I had better ideas than this, but considering…..it doesn't matter. We're short on time.
You're still infantile but I know your body will adapt very quickly. If the Caerula Arbor could do it, surely you can.
Your directive still hasn't changed, you exist to promote and stabilize the ecosystem of this planet, to make it possible for additional life to exist and live with each other.
But to put a mind in you, to put a sense of personality and freewill…..it feels wrong, because this means you're going to be hurt just like us humans. The heartbreaks, the despair and the bitterness, the anger. You could even lose sight of your purpose…..
….I just don't want you to exist like a machine. You deserve to feel the happiness and excitement I felt when we successfully made you.
You'll grow a human body eventually once you got the base. You'll get to talk, have your own opinions, make friends, and if your body adapts to it, you could even make kids. Anything's possible now.
…..yeah….
Anything….
…go. Live on.
Go Find Yourself…..
….I'm sure we'll met again someday, though….I likely won't know it even if you're standing in front of me.
….if possible…..look after Kal'tsit. She'll need somebody to let her know that she'll always have someone behind her for everything.
Jacob Cavernholm stared at his right claw, a green Vouivre's scaled hand tipped with talons at the fingertips and connected to an Aslan wrist and arm, which is connected to an Ursine torso.
It's completely black from dried blood, the owners likely as numerous as the soldiers he slaughtered during the war, likely lying there on the ground still alive or mercifully killed when the Originium rain reduced the place to a red zone.
He hadn't bothered to clean up, not since Theresis beheaded the mastermind of the Coalition forces, leaving him drenched in the dried blood of his enemies.
And just like every single time, his body was locked on a single command, as if it was programmed into his brain. He gathered the mastermind's corpse, hid her away in this cave and brought her body back together, followed closely by the biomechanical dragon that's never far from her spine, hissing and growling.
It used to be fun, trying to overpower the beasty and continuously adapt his body to counter every possible tactic its master had to try and beat him. Afterwards they'd stop and he'd cook something nice for the both of them to enjoy, with the usual compliment of cold fruit juice.
But seeing her at the head of the Coalition forces, siccing this metallic thing straight at him without hesitation, without any regard to the things they've done together, bastardized every possible shred of trust he ever had with her.
All his dreams, all his plans, and all of the people who called him brother or friend….gone, dead…..destroyed and cut down by the invading army of Leithaniens, Victorians and Gaulish.
"Hnng…."
He stiffened when his ears caught a groan behind him. The mastermind is waking up, 3 hours after he reconnected her head back to her neck and closed every single one of her wounds that were all of Theresis' handiwork.
He rises from his seat at the mouth of the cave and knuckle-walked like a silverback apebeast deep inside, just so he doesn't graze the cave ceiling with the disfigured horns on his head. He completely forgot to shed them off, nor did he have the patience to anyway.
The passage was a straight line, allowing light to filter through no matter how far he went in.
Eventually, the whirring and growling of a biomechanical throat gets closer.
Mon3ter hovers in the way, glowing green eyes glaring maliciously at the approaching Chimera, 4 sharp claws glinting with murderous intent as it barred his path.
Jacob merely growled back, rising up to his hind legs and baring his teeth, shaking the cave and displacing pebbles from their places as he growled even louder, swinging his tail erratically behind him lie a whip the size of a log, slapping against the earthen walls and asserting his dominance.
"Mon3ter….." A weak voice called out.
Like the obedient dog that it is, Mon3ter whines disgruntledly as it steps aside, letting the Chimera fall back down on his knuckles and trod forward towards its master.
Lying on an elevated patch of earth and rock, caked with dust and blood that dried, was the mastermind of the Coalition forces, lying on her back and weakly trying to prop herself up with her hand, her green cloak shredded and splattered with the blood that once came out of her neck when her head came flying off.
The only person who can actually convince 3 Nations to work together and destroy a whole Nation that had absolutely little to no gain in the aftermath.
She looked up to Jacob, green eyes seeing his, then all over his mismatched features to confirm his identity before hanging her head down. Was that relief? Exhaustion, perhaps? Or was it resignation to what's going to come next?
Jacob drew close to her, kneeling with one hand resting atop a raised knee while the other kept its knuckles on the ground. "How many times was it this time?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Jacob controlled himself, asking again, "How many times was it? When was the last time I've been forced to run straight to your corpse to bring your body back to life? When?"
He blew green, luminescent spores out of his lips at the end of his sentence, coating her entire body with it and making every exposed part of her skin glow, restoring her vigor and energy so she can properly answer the query.
As she sat up straighter, no longer propping herself up from the ground and meeting his gaze, her lips opened, "It—"
Jacob lashed out, a Vouivre hand enclosing her throat and lifting her from the ground as he immediately stood up.
Mon3ter immediately took action, a glowing blur of green and black charging towards him like an angry dragon.
A single lash of a serpent tail and the biomechanical pet was reduced to mere pieces all over the cavern floor of the same impervious material that made it immune to even a single shot of Victoria's cannons.
It didn't used to be that easy, purely because Jacob wanted it to be a playful affair to help Mon3ter become a great shield and spear to its master.
But the foundation that made them friends no longer existed. There's no reason for him to hold back anymore.
Mon3ter regenerated himself very quickly and instead opted to use its long-ranged weapon against Jacob, a hot green laser from its black maw that can pierce right through 50 layers of concrete.
But Jacob waited, his eyes trained on the beast. One flick of his arm, and the mastermind's body will be aimed right in its trajectory, snapping her neck first before a gigantic hole is opened on her torso.
Then he'll be forced to bring her body back to life again.
Is it even worth the headache and revulsion anymore?
A choke voice, however, prevented him both the satisfaction and the dismay, "Mon3ter….! Hold….!"
Just as the beam of hot energy is about to set loose, Mon3ter immediately pointed his jaw upwards and blew open a new porthole for sunlight to filter through before dust and loosened earth covered it up.
Jacob huffed, throwing her to the floor, leaving her coughing and heaving.
He stomped around her, hooved feet shaking the cavern with unhidden anger. "You and I discussed this. My body is completely programmed to run straight towards you every single time you die, no matter how far or when, and you helped me accept it. You swore that every single time, you owe me a full and complete explanation followed by a whole year of you being my personal shadow….."
He trailed off, shaking off the memory of how many times it has happened during his very long years, the times he spent running around Terra with her on his back. The times he spent on many countries with her, eating the local cuisine and enjoying the sights, listening to her ramble. The one time she willingly drew herself close to his bulky side to cuddle him for warmth from the cold night.
Her recent actions were a personal betrayal to everything they've been through.
