around?

"Hey Kahlua can I have a couple ounces of your blood? I need it to upgrade my sword. Though by virtue of the resonance such a thing would create in the nature of my sword it would let me ALWAYS KNOW WHERE YOU ARE by using divination magic. So I could understand if that's a bit too personal."

"That's a very tough request Alex. I may not have magic myself but I know all sorts of things could be done with a mere drop of my blood by a magic user. Trusting you with with two full ounces would be rather scary."

"That's true, and as a full disclosure it would also give you a bond with my sword, which could make it more powerful when used against you. Though if the sword spirit decides he likes you, such a link might also allow you to wield my sword. Or for me to use my sword in close proximity to you without its holy aspect hurting you."

"If your sword likes me? Is your sword alive?"

"He was granted a spirit as one of my trial rewards, but he's still developing, kind of like Castle Shuzen's land spirit before he gained the ability to materialize. That's actually part of why I was hoping you would help me out. I want to spare him identity issues."

---

Musical Minions

"Alright minion number 84," sighed the Demon King, with a tone of boredom, "pick up that Ocarina, and play the melody engraved in one of your predecessor's skull... or that corpse. I think that was number 6. I was still hopeful this would be quick."

"Umm, Mr. Gannon, sir, I, I, don't know how to play the ocarina."

"Well you better pick it up fast, you get five attempts and then," as he gestured to the bloody mound of corpses, "I'll add you to the pile and move on to victim number 85. Good help is hard to find you know? Hop to it, I don't have all day, kingdoms to conquer, people to slaughter."

---

"You knew the entire time? How did you figure it out when even I didn't know?!"

"Wait. You really didn't know? I just assumed you wanted to keep it a secret so I didn't mention it. It's really obvious."

"What? No it isn't! How is it obvious?"

"You mean other than the fact that the first time we fought we both shared a vision of the King in the Mountain guarded by Viviane, Nimue, and Morgan, with the Knights of the Round Table, Merlin, and the Great Welsh Dragon at your back?"

"I... um... alright that's kind of a give away maybe, but I still wouldn't call it obvious. Visions are weird and metaphorical."

"Well, I could blame the fact that I'm friendly with enough fey to be in on their better jokes, like the fact that King Arthur was a woman."

"Fine, obvious for a fey-touched sorcerer maybe but that still doesn't count."

"Or that you've still got Ddraig Goch's magical signature even as a reincarnation."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The Shuzen's have your claw on display in their hall of allies by the way. I could also blame the fact that when I visited your home the first thing you did was introduce me to Lancelot du Lac and Kay the Tall."

"Wait, Lance and Kenneth are... oh that actually explains some things."

"Your sister is Morgan le Fay by the way."

"She what?!"

"But honestly the biggest give away? Your guardian is Merlin. I mean, he's not even a reincarnation. He's actually the original Merlin Ambrosius. He didn't even bother to change his name, he just dropped a syllable."

"I... really should have worked this out a lot sooner shouldn't I?"

"Yeah."

---

You suddenly halt in your tracks and round on the wayward fairies chasing your guest. The mob of lights that had stayed on your trail suddenly halt, unsure how to handle the abrupt change from "Chase!" to "Wait, he's not running anymore."
Bold move.
"Hey!" you shout, channeling a bit less of their mother this time, accidental as it previously was. Everyone freezes at that, their heads turning towards you, confusion clear in their eyes.
What's he doing?
"Huh?" comes the collective inquiry.
No way. He isn't really going to... is he?
"What do you think you're doing?!" you say in mock anger, "You're supposed to be chasing me, not her! Now get back here!"
The absolute madman!
Everyone pauses for a beat, incomprehension filtering through they're minds as they try to process the insanity that is your words. Tatsuki's looking at you like you're a grade A lunatic, and you're pretty sure you can hear Altria reciting a prayer for your sorry soul.
Hey, Din, give me your Chosen.
Ambrose is just laughing.
No way, you got your own.
"Wait, he's right!" one of the little balls of light eventually shouts, "Get him!"
Well I want yours too.
You turn and instantly break into a sprint as the army of fairies converges upon you. Success.

---

I have a couple of ideas for Golden Goddess-related sayings.

1: The Golden Prayer (The Hylian equivalent of the Lord's Prayer):

Din, Goddess of Fire and Earth and Power, I ask of you to give me the power to change what I cannot accept;
Farore, Goddess of Wind and the Spirit-places and Courage, I ask of you to give me the courage to accept what I cannot change;
And Nayru, Goddess of Water and our esteemed Royal Family and Wisdom, I ask of you to give me the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

2: Gerudo curses (not actual curses that you cast, but curses like "devil take me" or "a pox on you"):

-May Din's hateful eye fall upon you, Nayru withhold her blessings, and Farore strip your flesh from your bones. (Explanation: in the desert, survival depends on how well you can shield yourself from the sun and find water, while sandstorms are a practical death sentence.)

-May Nayru lead you to a fortune. (This one isn't really a curse, but a socially-acceptable way of telling somebody to fuck *ff. Also, I figure that Nayru would be a goddess of hidden things to the Gerudo, who depend on oases for water.)

-May Farore swallow you whole! (Again, sandstorm.)

-Din light your hat! (On fire. Harsher than it sounds, because a good hat can ward off heatstroke.)

3: Words of Wisdom

Courage without power is like a child with a toy sword who explores a ruin, unheeding of very real dangers.
Wisdom without courage is like a weak leader, forever making excuses for why he won't do what is needed.
Power without wisdom is like Ganondorf.

---

Omake: Let there be Light

Alex took in a deep breath and cast the spell. Create Greater Demiplane. And then he was floating in a timeless void. There was no air, but also no vacuum and no need to breathe. There was nothing at all except his own body.

He had designed the void to be a sphere roughly 50 feet in diameter, with an appearance of infinity, but he could see nothing. It was darker than night, darker than space, darker than a cave underground where no light shines. This was a place which had never experienced light. Alex focused on the Darkness. It was almost tangible, but at the same time antithetical to tangibility. There was a comfort in the Darkness, a sense of belonging and safety, but at the same time its vastness and its potential were daunting. In this timeless void, there was no danger and no pain apart from what was contained within himself.

This was the closest that Alex could come to recreating the primordial conditions of the world prior to its creation. Alex focused his will. Light. And there was light. He anchored the spell to his body, since that was the only physical thing which existed. The Light chased away the Darkness and replaced it. In a radius of 20 feet there was nothing but Light. For another 20 feet there was a mixture of Light and Darkness. Shadow. And beyond that was the undisturbed infinity of Darkness.

Alex considered. Since the demiplane only extended 25 feet in any direction, the Shadow and Darkness beyond must be an illusion. But Illusion is the province of Shadow. And the Nothing that actually existed outside of the demiplane was aspected with Darkness just as much (if not more) than the demiplane had been before the Light was added. Allex shook his head and returned his focus to the Light.

There was nothing in the area besides his own body, but he could still feel the Light which permeated the area and it seemed almost eager to find something to illuminate and to imbue with energy. An experiment for a different day; for now Alex was focusing on the interaction between Light and Darkness and (hopefully) to discover a way to harmonize them. He cancelled the spell and absolute Darkness returned, just as before. Light. Darkness. Light. Darkness.

Alex wondered how he could harmonize the two elements. The obvious starting point was Shadow, where the two mixed, but that was an element in its own right which would need to be harmonized separately.

Light. Darkness. Alex wondered where the Darkness went after the Light started and how it came back when the Light stopped. He noticed that the Darkness now appeared to be exactly the same as it had been before he had cast any Light spells. Then he wondered: did the Darkness ever truly go away after the Light appeared? Maybe it was like a canvas covered in paint; you saw the paint on top, but the canvas underneath was still there.

Light. Alex looked for the Darkness underneath the Light.

---

OMAKE: A Sister's Secret 2A:Alpha and Omega

Continued from Xander [Quest], Thread Twenty-Five: Happy Sixth- I mean, Ninth Birthday! - Q | Page 171

"So let me get this straight: You need to summon a Legendary Hero to fight in some stupid war, or the world ends horribly? And you need something related to their legend or you'd just get some random schmuck?"

"Yup," quipped Briar "The Stupid Wars is a good description, and the Grail won't allow anything not connected to humanity, so anything from Hyrule is out."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"Zelda, it's the Grail Wars," explained Alex patiently, "If you aren't cheating, you aren't trying. There are even a few Servants still around from the last war who are planning on crashing it."

"One of them is even Humanity's First Hero," noted Ambrose, "with Capital Letters."

"I know just the thing."

"We've been planning this for a while, Zel. I think we've got it covered." Not that Alex didn't appreciate his little sister's helpfulness, even if she did blow up the kitchen that one time, but he had his catalyst in hand. Literally.

"Trust me, Alex."

Perhaps it was because Zelda was rarely this serious, or it was in her melancholic smile. Or maybe Alex really did trust his little sister that much. If asked later he wouldn't be able to say, but in that moment months of scheming and preparation fell by the wayside in favour of the whims of a little girl, and deep inside an Old King dreamed of happier times.

"The timing is critical and we don't have a lot of it, so you'll need to be quick."

"Six minutes." And then she was gone.

"So," mused Ambrose, "what does she have that could possibly be used to summon a Hero, let alone better than what we've got?"

"No idea."

"You don't think she's getting your old Tournament Belt?" wondered Briar.

Alex frowned. It was something Zelda would do, but... "That wouldn't take her six minutes."

---

Zelda was grinning as she presented her prize.

"Coffee?" squawked Briar, "you brought coffee?!"

"Fresh and hot."

Palms met faces. But not Alex. He met her eyes where her grin didn't reach and the steel inside was showing. With a chill he remembered the other time she'd worn that look. The time he hadn't been fast enough and had found her stake in hand and best friend dust at her feet. Whatever else happened, he owed her this.

"Who will we get?" The room went silent.

"Archer most likely, or maybe Rider."

"You seem certain." Ambrose always was quick on the uptake.

"Hnn." Holding the pot behind her back, Zelda stepped just inside the circle. "Ready."

Alex began the ritual.

---

With a wave of his hand, the smoke cleared. A Hero stood in the circle, heavily armed and gleaming in black and white armour, face hidden behind a golden visor. And pressing what looked like an overlarge shotgun between Zelda's eyes.

"You" the figure snarled. Alex tensed but didn't move. Even against a mortal this was too close, but against a Servant? Yet despite the danger Zelda was completely relaxed, at peace in the face of the warrior's fury.

"We've really gotta stop meeting like this."

What.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow your brains out, bitch."

What.

Bringing her prize into view Zelda declared, "I've got coffee."

What.

"Coffee?" the armoured figure growled, "you brought coffee?!"

"That's what she said. Besides", Zelda purred, sloshing the pot, "it's the good stuff, pure Colombian brown, not that cheap sludge they serve aboard ship. You know you want it."

What.

Had he blinked he'd have missed it even with enhanced senses, but in an instant the Warrior of Legend was clutching the pot like it held the secrets of life. Deftly, like she'd done it all her life, Zelda caught the falling weapon and slung it against her shoulder.

"What?" Alex finally found his voice.

"Relax, Alex. The Commander isn't completely human without at least two pots this early in the morning."

"I haven't been completely human since someone brought me back from the dead."

A slot opened in the Commander's helmet and hot coffee poured in.

"You know you love me."

The Commander started choking.

"Everyone, allow me to introduce Commander Shepard, N7, and Humanity's Last Hero."

"You make me sound like Javik."

"What, old, crusty and too mean to die? You basically are Javik now."

"Remind me again why I don't shoot you."

"Do you get the impression that they know each other?" whispered Briar, "Because they fight like an old married couple. Or Cordy and Willow."

"Be nice, and maybe Alex will summon you a Mako."

"I thought you didn't like my driving."

"Nobody likes your driving, Shep."

Something in Alex's brain broke.

"This is payback for Horizon, isn't it?"

"You know what you did."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"Not. The. Point."

***half an hour of death threats and petty bickering later***

"Hey, Alex, what Class is the Commander?"

With a twist of magic, he had the answer. That didn't mean he understood it.

"SPECTRE."

And the girl once known as Miranda Lawson collapsed into giggles.

---

So, I just got this idea to put down what the Gerudo might actually think of the Golden Goddesses - or might once have thought, before being cursed.

Din
—The All-Seeing Eye, the Eldest, Lady of Light, the Searing Light, Queen of Dancing Flames, Queen Most High, the Golden-Garbed, Queen of Kings, the Dancing Deceiver, All-Radiant, the Pitiless Queen, the Sky Queen, the Light Upon the Throne
—Portfolio: Fire, the sun, light, mirages, gold and riches, rulership, dancing, conquest, war
—Religion: In theory, the three Goddesses are equal. In practice, the Gerudo revere Din as more than simply the first among equals. She is the Queen above all mortal rulers, and her sisters serve as her right and left hands in enforcing her rule. Her blazing eye sees all; where she is served with fear and reverence, there Nayru gives blessings, and where she is defied, there Farore gives death. Her merciless gaze sweeps across the desert, and the people tremble in reverence; the bold seek her blessings directly, with great deeds and offerings, while the craven seek simply to avoid her notice. There is no shame in either course of action, for the greatest of kings seek glory in her name where it may be found, and where it may not, they seek to avoid displeasing her and hide themselves away. In her occasional fits of whimsy, she may attempt to trick unprepared travelers into seeing oases where none exist.
—Veneration: Strangely and somewhat ironically, Din dislikes burnt offerings - in fact, animal sacrifices in general are unlikely to gain her favor. Gold, precious gems, artwork - these are much better offerings, especially when seized from a respected enemy. On the rare occasions when they may be found, fulgurites are also highly prized, and one or two grace every one of Din's temples in the Gerudo Desert. Din is ambivalent to vegetable sacrifices, and human sacrifice greatly offends her. Prayers to Din are often concise, as to draw her attention overlong can occasionally be lethal, and are often accompanied by a substantial offering. On her holy days, celebrations begin at high noon, with feasts and dancing in her name, but the real party begins around dusk, which is when the bonfires are lit and the witches and shamans begin telling tales of her glory. It is uncommon, but particularly enthusiastic celebrations may end in debauchery, although this is frowned upon.

Nayru
—The Queen's Left Hand, Lady of Revelation, the Prophetic Spirit, the Shelterer, Finder of Secrets, Lady Luck, the Water-Carrier, Life-Giver, the Mystic, the Capricious Witch
—Portfolio: Water, wisdom, hidden things, fortune, motherhood, prophecy, shadow, dreams
—Religion: The Gerudo revere Nayru as a finder and revealer of hidden things. Oases, buried treasure, anything that would cast a large enough shadow - these are her blessings. Yet she is capricious and hard to please, and so some pragmatic Gerudo nobles prefer to ask Din to intercede on their behalf. Yet she is also a spirit of motherhood and a protector of children, things which require faith and commitment, and so her faithful are frequently split on how to properly revere her. She brings waking dreams to those who consume her sacred plants in the proper manner, and sometimes they contain wisdom or glimpses of the future. Alone among the Golden Goddesses, Nayru will come from on high and mingle with the people in disguise, influencing events to suit her nebulous goals or simply to amuse herself.
—Veneration: The Gerudo means of properly worshipping Nayru, as mentioned above, depend on which sect the local chapter of Nayru's faithful belongs to. Does Nayru appreciate an offering of cured Bullbo meat, or does she prefer works of art? Does she like her supplicants to be concise, or does she appreciate being reminded of her status? It is generally agreed that a tithe of grain can't go wrong, but is it to be burnt or stored away? These are but a few of the issues plaguing the Gerudo worship of Nayru. Her festivals begin at dusk, but because of the fractious state of her worship, there is generally nothing to do except listen to music, socialize, and consume her sacred plants.

Farore
—The Queen's Right Hand, the Flensing Wind, the Angry Sands, Lady Death, Miss Fortune (witticism), the Winds of Change, Eater of Men, Evil Day, Ruination, the Most High's Wrath
—Portfolio: Wind, sandstorms, destruction, death, chaos, nature
—Religion: None. Nobody wants to worship Farore.
—Placation: Anything left behind in the wake of a sandstorm is considered to have been sacrificed to Farore. Gold, treasures, food - Farore takes them all, and gives nothing in return - not even the promise of safety. Only a fool would pray to her, which unfortunately means that many do. Thankfully, she does not listen. Needless to say, she has no festivals.

—

Din: Nnnot sure how to feel about this... on the one hand, yay me... on the other... *looks guiltily at Nayru and Farore*
Farore: *crying in shock and horror*
Nayru: *holds Farore to her chest* *silently promises revenge*

---

You walk into the Ambrose's workshop, having received a call from him earlier, claiming to have discovered who was behind all of these reincarnations popping up all of the sudden. What you find is... peculiar. While you're not surprised to see the glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, or the far-off look in his eyes, as if he's not all there - because really, when is he? - you are surprised that the glass seems to have been left completely untouched.

Cause for worry, to be certain.

"Ambrose," you try to grab his attention, "you said you found something."

"Hm?" he looks up, as if he hadn't noticed you, and it really seems like he really hadn't, "Oh, yes, I did."

Alright, now you're really worried, "Ambrose, are you okay? You seem kinda out of it."

"Oh, I was just having an existential crisis is all. Care for a drink?" he gestures to the alcohol sitting on the table.

"I'm still underage," you take a seat across from him, "So, what is this thing, if it can shake you like this?"

"Oh, right, I did call you to tell you about that, didn't I?" he pauses for a moment, thinking, before turning to you, "You know, you can leave now, if you'd like, I wouldn't blame you. Sometimes it's better not to know."

"I've already come here. You might as well tell me," you pray to the Goddesses that your stubbornness won't be the end of you.
No amount of prayer can protect from this. I'm sorry, Alex.
"Very well," the older man gathers himself up, and begins, "He is called...
Don't say it!
"J̞͖̳̗̰̝̘͕̅̑ͯ͌̃̈̉ͯͣ̕ȕ̷͓͙̘̮͇͗̓̃̍͛́̚ͅd̴̛͍̳̜̼͈͖͖͖̯̓̏ͭġ̑͊̀̌̅͠҉̼̥̠̜ȩ͍̳̠͒͋̔͗̑͆̽ͅ ̡ͭ̑ͬ̚͟҉̳̺͉͚͔M͓̯̳͎̮̏ͦ̓ͧe̷̛̳̺͙͚ͨ̌̚n̵͚̘̽̓͛͌̔̚t̘̥̞͖͕͓ͤ̅ͧ̏̓͠ã̺͉̟̘̝̝̼͙̇̍͌ͯl͚̫̺͎͚̑ͮ̆̃."
Speak not his name, lest his muse consume thee!
Your spine shivers, your skin crawls, your pupils constrict, your soul begs for release. You want to stop thinking, to stop breathing, to stop being. You have made a mistake this day.
I'm so sorry.
You shouldn't have asked.

A/N: GMs be some wacky shit, man.

---

In light of my earlier Gerudo analyses being threadmarked, I figured I might as well continue the chain and post some speculation on what Gerudo society might have been like pre-curse. So, here you go:

On the Gerudo rulership:
—The Gerudo nation had no one leader, because there was no one Gerudo nation. Instead, the Gerudo lived in a number of fractious city-states, often built around or near an oasis. Each of these city-states had a king, who was often (one of) the strongest men in the city-state, and he was expected to defend it, and help it prosper, to the best of his ability. (He was not expected to do this alone, but he was expected to lead and organize everybody else's efforts.) In exchange for this, the king was afforded certain privileges - namely, a measure of social authority which basically translated to everybody doing what he said, as long as it was reasonable.
—Being king was not hereditary. As a general rule, either the king elected a successor before he died/retired, or anybody who was interested in the kingship would organize a fighting tournament to decide. The requirements for this tournament to be valid were one of the few laws that were shared among (and enforced by) all Gerudo city-states. Aside from these laws, the tournament rules are agreed upon by the competitors. The tournament requirements are as follows:
—It must take place in a clearly delineated arena, and nobody but the competitors are allowed inside during it.
—There must be seating provided for all spectators, from which the arena must be visible.
—The terrain within the arena need not be regular, but all parts of it must be clearly visible (assuming clear weather) to the spectators.
—What constitutes elimination must be decided ahead of time, with no room for error or doubt.
—The tournament must be attended by at least 80% of the city-state's population, or by 1000 citizens, whichever is lower. Each king (or kingling, see below) of another city-state attending (or official representative thereof) reduces the requirements by 20% and 200 citizens, but these requirements can never go below 40% or 500 citizens.
—Finally, all of the rules that are decided upon must be communicated to the spectators before the beginning of the tournament.
—In the event that the previous king named an heir, the heir does not immediately become king, but instead becomes what is known as a kingling, or 'little king.' He remains kingling until one full year has passed (at which point he becomes king), or until he is unseated by an official challenger, in which case the challenger becomes kingling.
—In the above circumstance, one becomes an official challenger by issuing a formal request for a duel and having the kingling accept. As with most duels, the challenged party (in this case, the kingling) decides the terms of the duel, but this duel must be witnessed by either 10% of the population or 100 citizens, whichever is lower.
—As implied above, the kingling is not required to accept these duels, but this is generally considered a cowardly act. Only if one of the below conditions is fulfilled is the kingling's refusal not considered shameful:
—If the kingling has been challenged to a duel in the past week and won.
—If the challenger has attempted to unseat the kingling during the current cycle and lost.
—If the challenger held the title of kingling during the current cycle, but was unseated by the current kingling.
—If the challenger is the king or kingling of another city-state. (No fair doubling up.)
—If the city-state is facing a ruinous or existential threat which can be avoided or mitigated with the kingling's full attention (although in this case, the kingling MUST give this threat his full attention).
—At any point, and for any reason whatsoever, a Gerudo may leave his current city-state and become a citizen of another, or simply found their own. Preventing them from doing this by force is considered a crime against all of Gerudo-kind.

---

You ass, Judge. Now that song is stuck in my head.

Anyways. In my last post about pre-curse Gerudo society, I wanted to go into gender roles, but the succession rules exhausted me to put down. So, here's the gender roles:

Gerudo Women
—Just as the Golden Goddesses created the world and defend it from those who would wish it harm, so, too, is the woman expected to maintain the household. (Bigotry always finds a way.) This entails cooking, cleaning, repairs, and fighting off burglars (a fairly common occurrence). For this reason, martial strength is just as prized among Gerudo women as the men.
—'How many intruders one has taken down' is a fairly common topic of conversation for married Gerudo women, since it's a prime opportunity to brag about one's own martial prowess and how much their husbands bring in. (For why else would they have so many burglars?) The veracity of these tales is dubious.
—While not forbidden, women are strongly discouraged from raiding and other 'masculine' tasks. Raider-women are called 'maidens' in a derogatory manner, because doing a man's job is considered a sign of desperation and inability to find a hubby.

Gerudo Men
—Just as the women protect the household, the man's duty is to enrich it. Gold, jewels, artwork - these things have value, and can be traded or sold for food. Alternatively, the man may sell his excess food to buy treasures, which can then be sold once again in lean times.
—Cucco farming is a popular method of raising food. Cucco farmers are reputed to be very tough.

---

Alex: "Ah. Sorry I'm late Kahlua. I'd just stopped over on Bali Ha'i for some quick Maximum Power training but then I had to go and save the island from been eaten by a turtle island."

Akua: "Really? That is the story you come up with? I know Sorcerers like to take refuge in audacity but don't you think your going a little too far?"

Kahlua: "...I kinda belive him."

Akua: "Kahlua!?"

Kahlua: "I mean in the year since I've met him this is exactly the sort of problem I'd expect Alex to run into. So Alex; how did you stop it!?"

Alex: "Well it was mostly interested in me, turns out Maximum Power is really loud and the Ring of Trials was even louder, but he was still very hungry. Apparently swimming hundreds of miles when you are island sized is very hungering work."

Akua: "I can Imagine..."

Kahlua: "So! How did you stop him? Did you beat him up? Transform him into a normal turtle? Summon up a comet?"

Alex: "I fed him."

Kahlua: "...you fed him?"

Alex: "Yep. I had to summon up the equvilant of three and a half thousand nine course banquets but I did eventually sate his appetite."

Akua: "...Somehow I can't help but find that more impressive then simply beating an island sized turtle in a fight."

Kahlua: "Maybe. But it isn't nearly as cool though."

---

Omake: The Golden Goddesses and the sign of the Cross.

One night, during one of the nocturnal magic-study sessions, when the Madisons were sleeping over...

Catherine: So, just for the record, Alex, Din is the Goddess of Power, Fire, and Dancing right?
Earth and Thunder, and you forgot the drums!
Alex: You can also play the drums to venerate Din, or so I've read.
Earth and Thunder! You seriously forgot Thunderbird!?
Catherine:Okay, *writes down notes* Next is Naryu, Goddess of Wisdom, Water, Ice, and Singing and Drinking?
DRINKING!?
Pfft!
Wait for it.
Alex: *stares* I uhh, don't know where you got drinking from...But she's also Goddess of Time, and of stringed instruments, like harps.

Jessica:...Or Guitars?

Alex: Hunh, I guess so, didn't think of that.

Zelda: What about Faroll?
It's Farore.
Briar: It's Farore.

Zelda:I meant Farore!

Catherine: And that would be...The Goddess of Courage, Nature, Life, and...Murder?
MURDER!?
Bwahahahahahahahaha!
Told ya so.
Alex: *laughes* Not murder, no matter how fitting that might sound to me. it's Courage, Wind, Life and Spirit, and if you want the musical association think of wind instruments.
Hrmf! Link does more then just murder things! You're just biased!
Zelda: Like wind chimes?

Alex: Hrm, that might work?

Catherine: And these Goddesses, they don't say, have hand signs to show which one you follow, assuming they don't do as you do and venerate all three?

Alex:Hand signs?

Catherine: Like the sign of the cross? *demonstrates*
I don't think anyone came up with something like that...
Because Hyrule is way cooler then Earth?
Alex: I don't know, but I can ask the Priests about it?

Jessica:Well, a big thing with them is triangles right? So maybe...

Jessica traces out an equilateral triangle, starting from the bottom left corner.
hehe
Zelda:You left out the center triangle!
hang on a second...
Alex emits a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, before briar floats over and lands on his shoulder.
What's going on here?
Amy:That'd be a bit much for a hand sign now wouldn't it?
I think I like where she's going with this.
Catherine: Perhaps...Or maybe...

Starting from the bottom left corner like Jessica, Catherine traces out to the bottom right corner, then up to the top, but instead of completing the triangle, she stops halfway and zigs back right, then down to the left, and then up to the left before completing the newly minted sign of the Tri-Force.
Hunh.
Rock Paper Scissors with a Hylian twist, almost.
And a religious one. We should take this back home!

And later, in the privacy of the Madison home...
Catherine traces out the handsign of the Triforce, before striking a match, setting off a drinking bird's motion, and then turning on a hand fan.
And then on the back of her hand, three golden lights appear, before each one traces out a triangle, forming the same symbol.
thanks for the idea.*

*yellow here is supposed to be all three speaking at once, in unison.

**correctional edits: Taking Catherine's line out of Farore's mouth, and removing an unneeded smiley face.

---

You know what? Lemme see what I can do. If nothing else, it should be hilarious how off-base I get with any of the Shuzens involved. For a title of this potential Omake, I offer 'Three Talks about Blood.'

Khalua skipped down the hall, humming a tune and looking like a picture-perfect happy little princess, vampire or no.

She swung a left through an open door where Akasha was teaching the Castle about the titles books in the library.

Of course, the Spirit was first to call attention to Khalua's entry, and did so by pointing right at the little girl. Akasha looked up, saw Khalua, and noting her daughter's cheery behavior, wondered what she was going to ask for.

For no particular reason at all, Akasha found herself hoping it was a pony. As opposed to something inspired by Alex's recent visit.

Khalua: Mommy, could I ask for your permission to give Alex some of my blood?

Akasha: Why did Alex ask for your blood?

Khalua: To grant my gauntlets a blood bond.

Akasha:...That I can agree to.

Khalua: Aaand for his sword to get-

Akasha: Nope.

Khalua: But mooom!

Akasha: I'll have to see what Issa and Gyo think about it, but my personal answer is no, young lady...You offered that to him, didn't you?

Khalua:! How'd you know!?

Akasha: I think someone was just a little too happy their future boyfriend said yes to something far more romantic then he realized he was being, again. Now as for blood-bonding of your gauntlets, do you know the risks involved?

Khalua: Yes, Alex explained that they can be used to let mal-mal...Bad magic work on me even when it wouldn't otherwise if someone takes them from me.

*Later that evening*

Akasha: Gyokoro, did Khalua inform you of a certain arrangment she made with Alex?

Gyokoro: Not yet, though given her slighty grumpy mood at dinner, I imagine she went to you first.

Akasha: She asked permission to give Alex some of her blood for forging a blood bond with those gauntlets he made for her.

Gyokoro: Well, I certainly don't see her willingly parting with them-she knew the risks right?

Akasha: Right you are. Do you agree?

Gyokoro: What did you say?

Akasha: I agreed to give her permission. Do you?

Gyokoro: I do So what did you say no to?

Akasha: She also wanted to give him blood for that blessed-

Gyokoro: No. Not happening!

Akasha: And that's twice we agree.

Gyokoro: And twice is enough for one day?

Akasha:...Yes. Yes it is.

Gyokoro: Thrice is better though~

*A few days later (Issa was on a "business trip")*

Akasha: Issa dear, remember that Alex boy?

Issa: I do. Wasn't he here to see about upgrading Khalua's gauntlets?

Akasha: Yes, and while he was here he happened to mention that he wanted a few ounces of a transforming monster's blood for an enhancement to that blessed sword of his...And Khalua agreed, pending our permission.

Issa: Nope!

Akasha: Glad you agreed with me. I also said no to Khalua when she brought it up to me.

Issa: And Gyokoro?

Akasha: Agreed, though she also asked if she could give blood for the gauntlets as well.

Issa: And you and Gyokoro...

Akasha: We said yes.

Issa: I know when I'm outnumbered, but Khalua knows the dangers involved?

Akasha: That she does.

Issa: Well, I was already outnumbered, now I'm just out of things to say. Anything else I should know about?

Akasha: The castle knows all the books in the library now.

Issa: So if I were to ask for the third volume of the Shuzen Family History?

A book came into the room, carried by the familiar stone form of the Castle's Avatar.

Issa: Excellent.

---

Okay, so I'm feeling like the Drake household...Really could use more exposure, myself. Problem is while yes Alex DOES have a priority there to indicate time investment...It's a priority, which means 'off-screen only', so let's take a look at some of those off-screen shenanigans! I title this POTENTIAL side-story, as 'Alex's first day'

"FOR GOODNESS SAKES BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY KITCHENS!" Bellowed the cook.

"Cleaning?" Says the boy in question, trying to look innocent like he DIDN'T intend to unleash havoc.

"Well stop it! And put everything back where you found it WITHOUT BREAKING ANYTHING!" the cook commanded, brandishing a pot she snatched out of mid-air.

It only took a few gestures for Alex to set the dishes and brushes and sponges back where they belonged. That 'charged-air' feeling of magic began to fade, as well.

"It wasn't funny when that time Ambrose did it, much less now. If you HAVE to use magic, don't re-enact that Sword in the Stone movie! It went poorly even in fiction, do you think it'll go any better in reality!?" And that was when the cook made up her mind.

"Well, I HAVE used Unseen Servant in the kitchen before, this was just a bigger Unseen Servant spell."

"ENOUGH! OUT OF MY KITCHENS! The Lady of the house and Ambrose are bad enough, I don't need a third troublemaker! OUT!" shouted the cook, and the incantation complete, the reincarnation of Ganondorf was banished from the room.

This, left Alex needing a new place to ply his magical talents, and since Arthur was talking about stuffy knight stuff with his pals, he figured working in the motor pool would be a better idea.

And if nothing else, a certain Tom Powell would be happy to see him again.

But when he arrived, he frowned, as for some reason Ambrose was present. And working with the mechanics.

So much for using the Car spell, but Alex DID have something of a cover for automobile magics. And more importantly, some mundane ability.

Except...

"You can conjure up a spark right?"

"Yeah, but aren't there spark plugs for that?"

"Yes, but we're fresh out and this one won't work for SOME reason. You're sure there's no magic gumming it up?"

"Not that I can tell. Of course, that doesn't mean Ambrose can't pull one over on me."

"Unfortunately, the wizard didn't do it. This time." Said Ambrose, who wandered over to see what was going on.

Alex frowned, before moving to cast the spell of Mend on the plug in question.

"That should do it, let's go fire this thing up and see if that worked!"

Tom tried it once, twice, thrice...No dice!

Alex growled in fustration. Just what was with this stupid plug!?

Ambrose, for his part, simply reached in and disconnected the wire, and looked at it. Yep, wasn't secured properly. He then reattached it.

"Try it once more time, now it should be in the mood to work."

Alex glared, but then glanced to Tom. Tom turned the key...

*VROOM*

Ambrose gave Alex a cheeky grin and walked away.

---

To continue on the omake trend for possible stuff happening off screen with other characters here is a bit I have been thinking about when judge said an alter is a type of shadow and I did just roll a Salter:

It was another relatively normal day in the drake household with staff going about their daily routine, dodging fairy(and THE WIZARD) pranks and making sure the kitchens were stuffed and the Lady of the house nowhere near them. Keeping a household of supernatural knights clean was tough enough without the Lady and the cook getting into an argument that ended with the latest dish on the ceiling and a room full of knights hungry. Luckily the Lady was far more interested in playing dress up with her youngest again thanks to the family's recent trip to a 'magical island getaway trials'.

Unfortunately, the youngest was all to aware of her mother's obsession with fashion and as all small children have in common, a deep aversion to staying still and being poked and prodded, thus leading to the current state of the manor's halls. Vases broken, tapestries torn, and the bust of sir Francis once more missing its nose, the third time this month but still short of the dubious record of 5 held by the notorious Merle Ambrose. Speaking of said wizard it seems the youngest has tried to evade her mother by luring her into the path of said wizard and disappearing in the chaos and running headfirst into her young friend, the sorcerer Alexander.

Who was in the middle of demonstrating a spell to the Wizard; and as the maid watches in resigned horror at whatever new bedlam would arise from this and whether she should open the staff closest and bring out a mop or a sword, the spell fires off and straight into the wide sea green eyes of the youngest drake heiress. A moment of silence passes, as all parties watch as the girls shadow elongates and rises from the floor taking the shape of the young Altria. The doppelganger is a pale twin of the girl with the only difference being a single strand of hair missing and eyes a piercing gold not unlike the young boy Altria befriended. The maid wonders if this will start the rumor mill once more after the whole incident at the vampire's party.

As the living shadow takes in her surroundings, a smirk naturally settles on her features but before she could open her mouth and speak, the Lady squees and hugs the shadow, running off with her, babbling about new matching shades and dresses, all while the shadow lets out surprisingly cute sounds of distress.

"Alex, it may be rude to ask for this, but would you cast that spell every time you visit?" A slightly dazed but very relieved Altria asks.

I was originally planning to have Alex offer to cast the dark self as a means for Altria getting out of dress up time but somehow it turned to this and for that I blame Ambrose.

---

On the subject of Diyu, and hell's in general...taking the Bleach cosmology into account, the structure of a Soul absent it's body is still a body, with a physiology to match (within the bounds of said souls conception of itself, and what is spiritually possible). Which means that corruption isn't just some ephemeral thing, but it's own literal malignant stuff (animate or not probably being contextual). 'Surface' corruption literally like being dirty and seeping in from the outside. 'Deep' corruption being the result of sins or karma from the soul in question (hence, a part of them, or internalized), or particularly soul-intrusive external corruption.

And since soul mechanics aren't as simple as the metaphors to disease or tumors...Hell's probably can't just surgically removed internal corruption like priests (and presumably they) can 'wash' surface stuff off. Hence the period of torture, type and length depending on context.