"…..I'm not interested in a fucking explanation. Not this time, because I was there. In fact, you knew I was there! How else was it even possible that Kazdel was fucked over even though I was there to defend it!? I defended a whole city when the Khagan invaded the entire planet! Did you strategize it!? Did you anticipate every single move I was making, how I would be straight in the midst of it, doing everything I can to stop the advancing wave from coming close!? Did you bait me with Victorian elites while the Gaulish and Leithaniens wreaked havoc!?"
Jacob swung his hoofed foot straight at her side, delivering a pain far worse than an Ursus drill sergeant's boot, making her croak out her breath and writhe, holding her side.
Mon3ter roared out, its 4 claws stabbing the ground repeatedly, its maw brewing with another laser blast that's only held back by the command given to it.
Jacob whirled and roared at the beast, spittle and hate flyin g out, his tail lashing out in horrifying speeds and the pincer at the tip stabbing into the core that sustained its ability to reconstruct itself, leaving it whimpering on the ground like a kicked puppy. "QUIET! YOU HAVE NO MOUTH! NO MIND! NO WILL BEYOND YOUR OWN!"
Returning to the mastermind, he knelt down and grabbed her head, pressing it against the earth while his talons dug into her scalp, "Gaulish Vieux Vanguard. Leithanien Gesatzswächters. Victorian Steam Knights. Back in Gaul, I drank their coffee and ate their bread, sharing it with the Vieux Vanguards. In Lethanien, the Spire Casters were some of the most unbearable morons I've ever met but they were invested in my education when I wanted to learn musical Arts. And in Victoria, there's nothing special about them other than their armor. The pilots are just family men, patriotic and loyal to their monarchs, just like any other Victorian. Just people I spent drinking with at the pubs."
His grip tightened on her light green locks, and she wasn't able to stop herself from grunting.
"In that battlefield, fighting those 3, the only thing I saw in them were the retired soldiers in the cafes. The teachers in my classroom. And my mates at the pubs…It didn't feel like a fight. It was murder and betrayal…I was murdering friends….I kept telling myself, that I was defending Kazdel, and these people needed to die to protect the Sarkaz…but I kept seeing their faces….."
I cut them in half and left them alive. Turned their Arts back at their faces and left them blind. Ripped out the pilot from the armor and bit his head off.
Why did it feel like I was only killing myself?
Jacob released her head and stood up, back to stomping around her. "What's the justification this time? What flimsy excuse did you pull out of your own fuckhole to use as the good reason to invade Kazdel? What elaborate reasoning did you spend a whole fucking month or even a decade formulating so that no matter who questioned it, you would always have a convincing answer that would make even Sarkaz sympathizers see your point of view? Huh?"
His pincer tail stabbed and scrapped a rugged line on the cave floor, piercing the ears.
"Was Kazdel becoming too strong? Were they going to rise up as a danger to the whole world? Were they about to set out on a revenge conquest for all the misery they endured? Were they going to be a threat to the status quo? Huh? Or were they just devils?"
Jacob held his breath, watching the mastermind's fist curl on the dusty cave floor.
I never considered you the type to have that kind of mindset. You said you were there when only the Sarkaz ruled the planet.
It can't be you.
"Who cares, right? As long as they're devils, any reasons good enough to ruin Kazdel. What else do we need? That's what the nobles who worked with you thought, didn't they? They never gave it too much thought when they agreed to work under your command, right? It's not like they have to. It's because they're devils, that's all they needed to hear on top of whatever ecological and political benefits that already exist." Sarcasm dripped from his maw, his fist clenching tight at his side.
Jacob finally asked her, "Why?"
The mastermind pushed herself up from the ground, lifting her face up, bloodshot eyes meeting his. "….it—"
Jacob lashed out again, slamming his fist to her jaw with enough force to dislodge it as she slammed her head to the ground.
The next words Jacob had are devoid of any anger. Not even a simmering hate.
"Either I'm right, or you wanted the Lord of Fiend's Crown."
Nothing but simple resignation. Roaring and slamming his fists at the walls just could not turn back the time or repair the damages. Not even his divinity could do anything like that at such a scale.
"King Eresh was a puppet to the Royal Court, a harmless nobody. Through him, the Royal Court would have developed the country to become powerful and make their influence on the world, no matter what it is. When the invasion arrived, he was forced to fight and was beheaded. The Crown was up for the taking. Didn't expect a Dressmaker of all people to suddenly just take it, huh?"
Jacob reached her writhing form in a single stride and gruffly reconnected her jaw with a single flick, drawing a sharp hiss. Right afterwards, she coughed out blood next to her, her cut gums staining her throat red and making her gag.
He stepped back and turned around, his lashing tail whipping where her head would have been if she sat up from the ground.
"I wonder if you knew the feeling of watching your dreams and friends die in front of you as you willingly warp your entire body trying to defend it and keep them alive."
Theresa baited the bulk of the Coalition forces into the heart of Kazdel with the conscripted Sarkaz, to lure them into a gigantic witchcraft ritual that reduced the enemies to mere bones on the streets. That was thousands of invaders dead, and you were left barely defended when Theresis led the Banshees and Vampires towards you.
Theresa had no choice. I know. The conscripts were aware of the plan and willingly followed through….
…..but I lost so many friends in that maneuver.
…I taught them all how to defend themselves, taught them how to use their Arts, how to protect their own…..and that made them capable of joining the fight instead of running away…..why didn't you all just run away….? I thought I told you all to keep your families safe…..
I could have fought for you all if you just asked. Just one word and I'd do it without thinking. I would not even put a debt behind it. I'd do it for all you. I'm wealthy.
I thought I told you all to live first. I thought I told you all that sacrificing your life is wrong, that leaving behind loved ones is cruel.
I thought….I thought…..
"I thought you and I were friends, Kal'tsit."
Not a single bit of pain leaked through his voice. Nothing. Not even a little. There was only a blank in his every syllable, utterly broken in the face of her actions.
Just a mere consequence of a betrayal he never could have imagined from someone in the same boat as him. Ageless and disconnected to everyone else except each other.
"You never considered talking to me first? Did you go through the invasion because you knew I would have never listened to you, even if Kazdel was going to become a threat to the world? Were you actually out of options? Was this the best you could do? The most optimal solution you could ever conjure in that brain of yours?"
The word itself was repeated multiple times whenever he asked regarding her choices over more than a dozen centuries since he was alive, and he felt its significance die every single time.
Today, it's just a big fucking joke.
What the fuck is optimal about invading a country and killing my friends?
"Were you even thinking about how I'd feel? Or even how the Sarkaz civilians would feel? What about the children? There were women and children there…and you just brought it on them."
He looked at the mouth of the cave, and he could see the Catastrophe cloud gathering just up above, ready to reduce the land outside into a Red Zone.
Then he looked at Kal'tsit, looking directly into her eyes. Just like him, they were as resigned as he is in the face of her actions. She can't hope to apologize or justify herself.
She has already doomed herself to the consequences long ago. "You made me miserable, Kal'tsit. You made the Sarkaz miserable…..therefore, you will be miserable."
His tail rattled rapidly, its shape blurring incomprehensibly and shaking a sound that would have deafened the ears.
Flowing from his lips, a Prophecy. It is not a promise. It is not a threat. It is an absolute certainty of a certain event to occur, unquestionable and soon to come. Not even he will know when it will arrive.
"You will relish in accomplishments and delights. You will find approval. You will gain hope. You will be so elated that you would proclaim, 'I am glad'…"
With barely any effort, backed by the experience of living hundreds of lifetimes and being so familiar with the human heart for so long, by pure instinct and intuition alone, Jacob can already foresee Kal'tsit's next action by the time she leaves this cave and pass through the Red Zone.
She will walk straight to Kazdel, to speak with Theresa….King Theresa, she is now called.
He became so all-knowing that not even he knew how he came to that conclusion. His mind had already drawn the pieces together for a conclusion subconsciously and he's merely stating what's coming to mind as easily as the next meal he'll cook.
And to his absolute dismay, he was rarely. Ever. WRONG.
Oh how he wished he was wrong, when he suspected that Kazdel is likely to be invaded from the amount of time he spent there.
And yet, look what happened. He wasn't wrong, AGAIN. Why can't he be wrong? Why is it SO HARD for a man to be WRONG!?
"…..you will suffer as I did. You will enjoy every moment, knowing that everything you've done….amounted to nothing."
His tail lashed out, slamming against the cavern walls with a fury reserved to destroy a mountain, and the rocks to come falling down, disconnecting from the whole of the earth everywhere.
"Never die again, Kal'tsit. Never force me to come running to your corpse ever again. Never come crossing my sight, expecting my forgiveness. Never think that my heart is warm for you anymore."
Dust filled up the cavern, suffocating the air, and the cave-in is coming closer to Kal'tsit's helpless form. To her luck, Mon3ter recovered just in time to fly towards her and cover her body from a boulder that was coming down on her head, ensuring her safety as well as her escape once it settles.
Amidst the deafening rumbles and scattered dust, one demand reached her ears, a minuscule hint of heartbreak in the words nearly missed.
"I don't want to see your face again."
A strong rain fell down on all of Kazdel. There weren't any strong winds or horrible thunderstorms, but the downpour was so heavy that it made even a Goliath Sarkaz nod, indicating the possibility of a flood.
But the Sarkaz didn't try to shelter themselves. Not for this one.
Ever since Jacob came to Kazdel in 799, he accidently created a new norm.
Though he can manipulate the rain, he does it purely to sleep because a pattering roof is quite soothing. But with how desolate Kazdel was, with limited livelihood and quality of life, he wanted to bring some joy, no matter how little.
So, he danced and chanted old Sarkaz folk songs in the rain every time. He may look like an idiot, but if it makes somebody laugh, that means he did a good job.
At first, Sarkaz children did as he did, easily memorizing his tune, then the adults soon followed. Any moment of joy is worth having in a place like this.
Jacob will readily admit that he's a Sarkaz sympathizer, an advocate for their wellbeing and dignity, but he also won't deny the bloodiness inherent in Sarkaz Culture either.
The Prince of Blood is a sadistic and bloodthirsty fuck. The Nachzherer is a malicious bastard. The Damazti Cluster is an sociopathic shit. Multiple times they spied on him and wore the faces of his friends.
But what about the little people? The children? The ones who don't want to fight? What about the mercenaries that sell their swords solely to get bread on the table? Do they deserve the hate?
Jacob felt that he needed no other reason to stay in Kazdel the moment he entered, and gathered every reason why he'd do anything to raise it up.
But what's worth raising now? It's all ruined…..
Head down and slouched from exhaustion, emotionally than physically, Jacob dragged his long tail behind him like a thick rope of green scales as he did his best to take every step forward through the agony of walking and seeing the very places he frequented be nothing but rubble and ruin.
Not a single thing looks familiar anymore. The comforting dirt ground is puddled by the rain. The familiar cracks on the cement homes, they've all widened, now lying on the ground in pieces. Chairs and tables that were used to play cards or board games he brought from other countries, always placed outside homes with set schedules for games, children for day and adults for night…..
…..I wonder if Bootstrap broke them down and used the wood as stakes. He's always been good at throwing things and making them stick on walls. Or maybe Pickles used them as barriers, always the resourceful one.
There are some Sarkaz scattered around, slumped against the walls or collapsed on the ground, the latters' head propped up from the rising waters with either rocks or debris. They aren't dead. They can't. Jacob's rain wouldn't let them. They're just being miserable, just like him.
I wonder if Kazdel's ruination hit hard for them….or maybe it's just the usual…?
…..no. Even if it's such a desolate place, it's still their home. They are despairing over it, especially on lost loved ones.
Some lifted their gazes up to see Jacob. There was a spark of hope that lit up in their eyes, expecting another miracle to come from him that can raise them up, just like he always did, but upon seeing how he's pretty much in the same state as them, lost and vulnerable, dragging his feet and looking smaller than they remembered him, they quickly understood that he lost as much as they did.
He can't be the Samaritan anymore. If his efforts to defend Kazdel didn't amount to much, how much can he even do in the aftermath?
So they can only hang their heads as he passes by, take the only blessing he can only give. This rain, it constantly follows him. It can spread wide, but it will only be a matter of time before Jacob is too far away for the downpour to end.
2 weeks later, accompanied by endless walking and raining, Jacob managed to reach the capital where the Lord of Fiend's Palace is.
Along the way, he kept seeing broken memories.
The well he dug up that spewed with enough force to become a natural fountain and was later modified to stream downwards into a swimming pool, he found a body floating on the dirty water. A healthy Victorian, most likely, considering he didn't turn to Originium dust upon death.
The slums that he turned into a training ground, teaching anyone that can hold a weapon to fight, purely to defend themselves instead using it for mercenary work or winning against their neighbor. There was nobody there anymore, just a pile rubble and bodies that stank to hell.
The array of houses he deliberately turned into a forest zone through his miracles, making all manner of green life grow through the cracks that the Sarkaz residents didn't even mind as they enjoyed the clean air…..everything was picked clean, either for firewood against the evening or food against the coming starvation.