This leads to the next point. Knowledge about Diyu is heavily influenced by Buddhism, which in turn is influenced by Hinduism. And one thing about Hinduism is that while they believe in the (cyclical) infinity of the universe (similar to the scientific collapse/expand hypothesis)...everything else is finite. From the numbers of God's, nature of the universe, 'power' of their pantheon's, and so on. And those numbers are...very big (as in approaching the actual ideas for how long/big the Universe is). Which means for Buddhism? Naraka sentences are long. Like, super, extremely, long. Hundreds of millions of years minimum up to trillions. Which means Diyu, too, has a load of Hell's with long sentences (if not as explicitly defined as the Buddhists were fond of doing).

Why is this important? Well, it all leads to Bleach, and specifically the idea that time is not absolute between different Planes of the afterlife (specifically the Dangai, even with the SS, Earth, Hell, Hueco Mundo, and King's Realm all seem to be concurrent). I'm not sure if this necessarily originates in Bleach (probably not), but it introduces the possibility that time, or rather duration, as stated is not necessarily the same as experienced/passed. With Western mythologies generally much 'faster' if infinite take on the afterlife, and how it supposedly exists parallel to the much more ancient Eastern mythologies (Abrahambic: ~7,000 years since creation, Hinduism: multiple cycles of Brahma, trillions of years each) it may be that things hold together simply because time, by conventional understanding, does not hold as a constant.

And that brings us to this. If time is not necessarily accurate...what if it is not the only thing? Diyu and other purgatory-type afterlives are often described as tortuous to extreme degrees, but their purpose (the negation of Karma and/or admittence to Heaven) has nothing to do actual torture (a crappy method of interogation, means of intimidation, past time for sadists, all well beneath the desires or needs of those who run the Hell's). So why is it consistent in mythology? Well, taking the Bleach example again (as it is in this same shared Universe, and the setting that goes into the most detail of the afterlife) Souls are a weird mix of literal, conceptual, and literally metaphorical. A person in Diyu may not actually be tortured, but may perceive their destructive 'cleaning' as tortuous. Similarly a person in Naraka or other Asian afterlives doesn't actually experience astronomic amounts of time being 'cleansed', or doesn't relative to the real world, and certainly doesn't retain the experiences and memories of such trauma (unless we're talking Buddhism/Hinduism in which case you do remember all past lives and everything in between on reaching Nirvana/re-joining Brahma, but you probably don't care by that point).

How is this actually relevant to the quest? Well, again assuming that in-quest mythology can be at once true-but-conflicting, and also that mortal interpretations (by time, nature, or any other detail) are probably wrong by at least some degree if not many...

Dealing with Diyu is likely not going to be too ridiculous at all, given common-sense (no insulting deities, no crossing clear lines, no trying to snatch souls from particularly restricted places in heaven/hell). Jasmine for example is A) Not actually in any of the 10 Halls of Diyu or whatever the real case is, B) Not a Soul of outstanding Karmic weight of either sort (and thus of priority of some sort), and C) Diyu specifically is one of the Hell's liable to make exceptions (as far as Hell's go).

To expand on C... it's not conceptually infinite like Abrahambic hell's, it's not a supreme authority in and of itself (rather it's 10 Kings answer to Yama who answers to the Jade Emperor. And Yama may just be a position rather then static being). And it's not as 'static' as a Hell dedicated to cyclic reincarnation, one under the absolute/conceptual control of it's ruler (Hades, Hel, whatever runs Bleach Hell, etc.), or known to be inescapable/inevitable (Sun Wukong wrecking shit and removing monkeys from the register is the biggest example, but I'm sure there are others including beuracratic exceptions from Heaven and they don't seem to give a shit about the various Daoist Immortals, Heaven approved or not (some are in the court of the Jade Emperor, some have to deal with Tribulations like the money king, and some are just weirdos that eat pine needles and stones in the mountains or play board games in temporally convoluted pocket dimension)).

What I'm saying is, even if there's a fuss about true rezzing one of 'their' Souls...
1) the nature of reincarnation and Jasmine in particular is weird/extended enough that continuing a single life really shouldn't affect her negatively,

2) the jurisdiction of the Ten Halls of the Diyu over a comatose Soul in the mortal world is questionable if it exists at all going by the vague-ness of their own texts, nature of plus Souls in Bleach, and the snarled beuracratic mess that is the Divine Accords on top of whatever already exists in China (possibly very nasty from the somewhat-biased Journey to the West, possibly made worse by mortal China's recent issues with totally rejecting all of it's old Culture, then taking that back, then going more nationalist again...just messy in general, beyond Human/Yokai relations).
And,

3) Even if the Diyu does kick up a fuss (which seems likely according to Naryu, or possibly required due to the Accords and Alex being the intervention of a foreign pantheon)...they should be not only possible to appease, but relatively easy to by Underworld standards (meaning no Epic quest). Just going through their existing Beuracracy.

Personally I recommend the Gold Star/Spirit of Venus. Generally portrayed as one of the more pragmatic members of the Court of Heaven, and someone with the Jade Emperor's ear. More indirect then going to Yama's government directly, but less likely to run into the prickly-ness Akiko mentioned of Hell-types, and more capable with the Chinese Heavenly Beuracracy. Not exactly someone prone to altruism...but practical in the sense that granting an exception single girl's not-in-Diyu-yet soul is a trivial thing for Heaven to push on to Yama (assuming again that Yama is intractable or defensive after the whole Monkey King invasion and that he actually gives a shit), especially when the actual resurrection isn't their problem and Accord shenanigans are sidestepped by Alex being the mortal agent of an alien pantheon. Being diplomatic with foreign Gods is kinda his whole thing afterall, besides just being a general font of wisdom and patience. Granting a pardon for a single insignificant (in the sense that they are a mortal and don't have background shenanigans or absurd karmic weight) soul to temporarily return to life (again, mortal) in return for establishing friendly relations with a new pantheon (and possible way to skirt the Accords everyone but the Demons seems to hate), and possibly some minor task of a mortal sorcerer and/or the Shuzen's (not that anything is probably needed of Alex if the GG make diplomatic contact, but debt of a sorcerer and Chosen of God's not under the Pact and a family of extremely powerful Vampires could be quite useful, especially when China's mortal assets are so bare (between wars, famines, and finally the purges under Mao) and the Divine Host are restricted by the aforementioned Accords)? That's quite the deal. Only downside is that Din or Farore may cause a bit of a kerfluffle themselves...but they aren't nearly as bad as Sun Wukong, and GSoV is definitely savvy enough to keep them away from the worst part of the Court. Worst-case scenario, assuming the while trio are needed rather then just Naryu we need to appease Din and Farore somehow for subjecting them to stuffy, snooty beuraucrats they aren't allowed to punt to the Moon, on top of whatever the Gold Star tasks us (which shouldn't be unreasonable even if he is in a position to milk it, because doing that pisses people off and he knows better). Well, that and probably appeasing the GGs for going through the effort (Alex certainly isn't summoning major Celestial Spirits, at least not at the start of Diplomatic contact). They might approve off the resurrection and benefit from contacting more of the locals themselves, but if Alex has them do this sort of stuff for him, he kinda needs to have at least some form of symbolic compensation. Probably the Shuzen's too.

---

Omake: Fightin' Words

"Huh. I can actually feel the bloodlust." While that normally wouldn't be unusual for Alex, here in the Seireitei he had to rely on his spirit senses, which were weaker than his regular senses. Also, he hadn't actually seen his opponent yet, meaning that this was just the background killing intent of the Captain in his way. There was really only one Captain that fit the bill.

"Feel it?" Briar looks skeptically at Alex, "I can taste that."

"If you're ready?" Briar nods at Alex, "Then let's go." Alex tugs on the familiar bond, attaching it to the Boar, which then wraps itself around Briar. Then Alex floods the Boar with energy. This way, Briar had access to the might necessary to be a full-fledged combatant without needing to grow into an adult form.

There were many skeptical about giving a mostly child fairy access to that kind of strength, but everyone had long since grown used to the idea of Alex being weird. Sorcerers, you know?

With Alex pulling off the limiters of his power and purposely walking towards the other, the opponents found each other quickly. Even with a few false starts from the Battle Captain.

Alex began to call out to the captain when they were about a block away from each other, but Briar beat him to the punch. "Hey, Pinky!" Briar yelled to the child on Zaraki's shoulder, "I got a problem with you!"

Yachiru's eyes sparkled as a pink aura began to engulf her. "Look Kenny," she cried excitedly, "someone's finally challenging me! She can't have my shoulder though!" More loudly she calls back to Briar, "What's your problem with me?"

Briar beats her wings furiously and lets the boar run rampant, manifesting in the world as an aura surrounding her. With her influence though, the Boar manifests in the greens and browns of Nature, and like it's current wielder, has wings. The Boar's wings are those of a bird, some twenty feet across at full expansion. The two stare imperiously at the pinkette as Briar points dramatically, "You're a shitty familiar and a bad friend! I'm here to teach you how to be better, or kick your ass trying!"

Yachiru doesn't stop smiling, but her face does gain much deeper shadows. More importantly, her aura goes from a simple candle of pink light to a raging bonfire of pink and black, a demonic face showing in it. "Sorry Kenny," she says cheerfully, "I won't be able to watch you play this time. Have fun!" With that, she whips out her sword and charges at Briar, bringing its blade down on the fairy's head, only for the illusion to fade and Briar to reveal herself flying full bore at her chosen enemy.

"WINGED PIG STYLE: FLYING TACKLE!" Briar shouts, her aura flaring even higher as she crashes into her opponent, driving her through several blocks of buildings.

"Well, well," Zaraki muses, tapping his sword against his shoulder. "Never seen Yachiru so fired up before. It won't help you against me if you were expecting to use that as a distraction."

Alex doesn't bather to answer, instead using telekinesis to grab Zaraki's eyepatch and pull it off into his hand. "Yeah, I thought so." Alex tosses the patch aside even as streamers of reishi begin to rise from Zaraki. "I didn't believe Urahara, but it looks like he was telling the truth."

"You got balls kid, I'll give you that," Zaraki growls through a smile. "I'm Kenpachi Zaraki, the captain of the Elventh, and you just asked for an ass kicking. Why don't you tell me who you are so I can write it on your grave?"

"Really?" Alex scoffs. "I am Alexander Harris, Champion of the Three Goddesses and Chosen of Din, Goddess of Power. And I'm here to tell you: You have Courage, but you lack Wisdom-"

Zaraki interrupts with a wild laugh, "You're not the first to tell me THAT kid!"

"And Power," Alex finishes calmly.

"What." Zaraki says calmly. His aura on the other hand, spikes harshly, the sickly yellow glow washing forward and threatening to overwhelm Alex. Alex responds by unleashing his own aura, the golden glow halting the tide of bloodlust with a solid wall of Power.

"You heard me," Alex states while drawing his Blessed Blade. "You claim to be powerful and to respect Power, but all I see is weakness. That's rather insulting to a Dinnite like myself."

"You're going to die kid." With that, Zaraki bursts forward, wildly swinging his blade at Alex. Alex simply flashes out of the way though, counter-stabbing at Zaraki. Some instinct warned Zaraki of danger though, and he managed to mostly get out of the way, taking only a plinking hit on his arm that began to bleed slightly.

"So you can cut me, even at my full power!" Zaraki laughed.

Alex seemed outright disappointed though. "This? This is it? Some man-child playing games with a sharp knife is the best the Soul Society has to offer?"

Zaraki didn't respond verbally, istead just attacking with a roar, unleashing his aura and cutting through the buildings around like butter. His explosions were complimented by the bursts of pink and green going off around them from Briar and Yachiru's fight.

"Polar Darkness," Alex states calmly, having dodged behind Zaraki and blasting at his back. Zaraki immediately felt himself slow down, and saw frost begin to creep up his robe.

Zaraki immediately dodges out of the zone of intense cold, scoffing. "Tch. And here I thought you might be fun. Instead you're just another Kido using coward!"

Alex frowns heavily at Zaraki, "Coward? I think not, but you are pathetic." With that he begins launching spell after spell at Zaraki, only using his ki to dodge the increasingly irritated Soul Reaper's swings. "First you screw around by using that stupid eyepatch. I could accept that if it were a safety measure. But all you do is reduce your own Power without gaining Wisdom! Grease. Spark."

Zaraki roared in rage and pain as he blew the fire out with his aura. "Fucking-"

"FIREBALL!" Alex yelled, engulfing the Captain in flame and lighting the remnants of the Grease spell again. "Then there's your fighting style. You live in a place with hundreds of immortal swordsmen. You not having a style means that you are either hopelessly stupid or that you're ignoring a source of Power. And this time it actually makes things worse for you and others!"

Zaraki roared out of the smoke faster than he had before, whipping his blade down in a blistering slash. "Resilient Sphere."

Ignoring the ringing from his spell, Alex continued, "And then there's your hatred of Kido! Not only are you weak, you try to actively spread your weakness! STORM OF VENGEANCE!"

Just as the Sphere failed, Alex casts a Storm, the first wave of the overpowered spell blasting at Zaraki's senses and allowing him to flash away again. As Zaraki pursued, Alex shook his head, "I'll bet that that's why you can't release your sword; you don't want to."

Zaraki screamed in rage and accelerated even faster. "Weaklings have no right to talk! Cut me down if you want to lecture me!"

"Alright. Hado Number 4: Byakurai," Alex said calmly, pointing at the rushing captain. A lightning bolt lashed out, striking through the man just below the neck, severing his spine. Zaraki fell like a marionette with his strings cut as Alex strolled over. "I know you're tough enough to survive this. I'm not going to let you continue to slap my goddess in the face or strangle potential though."

Alex reached into his bad and pulled out a black chain with harsh letters carved into it. "I worked with Urahara and Hell to make this. Activate," the chain writhed in Alex's hands before wrapping around Zaraki, burning runes lighting up when it was locked in place.

"That chain will seal most of your power away, turning it against itself. You have three choices to get it off. First, you can finally use your full power to break it. Second, you can learn enough Kido to unlock it. Third, you can permanently cripple yourself to the level of a new soul reaper and give up your Power forever. What you cannot do is continue to half-ass things! Now Sleep."

As Zaraki faded into painful magical slumber, Alex looked around. "Now where did Briar go?" A rumbling thud and a flash of pink and green lit up the sky. "Better go check on how that's going." With that Alex flashed away, leaving a bleeding, broken, and bound Zaraki lying on the ground.

_

My idea for how a confrontation between Zaraki and Alex would go. I can't help but think that Zaraki's entire existence would be an insult to Alex. If this is popular I might show the Briar side next.

---

Omake: Gather 'Round the Table

"Okay, so with the representatives of the three families locked in, that means the Grail will be granting power to 4 additional masters? Or are they already picked?" asked Anna Drake.

Ambrose shook his head. "Some of them may have already been chosen, but the fact is that with all 4 of the Servants from the last war choosing to participate, it seems likely that the Grail's contingency programming will be activated, summoning as many as 14 Servants and an additional Ruler-class Heroic Spirit. As such, there is likely to be an influx of new command seals handed out. Anyone in the city could get a set."

Balthazar Blake leant forward seriously. "And we want to take any chance we can get to receive them. We need at least one person from our alliance to have a living Servant at the time the Greater Grail activates. Stacking the pool of candidates is the least amongst the various forms of cheating going on in this war."

Archer, once again summoned as a non-Servant, smirked at Balthazar. "You don't know the half of it. Even Alaya likes to cheat by trying to give certain people a chance at the Grail every time it shows up, in the hopes of getting a bargain fulfilled."

Balthazar gestured curiously. "Well, do you want to fill us in? If there's any chance one of us will summon this Hero, we should probably know in advance."

Archer shook his head. "No, there's little point. I know exactly which suicidal wannabe-hero is going to summon Her."

-

Alex knelt in front of the ritual circle, Briar by his side and Archer lounging nearby. Officially Archer was there to look over the circle for any errors, but in truth Alex just wanted him there to act as a non-Hyrulean catalyst and reduce the chances of summoning anyone who could trigger the Curse of Demise.

"Everything looking good?" checked Briar.

Alex nodded calmly, before pushing magic into the circle. Spinning bands of light floated brilliantly in the air, and they soon disappeared to reveal...an extremely pale blonde woman, wearing black armour, an eye-concealing visor and a black blade with red inscriptions.

"I am Servant Saber, the Tyrant King. Be you my Master?"

Archer sighed. "I really should have specified which wannabe-hero I meant."

Altria stared at the beautiful, full-figured, lance-wielding woman in front of her. The appearance of this woman had been almost as unexpected as the appearance of the Command Seals on her hand. Sure, she had copious amounts of mana, but she was no magus! Further introspection was cut off as the woman stepped forward to introduce herself.

"Servant Lancer, wielder of the Divine Spear! Be you my Master?"

Altria frowned as the tone of the woman's voice struck a note of familiarity. Combined with the woman's face, an alarm bell began to ring in her head. Surely, it couldn't be? Such a coincidence was impossible. But no other explanation came to mind to explain the similarity. She would have to ask.

"Um...by any chance...are you related to my mother?"

-
David stared at the beautiful blonde woman who had just stepped out of the backroom of the Arcana Cabana. She held a staff, bore a familiar ring upon her finger and wore a strange white and blue dress covered in flowers.

"I am Servant Caster, though you may feel free to refer to me as 'Merlinnean Sorceress Artoria' when no foes are around. I would never keep my identity secret from you, Prime Merli-"

The rest of her sentence was cut off by Balthazar's sudden and extended coughing fit.

-

Somewhere else in the world, Ambrose had the strangest sense he was missing out on a hilarious joke. Unfortunately, he was too distracted by his own situation to care about it.
"I am Servant Saber, be you-Oh, Merlin! What's going on? I just had the strangest compulsion to say some weird words. Is Kay here? Why are you shushing me?"

Anna Drake rolled her eyes as she stood over her own ritual circle. "Honestly Ambrose, there's no point acting secretive about it. I figured it out when I was four. The cat is long since out of the bag."

Ambrose frowned at her, even as he fended off questions from the preteen Future King of Camelot. "I know you think you know what you think you know, but it ruins the game if I ever actually admit anything."

Anna sighed at his idiotic word games, before shrugging and resuming her ritual.
"Whatever. So long as I don't end up summoning some version of King Arthur. I've heard what's been happening to everyone else and I want no part of it. All these weird duplicate Heroes can shove off."

A band of spinning golden light shone brilliantly, revealing-
"I AM MYSTERIOUS HEROINE X! Guardian of the Universe! Visitor from the Stars! Slayer of all unneccessary sword-wielders! Servant Assassi-"

"-You're King Arthur, aren't you?" interrupted Anna.

"I most certainly am not!" retorted the lightsaber-wielding identical duplicate of King Arthur.

Any further arguments were postponed as a high-pitched squeal of joy dopplered across the room, and a limpet latched on to Mysterious Heroine X.
"X! It's so good to see you! Does this mean we're in space? Is this your spaceship? I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again!"

Ambrose and Anna exchanged glances at each other, hoping that the other had some clue what was going on. Both were left very disappointed.

-

In a small shed in Fuyuki, a red-haired teenage boy tripped over a painted spot on the floor whilst playing with some pipes. It shone brightly, before numerous spinning bands of light appeared, blinding him. When his vision slowly cleared, he found there was suddenly a beautiful woman standing where the lights had been.

"Greetings, bearer of Avalon. I am the Ruler Servant, Nimue. But perhaps you would know me better as The Lady of the Lake?

Shirou Emiya couldn't help but feel that although he had no expectations about what would happen when those lights started shining, this situation was still beyond his expectations.

Optional ending:

Lord El-Melloi II and his student Gray walked out of the doors of Fuyuki's Airport and paused. Numerous blonde women with swords duelled in front of them, all of them with a passing resemblance to Gray. An older blonde shot a small blast upwards from the very familiar glowing spear she held, which struck some kind of rocketship flying around. The ship disgorged two more blonde women. Gray's caged familiar took in the sight and began swearing very loudly.

"On second thought," Lord El-Melloi II murmured, "Let's not go to Fuyuki. 'Tis a silly place."

---

Omake: Sister's Secret:Omnomnom

"Alex, you're bleeding," noted Briar.
He looked down at himself. "Not mine, I don't think." He glanced at Briar. "You're bleeding, too."
"Definitely not mine," she replied dryly, "I don't bleed red."

Around them the Masters were bleeding. The Servants were bleeding. The walls were bleeding. Blood dripped from the ceiling. Already ankle deep so it was hard to tell, but the floor was probably bleeding too. People were starting to panic. It was hardly professional.

"HEY!" Alex barked "SETTLE DOWN!"
People stared at him.
"This is not the time to panic."
Calmly, he readied Sword and faced the entrance.
"It comes," noted Gilgamesh grimly.
"Heeeey you guuuuys!" squeaked a small voice outside.

With a wet slurping buzz-saw noise like an unholy cross between a slushie machine and a wood chipper, the massive church doors were ripped from their hinges and devoured. Balanced on a giant beach-ball the newcomer ducked as she rolled through the doorway. Dressed in a t-shirt and shorts despite the chill, sideways ballcap and heart-shaped sunglasses above her trademark grin, Zelda Harris looked ready for a day at the beach. She was the only thing in sight that wasn't bleeding. The Sigil of Insanity on her shirt wasn't reassuring. The ball itself was eight feet in diameter and covered in eyes and mouths and mouths with eyes and eyes with mouths. It stared. It drooled.

"Look, Alex! I summoned a Servitor just like you! Pretty cool, huh?" Zelda preened.
'Cool' wasn't the word that came to mind.
"Servant, Zelda," Alex corrected automatically, "I summoned a Servant."
"Ooooh," she said eyes wide, as if he'd just explained the secrets of the universe.
"How did you even get here?"
"We did such a good job cleaning up the corpse demons around town that Mayor Wilkins gave us tickets to come to Japan! Can we play Grail Wars with you?" She looked hopeful.

Masters and servants alike scrambled out through the windows. Kirei stayed. He was leering at the ball. Alex made a mental note to kill the man later.

"Zelda," inquired Briar, "where are your shoes?"
"Uhh, Shoggy ate them?"
"'Shoggy' ate them."
"Yeah. Shoggy eats lots of things."
Briar facepalmed.
'Shoggy' nibbled on a pew.
"Can I keep him?" Zelda used her puppy eyes. So did Shoggy. Cuteness somehow made it even more disturbing.
"Zelda, you can't keep a shoggoth." Alex wondered if this is what Mom felt like when he asked for things.
"Why not? Briar has Chompy."
"Not the same, Zel."

Zelda pouted. [Green] did say that her brilliant plan wouldn't work, but [Green] always said that. She sniffled. Life just wasn't fair.

---

Omake: Cheating in the Grail War

EMIYA felt a semi-familiar tug. It would seem that half-pint sorcerer was calling him up for another chat. Somewhat amused, and wondering how his expectations would be shattered this time, he answered the call...

And immediately felt that something had changed with the calling when he materialized.

He felt stronger, a lot stronger, than the last couple of times he had been summoned. Opening his eyes, he saw that half-pint had done quite a bit of growing. And he was dressed in a green outfit complete with a long green hat.

"So, did it work?" No-longer-a-half-pint sorcerer asked.

EMIYA was about to ask what "it" was, when a deeper voice interrupted.

"I think it did."

EMIYA repressed his instinct to spin around, and instead casually glanced over to see an even larger version of Pint Sorcerer grinning at him.

Huh.

"So, we're about to have the grail war, and you summoned an older version of yourself to summon me? It'd be impressive, but I've already seen both of those tricks before." EMIYA drawled.

Pint Sorcerer shrugged. "I did get the idea to use those tricks from your accounts of the alternate grail wars, but if you'd raise your dominant hand, I've got one of my own to use."

Amused, EMIYA held up his right hand, and patiently waited as Pint Sorcerer declared that 'with the Power vested in him as a Chosen of Din,' he was proclaiming 'Archer as a temporary Champion of Nayru.'

The proclamation was followed by an unmistakable burning in his right hand. EMIYA examined his hand, flexing the fingers slightly as he looked closely at the three yellow triangles tattooed onto his hand.

"OK, I'll admit that this," EMIYA paused, waving his three command seals at the two sorcerers, "is an interesting advantage. You worship three goddesses, right half-pint?"

Pint Sorcerer nodded, grinning.

"So can I assume that you both have three bonus command seals as well? In addition to whatever seals second Pint had to have in order to summon me?"

Pint Sorcerer nodded again, grinning even harder.

EMIYA paused, examining the sorcerer closely. The teenager was entirely too pleased with himself. Yes, 15 command seals for a single master would be insane enough in any other circumstances, but EMIYA had known the sorcerer long enough to know that the kid didn't do anything in half-measures.

"So what other ways did you decide to cheat?" He asked as he stretched himself out a bit.

However, EMIYA found himself freezing in place when his own voice answered from behind him.

"Well, the kid decided that summoning us once just wasn't enough."

EMIYA turned around to see three other people standing in the room, all of them looking like they had been colored by someone who only knew how to use shades of black. He glanced back to Pint Sorcerer for an explanation, and after a few more moments of grinning, the teenager provided one.

"After hearing Ambrose's stories about the previous grail wars, the Edelfelt's sorcery trait kind of stuck out in my mind. It took some experimentation with my shadow self, but eventually we learned how to sort of pretend to be one person for magical effects. So when the Grail War came around, we counted as 'one' master, and then each got command seals."

"Uh huh, and is there anything else I should know about? Any other ways you've decided to cheat?"

The teenager's grin grew even larger. "Of Course! I've already got a group of allies! After all the most Powerful way to cheat, is to use the Power of FRIENDSHIP!"

EMIYA sighed, and ignored Pint Sorcerer's shadow leaping across the room to tackle him. This grail war was shaping up to be interesting in the Chinese sense, and it hadn't even been five minutes yet.

Edit: A/N:
In case it wasn't clear, in this hypothetical grail war scenario, the Just Alex faction (not including allies) would have: Alex w/ 6 command seals, Older Alex w/ 6 command seals, Archer w/ 3 command seals, Shadow Alex w/ 6 command seals, Older Shadow Alex w/ 6 command seals, and Shadow Archer w/ 3 command seals. (30 seals total)

And if Rin summoned a version of Archer as well, there would be 4 versions of Emiya Shirou present for the war as well.

---

However, you also realize that you don't actually NEED to map a path all the way to Yhwach's bedroom. It would satisfy a certain sense of completion, but it isn't truly necessary for your purposes here. You've found two routes that link one of the Gates of the Sun to the King's chambers, which is one more route than any competent infiltrator should need - at least, that's the impression you get from the memories of a certain King of Thieves.

It COULD just be Ganondorf's professional pride talking.

Ganondorf: "Back in MY day, you had to scout as you went. Which usually meant that no scouting took place. Some times, no route actually existed to begin with and you had to make your own both when you went in AND out. So there being open corridors that actually exist, you know exist and, further more, that you know the lay out off? It's a luxury bordering on the obscene. I would, and gladly have, killed for as much."

Alexander: "Ok Boomer."

Ganondorf: "Listen here you little sh-"

---

Can I just say that I find it particularly hilarious that Merlot is describing himself as delicate not in comparison to all the big humans around him but, rather, in a more objective sense?

Merlot: "And day light tends to cause long term damage to my incredibly perceptive yet fragile eyes."
Kahlua: "Oh, um, okay"
Merlot: "Being scared at all leaves permanent mental damage that while haunt me through out my life. My short and tragic life!"
Kahlua: "I well, um-"
Merlot: "Pineapple also happens to soften my tough, yet tasty, flesh if you were to grill it!"
Kahlua: "That's good to know?"
Merlot: "My soft and leathery skin makes for the greatest of hats. It's an ever present danger!"
Kahlua: "Errrrrr..."
Merlot: "My bones can be used in various magical regents. Oh, the Ache-ality!"
Kahlua: "..."
Merlot: "The whole world is a danger to me!"
Kahlua: "...Maybe being able to understand him wasn't such a good idea."

I don't know, the fact that he is so self-conscious scratched my funny bone something fierce.

---

SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #1
TWINROVA

Among the fragmented lore of ancient Hyrule, there is a poetic verse that claims the Triforce dwells in a land where the sky shines gold. At the time those words were first set to page and the stone of new-made monuments, they were entirely true, and they would become somewhat well-known among the populace—including a certain future Demon King, whose pursuit of the Golden Power would set off a chain of events that ultimately put paid to both facts.

Yet in the years before that truth was undone and lost to history, it was one of a number of pieces of knowledge debated by the wise men of Hyrule.

Just why was it that the Sacred Realm, the resting place of the Triforce that held a fraction of the power of the Golden Goddesses, existed under a sky of gold? Was it a side-effect of the presence of the divine relic, its holy aura being the only source of light in an artificial world with no sun to call its own? Had so many centuries of exposure to that same energy bleached the stones, the sea, and the sky itself with that aureate hue? Or was it merely that the sky of the hidden demiplane had been gold from the beginning, by the will of its makers? And if so, why?

Through those debates, that single verse gave rise to a theory that the realm of the Goddesses themselves was a place of gold, where sky and sea and stone shone perpetually in the light cast by the fathomless power of its mistresses.

As it happens, this theory was incorrect.

Oh, the Goddesses liked gold as much as the next deity—as long as the next deity wasn't a God of Wealth or Greed—but they far preferred it as one color on a palette of hundreds, one material among thousands, a single part of a greater and richer whole rather than a whole unto itself.

And when taken as a whole, the realm that Din, Nayru, and Farore called home looked far more like Hyrule than not. In fact, it looked like the best parts of Hyrule, gathered up from across the ages of its history and arranged together in a manner most pleasing to the sisters, an ever-evolving quilt of history and mystery, truth and myth, legacy and destiny.

One corner of the divine realm resembled the ancient heart of the Gerudo Desert, where scattered islands of dark brown and grey stone rose from a sea of yellow-white sand that caught the light of the sun—shining down from a blue sky, incidentally—and cast it back in a glare that would have pierced the eyes of any mortal observer.

One rheumy eye ignored the shimmer of the scorching hot sand and squinted angrily up at the sun, before disappearing back underneath a broad-brimmed conical hat.

"Bothersome goddesses," a diminutive old woman grumbled as she rode along on her broom, coming in for a landing at a shady nook among the stones. "Can't even leave an old woman's tired bones to enjoy their rest in peace."

"That's rich, coming from you, sister," an almost identical voice cackled from the shadows. "How many times have we raised the dead, again?"

"That's completely different, and you know it!" the first witch hissed as her ride settled to the stone floor. "We're witches! They're goddesses! We're supposed to spread doom and gloom and misery to our enemies! They're supposed to be too goody-goody to be this cruel!" She punctuated that claim by brandishing her broomstick at the uncaring morning sky.

There was a snort. "Kotake, I think we both know by now that good doesn't automatically mean nice. The Hero-brat alone should be proof enough of that. Fierce as a Wolfos, that one." A speculative note entered the old witch's tone. "Makes me wonder if we shouldn't try kidnapping him into the tribe as a babe, one of these incarnations…"

Kotake did a double-take at her sibling. "…and here I thought I was sun-struck," the wilted-looking Sorceress of Ice muttered in amazement.

"I'm serious, sister. Picture it: that instinctive ferocity, married to loyalty to the tribe; that savage skill, honed under the guidance of our best warriors; that sheer, indomitable persistence, at the command of our King; and then look me in my good eye and tell me that he wouldn't be a terror."

"I would be a liar if I did," Kotake admitted.

"You're a liar anyway! Eeeh, hee, hee, hee!"

"So I am! Oooh, ho, ho, holy hells, it is a scorcher out here today."

Koume eyed her sister from where she sat on the porch of a not-so-little hut, tucked away in the shade of the rocky overhang. "Cooling charm gave out already, huh?"

The only answer that merited was a sour glare.

Koume sighed and patted the blue-and-white cloth seat of the empty chair next to her. "Come on and have a seat, old girl, and leave off trying to cow our Golden Gaolers into submission for a bit."

"I'm too hot to sit down, Koume."

"And stumbling around in this kind of dead heat is supposed to cool you off faster?"

"At least this way, I can't see the glow of these stupid halos!"

Koume's reply was delayed slightly as she glanced upwards at the golden ring hovering over her head.

The shadow cast by the stone overhead did make that soft, steady luminescence difficult to ignore.

Much as it galled her, the old witch had to admit that this really was a fine bit of vengeance by their Holy Hostesses. Normally, souls like hers and her sister's were cast out from the light of the divine, forced to exist among the murky shadows, cutting stones, and black flames of that place mortal Hyruleans knew as the Demon Realm or the World of Darkness. But for two souls such as theirs, inherently strong in magic, steeped in the darker side of witchcraft for centuries, and sworn to the first true King that the Dark Realm had known for an age, such a fate would have been just like coming home.

You know, if your home was a blasted hellscape stalked by the unholy legions of darkness.

With that sort of power backing them up, the sisters would have been back in Hyrule within a generation, two at the outside, and had Ganondorf free of that cursed Seal of the Sages as fast as you could say, "Darkness," "Destruction," and "Despair."

Naturally, the Glittery Goddesses had wanted to avoid that, and so the moment that the old witches' souls escaped their bodies, courtesy of a certain Hero, the divine meddlers had reached down, "blessed" and "forgiven" them their four centuries' worth of sins, and taken them into their realm—specifically, into this recreation of the desert that had been their home for half a millennium, a replica perfect in every physical detail, but mystically devoid of any trace of the darkness that gave rise to monsters, much less of monsters themselves. There wasn't so much as a Keese to send messages with, let alone any demons capable of making a proper pact.

True, there were Gerudo souls aplenty up here, dwelling on the fringes of the desert, where the harsh, hammering heat that so closely resembled the reality of the mortal plane was gentled by the will of the Goddesses into the Gerudo concept of paradise—close enough to their remembered lifestyle to be comfortable, yet with the cool air, flowing water, and fertile soil they'd dreamed of, fought for, and died still hoping to possess for centuries beyond counting. Yet those who dwelt in that portion of the Divine Realm either predated Twinrova's rise to prominence within the tribe, or else had gotten out from under their thumbs in the decades since, whether in life or through death; either way, they kept their distance, giving the witches no trouble but also no aid.

And while there were elemental spirits aplenty for an enterprising witch to trade favors and information with, the ones native to this place all answered to their Celestial Landladies first and foremost, and had been most thoroughly instructed on what sort of exchanges were permitted, and which were not.

And so, cut off from their familiar patrons and servants, with their powers limited, and beyond the reach of any but their King—who'd been sealed into the Dark Realm of his own making not long after—Koume and Kotake were quite on their own.

Small wonder it took us so long to get out the first time, Koume mused. Just putting together the reagents to FIND a way out… She shook her head abruptly, dismissing that train of thought to focus on coaxing her sister to come in out of the sun.

"There, there, that's a good girl," Koume tutted as she settled Kotake into her chair, which of a necessity, was set at the spot where the shadows of their not-quite-a-cave and the breeze blowing in from outside met in the most optimal amounts. On days when there was a breeze, anyway. "Now, you re-cast that charm–"

"I'm out of ice."

"–then I'll get you some from the box, as well as a cold glass of water," Koume continued easily.

And she did that, a little minor telekinesis making the task simple enough for a woman smaller than a child and frail enough that a good strong wind could blow her away and dash her old bones to powder on the nearest rock. When Koume returned to the porch, a glass that almost seemed wreathed in mist in one hand, Kotake snatched it without a word, first taking a quick drink, then muttering the words of a spell over the melting ice chips that floated in the water. One of them sublimated in a matter of seconds, a reaction that was followed by a distinctly non-desert like breeze blowing straight towards the old women.

Sorceress of Flame or no, Koume had to admit that the cool air felt good.

Kotake raised her glass. "To the Ice-Box," she proclaimed. "The greatest creation those madlad alchemists have ever come up with."

Personally, Koume preferred alchemical fire, but she held her tongue, letting her sister recover from her trek. At length, however, she finally spoke: "So, usually when you go visiting the other ice-witches, you're back before first light. What kept you?" A leer emerged, and she waggled her white eyebrows. "A clandestine meeting by moonlight, perhaps?"