And the home that the Sarkaz built there for him, more like an overly-decorated barn than a proper house thanks to his usual habit of being a gigantic and quadruped beast than being a tall and bipedal humanoid—it was barely holding up, leaning on one side, the broken bits patched with rotten wood and holed tarps, and the interior looted clean…..
…..and he could see them inside.
They were there the whole time, having been told to stay there since the war, exactly as he had instructed their parents to do in times of a serious emergency.
"Jacob!" The eldest Sarkaz child exclaimed, running out of the wide opening and into his chest. "Jacob….!"
Jacob's mind immediately ran through the scenarios that might have—no, did happen before he arrived here, but he refused to acknowledge them. However, still desperate to be wrong against the worse, he twisted the reality he knew into questions, hoping each one is not rhetorical.
Leather, how long have you been keeping the children sane, fed and protected until you cracked?
How many did you manage to convince to stay in the home and have faith until I come back, leading to them giving up?
How many broke from the pressure and ran away before I got here, leaving the others and you crying?
How many stole for food and was killed for getting caught, making you blame yourself because you couldn't protect them?
How many had to take up mercenary jobs and sell their swords, making you feel miserable because you couldn't go with them and leave the others behind?
Should I have come sooner? Should I have run straight here instead of waiting for Kal'tsit to wake up so I can lay it on her?
The rest of the children came barreling out the moment they heard the name and saw him standing there, jumping to his body and clinging to him, refusing to let go, even if their bodies wet from the rain threatened to make them slip.
Their crying tears could not be hidden from the rain. Their wails told him everything.
He lowered to his knees and held them tight, his tail wrapping around each and every one of them, adding to the comfort he can give.
The rain turned into a thunderstorm, thunder and lightning roaring like an angry god, with the wind now threatening to topple even a weakened cement building, but the kids were willing to walk under it, treading as far the palace that was kilometers away, as long as Jacob stayed with them.
Jacob swore before. The parents and guardians of these children had appointed him as their godfather, their lives left in his hands if they ever perished as he had feared if they do not follow his advice to avoid fighting for bloodshed.
….there's only 15 of you…what happened to the other 102?
But Jacob already knew what happened to them, every single one of them. How could he not know? He knew their character, their motivations, their desires, and their choices. With these things, he can easily formulate the next action they'll individually take in response to certain situations, regardless of other factors such as their mental state, emotional state of mind and including outlandish factors.
Some of them are already—
No. They are still alright. They have to be. I taught them after all. I made sure they can live without me….
Jacob tightened his grip on the eldest child to his chest, the little one clutching him with all he had despite how exhausted he's been from protecting the others for weeks, his immature horns nudging the Chimera's head. Another child, tall enough to reach his other hand, gripped it with the typical Goliath strength her race is capable of, keeping it close to warm her cold cheek.
His only wing, a left dragon appendage full of holes on the webbing, remained stiffly furled out against the wind as an improvised umbrella, covering the 6 children that are tightly holding each other for warmth and stable footing next to him, with the one nearest to his waist holding the bony spike growing out of his hip so they don't wander away from him through this blinding downpour.
The last 7 children trailed right behind him, the ones who are small and weak, gripped his tail with strips of cloth wrapped around their wrists and anchored to the spikes growing out of it so they can keep pace with him and slip in their footing.
Even for a Sarkaz, the kind of distance they're planning to reach is too far during a thunderstorm, especially if they're starving kids.
But the children knew Jacob's reputation well enough to remember the kind of bizarre things that happen to other people when he's around, and other Sarkaz had done more unspeakable feats than this in even worse conditions than starvation.
They can reach the palace in this pace, even if they never stopped to rest or if the flood reached as high as the smallest child's chin.
The thunderstorm will keep any nosey Sarkaz from impeding them. Even if they had the guts to try, it won't end well. That much is clear during the war, which showed how little they know about his actual might when he trained them to be strong or repelled them from ruining his works.
If they follow, however, that's okay.
…And soon enough.
"Jacob….you've come back."
"….Theresis."
Ah, that's right. I'm already here. I didn't even notice I reached the palace gates.
General Theresis stood in front of him, one of the Six Heroes that turned the tide during the war…..and he was the first to reach Jacob before any of the royal guards did, exposing himself to the thunderstorm and wetting his cloak. The sound of the rain hitting his armor is nearly-audible, symbolizing his attentiveness to the Chimera.
Theresis reached forward, placing a brotherly hand on Jacob's shoulder, and the latter nearly lost his strength to keep his head up, inadvertently nodding in relief at the familiar comfort.
Theresis was going to ask how was he, mentally speaking in the face of all this ruin over what he once helped build, having learned to never question the surface. The Chimera is literally immortal against physical afflictions.
But before the General could say the next word, he noticed another pair of eyes looking at him from Jacob's chest.
Theresis' eyes softened in deep sympathy and sadness upon seeing the boy, "….And I see you brought your eldest charge."
He leaned to one side, seeing the child holding Jacob's free hand, the huddle of children next to his hip, and the smaller ones holding his tail in a death-grip behind him. Their eyes are all dull, and lifeless.
There's also a small group of adults that have successfully followed him all the way here the moment they saw him. There used to be many of them, but they didn't benefit from Jacob's blessing compared to the children, collapsing on the way.
Some were kind enough to earn it, having offered the children their own coats or hats to shield from the rain, even giving the meager scraps of food they had to the little ones. But few had the luxury to still carry goodness in their hearts after the war, and fewer they are
Grimacing, Theresis met Jacob's eyes, "….what would you want me to do for you, my friend?"
Before the Chimera could answer, a rapid pattering of heeled feet arrived behind the general, a pink-haired blur bumping past Theresis and enclosing a pair of slender arms around Jacob's waist.
"Theresa, you didn't even bring an umbrella." Theresis deadpanned towards his sister.
Theresa didn't respond, keeping her grip on the Chimera and letting the hard rain drench her completely, as if afraid that he'll just disappear again….just like when the war begun.
…..ah, I remember….we promised to meet in the back of the palace...
For an insurmountable amount of time, she parted, but only a little. She kept one arm on him, and her eyes wandered to the children he brought with him, getting a look at their miserable states.
She turned to her brother, her face firm, "Theresis, ready the kitchen. We have mouths to feed."
The long table of the dining hall cluttered with the sound of cutlery loudly clanging, meat, fruit and vegetables being ripped and devoured, and the hushed words of comfort from both Jacob and Theresa as they controlled the refugees' intake, especially the little ones.
The Chimera kept a firm grip on a Sarkaz' shoulder, keeping the man's movements slow and controlled, keeping him from eating too much. The pincer of Jacob's tail clamped on another man's wrist, keeping the Goliath from taking another spoonful.