"You know how the Risen Demon's been on the move of late?" Kotake asked rhetorically. "Well, Liara said that Nabosa told her that Ritake's brother Rotaro told her that the ancient one is looking for a necromancer that knows how to cast the Spell of Cloning, and is willing to teach it to a third party."

Koume considered that for a moment.

"First he lets the boy hang out with bloodthirsty monsters, then he helps set up a trial-by-combat for his birthday, and now he's arranging to teach him necromancy of the eighth circle." The old witch shook her head in wonderment. "Kotake, dear, I'm starting to think that we've misjudged that batty old ex-demon all these years."

"Yeah, he's alright, for a Goddess Groupie. At the very least," and here, Kotake's tone soured, "he knows better than to hobble a bright young boy by restricting his training to age-appropriate spells and the other coddling nonsense these wimps blather on about. Can you imagine if one of them were trying to teach the Young King?"

"Oh, that would be a disaster," Koume groaned. "How many poltergeists did Ganondorf spawn, again? Before we managed to hammer enough of the craft into his head to get him to stop doing it accidentally, I mean."

"I stopped counting," Kotake admitted.

Unless you were looking at them through the more powerful and sensitive forms of mage sight, and not infrequently even then, there was little to distinguish most magically-gifted children from ordinary ones. Whether witch or wizard, priest or shaman, it took a certain amount of knowledge, mental focus, and practiced control to consciously employ one's abilities, and it was a rare child that possessed any one of those things, let alone all three together. You did see the occasional magical outburst from a gifted child during moments of intense emotion, but those seldom amounted to anything much in a healthy environment, especially if the child's aptitude was for one of the traditions that required external support to truly flourish.

Sorcerers were another barrel of Leevers entirely. They had enough energy, so closely bound to their thoughts and feelings, that they were much more likely to have those sorts of magical outbursts than their peers, and also to exhibit more serious reactions. Being mistaken for poltergeist activity wasn't uncommon at all.

Summoning actual poltergeists was unusual even by sorcerous standards, but then, Ganondorf did always have more magic than he knew what to do with—and even by that generous measure, his newest incarnation was ahead of the curve.

Seriously, eighth-level necromancy? At age nine? What was that boy's mother feeding him, and could they possibly get the recipe?

Speaking of the dark arts, though…

"I think I added a copy of the Clone Spell to our little library," Koume mused, half-raising herself from her seat.

"Don't bother," Kotake said, shaking her head.

"But it's just–"

"I know."

"But we could–"

"I know." Kotake sighed. "As soon as the meet ended, I had Ritake take me straight to Rotaro and offered to help him out, but the rude boy turned me down. Said old Batreaux was very clear that he didn't want any bad influences on his student, and then he had the gall to add that he didn't trust us not to slip in something like a possession lure!"

Koume sputtered in sudden fury.

"I know!" Kotake said, in complete agreement with her more hot-tempered sibling's nonverbal exclamation. "Honestly, the nerve of some people! As if we would ever put our King in that kind of danger! I was only planning to add targeted summoning elements to the cloning ritual, so that the body would call me into it when it was viable!"

"Wait, what?"

"'Us,'" Kotake quickly corrected herself. "Meant 'us.'"

Koume eyed her sister suspiciously.

From the sudden gust of unnaturally cold and damp wind that blew at them, she wasn't the only one doing so.

"Oh, spare me your ominous portents," Kotake growled towards the sky, as she casually ignored the almost arctic chill. "Of course we're plotting! Witches, remember? This is what we do! And really, what did you think was going to happen when you summoned our echoes to the boy's birthday? Twice, no less!"

That was a question the twins had spent some time trying to wrap their heads around. The ways of divinity were mysterious and unfathomable to mortals, but after all these centuries of opposition from both sides of the grave, Koume and Kotake felt they had a fair measure of the Golden Gooseberries.

Their recent summonings didn't feel like Din's handiwork. True, of the three sisters, Din was the one most sympathetic to the witches—or perhaps more accurately, the least unsympathetic—a state of affairs arising from their shared if differing interests in Ganondorf, their mutual affinity for personal power, and the Goddess's concern for free will and self-determination. It was really only that last area where the witches and Din had any argument with each other, as the Twinrova had trampled on quite a few people's free will and life choices in their time.

But Din was blunt as a boulder and obvious as a raging fire. If she were still pissed at them for their periodic uses of mind control, they would know, whether because of a rain of flaming Gorons, a sudden volcanic eruption in their little slice of hellish heaven, or the Goddess herself showing up in person to thump them a good one. Likewise, if Din felt that the witches had served their time and were due or even overdue to be released, she wouldn't be wasting all their time playing games; they'd be out, or at least pointed towards what they needed to secure their escape on their own.

So no, the summoning wasn't Din's doing.

Nayru was unlikely to be the culprit, either. Not that they doubted her ability to dangle the prospect of freedom in front of a pair of condemned and eternally bound prisoners just to rub it in; like the element she claimed for her own and the haughty highborn Hylian ladies whose appearance she favored, the Goddess of Water might seem calm and pretty on the surface, but vicious currents lurked beneath. Beautiful and treacherous as water, self-serving as Hylian law, cruel and relentless as the slow march of Time itself—that was Nayru in all her aspects.

But as befit her self-proclaimed title as the Goddess of Wisdom, Nayru wasn't stupid about her spite. Her actions were considered in advance, with all possible outcomes taken into account. Allowing the Twinrova to take part in the boy's birthday Trials had given them a window into his new life, information they could use in their scheming—not the least of which was the knowledge that the young Ganondorf reborn was walking around on another world entirely, much less which world, or the various tidbits they'd picked up in their extended chat over tea with young Gyokuro.

Delightful girl, that one. Fine taste in men, too.

Overall, despite the limited nature and lacking context of the things they'd learned that day, the witches had simply gained too much information for their participation to have been Nayru's doing. The Blue Bitch simply wouldn't hand that sort of advantage or motivation over to a pair of avowed enemies if she could avoid it, which she very easily could have in this instance.

By process of elimination, then, that left Farore as the Goddess they had to thank for letting their summoned selves out to play.

And that honestly worried the witches.

The Hylians called Farore the Goddess of the Winds, and while the Gerudo didn't worship her as such, that was largely because they knew the wind by a very different face than their soft, plains-dwelling neighbors. Wind brought opportunity and danger in equal measure, blowing along the life-giving rains and the scything sandstorms both. Wind cooled your blood by day and froze your bones by night, and those who didn't learn to pay attention to its comings and goings didn't last long in the deep desert.

Wind was the trickster that offered you a prize with one hand and then snatched it away with the other, laughing all the while, the foe that only the strongest, boldest, and most clever could triumph over. And even then, one might find that she'd come out second-best.

The littlest Goddess's offer this time was quite clear: first, the knowledge that their onetime son and student walked in living flesh once more, on a world far removed from Hyrule; second, the temptation that, if Koume and Kotake could just find a way out of their current conditions, they'd have another chance to raise the King of the Gerudo to the height of his potential; and now, if this latest news was any indication, there was the quite real possibility that Their Boy Reborn would be greater and grander and more terrible than ever before, with a whole new planet to conquer and bend to his will, before turning his attention to Hyrule.

It was one hell of a lure—so where was the trap?

Because the witches knew Farore, knew that for all it was her second sister who claimed the mantle of Wisdom, the Goddess of Courage was no fool. She wouldn't have dangled such an opportunity in front of their old faces if there wasn't a risk to it that they couldn't see, some hazard beyond the mere unknowns of new lands inhabited by strange peoples and overseen by alien gods that the little goddess was confident her opponents would stumble into, a price to be paid that could ultimately undo all their hard work.

That might have been why Kotake was egging on two out of three Goddesses; an attempt to goad them into giving something away that she and her sister could use.

Or it might just be the heat getting to her, Koume admitted with another glance at the burning sun.

Whatever the case, the gambit didn't work. The cold wind died out, and the sweltering heat returned, mitigated only by Kotake's conjured breeze.

"Hmph," the Sorceress of Ice grunted, before taking another drink of water. "Meddlesome old biddies."

Koume found she couldn't quite pass up that opening. "Again, look who's talking. Eeeh, hee, hee, hee!"

"True enough! Oooh, ho, ho- hold it, who are you calling old, you crone?!"

"Don't call me a crone, hag!"

"Beldam!"

"Gibdo!"

"Mother of a Moblin!"

The cold wind might have blown again, as if sighing.

If so, the twins were too caught up in their sisterly quarrel to notice it.

---

SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #2
THE GOLDEN GODDESSES

Somewhere underneath a sky of blue—and not gold—a certain trio of goddesses were looking elsewhere.

Nayru sighed and raised one hand to rub at her temple, as if troubled by a sudden headache. "Honestly, those two…"

"Right there with you, Sis," Farore groaned, as she buried her face in her hands. "It is so embarrassing to have to admit that those are the Legendary Evil Witches that keep causing us so much trouble."

Din scoffed. "Let she who has never called her sisters names cast the first word."

"I do it out of love!" Farore protested.

"Love of bad puns, maybe," the Goddess of Power retorted.

"They are the lowest form of humor," Nayru murmured with a wry smile.

"Oh, don't you dare–"

Din grinned. "Perfect for the shorty, then."

Farore glared up at her sisters' taller avatars. "Vengeance. It will be mine."

In unison, Nayru and Din reached out to pat her on the head.

"So. Much. Vengeance," Farore grumbled.

"On a somewhat related note," Nayru said then, "am I once again the only one who's worried by the fact that the Twinrova are poking their beaky noses into the boy's business on our plane?"

Farore and Din traded looks, then turned to their sister. "Yes."

Nayru folded her arms, and waited.

"You know my stance, Nayru," Din said simply.

The blue-haired goddess huffed, but nodded.

It was an old argument between the two of them. In spite of everything the Twinrova had done and would undoubtedly go on to do if and when they got loose again, by Din's reckoning, they were within their rights—or at least mostly so. They'd made their choices with full knowledge of the consequences, they'd endured everything the world threw at them as a result, and they'd kept going in spite of it all, fighting to the death and then back from beyond.

For that, they had Din's respect. Not enough to make her speak out against them being put in celestial time-out for a few centuries—their fondness for mind-control and lesser infringements of other people's free will had irked her—but when the Seal of the Sages weakened enough for Ganon to slip his alter-ego through to Hyrule, Aghanim had oh-so-coincidentally come across reminders of his true self's long-absent mothers which he otherwise might never have discovered. And while the Demon King might not have cared, and was still too strongly bound to take direct action regardless, his projected mortal form was more sentimental, and less constrained.

Besides, he'd already been plaguing Hyrule with a bevy of unnatural disasters, with an eye towards setting himself up as a "hero" by ending the very troubles he'd created. Why not take advantage of the chaos and suffering so inspired, and work a dark resurrection on the side?

And so it had been.

And so the Twinrova had turned around and repeated the trick after Ganon's death, sowing destruction and despair in the lands of Holodrum and Labrynna to revive their fallen son, ultimately at the cost of their own renewed lives and getting thrown back into the divine desert.

There'd been quite the row among the celestial sisterhood afterwards, when the Goddess of Power's indirect instigation of the whole affair came out. Din stood by her decision to allow the Twinrova a second chance; Nayru thought she should have known better than to turn the pair of troublemakers loose; and Farore felt that they both had valid points, although she also believed that, instead of bending the natural order with a resurrection—much less one fueled by the darkest depths of Gerudo witchcraft—Din ought to have sent Koume and Kotake back into the cycle of reincarnation for another shot at life.

None of them had really shifted in their opinions since then.

And on that note…

"Personally," Farore said, "I want them following the Kid-King."

Now it was Nayru's turn to trade glances with Din.

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, we know that these two are good enough at the whole witch business that, if we don't watch them like Arrghus with a grudge, sooner or later they're going to slip something by us. And while that's less of a problem as long as they're up here, where we can keep their magic in check and intervene directly as needed without breaking any of the important stuff, as soon as the pair of them get out again-"

"If they get out again," Nayru interrupted.

"When," Din corrected.

"-it's going to be a much bigger issue," Farore continued, ignoring the interruptions. "Seeing as how their main purpose in life and after it has been to mother Bacon Breath, I'd rather not be blindsided by whatever they'd cook up to 'help' him after their next prison break. I think we'd all like to avoid a spiritual successor to the Oracle Incident."

"Your Oracle was barely even involved in that mess," Din protested.

"Yeah, but my Chosen One was." The Goddess of Courage shook her head. "My point is, Koume and Kotake know how to hide from us and our agents on our world. They don't know how things work on Earth, and if they jump ship there…" She trailed off, letting her sisters come to their own conclusions.

"They'd be outsiders," Nayru mused. "Everyone would be watching them. And as good as they are at dodging divine attention, their best magic relies on them having patrons—patrons who'd have to be able to find them, for their arrangements to work out."

"Not only that," Din said with slow realization, "but the way these Pains in The Butt run things, the witches wouldn't be allowed to make deals for the kind of power they're used to. Not at any price they'd find acceptable, or with anyone they could trust not to stab them in the back."

"Unless they dealt with us." Farore smirked. "Can you imagine the looks on their faces if it comes to that?"

As it happened, Din and Nayru could.

It was perhaps a bit unbecoming for them to derive any satisfaction from the prospect of mortal suffering, but given the mortals in question, a little anticipatory schadenfreude was understandable, and even forgivable.

Even so, the Goddess of Wisdom eyed her green-clad sister askance. "That's not the whole reason, though, is it, Farore?"

"No," the Goddess of Courage admitted. "As much as I like the idea of those two having to work by our rules for once, it's more of a potential fringe benefit than what I was really aiming for."

"And that is…?"

"I'm hoping that, if the witches get desperate enough to go after the Kid-King, and we stay on the ball about blocking their other options for breaking out, they'll finally start seriously considering just reincarnating, already."

Once again, Nayru nodded.

Farore felt that part of the problem with the witches was how little they'd changed down through the years, even as Hyrule itself grew and declined and transformed in that same period. True, the Twinrova had never stopped learning new tricks or refining the old ones, but they were always driven by the same motives: to help Ganondorf topple the Royal Family and conquer Hyrule; to bring death and destruction to all those that stood in his way; and to take revenge for grudges that even the other Gerudo ancestors kicking around the Goddesses' Realm had forgotten about a thousand years ago.

It was only natural that the witches, who'd been old, old women by the time their first death claimed them, would have certain beliefs, habits, and attitudes so deeply ingrained that it was difficult for their owners to recognize any longer that they could or even should be changed, much less to consider actually giving them up.

It was understandable that the twins would be reluctant to set aside ideals and agendas that had been the driving force of their existence since time out of mind, or to give up elements of the culture that had made them who and what they were—a culture that no longer existed outside of legend, the memories of the Goddesses, and the persons of two bitter old women. For though the Gerudo as a people lived to this day, the society that had given rise to the Demon King had long since vanished beneath the relentless march of time, the ever-shifting sands of the desert, and the sheer destructive evil of its once most cherished and now most accursed son.

It was entirely mortal that the witches should fear to let go of who they'd been, what they'd done, and all they'd dreamed of accomplishing.

But to be mortal was to change, to grow, to learn, to diminish, and to one day die and pass back into the cycle, to begin again. To linger on this way, unchanging, driven by pride and old grudges, and held together by dark magic and malice… well.

The Twinrova were trouble enough as mortal souls or lingering spirits. The Goddesses did not need the extra hassle of them becoming demons on top of everything else. It was just one more reason to keep the two of them from passing into the Dark Realm.

Even so, Din and Nayru both had their misgivings about Farore's proposal. Reincarnation was a natural process, but it was also one that certain magical traditions had studied intently, with an eye towards improvement. The Gerudo witches, Farore's own druids, and some others had all developed ways in which to ensure a continuity of personality, memory, and ability between incarnations.

Such magic wasn't perfect. The earliest successful experiments in that field had resulted in reincarnations being born years or even decades later, long after the magic-users who'd cast the spells involved had deemed their rituals to have failed. With the knowledge of their past selves locked away inside their minds and souls, unable to awaken on its own, most had gone on to live comparatively ordinary lives, celebrating their unexpected displays of "natural talent" or "genius," and enduring odd dreams or periodic flashes of abnormally intense deja vu. But eventually, circumstances aligned so that some reincarnates reawakened to their former selves, or were discovered by magical adepts capable of recognizing what had been done to them, and the process was refined.

By the time the Twinrova were born, the Ritual of Reincarnation had been mastered to the point where a skilled and well-connected witch could not only arrange for a soul to be reborn, but could exploit the Spirit's resistance to the flow of Time to allow someone whose "past" life had just ended to step forward in a new body born some decades earlier, memories and skills intact. Koume and Kotake were more than capable of performing such a feat, and even of guiding it in ways lesser witches could not, and the prospect of the two of them being reborn in the bodies of young Gerudo warriors, with all the knowledge and power of centuries at their fingertips, was just as bad in some ways as having them arise as demons would have been.

Nayru had not been keen on letting that happen.

Din was more concerned with the fact that the ritual, while improved from its early days, was by no means perfect. No matter how skilled the caster or how extensive the precautions taken, something was always given up in the transition between lifetimes, and while magic could make up for the obvious deficiencies, it was far harder to recoup losses you weren't even aware you'd suffered.

Loss of any sort was anathema to the Goddess of Power, but even beyond that? As much of a pain in the divine posterior as the witches could be, she kind of liked them the way they were. There was no guarantee she'd like their reincarnations, and that uncertainty chafed as few things could.

But the last time the Goddesses had this argument had been before Ganondorf's soul went missing. And they'd found it, found him, reincarnated in another world and doing rather well for himself, without succumbing to the Curse of Demise or more mundane evil.

Small wonder, then, that Farore was revisiting the matter of reincarnating the Twinrova now. After all, if an accidental reincarnation had worked out so well (so far) for the Demon King of Evil, a rebirth guided by the Goddesses would surely go at least as well for two evil, powerful, but still fundamentally human witches! Right?

"Farore," Nayru said patiently. "I want you to put yourself in Alex's shoes for a moment."

"…okay, gimme a second." The littlest Goddess pondered for a moment, and then puffed herself up as far as her avatar's diminutive stature and lungs would allow, while simultaneously flexing her arms. "Magic! Kung Fu! Bacon!"