Too much food after much starvation will not be kind to your body….
Theresa maintained the children with the recognizable drive of enthusiasm she's known for towards children, and very quickly, the children are dragging their chairs towards her and surrounding her in a circle away from the table, eager to be fed a spoonful of the bowl of soup in her hands. Her sweet words and encouragements brightened their day, much more than seeing Jacob again. The eldest helped her, refilling the bowl whenever she called him.
Theresis sat at the end of the table, looking over the two do their work. He wanted to speak with them now that the Chimera's here, but decided to simply let them have their way first. These individuals can be very willful, especially Theresa.
"J-Jacob…" The Chimera turned to the person who called. A Sarkaz woman, a patch of Originium lesions growing near her eye. "….I want more."
"When have you last eaten before you got here?" He asked.
"…I think….I had some scraps…maybe 4 days ago…."
"How large? How many?"
"…uh…..little….just little. The kids had the rest….please! It's enough, let me have more. I had little, then ate more and still did fine….! Please! Tell her to give me more! I starve!"
"You starve?" Another voice echoed, incredulous and outraged. The speaker rose up from his chair, clutching a spoon in his hand like it's a knife, his plate still full of food he's forced not to consume and ease his stomach. "You starve….!? You starve!?"
Jacob lashed his tail against the ground, cracking the weathered tiles and sending a few shards flying, silencing any rising contempt.
The speaker is forced to sit back down, looking away in fear when Jacob turned a growling sneer at him. The others who were similarly outraged froze in their seats, refusing to put another spoonful in their mouths, not keen of offending the one non-Sarkaz who's been the patron of the entire Sarkaz populace.
The children near Theresa didn't notice the sudden commotion, still waiting for Theresa to feed them another spoonful and wondering why she's looking at the adults instead.
Jacob immediately recognized the power of the Black Crown at play.
So Theresa did took up the crown. I thought Theresis would be the one to take it….
"Sit down and be quiet." Jacob commanded, walking over and taking the man's plateful of food before bringing it to the starving Sarkaz, dropping it atop her plate without a ruckus, "Eat slowly."
The woman nodded frantically, "Yes, Jacob…I'm sorry for being greedy….I wasn't thinking…."
"Me too…." The speaker said as well.
Jacob huffed, neither dismissing nor acknowledging their apology. It's just another display of human nature under desperation. A predictable one.
"Give your bodies time to adjust, everyone." Theresa advised warmly to the adults, "It's not good to eat so much when you've barely had anything for yourselves for days. You could vomit, lose breathing or even die….among other things. Don't worry, we can make your meals bigger by tomorrow."
The Sarkaz looked up in shock, "Bigger….you're saying you're letting us stay here, Your Highness?" One asked in disbelief.
"Yes." Theresa answered without hesitation, smiling. "I can't just let you walk out into that storm, can we?"
"I'll see to have rooms ready for all of you." Theresis announced stoically, his fingers interlocked in front of his face, elbows resting on the table. "Though, I think most you might have to sleep on the floors for now. The children should have the beds first."
"No! No, it's okay, lord General!" The oldest of the Sarkaz replied, "Y-you're giving us more than you ought to. Food…shelter….safety for the kids….how can we ask for more?"
Another stood up and lowered his head that his forehead touched the table, his hands holding the edge firmly, "I promise I will not impose too much, Your Highness. When the storm goes away, I'll be out of your hair the sooner I can."
"No." Jacob firmly told.
The adults looked at him in shock. Theresa and Theresis too.
A soft growl rumbled from Jacob's throat, ignoring their bewilderment. "You endured the storm despite its brutality and gave to the little ones despite how little you have. You echo your King and her General's virtues. You'll do well serving under them both. The children will be raised well here, to follow your example."
Disbelief rolled among them. Theresa was briefly taken aback before the Black Crown told her what ran through the Chimera's mind, which she accepted neutrally.
"Is this what you would have us do for you, Jacob?" Theresis asked neutrally, his emotions hidden well.
The Chimera turned to Theresa, then Theresis. "They have proven their mettle, and are worthy of you. They shall learn your instruction and serve under you when you deem them ready. I will search for the other children, scattered or lost from my care and protection after the war. I will deliver them here to earn the same privilege."
"So…more refugees, then." Theresis noted unsurprisingly. "Quite the weighty demand you're putting on us."
"I'm not asking, Theresis, and I'm not entertaining any negotiation. This will be done."
Theresa quickly piped in, her smile disarming the seemingly-charged atmosphere, "But it's not like I wasn't thinking the same thing, yes? Anyone that can endure the Chimera's Herculean ventures speaks a lot about their capabilities. I believe there can be fitting places for them. You can figure them out with me, right, Theresis?"
"I already have. I was thinking the same thing, considering the kind of warriors he tends to conjure from those he opens his heart to." Theresis replied, leaning back into his chair with an easy sigh, "But screening will be needed first. For now, they need to regain their strength."
"Wonderful!" Theresa exclaimed in delight, "Leather, more please."
"Yes, Your Highness." Leather nodded, taking the empty bowl and quickly filling it up with more broth before passing it back to her hands.
"Thank you, dear." She then returned to spoon feeding the impatient kids. Her eyes sent a playful look at the Chimera, "It seems Jacob's generosity remains supreme, though at the expense of the Lord of Fiends herself, I suppose."
The grateful adults chuckled, sending their gratitude to the King, the General, and the Chimera.
Jacob's head remained clouded in black. Theresa could feel it.
Inside the war room with drawn maps and figures on the table, leaving the refugees to Theresa's supervision in finding their accommodations in the palace, Jacob turned to Theresis, weary eyes meeting another, "Theresis."
"I know…..I know." The General mumbled, his body and mindset reverting to a familiar routine between him and the Chimera.
Jacob turned his back to the Sarkaz and knelt on the floor, stretching out his left wing. With a single motion, the sword removed it from his body with a perfect cut at the very base. Quick and painless, a mastery born from repetition that helped in the battle that beheaded Kal'tsit, and the appendage fell with a pathetic thump on the floor, as useless as the holes that marred it.
Sheathing the sword, Theresis moved to pull off the mismatched horns on Jacob's head manually. They tend to come loose when they need to be.
With a small grunt and minimal effort, he detached all 7 of them each with an audible pop, leaving dark holes on Jacob's scalp before they started closing and growing white strands to complete his mane.
Compared to the usual roles, Theresis offered something else for the first time, "I will have these thrown out myself. No need to trouble yourself." He gestured to the detached wing and horns on the floor. "You have my word, I will not let even a single shred of it go unburned and untouched by the inferno."