The sound of Din's hand meeting her face was like a gunshot.

"Yes, magic kung fu bacon," Nayru continued, not missing a beat. "Think of his friends."

"Surrounded by girls!"

"Think of his family."

"Best little sister!"

"And now think of what would happen if two batty old witches showed up in most likely teenaged bodies, and started calling themselves his mothers," the Goddess of Wisdom concluded bluntly.

…

"…okay, wow," Farore admitted slowly. "I hadn't even considered that."

"I thought not," Nayru said with a sniff.

"Now I really want to see them reincarnate!"

Nayru's facepalm did not have the forceful report that Din's did. But she tried.

---

Bridal Kidnapping, version February 2020

Japan, June 2009
It had taken years to get to this point.

Standing besides Khamsin, Alex took out the Gate focus, opening one to the outside of the Shuzen's realm. Slowly, they walked through, only to stop directly in front of it, letting his eyes wander over the matrix holding it together, gate collapsing behind him.

Back when he had still been eight years old, a necromancer had breached said realm's security.
The adults had dealt with it, obviously, and at first, he hadn't thought of it much over all the world-shaking events since then. Just like his interest in Moonlit dating rituals, this changed as he grew up, drawn in by the promise of Kahlua.
Now, he was a young man - you can stop laughing any time now, Ganon, and the boar doing so as well is just disloyal - of eighteen years that had studied these topics enough to feel safe.

Kahlua's 9th birthday gift didn't count, he had been young and stupid then - Ganon, do me a favor and die of that laughter -, but he now certainly understood the aura of paternal doom he had felt at the time.
Then there had been Ambrose's words about kidnappings and thresholds. He had no idea how Strigoi and thresholds interacted, but... well.
Only one way to find out.
He knew what he really needed to know: Kahlua wouldn't say no, be it with words or fists. Once he reached her without raising an alert, everything else was secondary.

For the last year, he had pushed his powers more than ever, trying to grow stronger and stronger while completing Khamsin's training. It had been a major milestone on a long way, but only the latest step.
For the last decade, he had focused on studying defensive magic, including the occasional input from the wards in front of him, the Memorian walls (which were still mostly eluding him), Ambrose's wards, the Drakes' home...

If some random schmuck necromancer could breach the plane, he sure as hell could at least give it a try to get himself another bride.

He obviously couldn't go hand to hand with the Shuzens, but that had never been the plan anyway.
Now young man and stallion stood outside their little home dimension, in mundane Japan, watching its patterns one last time.
"She's not going to like you went for Altria and Cordy first, you know." Briar commented from her place inside his suit pocket.

Alex just shrugged. "One of them has to be last, and I didn't have to fight them. Didn't even have to deal with Cordy's parents." He sighed, suddenly sad."Altria... I just had to ask Arthur for permission, so easier to get that out of the way. Both Issa and Kahlua require this, and it prunes his ego a bit."

"...and going first boosts Cordy's. Anyway, I go dive now." Briar nodded while Alex winced. "Make sure she doesn't punch the pocket out while I'm in."

"I will." He stated firmly, thinking not only of Briar's request, but also his complete future family situation before shaking his head.

More important than even the training, he had spent a lot of time with the little local kami, forming a bond with it.

So as his power touched the realm's boundary, he climbed onto the saddle, silently asking to be let in without the Shuzen's security noticing.
Within moments, a hole opened up in the defenses, letting him through as asked. Horse and rider were enveloped in a sheet of welcoming youki shot through with the power of the trace triforce, allowing them to ride towards the castle undetected.

Correcting the fit of his suit – all the magic that went into it made it the equivalent of scifi armor while being as inconspicuous and stylish as the better bodyguard suits - and using a fire cantrip to trim his five o'clock shadow to the proper length one last time, Alexander Lavelle Harris attuned his aura to the plane before flicker-riding to the castle's vicinity, place spirit running at their side with a happy smile.

He watched the grounds carefully before taking flight, creating a sheet of hardened air just in front and below Kahlua's window, setting down in front of it.

The young woman was asleep, blanket drawn up to her lovely face. Now it had to be fast, and quiet.

Dropping all magic and taking a deep breath, he confidently stepped through the window. Castle guest access had been granted to him long ago, and while no one really expected him to come in through the window, there had been no reason to pull those rights from him in case the kids wanted to go exploring by flight. Especially ever since Kahlua had followed him into adventures through that Gate - by now, her parents surely regretting allowing him to get that focus attuned to their home all those years ago. The decorative gargoyle face next to her window winking at him as the place spirit moved his attention to it would just have made them freak out.

His feet quietly hit the ground and he walked to the bed, only to stop at a giggle.

"Finally! Young Mistress was growing impatient." Merlot dropped from the roof, silently hovering in the air.

"Shh!" Quickly and carefully, - and not the least driven by Briar's annoyance via the bond - he pushed those thoughts away, pressing a hand to the sleeping young woman's lips.
She reacted immediately, going for her weapons before she stopped with a start at the heavy giggling.

"Hi Darling." He whispered. "Time to move out."

Recognizing him, she playfully glared up, ruining that impression by softly kissing his hand. He redacted it, smiling as she sat up "I'm not just gonna meekly follow you, Alex! I need to be properly conquered!"

"Come on, Princess." He replied confidently, casting unseen servants, who Merlot immediately began to order around to make sure everything important went with them. "I beat you often enough that we both know all this will do is wake your parents and have them watch me conquer you in single combat."

*power skill innuendos cut*

"You are SO not in a position to make demands after all those comments, girl." Alex smiled, then grabbed into his pocket to take out the Ring of Protective Penumbra and Water Resistance, only to stop when the avatar appeared to hug Kahlua goodbye.

"...well then." He smiled as the hug ended and the spirit raised his fist to meet his Alex's. "I was here." He answered in kind, then took the ring out, slipping it on her finger. While she was speechless, he knocked her out with a surgical application of magic, using more mana to bind, gag, blindfold and earplug her carefully and place her on Khamsin's back. Both of them were well aware that she could shred those bonds easily, but had no intent to except for possibly impatience.

Five minutes, several filled pocket dimensions and saddle bags of holding later, he carefully put Kahlua's pillow back in its proper place and placed the prepared business card with a handwritten note on it.

Checking everything was fine, he jumped back on Khamsin, punched a hole in the wards with power and opened a fresh gate outside.

This was more than enough to make several strong auras flare up in the building, so they immediately jumped though, closing the gate behind them.

#

Only moments later, the Shuzens nearly kicked in the door, weapons drawn, finding the card immediately.

Alexander L. Harris, Sunnydale, California, USA
By the ancient rules: Just married

Akasha picked the card out of Issa's hands with a frown. "Well played, young man, well played."

Then she showed the card's backside to him, her co-wife and Akua:
PS) I'll tell you how I beat your system at the wedding reception. It wasn't easy if that helps anything.
PPS) please send the rest of her stuff soon, Khamsin can only carry so much.

Issa shook his head. "I so want to kill the boy right now, but he's right. It IS by the rules."

Gyokuro only laughed. "I think 'boy' is the wrong word here."

"So romantic... Big Sis didn't even fight him..."

The adults quickly turned around to see Moka and Jasmine standing in the door, stars in Moka's eyes, grinning place spirit at their side.

"...right." Akasha declared. "We're gonna ward your room extra strong, young lady."

"And it was no Isshin." Gyokuro added.

Issa's mood changed from ire to despair as all women nodded at that. Life was so unfair at times, but at least boyo brought that one onto himself. Well, at least he would be suffering from it.

Just then, Thistle shot into the room, and Gyokuro sighed, escorting the little fairy out before Kokoa showed up as well.

Akua just mumbled "Why is it always Kahlua that gets the romantic stuff?"

#

Beyond the gate, Alex pushed Khamsin over a wide plain. "Merlot, better take a seat unless you can planewalk on your own! We need to lose that trail!"

He landed on a saddlebag, inserting himself into a side pocket where he chirped "Ready!"

Khamsin whinnied and phased out for the first time. They ran through several planes, with Kahlua waking up after the fifth and winding a bit on his back.

Soon after, they reached the Harris family's new home demiplane.

One border was formed by a small lake, fed by a creek flowing off a forested hill, through the small garden he held in this plane and finally entering the lake at the large beach. His main gardens, both Hyrulean and Terran, were in another domain.

They stopped, and Alex placed Kahlua carefully on the ground, restoring her senses and running his hand through her hair.

Merlot immediately took to the air, wheeling next to them and he also pinged Briar.

A moment later, she shot out, hovering over his shoulder again. "Congrats, Alex! Good work there, that was quick! Hi Merlot!"

When Kahlua's eyes fluttered open, she answered the kiss eagerly in kind, only stopping when they needed air.

"Your room is over there!" Briar pointed at the house. "Teenagers, seriously…"

"Briar? Shut up." He smiled before pointing all around them."Welcome to our kingdom, darling. It may not be much, but I made it all myself."

"Only you." She giggled, looking over the plane with an atypical gleam in her eyes. "It's beautiful."

"Almost as beautiful as you. Let me show you the house." He offered her his hand, which she took to jump on Khamsin behind him, pressing herself in his back and looking around with a deep blush.

Briar shot off towards the house, warning the residents of their arrival.

A five-story building with many windows dominated the view in front of them. Unlike the plains extending in all directions and most of the lake stretching to the horizon, this was actually real.

The land was roughly rectangular, and centered on the Resplendent Mansion. On each side, it extended less than three hundred meters. Even these roughly forty-four hectares of land had cost hundreds of castings, especially with the special features and three cubes high actual sky, only adding enough cubes to allow the Mansion's balconies and visible roof garden to be used.

While they completely ignored some of Briar's siblings playing in the forest as they rode towards the building, it was not so the other way round, and some fairies followed them.

Once they reached the house, Alex placed Khamsin's cargo on the ground just beside the main garage door, where Merlot wanted to start carrying things through.

"Merlot? Wait a moment, please." Alex said as his equine friend ran off again. Turning to Kahlua, he kissed her again before taking her in a bridal carry which she eagerly snuggled herself into.

To the door's left and right, Altria and Cordy stood, resting their hands on Kahlua's shoulders as he walked through the door with a 'Hello'.

Inside, they helped her back on her feet, hugged her and gave her quick kisses. They obviously wanted to know everything, but understood very well their presence was currently only tolerated because this show of acceptance helped boost the threshold, and thus was non-negotiable for a Sunnydale boy. No matter if it was about issues related to family structure or strigoi, they had to be nipped in the bud.

If not for the fact that the statues facing the door where darknuts, swords and shotguns ready to ruin any intruder's day, the entry area could have belonged to any high-class multi-story residential building.

Well, that, the corridor to the right leading into his personal workshop-slash-garage, the noises Llamrei and Cordy's horse made from their stable beyond the atrium on the other end of the lobby, where a single tree surrounded by flowers above a small pond was visible.

As they entered, Yvain, Altria's Remlit, ran out meowing loud protest. Merlot flew higher with a small shriek, only to stop when three fairies flew out as well, chasing her off with their magic paintballs as she still hadn't learned to stay clear of the fairy section – the bat room in the third floor was protected from her by small guardian statues as well as Moblin. Not only did he like both the garden and Merlot, Yvain was catty enough for him to not like her.
Alex was so glad neither Yvain nor the fairies were big enough to trigger an alert...
At least even the servants ignored her, long ago having gotten used to the spectacle.
Altria, on the other hand, immediately went into a tirade. "YVAIN! HEEL! NOW!" Even though the horses still complained about the ruckus so close to their stables.

Meanwhile, Cordy and Merlot stayed behind to give them privacy as well as to order the unseen servants already bringing Kahlua's stuff to her separate rsuite while Cordy gave Merlot some pointers for living in the house. Everyone here had a small apartment to withdraw into when there was a need to be alone - Briar even had several, Kokoa's house, an apartment in the fairy district and a normal-sized one for her human-sized times. Having this much room really paid off.

"What was that 'Hello' about?" Kahlua asked as they walked to the main area elevator with a smile, her arm hooked into his and her head resting on his arm, only moving away to look into the combined retinal/iris scanner so the system let him in without needing his hands and drove up to the fifth story where his personal suite was located.

"It's the main door password." He just sighed. "If you don't say it, I get a mental intruder alert. It's different at each entry point."

"...that can get annoying fast." She snuggled into him even deeper.

"Yeah," He sighed. "Yeah, it can. Fortunately only applies to creatures of a certain size."

Arriving at the master bedroom, he picked up Kahlua and threw her over his shoulder under half-arsed protests. Then he used a cantrip to open the door, stepped through and threw her onto the double-California king sized bed - which, regardless what Briar claimed, was NOT called California-demonkingsized, thank you very much. This was followed by another kiss eagerly answered in kind while Briar flew off to the fairy district, ignoring the house Kokoa had gifted her. It was just standing way too close to the bed for tonight.
Only the bond allowed Briar to avoid his carelessly thrown Jacket. She was only glad her house had been put under a hylian steel dome for tonight.

Cut to black as said jacket hits the camera

At the Wedding Reception
Issa came over to shake Alex's hand giving his best to crush it with a smile showing his fangs.
"You cheated."

Alex only quirked his eyebrow, not even responding to the crushing except by applying ki armor. "I stole her right out of her bed and threw her on my horse. Where's the cheating, dad?"

"You didn't fight me but used my place spirit against my security!"

"Several answers to that." Alex grinned. "'Not using anything at my perusal would mean giving less than my best. Kahlua deserves my best.' Or 'He who doesn't cheat in combat, doesn't try` Maybe 'Fighting you? Do you never want to have grandchildren? Does her mother agree with you on that?'" Issa winced, but Alex just continued. "How about 'I'm a sorcerer, I fight smarter, not harder'? 'All is fair in love and war'? But the real answer..." He stared Issa right into the eyes before crushing back. "Victorious warriors win first and only then go to war. Besides, the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

"Stop being a sore loser, Issa." Arthur Drake laughed as he arrived, slapping them both on their backs. "Only gets the Art of War quoted at you, it seems. Our girls are happy, what more can you want? And you, Alex. Congrats."

"Thanks, dad." He removed his hand, flexing it a bit. Turned out an angry Strigoi trying to crush your hand was actually good ki armor training.

---

Alex sighed. "Alright. I never made it a formal promise, but it was something I never intended to do. Nine years is a good run, isn't it?"

Briar looked at him, alarm coming through the bond, but clearly none the wiser about his plans.

"An attack is already being planned, and I wasn't going to mention it to you because I don't want to cause an apocalypse. But you guys meeting coordinated makes me feel more comfortable than uncoordinated. Pretty sure it's even outside error margins."

"ALEX! no!" Briar yelled while Ambrose looked intrigued.

"Here" he conjured two business cards, flicking them over. "Is the address of one Kisuke Urahara. He's coordinating the Karakura side of the attack. Causing an apocalypse to cancel one out is neutral, isn't it?"

"What have you done..." Briar just whimpered as Ambrose and Balthazar stowed the cards.

---

SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OMAKE SPECIAL #3
MEDUSA

The predator slipped through the grass in a slow, winding crawl, inching towards the presence of her quarry. The prey thought itself clever, hidden from view as it was behind the bulk of the building, but it was careless, and had allowed itself to become distracted when it should have remained on guard.

Not that this would have saved it.

Closer and closer the hunter came, crossing the distance without any sound that carried to the ears of her target, staying low and out of the prey's field of view.

Now within striking distance, the stalker paused, gathering herself and waiting, waiting–

!

–to strike!

"Gotcha!"

"Aaaah!" a young child cried out, as slender but strong arms closed around his chest. "She got me! She got me! Daisuke, Hana, help!"

"Nope!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Two more children—the first a boy of an age with the captured one, which was six or so; the other, a girl a year or so younger—sprang from their hiding places in the backyard and ran to find new ones.

"You gotta distract her so we can escape, Taro!" the running boy, Daisuke, called over his shoulder as he fled.

"We will remember you!" Hana added.

"Nooo!" Taro wailed. "I don't wanna be remembered! I wanna be saved!"

"Too late," his captor purred. "The terrible monster has already caught you! But oh, what will she do with this little boy she has found, intruding on her lair?"

Perhaps it was that soft, teasing tone, or maybe it was childish curiosity about the delightfully horrid fate about to befall their playmate; whatever the reason, instead of escaping the backyard, Daisuke and Hana slowed and came to a stop as they neared the corner of the house, turning about to watch with fearful interest.

"Will she eat him up?" Pearly white teeth snapped playfully next to Taro's ear.

"Ah, no, no!"

"Will she tickle him?"

"No, not tha-ah-ha-ha-ha!"

"Or maaaaybe…"

The two free children leaned forward, eager to witness what happened next.

Taro gulped. "'Maybe'?"

The arms relaxed their grip, if only just long enough for the hands attached to them to grasp the boy by his shoulders and turn him around to face the "terrible monster," who was actually a pretty girl of twelve or so. She wore a black turtleneck and blue skirt over dark leggings, and two-toned purple hair fell past her slender shoulders as she leaned forward and captured Taro's brown-eyed stare with her own violet gaze.

"Or maybe," the near-teen whispered, light seeming to reflect off of her irises as much as it did the lenses of her slender-framed glasses, "she'll use her magical hypnotic gaze to make him think he's a monster, too, and they'll chase down the other children before they can escape."

Taro considered that, and then hung his head to one side. "Urgh… argh… I… am… a… monster!"

Laughing, she released him. "Then be free, my little monster! Run, and hunt children with me!"

Daisuke and Hana screamed in frightened delight and ran for it.

They were, of course, too slow. Monster Taro tackled Daisuke and dragged him down into an enthusiastic wrestling match, while a shrieking Hana was scooped up by the older girl much as Taro had been before her.

It was at this point that a man in his thirties exited the back door of the house. "What's all the yelling about?" he wondered.

"Ah!" Hana squealed. "Daddy, help! The monster lady's got me, and she made Big Brother think he's a monster, too!"

'Daddy' took a moment to look from the girls to the boys, who were still going at it.

"Monster!" Taro exclaimed. "Grrr!"

"Hey, Mr. Honda," Daisuke called out.

"Hey, Daisuke. Think you can handle that monster for me? Because while I can deal with one, I'm way too tired to fight two of them."