"No." Jacob stopped him with a hand as he stood up, wobbling slightly to handle the reduced weight on his head and the lack of a third appendage on his back, "Don't throw them away. I've….decided to make some use of them."
A knowing look crossed Theresis' eyes, recognizing another episode of Jacob's insatiable urge to give. "What kind?"
"….the means to halt an Infection."
Theresis' eyes widened. But not because of the words themselves, it's the fact that Jacob is keen on making them now, "….what changed your mind? You said to have refused yourself countless times in your long life, wanting humanity to come first with it before yourself."
Jacob shuffled his hooved feet slightly forward to place his hands on the war table and lean against it. As he sighed, his exhaustion became physically evident, not just through his eyes and his voice. The hanging head, lifeless tail and trembling elbows, however, indicated more than simple post-war fatigue.
"Wear a mask for too long. You lose your distinction from it." Jacob paused, and he felt Theresis' hand on his back, an offer of comfort. "Perform a duty countless times, your mind and body becomes part of it, incapable of doing otherwise unless you're content with its violation…..I've given so much for many Kazdelians for nearly a century, all with the complete intention to help and see them rise…..and I'm still doing it, even if I'm completely dried of all kindness and left bitter from the war, the nation down on the ground. I'm just being meaningless, Theresis."
"No." Theresis denied firmly, switching his grip to the man's shoulder and firmly pressing down, "Not to us, Jacob. Not to us Sarkaz. Not to me and Theresa. For every Sarkaz you've held and helped, you've helped Kazdel. Even when I was just a bodyguard to King Eresh and Theresa was still making dresses, we tallied the blessings you gave and writ them in paper. It's that paper that made you the Court Advisor even though you're non-Sarkaz."
Theresis relaxed his grip, "A week long rain that made the ground fertile with life. Every house, brick or wood, slum dweller or members under the Royal Court, was overrun with green life that made the air clean, cool and pleasant to the eyes. It made Kazdel able to grow more bounty in their fields."
Where the fuck is the green then?
Theresa and the Liches turned Kazdel into a giant Witchcraft altar. You wiped out thousands of the invading armies that were lured in, sure, but you left the fucking place barren.
"You wandered all over Kazdel, unearthing water from the ground, the streets practically overflowing with clean water to drink and bathe in. The people made many swimming pools, baths and drinking fountains in each settlement, attracting our scattered Sarkaz brethren home, and it even reduced the number of civil wars and infighting, allowing our Sarkaz brothers and sisters to laugh together."
And now it's tainted with Originium. Too many dead bodies, and the bits of Originium Dust that scattered from the Catastrophe reached all the way to the pools and fountains. I had to clog every single one of them with the flood.
"You sired many orphans and gave livelihoods to mercenaries that sold their swords purely for their daily bread. You gave them the taste of a life that's beyond bloodshed and killing, but you did not sacrifice our swordsmanship for it. Instead, you fostered it in each of them for the sake of protecting their own, and they were enough to rival a soldier of the Royal Court. These very same people helped Kazdel develop artfully, academically, culturally, economically—it would be a disservice to enumerate each one, as if they are so few that they could be counted."
Jacob leaned away from the table and turned to Theresis, half-lidded eyes showing no receptiveness to the praise. "….and yet what did it even lead to….? Where are they now? What has become of their works?"
Theresis solemnly bowed, sympathizing the grief and the loss itself. The hand on the Chimera's shoulder gave a comforting squeeze.
After all, when Jacob became an advisor, that allowed him to meet Theresis and Theresa for the first time, a pair of half-blooded Sarkaz nobodies who share his dream of a reformed and better Kazdel more than even King Eresh and the Royal Court.
Their friendship and discussions influenced the kind of miracles and works Jacob would give to Kazdel, making them just as instrumental in them.
"….Kazdel will rebuild. The Sarkaz will rebuild, as many times as it had before. That's what Theresa said, and I will pave the way forward with my sword to make that happen. That is my promise the moment I crowned her as the King, the new Lord of Fiends."
"So you did relinquish it to her." Jacob mentioned, relaying a silent prophecy that was conjured ever since the end of the war. "The Black Crown would have chosen you both. Did you deem yourself incapable of creating anything with your sword? Did you find yourself incapable of inspiring hope compared to her?"
Theresis nodded, unsurprised that Jacob managed to divine his line of thinking at the time atop that pile of rubble and ruin. "It seems fitting, considering the length of time you and Theresa have with each other in your discussions for developing Kazdel. I was content to simply listen and be amused."
"Amused, huh?"
Theresis huffed a tiny chuckle, one of the fewest Jacob's heard since meeting the stoic half-blood. "The Sarkaz still has a future, a future that you made brighter compared to the other times it has risen up from its repeated ruinations, Jacob. We will build upon your works and improve on them."
Jacob lightly growled, his tail curling in displeasure, "Your enemies will not let your reconstruction come so gently."
"Our enemies." Theresis corrected, steel filling his eyes, "At this point, Jacob, you are Sarkaz. A resident of Kazdel, its own folk hero. You may not be one of the Six Heroes of Kazdel but you were the first to charge. You are part of us as a whole. Your enemies are our enemies now. Do not worry about the invaders. I will never let them trouble us or ruin your works. Never again."
Prophecies and premonitions ran through Jacob's mind like an angry river. Theresis' vow opened a new realm of possibilities, each one ending in the—
Jacob steeled his mind, not daring to dwell on possibilities when he is already enduring one he feared to pass.
He turned to the map on the table, a world map illustrating the whole of Terra and its many Nations.
And the nation of Gaul is in the center of it.
Jacob moved a clawed finger and stabbed at the colored hexagon, the sound of gravel and boulders grinding against each other echoing the name from his throat. "Gaul."
He moved his finger and indicated the nation next to it, "Victoria."
And lastly, towards the Nation right above it. "Leithanien."
Theresis caught the hint of the Chimera's intentions, but the exact details elude him….only slightly.
'Revenge is a virtue.' That's what Jacob said when asked about his most precious virtue.
Theresis may not be an all-knowing semigod, but after the war that Jacob met with ballistic hate, not a single Sarkaz in Kazdel is unaware of the kind of retribution he is capable of.
"What are your intentions, Jacob?" Theresis dared to asked.
"I am not done with them." Jacob answered simply. "I lifted the hold on my Curse during the war and I left them to the mercy of anything and anyone that finds them."
Theresis pursed his lips. Jacob's ability to heal wounds and regrow limbs with his tail are something akin to the divine….much to the point that every person he killed with his hands do not die because they are basically prevented the point of death, even if they are reduced to just a head.