He did look rather worn out, what with the rumpled semi-formal office wear, the bags under his eyes, and a slouched posture that suggested fatigue.

"Okay!" Daisuke replied cheerfully.

"Hey, wait–" Monster Taro exclaimed.

"And as for the monster that's captured my precious little princess" –Mr. Honda continued, turning to face the older girl– "can I convince you to let her go for, say, five thousand yen?"

"Not that she isn't worth it, Mr. Honda," the girl in glasses replied in a respectful yet firm tone, "but your wife and I agreed on three thousand."

"Was that for three kids, or just our two?"

"…ah…"

The man nodded. "Then call the extra compensation for having to deal with Daisuke on top of them."

"Oh, he was no trouble–"

"MONSTER BREAKER BODYSLAM!"

"Arrrrgh! My spine!"

"–I mean, I couldn't possibly accept more money."

"Please, Miss Matou, it's no trouble." Mr. Honda smiled wryly. "Besides, you know my wife will insist on paying you extra and getting you to join us for dinner if you're still here when she gets home."

The violette laughed softly. "Well, I certainly couldn't impose to that extent, so I guess I will just have to take you up on your generous offer."

"Aw," Hana pouted. "You don't wanna stay for supper with us, Miss Sakura?"

"I'm sorry, Hana," Sakura assured the younger girl with a warm smile. "But I have a big brother, too, and he's expecting me home for dinner."

Hana got a clever sort of look in her eye. "'Cause he can't cook?"

Sakura didn't quite laugh. "You didn't hear that from me."

Hana mimed zipping her lips shut.

In short order, Sakura was paid, said her goodbyes to the children, and left the Honda family property, sparing a last smile for Hana as the younger girl watched and waved goodbye from the living room window.

As Sakura passed out of sight of the house, behind one of the property walls, the smile faded from her face, and she hugged herself about the middle with a shuddering sigh.

"I might apologize, Sakura," a sibilant female voice observed from somewhere out of sight, "but you very much brought that on yourself."

The air became somewhat less empty then, as the phantom form of a massive, monstrous being manifested in it.

From the waist up, she was a woman of literally inhuman beauty, with black and bronze scales running partway up her exposed stomach, along her back, and down the length of her strong arms, which ended in brazen talons. Her modesty was only just maintained by a gold-trimmed black bodice—approximately as substantial as a bikini top or bra—and by the two great wings that trailed from those almost-human shoulders, currently held partly-folded about the body like a cape. Though flecked with more scales along the cheekbones and jaw and about the shimmering amethyst eyes, the features of her face seemed Western, at least where they were not obscured behind the curtain of her impossibly long purple hair.

Hair that moved of its own accord, as the serpentine forms growing out of it wove back and forth, tasting the air, snapping at each other, or simply holding themselves in place.

From the waist down, there was no trace or semblance of humanity, only monstrosity. Instead of legs, a great serpentine tail supported the torso, meter upon meter of thick, powerful coils that could have enveloped and crushed any land-dwelling mammal short of an elephant with little difficulty. Such was the size of the body that it seemed an impossibility for even the great wings—the tips of which trailed along the ground—to bear the entire mass aloft.

"After all," the Gorgon continued, "you know very well by now what a difficult time I have restraining myself around such sweet children–"

"You've been paying attention in my English class."

That earned a wry, fang-flashing smirk. "Even a monster can grow bored, dear. And that assistant teacher of yours is so very lively."

Sakura had to give Medusa that one. Being in Miss Fujimura's class was an experience.

"But as I was saying," the faded-out image of the legendary terror continued, "you know perfectly well what my appetite is like, and how it will affect you if I get hungry—and then you went and deliberately poked me in the stomach anyway. Twice, at that." The serpent-crowned head shook back and forth with a long-suffering sigh. "And you just had to disappoint the little one on top of it."

"I think Hana would have been more disappointed if I tried to bite her or one of her family for real."

"Please," Medusa scoffed. "We've clearly established that I can't take over your body against your will–"

She actually sounded proud of that fact.

"–and if you haven't even bitten that so-called brother or father of yours after all this time–"

That, on the other hand, clearly frustrated the Gorgon.

"–you're certainly not going to try in one anyone else of your own accord. So, what would the harm be in accepting a dinner invitation from people who actually like you?"

Sakura paused in mid-stride and had to close her eyes, because that thought was so tempting.

No bitter glares from Shinji? No guilty, haunted looks from Byakuya? No eating alone at an empty table, or up in her room? Just a meal, taken together, to the laughter and chatter of smiling children and good-natured conversation with their parents…

For a moment, Sakura allowed herself a moment to dream—to remember—but then she pushed fantasy and memory aside with the ease of long practice. "Forgive me if I don't like the idea of looking at children and feeling hungry, Medusa."

"It'd be less of a problem if you'd eat more red meat, like I keep telling you to," the spirit grumbled. "You're too thin."

"I am trying," Sakura conceded, "but you've seen how expensive beef is at the market, goat isn't much cheaper this far south, and mutton is hard to find at all."

Medusa grunted, her dissatisfaction plain. "Well, leaving that aside, there's still the option of binding me to another host temporarily so you can eat in peace. That would work just fine, wouldn't it?"

"Until you took control of the new body and went on a rampage," Sakura replied wryly.

"It's not like I would eat anyone important," the Gorgon protested.

"Besides," the girl continued, "where would I even find another host capable of sustaining you?"

Medusa had no good argument for that point.

From everything the two of them had read—whether in Matou Zouken's personal library, or what of the family collection had survived the night Avenger spirited Sakura away from the old manor—possession of a living human body by ghosts, demons, or a magus's astrally projected soul might be well-documented fact, but possession by a Servant was something else entirely.

True, the situation wasn't entirely without precedent: there were similarities to the Shinto practices of bunrei and kanjo, the division of a kami into a temporary vessel and its subsequent investiture in a new shrine; religions all over the world had traditions of calling down ancestors, benign spirits, and gods to inhabit human hosts; and Zouken's writings about the Einzbern Grails had revealed another connection—one that meant Sakura kept her distance from Emiya Irisviel nee Einzbern, and by extension, the entire Emiya family.

Working backwards from those examples and his own inside knowledge of the Grail System, Zouken had spent some time speculating on the possibilities, potentials, and practical limitations of binding a Servant within a human body.

According to one of the old worm's theories, a Servant would only be able to inhabit a body that held traits that reflected those of the original Heroic Spirit, ranging from physical similarities such as height and build to supernatural qualities such as supporting Elements and a compatible Origin. These were the same reasons that a Master of the Grail War who summoned without a catalyst tended to gain a Servant with a high personal compatibility, and Zouken had theorized that the stronger this sympathy was, the less taxing it would be for a living host to house a Servant, and the more completely said Servant's form and powers could manifest.

Despite their potential promise, the Matou patriarch had deemed such "Pseudo-Servants" to be impractical. The odds of even one vessel of suitable quality occurring naturally were remote, and even the most compatible host would likely constrain the Servant's powers by some degree—modern human bodies simply were not, and could not be, the equal of ancient ones. This would put the Pseudo-Servant at a disadvantage against any Servant manifested in the typical manner, which was a suboptimal strategy for winning a Grail War, or even just surviving it. Artificial production of a host body with sufficient quality to level the playing field could take generations to achieve, and the Matou Magecraft was not well-suited to the task.

Zouken had also been wary of the strong likelihood of mental contamination, the knowledge and personalities of the human host and the inhabiting Servant blending together to form something new. Though the resulting identity would retain elements of its composite halves, there was no way to predict which bits of memory and behavior it would keep or choose to act upon.

Servants were dangerous enough without that added degree of uncertainty, to say nothing of the greatest risk of all: that with a living body to anchor them to the world and provide a constant supply of prana, a Pseudo-Servant would have no need for a Master at all.

Another theory had described a "Demi-Servant," wherein the Servant's essence and awareness were kept dormant, thereby making it easier for a living human body to contain them and placing the spirit's powers directly under the control of the host. While this would theoretically allow for far less specialized bodies to hold a broader range of Servants, the limited compatibility meant that the Heroic Spirits' powers would be even further diminished than with a Pseudo-Servant. Not only would raw power be lost, but versatility and skill, for whatever strength remained would be in the hands of a living human with little if any clue of how to wield it.

And once again, there was a greater concern: even with a Servant's essence backing it up, a human's physical body might not be able to access the spiritual reality of the manifested Grail, undermining the entire point of the War.

Little wonder, then, that Zouken had abandoned these ideas. And from the dates in his notes, that had been decades ago, in the wake of the Third Grail War, suggesting he'd well and truly forgotten about both notions by the time the Fourth War came around.

Sakura was rather grateful for that. The state that she and Medusa now existed in didn't exactly match her late and unlamented Grandfather's theories of what a Pseudo-Servant or a Demi-Servant ought to be, but there were similarities enough that if the old worm had remembered his research, and been prepared to encounter a real-life example of a human/Servant fusion when he'd collected her from the hospital, things could have gone very differently.

But he hadn't, and they didn't. And if having to share her body with the spirit of a legendary man-eating monster was the price to pay to get out from under Matou Zouken's twisted old thumb, it was one Sakura was content to pay. Even with the attendant… complications.

The conversation between spirit and host quieted for a time, then, as more pedestrians began to turn up, salarymen, office ladies, and other professional types making their way home for dinner from the train and bus stops. Some glanced Sakura's way and just as quickly dismissed her; others greeted her with nods of polite acknowledgment; and a few smiled in actual recognition.

She didn't see Mrs. Honda among their number, which was probably just as well. Even meeting here, almost halfway between their respective homes, the woman would have tried to talk Sakura into joining her family for dinner, and after Medusa's prodding, Sakura wasn't sure if she'd be able to find the will to refuse, or manage to keep a civil tone while doing so.

Speaking of the ghostly Servant, she searched the mundane humans with shimmering eyes, hissing tongues of seemingly blind serpent-tresses, and other senses besides, seeking potential threats and possible features of interest. Of course, this behavior was merely a holdover, part instinct and part personality quirk, because as a possessing spirit, Medusa was using her host's comparatively mundane senses rather than her own explicitly supernatural ones. Indeed, barring the slightly-heightened spiritual awareness that came with her much-muddied and watered-down divinity, most of the Gorgon's powers of perception had been lost when that bothersome Lancer cut up her body.

Medusa still had mixed feelings about that fight. On the one claw, yes, she'd been killed, but that didn't mean as much when she was summoned as one of Lord Dracula's lieutenants, rather than a full-fledged Servant in her own right. The underlying workings of the Grail meant that a defeated Servant was eliminated, but a monster summoned through the workings of a Noble Phantasm might yet reappear.

It didn't hurt that, despite fighting their way through a swarm of lesser incarnations to reach the Gorgon Queen's chamber, neither Lancer nor his Master had been quite prepared to see Medusa's freshly severed head take to the air under its own power. Their surprise was brief, but combined with the urgent need to avoid the stone-shattering death-throes of her decapitated corpse and the poisonous, serpent-spawning blood gushing from her wounds, it had slowed even Diarmuid enough for her reduced form to flee.

Had Medusa been able to remain active in that state long enough, her monstrous blood and the alchemical bindings that provided her a constant flow of energy from Sakura would have enabled her to regenerate entirely on her own. Even if she'd been killed, Lord Dracula's authority over the forces of darkness would have made re-summoning her a straightforward matter.

Obviously, the Dark Lord's defeat had put paid to both options, forcing Medusa to pursue a very uncertain alternative for her survival—and for Sakura's sake. And if that desperate plan hadn't worked out as the monster had intended or hoped, the results on Sakura's end were more than acceptable.

On the other claw, Medusa found the actual manner of her latest death to be highly irritating.

Oh, she'd had no personal objections to Diarmuid ua Duibhne. He was a Hero; she was a Monster; they'd lived and died in lands far removed from one another, in eras even more distant; and had they somehow met outside the bounds of a Grail War, they would almost certainly have fought to the death. It was just how things were.

It must also be said that Medusa was quite thoroughly fed up with being killed by those damn Belmonts and their cursed whip. The knowledge that there'd been two of the hunters roaming the Castle, each armed with his own incarnation of the Vampire Killer, had not been welcome news to any of the Dark Lord's servants. Small comfort that one of those was mortal, and young, and that as (technical) Servants, they were almost by definition beyond his ability to harm or hinder; he still wielded the Vampire Killer, whose spiteful lash had claimed all of their incarnations at some point. Some of them multiple times.

And that wasn't even touching on the fact that the boy-hunter's ancestor-turned-Servant had been Simon Belmont, who, like his ancestral weapon, had faced and defeated many of the most famous names that gathered under Lord Dracula's aegis. Even the Reaper had blanched at the prospect of facing the legendary hunter as a Servant.

Faced with the prospect of having her flesh and soul slowly scourged out of existence yet again, Medusa could almost have taken dying to a spear as a relief, were it not for the little detail of the weapon in question inflicting cursed wounds, which did not heal.

It had been like facing that wretch Perseus and the gods-cursed Harpe all over again. Thank whatever Power watched over fallen goddesses that Lancer's death and dissolution had taken Gae Buidhe and its curse with him; Medusa did not care to speculate what effect wounds to her spirit might have had to her host.

Perhaps it was because she was too caught up in the memories of that fight, and the Knight of Fianna's fleeting resemblance to her original slayer, to pay proper attention to her, their surroundings. Perhaps it was the fact that Sakura's senses were simply not as keen as those of the Gorgon's original body.

Whatever the reason, Medusa missed the aura, the scent, that would have sung magic-blood-family-sistersistersister, and give her time to warn Sakura to take a different course—or at least to brace herself for what, who, was coming.

Instead, the crowd parted, and past the drab colors worn by the adults around them, ancient spirit and young girl saw dark hair, a red jacket, and eyes like blue-green jewels, blinking back at them in mutual recognition and surprise.

As the two girls stood still amidst the foot-traffic, staring at each other in awkward silence, Sakura once again felt the urge to bite.

---

Jump stopover

LA, California
April 2000

Once again, I found myself jump into Buffyverse and was looking for the usual document telling me what I had gained when the door opened and Alanna came in.

"Boss!" She called out as a greeting. "When arriving to deliver the usual letter and check, we found a massive ward array around the Harris house. It was also in a *much* better condition than usual."

Suddenly, she had my full attention. "That means..."

"Yes. The Companion is already scanning the vicinity of Tokyo, but we have already confirmed the existence of one Merle Ambrose, Balthazar Blake and Arthur Drake."

"Where's Cordy?"

"Busy organizing the data dump with Harmony and Livia."

Then the avatar of the dumb AI running this mansion materialized next to us. "We just detected a psionic spike in the continental US. It's alien in nature, perhaps that Zerg? It's certainly surrounded by quite a few life signs – a really damn big family."

"Sounds like it." I grabbed my jacket. "Seems it will be a busy few years. Get us a shuttle and the care packages, we need to do some magic."

This was the third Buffyverse we were in, and this time, something had gone wrong. Or right, however you phrased it. The only reason I had taken "temporal merge point" back in Red Alert 2 had been to not been chrono'd or balefired, but ... apparently, it had helped to amass enough temporal significance to be drawn in by this nexus... and to matter.
As we flew over to the ritual site, I sent out orders dealing with Wolfram and Hart, Calax Research and Development and other corporate players, setting in motion the business empires collected over the ages.

When we arrived, I walked out to the large circle embedded in the stone, changing into my ritual gear and activated the totem pole.

This time, it sucked. Shelter. Meh, already got enough of that. Well, you can't have everything.

Having donned a proper suit again, we formed a circle, beginning a summoning. I had little concrete information to go by, but it was worth an attempt. A messenger of the golden trio. A postal worker.

Not only magic worked in my favor. "IS IT NOT SAID" I pulled at the world's narrativum, using a language older than time "NOTHING CAN STOP THE POSTMAN." Cut me some slack, I was improvising here... and it worked.
Apparently this had actually given me some Hylean affinity...

With a flash, the Postman appeared in the middle of the circle, staring in wonder at the group of summoners. "IT IS." he coughed. "I mean, yes, it is indeed. What can I do for you?"

A long time ago, I had decided to use my usual Buffyverse name again. Boring as it was, it made things much easier to keep organized. Even if calling myself Valen would have been more fitting for this particular introduction. So, I stepped forward saying "I am called Jason Bourne, and we have much work ahead of us."

With a flick of my hand, a contragrav platform let the shuttle to float towards the circle. On its top lay dozens of gold ingots. "I gather I have your attention?"

Oh Yes.

"Yes, you have."

...

...
Yeah, I noticed.

That woman... She is...

"Yes." I nodded and Cordy waved into the empty air. "Cordelia Chase, assistant multiversal traveller, at your service."

"Who ARE you people?" The Postman inquired, clearly worried to how we interacted with the goddesses as well as their sheer attention.

"I'm a multiversal traveller ripped into this particular universe by Earth's collected temporal mass... just like Ganon. At least that is the explanation I got from my data. Everyone following me has decided to do so over the centuries. And we have a couple of jobs for you."

"For one, do you have volume and/or mass limitations?"

"Personally, yes, but there's ways to get around that." the Postman looked skeptical.

"Well. How do we best cut that, then?" I asked as Cordy's twin drove out a grav sled holding a small shipping container. "It contains a collection of smaller crates, but transporting it to here at least was easier in a container."

Charisma jumped of the seat, opened the container and pulled out a couple of large boxes, bringing them over. "That's the stuff not intended for Alex and Briar." as I said that, I could feel everyone's attention shifting to me again. "Feel free to check them all, they're safe."

Then I took the first parcel. "Anyway, this goes to Altria Drake. Contains all sorts of media, the required players where necessary." I chuckled. "And a bunch of Warhammer Fantasy armies." Then Charisma handed me another package. "Also a new TV, because I'm not sure if all the players are actually compatible with current models."

More followed. Ambrose, the Drakes, Lu, Kahlua and the Shuzens, Balthazar Blake, Beryl, Kagome, the Karakura connections, the Ninja...
All were equipped with ways to deal with this world much better than before.

"And now, the interesting parts." I took the first crate, marked FRAGILE and CAUTION: MAGICAL CONTENTS. "For Alex and Briar. This contains reagents and lab gear. As usual, feel free to check."