Jacob calls himself an extremely careful man. The kind of blessing he has that made people cry of joy is also the one thing that can send anyone straight to hell without any of them actually being dead.
If he got careless, a brotherly smack on the back for a friend would turn into a scalding pain for all eternity, because the sensation would not go away.
If he killed someone barehanded instead of using a weapon, any wound, light or fatal, would never heal and never be infected, making the painful sensation permanent. And most importantly, the unlucky bastard will never die.
The silver lining is that it is easily rectifiable, either putting them out of their misery or Jacob heals the damage. Additionally, Jacob has fully mastered controlling this Curse to the point of comfort.
But will the invaders of Kazdel receive that kind of courtesy?
No.
Weeks after the war, when the Coalition retreated, many of their numbers were felled by a rampageous Chimera, bitten and cleaved with fang and claw, crushed and bisected with hooves and a thorny tail, and they were still alive by the time Kazdel were able to gather around and clean up the bodies and the ruins.
So any Sarkaz with a grudge hung them up in the wilderness like living effigies, hung by the neck with ropes or barbed hooks, torched under the sun, dying of starvation or thirst, losing oxygen and feeling excruciating pain, and never going to die. They'd be lucky to die from the carrionbeasts feasting on their living remains.
And Jacob is not satisfied with just that.
"….I will make these Nations miserable, just as I am miserable. I will not answer their destruction with my own. No. They wouldn't deserve a whole army under my command marching at their walls and crushing the very landships they sit on…I will give them glory and victory, deliver blessings to their doorstep and fill their heads with hope for their future…"
Jacob fell silent, his body eerily still, even his heart stopped being audible. He became as lifeless as a statue.
Theresis felt his breath hitch in his throat, taken aback by this phenomenon that was never seen before.
Then the Chimeric statue's mouth moved, bringing it to life.
"….then I will ruin them with it….just like they did to my dreams in Kazdel." He turned to face Theresis, bitterness and a dying anger fusing with the resignation that filled his eyes, "Leave Kazdel out of this, Theresis. This is my retribution, and I will reap every suffering as recompense for every Sarkaz soul that suffered because of them…"
And when my bounty is met, all of my grievances answered and paid for, I'll do what comes naturally afterwards.
Theresis gave a small bow, neither encouraging nor discouraging the intention. Only acknowledging it, asking no clarification regarding what comes after. The only thing important right now is Kazdel's reconstruction through Theresa's guidance, and ensuring it is his first priority. "I will take this as a sign that you will not be part of Kazdel's reconstruction?"
"My heart is bitter, Theresis. I am crushed by my grief. I am overwhelmed with anger. And I am struggling with every fiber of my being, stopping myself from taking an eye for an eye." With a low and mournful voice, Jacob relayed how less of the Samaritan he is now after the invasion. "How could I even give Kazdel anything like this?"
At least let me cry it out and beat it out of myself.
Theresis felt his eyes being pulled to the severed wing and horns on the floor, a symbol of the umpteenth sacrifice Jacob gave and will continue to give for years to come, especially if his heart heals from its misery….
….but what did Kazdel give back in turn? What has the Sarkaz given back besides a Nation in ruins, scattered children depending on him, and every prospect of his dreams fulfilled reduced to nothing?
"Jacob…." Theresis stood straighter, his voice slightly raised and firm, "….allow me the disrespect to refuse the gift you'll bless us with your horns and wings."
Motherfucker.
Immediately, a wave of hostility erupted from Jacob as he growled diabolically, his height rising higher than it already have, and his pincer tail rearing back like a scorpion over his shoulder, primed to stab straight through Theresis' skull.
"Are you refusing my charity….!?" Cracks started forming on the walls, there was wind blowing in from somewhere that made Theresis' cloak flare wildly, and the thunderstorm outside began roaring. "Have you forgotten what happened to the last Sarkaz that refused me!? How he lost every right of free will he has to me!?"
"I have not." Unwavering and firm, Theresis answered the angry Chimera. "But I do not refuse out of pride. I may not speak for the Sarkaz as a whole as a mere General, but there is nothing we can do that can repay your generosity but mere gratitude, respect, loyalty, and even worship, and that will likely be all we could offer for the next batch of blessings you'll give us…..but I will not stand with Kazdel being a parasite to its own hero. It has not given back…..I have not given back. You have gotten nothing. It will not sit well with me nor Theresa, thinking that we cannot even answer our dear friend's kindness with anything at hand."
The cracks on the walls closed, the wind in the room calmed and the thunderstorm ceased its incessant roaring of lightning and thunder, peacefully bringing a downpour on Kazdel that will clean the blood and wash away the filth from the war.
Jacob's scowl had softened and his claws retracted back into his fingers, touched by Theresis' understanding and respect. Jacob's voice gained a bit of warmth, offsetting the fatigue and grief behind it, "This is not for Kazdel, nor for you and Theresa. It's for the children, refugees and the next batch of select Kazdelians I'll bring here. Their Infection must be handled, and only they can receive it. No one else. You are not welcome to deny it, that is the least of your compensation to me."
Theresis huffed again in a chuckle. And Jacob was surprised.
That's twice in a day now.
"Only you can corner me with kindness, Jacob. I didn't think such a thing was even possible."
"I have my due for Kazdel, Theresis." Jacob told, just to make it clear. "I have tasted many pleasures and material known in history, and my choice of rewards are sometimes outside anybody's expectations. But to settle your mind, I shall forewarn you then. When I claim my due, it is final."
"Most assuring thing I've heard from you since I last saw you." Theresis nodded, a hint of a smile growing on his lips. A sight that delighted Jacob's dark mood. "Very well. I hope Kazdel and its King as well as its General can satisfy you with what it can give."
As Theresa entered her private bedchambers, outfitted with the most luxurious furnishings available only to the King of Kazdel and were barely dusted in the face of her responsibilities, she felt a great ease in her heart, knowing that the refugees now under her care will be alright in the near future.
Normally, she wouldn't have entered this room unless Theresis forced her to, worried about her pulling all-nighters to handle the aftermath of the war and impeding her performance in the long run.
But a gut instinct is commanding her to come here, and she found herself unwilling to deny it. There was no logical reasoning as to why. The urge simply came the moment she kissed the last child goodnight and covered them with the blanket, but she knew that she has to.
Putting her ringed fingers together before her lips, she closed her eyes.
1….
…2…
….3.
She opened her eyes, and as she expected, the Samaritan of Kazdel had suddenly materialized in the most guarded location of the palace, past the Royal Guards and Confessarius Soldiers, sitting on the bed and holding her in his gaze neutrally.