# # #

After classes from Lu, Alex and Briar came home, only to be called by his mother.

"Alex?" Jessica called from the kitchen. "You got mail."

"Huh? I don't expect anything... Especially by the normal mailbox..."

He took it, wondering about the large format, but a quick magical scan showed nothing. So he shrugged, opened it and pulle out the folded letter.

A thin letter with handwriting unknown to him.

In nice handwriting, it read.

"Dear Mr. Harris,

I know we do not know each other and you haven't got the slightest idea what I am talking about. This is fine.

But watching eternally eight year old Alex was a source of fun for many years, so let me thank you and Briar for that. It is not a pineapple pizza (you barbarian!) after stepping through a mirror, but it should help you. And possibly Xander as well. I know he's making progress.

Please accept this token of my esteem.

It will be later supplemented by packages I sent via the Postman, so make sure you have room. FYI, the mirror dimension is probably too small. Cordy should also come.

Kind regards,
W. / Jason Bourne
PS) The further mail should explain this.
PPS) Push your power, young man. Three spells of highest rank for a partial gain in mana capacity, and if you empty your tank into mana gems every evening, you also push your regeneration. You'll find details in the mail."

Alex turned the envelope around, watching a check slide out.

"Holy…" He gasped as he saw the amount written on it - $25,000,000.

Jessica, who had been reading over his shoulder, gasped in shock, as did Briar.

# # #

After classes, Lu allowed Alex to summon the Postman again.

And then the Postman arrived, this time with a large cart in tow. "Delivery for Alexander Harris, Briar, Lu-Sensei and Cordelia Chase."

He went for the wagon, pulling out three heavy, gift wrapped items as well as a fairy-sized one. "Those are the same for each of you, or so I have been told."

Alex took the thing, unwrapped it and raised his eyebrows in wonder at the title.

Xander [Quest]: Reborn on the Hellmouth
Thread 1 – 25, complete as of March 2020

"What the…?" Alex opened it, finding an episodic… thing, with votes in every step and their outcomes, organized in 25 randomly looking blocks followed by annexes holding other POV texts and what looked like stats and mechanics. Bookmarks stuck out of the mana power and recovery sections.

"Then, we have those." Another series of books followed, reading Inventory book, and coming with a note "to transport the stuff back home and stop Judge bothering us about your mana bag being too full. Just read them."

Carefully, Alex read the book, suddenly finding he had a proper game inventory to use. Tentatively conjuring a set of business cards, putting therm in, taking them out and scanning them with every single sense in his possession. Then he scanned the story book the same way and repeated the study process.
It came up without a find, so he put it back in with a shrug.

The next thing to come up was a crate labeled "Homework".
Collective groans turned into gasps of disbelief when the first thing to come up at opening were TVs looking more modern than even the Chase's home device (one of them also fairy-sized), a computer with DVD drive and several boxes with Nintendo logos. Alex was nerd enough to recognize a Gameboy and SNES and have heard of a Nintendo 64, but several boxes were just weird. Especially the one labeled "Wii".

Stuck in between these larger boxes were stacks of DVD collector's boxes with weird titles such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Inuyasha, Rosario + Vampire, Fate/[all of them], Starcraft 1 and 2... also many Nintendo boxes labeled "Legend of Zelda" and other brands. The others didn't matter to him, though.

"What the..." Alex stared at the boxes as Briar fluttered over to have a closer look.

"And then, we have this." A crate marked FRAGILE and CAUTION: MAGICAL CONTENTS appeared.

Ten minutes of checks later, they found a very nice compact magical lab set, books, all sorts of fairy-sized stuff, a small chest and several ingots of gold and silver inside, all wrapped securely.

As he opened the small chest, Alex found several small crystals and a leaflet. He took it and read it out aloud.

"Yours is not the only world with crystalized emotions, Alex. In here, there's some crystallized hope and friendship. I'm sure you'll find a good use for it."

I had dropped way too many names, made way too many connections, for suddenly, Merle Ambrose himself teleported in.

That, of course, was not at all unexpected. As such, I had spent much of the time working from my LA mansion's pool.

And so he appeared only a few meters from a beach volleyball game between Harmony, Tifa and their twins, with the deck chairs occupied by sunning other beauties.

"Merle Ambrose." I nodded in his direction with a grin. "Happy to see you."

"Yes, you, what, happy indeed ..." For a few seconds, Ambrose was struck speechless. Then he finally got a grip on himself again. "You did that on purpose."

"This being Harmony and Tifa? Random chance." I shrugged. "This happening at all? What do you think a pool is for?"

"...fair." He sighed. "Anyway. To the important matter. Who are you?"

"As you no doubt know, I am called Jason Bourne."

"A Ludlum character. Likely."

"Fleming named his character after an ornithologist."

"...point for you, but you said 'I am called', so..."

"My actual name is besides the point, this is what I am known at in Buffyverse, and as that's the base of all the crossovers..."

"What's a Buffy?"

"The Slayer this verse is named for. Americans and names..." I shook my head. "But no doubt that is not what you came here for. Although I will give you a DVD package of both series as well for bothering to show up, just to bring you more up to speed with the source material."

"Indeed." the old mage nodded. "You already sent us all sorts of material on Holy Grail Wars, even if steeped in Japanese comics and movies, and... this."

He pulled out the thick book our AIs had turned the quest into. It was still recognizably a forum game, but shrunk down enough to be readable. All the birthday omakes (and skill descriptions, wouldn't be Xanderquest without those) were included, though.

"This is not my first excursion to Buffyverse, as you no doubt realized." I nodded. "Whenever I find myself here, one of the first things I do is scan the planet for some peculiar things. Like a pocket dimension near Tokyo. Before even that, though, I always send a few million bucks and the offer of emancipation support to young Alexander, for in most worlds, he is poor and his parents suck. It is both a help and a thank you for many years of fun playing the game. Imagine my surprise when we found your ward array... showing clearly we are inside the game now. Or at least a copy of the game, I rather doubt this is the real deal."

"Whatever. You're the first party contacting us directly, although I am aware the Shuzens are busy looking at my companies and the Golden Trio is keeping an eye on me as well. Being locked in here, there's no way I'd stand aside and not help. And thus, the most important ammunition in the multiverse: Information. Although I have to admit I'm still not all that familiar with many of the universes involved here, let alone how they interact. I can give you the high level rundown, though. In my office."

We walked up and I asked him to sit down as we overlooked the pool. "It all revolves around Shao Khan using the Mortal Kombat to collapse Earth Realm and it's alternate universes to make it an easier conquest."

"But not yours..."

"The difference is simple." I shrugged. "my home reality is real. All the ones I'm travelling through are, by their nature, fictional and originate there. So we're talking a small subset of infinity, but still a hell of a lot."

When the meeting ended two hours later, I took out another thin book and handed it to Ambrose. "That's a Grimoire I'd like you to keep for Alex until he is old enough. Feel free to look inside and make sure it's safe, and adapt it to your own style, but, well." I shrugged. "I bet there's many people doubting you are grown up enough for it... or if I am. But at bare minimum, it's not for children. He has already quite mature, but..." I just waved at the grimoire.

Ambrose skimmed the list of spells and whistled. "You have seen quite a few things, it seems."

"I have." I nodded. "And if some knowledge addict is trying to mess with me, I'll mess right back."

Meanwhile at Lu's
Cordelia was changing back into her normal shoes after Alex had ran off to do some of his extra homework that weirdo had sent when she noticed a car stopping in front of the dojo, and ... herself leaving the driver's seat.

Older Cordelia waited at the side of her car, apparently studying the building the way Alex did when... oh! Was she a mage, too?!

She walked out, carefully studying the young woman with a grin. If THAT was what she'd grow into, Barbie didn't stand a chance!

"Self-praise stinks." The older Cordelia sighed as she turned to look at her. "You know, of all the corners of the multiverse the Boss has shown me and helped me to get information on, this is the only one where Cordelia Chase isn't an arrogant little superficial bitch. And yes, that includes me. It's nice to see you aren't perfect, either. I guess being overly proud is okay. Let's have a talk."

She helped her younger self into the car and sat down as the child asked. "Why do you follow that guy and call him Boss if he's surrounding himself with so many women?"

"We both know you'll find yourself in that situation sooner or later with Alex. Kahlua is a perfectly nice young woman, by the way. But why do I follow him? That's simple. You know of that curse on us. In my world, he showed up just in time to kick the stupid 'goddess' having a go for me out of the solar system. He has taught me magic and always treated me well. Let it not be said Cordelia isn't grateful."

At that, the younger one nodded.

"Making some decent friends in pre-k clearly went a long way. From what I have seen so far, your Xand...sorry, Alex, will also only hurt you in two ways. By being an idiot or by being male, and it's debatable if that's two different things. But never on purpose."

"Should ditch the Vampire, then..." the younger grumbled.

"Yeah, not gonna happen. She's nothing like a corpse vampire, and we know that perfectly well. I'm not going to tell you to become friends with her, but..." She looked back "There's a bag next to you. It contains her source material, you can use that with the TVs and players we sent you. No matter if you consider her an enemy or not, information can't hurt. Just keep in mind that the material was adapted by joining this mess of merging worlds. There's also a writeup on our so-called father and his tax shenanigans. Make sure the asshole can't destroy you."

"Can't destr... wait, ... merging worlds?" young Cordy looked up from the bag with concern in her eyes.

"Sharp as always." She chuckled. "This world is an issue, and I'm not just talking your standard Alex-grade apocalypse here. No, this is the real deal. The metaplot, if you want, and if I were you, I wouldn't want to be a distraction from it. This is what we gathered so far..."

---

Jump stopover 1a

It was good I had gained so many houses over the ages, one of them had inevitably ended up in Sunnydale. And when I looked at it, it was clear it stood out.
Oh, it was protected by all sorts of fiat-backed effects and a threshold formed over centuries. But that was not what I was thinking about as I stood on the balcony, looking down to Alex and Briar approaching.

"Hey, Alex!" I called down to them with a wave. "Send Dave my greetings and tell him Balthazar has been hiding the wrong stuff from you!"
I jumped over the balcony, onto the single Chrysler eagle head at the side and let mana flow. Unshielded, so the young prodigy could steal the spell. Wasn't like he needed more Summoning for my metaplane plans, but unfortunately, this wasn't Conjuration.
With a cry, the animal unfolded its steel wings, jumped from the house and shot straight into the air, circling Sunnydale.
That. Was. So. Cool.
Even the hundredth time.
And the old idiot didn't even mention it when Alex had been in New York.

Soon after, the second Eagle lifted, Cordy coming up to shake her head with a grin. "Surely, the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys."

I just grinned back at her "Q. E. D.". Then I dived down to the Dale to fly a few rounds with Alex, ignoring the way she gave me the finger.
Reckless. Stupid. Fun.
And this whole town had a S.E.P. field I could boost anyway.

---

By and large, though, you're correct that Alex's friends are eventually going to surpass him in their areas of specialization. Ichigo will be a (minor) god of wrecking (spiritual) face, Kahlua and her sisters are vampires (although Kahlua might not develop her regeneration power to such a ridiculous extreme, since her mother isn't insane), and Altria is going to be a dragon in human form, to drop just a few names. They have inherent advantages that Alex simply doesn't.

But as noted, Alex has ridiculously powerful and versatile magic, and that opens up the door to outrageous cheating.

Shinigami: "Behold the power of my bankai, which you, a mere human, cannot hope to match!"
Alex: "I cast the Spell of Banishment."
Shinigami: "You little shiiii-"

Aizen (drawing and re-sheathing Kyoka Suigetsu): "Huh. This usually works."
Alex: "Did I mention that I cast Mind Blank this morning?"
Aizen: "That would explain it."

Vampire: "Behold my vampiric strength and regeneration, which you, a mere human, cannot hope to match!"
Alex: "I augment the Spell of Bull's Strength to 11th-tier! GIANT'S STRENGTH!"
Vampire: "Now wait just a minute-"
Alex: "And now I cast the Spell of Regeneration!"
Vampire: "That's cheating!"
Kahlua: "Only if his girlfriend doesn't know and approve!"
Alex/Vampire: "Wait, what?"

Altria: "Behold the depths of my draconic hunger, which you cannot hope to match!"
Alex: "True, but if you surrender now, I can conjure a large enough meal to put you into a food coma."
Altria: "I throw myself upon your mercy."

---

"Say Alex, would you happen to want to listen to a small proposition?"

"Of course, honored Mikogami."

-

"You want to pay me to go to summer classes at your academy?"

"It's a bit more than just that. Do you remember the conversation I had with your teacher at miss Shuzens birthday?"

"That... you wanted him to scare your students straight?"

"A fairly accurate assessment. Most of my students live in rather insular communities and have become used to being large fish in a very small pond. But as they grow up they'll soon find that there's an entire ocean out there, and in comparison, they'll suddenly find themselves rather small."

"... I could consider it, but I'm not too fond of using my own name to put the fear of the Goddesses into a bunch of kids."

"I'm certain we could come to some compromise when it comes to that."

-
June 15 - Youkai Academy - Pentagram City

"Tremble, you who live in the dark!"

"What in the world?"

"That sounds familiar..."

"Oh Kami no, not that guy!"

"EL DOOM, Mexican transfer student, has arrived!"

---

This talk about Tournaments has me thinking about the fact Ganondorf is a regular in Smash Bros. Given that Link and Queen Zelda haven't been to Earth and therefore don't qualify to defend Earthrealm, are there any other Smash Bros participants able to attend MK?

...Hmm.

Invitation Only

Alex sat anxiously, his hands gripping his knees tightly. Raiden spared him a glance before resuming reading the list of Mortal Kombat invitees.

"As I was saying...Altria Drake, invitation accepted.
Liu Kang, invitation accepted.
Hercule Satan, invitation declined.
Sonya Blade, invitation accepted.
Johnny Cage, invitation accepted."

Alex sat staring at Raiden, first patiently and then in growing confusion.
"...Is...that it?"

"That was the entire list of Earthrealm invitees."

Alex's expression shifted to one of shock.
"You're telling me that freaking Johnny Cage the movie actor got invited and I didn't?"

Now it was Raiden's turn to be confused.
"That is strange. I was sure I saw your name earlier. Wait just a moment."

Raiden flexed a hand, causing a scroll made of blinding light and a pair of reading glasses to appear.
"Let's see...not Earthrealm participants...not Outworld participants...ah, here we are:
'By order of the Elder Gods Interdimensional Tournament Agreement, the Smash Brothers Tournament exercises the right to invite one of their past champions as a participant in Mortal Kombat. This invitation is hereby extended to Alexander Harris, acceptance pending.' "

Alex and Raiden stared at each other. Eventually Alex broke the silence.

"...What the heck is a Smash Brother?"

AN: There was an instinctive urge to write 'Nicholas Cage' instead of 'Johnny Cage', and I can't help feeling it would have been much funnier if I had.

---

Obviously triggered by the above.

# # #

Suddenly, the ground split next to Raiden, who stepped aside in surprise. From below, a glowing Obelisk covered in unknown runes and burning like a thousand suns under mental sight erupted to hover over the ground.
TWO MORE ENTRANTS a hundred billion mental voices sang in unison. THE XEL'NAGA, SUPPORTING THE CHOZO, ADD THE OVERMIND AND MOTHER BRAIN TO YOUR PLANET'S TOURNAMENT

Pictures flooded through their minds, mighty spaceship armadas of blocky metal and flowing psi crystal fighting each other and a flood of biotech aliens, worlds overran by them and burned to their cores by ortillery, psionic storms wiping out entire squadrons of fighter as aliens wielding psi blades cut through some weaker biotechs like wheat, still falling to them, feelings of pride, regret and sorrow and then... something ripped a major soul of that particular universe just as the Swarm fell.
A feeling of disbelief, even more sorrow... HATE.
Anger on a scale that shook stars erupted in a pisonic scream killing millions before those 'Xel'Naga' cast their minds through multiversal time and space searching for who had dared to steal from them.
Apparently, they had now found it. And just as apparently, they were gods enough to not need starships anymore. Still, the mental pictures of massive behemoths of metal and crystal blocking out the sun from orbit were really freaking awesome. And full of pants-changing terror.

As the voices faded out, a tiny subset, still millions strong, added a farewell. "YOUR RACE STOOD WITH THE FIRSTBORN, NOW OUR FAILURE STANDS WITH TERRA TO REDEEM HERSELF. EN TARO RAYNOR, EN TARO TERRA."

# # #

Elsewhere, the Overmind froze in the middle of her latest experiment as the contraception began to grow into exactly the form it needed to be inside a fraction of a second, khaydarin crystals singing as a tiny strand of the Xel'Naga voice touched her part of the planet, billions of minds immediately sending their attention her way. IT IS TIME. THIS PLANET NEEDS YOU AND THE OTHER STOLEN ONES

Telapthy filled her mind with pictures of others not native to good old Terra, many of them having built or formed up into their own swarms, one redheaded young rider with a fairy on his shoulder, a sword-wielding blonde and a redhead sorceress reincarnation riding at his sides on lesser beasts, surrounded by locals and those sucked into this mess of a timeline, ghostly legions of humans and monsters marching behind them, a trio of golden hands shielding them.
Sarah or one of the older girls would probably like that g... oh shut up, Abathur!

Wasn't me.

---

Take 1
Alex: "Different universe same bull-"
Briar: "Language!"

Take 2
King: "You must save our nation from the demon lord!"
Alex: "I'll put it on the list" *planeshift*

Take 3
Briar: "WHY? WHAT? HOW? A TRUCK? SERIOUSLY?!
Alex: "All I know is that some how some way. This is Ambroses fault."
...meanwhile on earth...
Ambrose: "That's an ominous feeling... Time to fake my death by enchanting a truck with plane shift and jumping in front of it! Again!"
Arthur Drake: "Why are you like this?"

---

Cordelia: Alex am I seeing this right?
Alex: What do you see?
C: A treehouse built out of diamonds.
A: You're seeing it right.
C: Now the important question, Why?
A: I needed something to do with my backlog didn't I? It is not like I could just leave them cluttering up the place after all.
C: ...