His features have been reduced to the base. Horns and all, gone. Rumors say that he was like this when he first arrived.
She giggled lightly, lowering her fingers and holding them before her navel as she took small steps towards him. "Same as always, then? Me, in my room, knitting another dress, and I would suddenly realize that you were next to me the whole 5 hours since I started."
"You used to screech louder than a wailing Banshee." Jacob replied.
"And you got in trouble with my brother the first time." She retorted, spinning around and dropping herself on the bed's edge next to him, slightly bouncing. "Did you know? He was on the other side of the palace that time. He must have left a trail of fire the moment he somehow heard me yelp."
"And then Theresis blew open the door, sending splinters everywhere. Not even cutting it down with his sword. Must have frightened him to see the Royal Advisor sitting alone in a room with his baby sister inside."
Theresa giggled, leaning against his side, her head against his shoulder and one arm woven around his. She's glad to have him back, and with the way his tail gently wrapped around her waist, it seems he felt the same.
Her next words, however, were devoid of levity, "I heard that you intend to give more of your blessings to us again. A little way to make the Infection rates of our new housemates less progressive in their symptoms"
"Hmm."
Her grip tightened on his arm, her free hand grabbing his before squeezing tightly, "Please don't force yourself, Jacob. You're precious to us. There's nothing that obligates you to give any more than you need to for the Sarkaz. Kazdel's ruin has already taken away so much from you already."
Jacob interlocked his fingers with hers, the sheer disparity in terms of size never failing to endear him further to her. "If the Sarkaz King says that, how will she act upon it?"
"Allow me to rest you down, Jacob. Let the King properly do as the King should for her people." She looked up to him, which he met with the same warm gaze he reserved only for her and his little ones, "Besides, a handsome and lovely role model will guide my ways. So tireless and selfless, he would have made a better King than King Eresh if it were not me."
"The Black Crown chose you and Theresis first, Theresa. I'm glad it did."
"Even though you have foreseen such an event?"
With a free hand, Jacob brushed aside a stray lock of light pink, feeling the smoothness of her cheek. "Kazdel can thrive under you. I know it will. I will soon see it on a mobile landship by the time I return and let my grief pass. Schools, fields of bounty, herding platforms, hospitals….I'll be patient."
The ring was already in my hand, crafted with the purest of my essence, halting Oripathy completely and enhancing the body's ability to regenerate, and signifying my choice to be with you until your final breath….
…..then the invasion began.
"I did not want it to come to pass. I did not want the war to come. I did not event want you to be King. I just wanted to be with you, watch you make dresses, listen to you be witty with me or Theresis, and make your happiness my sole priority by the time I collect my due…."
Theresa's heart thrummed, reeling with the realization. Not with the possibilities he foresees for Kazdel but the fact that he actually intended to make her his. The Black Crown is showing her everything. A warm home full of color and life. A loving partner ready to sweep her off her feet every time she's home. Kindly neighbors that are close with each other and will protect their own. A thriving Kazdel thanks to him, mildly or completely free from its constant unrest and civil wars. A gaggle of little feet running around and playing, overwhelming her with their incessant need for stories.
It was such a relationship they both entertained and teased each other with before, but she knew she was playing with fire at the time.
Jacob had the mind and will to actually go through with it if he actually wanted it, but she didn't wear the Crown at the time. She couldn't tell how he felt with her, and he treated many other women the same, familiar and intimate. To know this now, to be the center of a special kind of attention…thrilled her, an indescribable happiness filling her head that she might dance….
…..but she's not. Jacob is sat next to her than kneeling before her with her hand in his and a ring in the other. His heart isn't full of hope and delight at the thought of being with her. His thoughts went elsewhere, hungry for blood and dying from grief.
Once he gathered the children under his protection that were scattered or lost, he will disappear from Kazdel, to mete out his judgment on the invaders. The amount of time that will take is beyond even Jacob, and she's unsure if she can keep herself from letting her worries overwhelm her ability to answer his feelings purely.
She untangled her hold on him and reached with both hands towards his face, and gently pulled him down until he hovered right atop her on the bed, their proximity close enough for their breaths to intermingle, lips close to his.
His eyes still held the same warmth he carried near her, full of playfulness and teases as he anticipated her shrieks every time she's caught off-guard at his sudden materialization behind her or full of elation and a deep love when he finally had a chance to dance with her, wearing the magnificent attire she personally knitted just for him.
But there is a darkness in his heart. It is not capable of coexistence.
"As the Lord of Fiends and King of the Sarkaz, I, Theresa, humbly request your council, Jacob Cavernholme the Chimera, Devourer of the God of Conquest, Feranmut Valkal'El. What will my fate be? What storm and thorny path will come my way before the land can finally sleep together in peace under the same sky?"
Jacob huffed, took a deep breath, and blew a gust of wind on Theresa's face, making her giggle. She closed her eyes to protect them from the stings and feebly tried to push against his face to make him stop, going as far as to tickle his neck or grab his ear.
Once he relented on his playful response, she quickly grabbed his nose and squeezed it, knowing it had little effect on the semigod. "Is that how you bless others now? No longer a gentle breeze from afar, but the merciless explosion of a hurricane up-close someone's face?"
To her delight, there was a smile on his face as he grabbed her wrist, switched his grip until they interlocked fingers again and pinned it down beside her head. It's a small smile, but if she can get him to look that way in the state he's in, it's a victory.
Repaying him for every little thing he's done for Kazdel will is part of her duties, after all, both as a King and as a loved one, "You don't need to know anything about the future from me, Theresa. What you really need to know is that you are mine. The Dressmaker from the palace is the only price I'll ever ask from Kazdel, and I intend to follow through once all is well."
With a free hand, she cupped Jacob's cheek, tracing a thumb over his lips. Suddenly, the world outside the bedchambers seemed to disappear. It is only them, in this little room made of 4 walls and a ceiling.
And Theresa will want nothing more than that.
Flushed red, heart hammering with a thrill in her chest, she remarked with a tease, "Nobody else in your eyes, I see. Not the Lord of Fiends or even the most gifted Caster of Kazdel, according to the Lord Nachzehrer. I'm still the little Dressmaker you keep harassing and cherishing in your eyes. Is this how you intended to propose to me before the war? My hand locked with yours and pinned to the bed as you hover over me, claiming my being as your own without even letting me have a word of response? Not even a ring?"
Jacob chuckled, lowering himself down atop her, drawing an even darker blush on her cheeks as he drew close, his lips brushing hers. "No."
With that, the Chimera God-King and the Lord of Fiends kissed and became one, recreating a time when one was little, the other merely large, and it was not the other way around.