Chapter 26: Elsewhere

There is much mystery that surrounds the origins of both the Dread Dragon Bahamut and his twelve Fiend Generals. The Church claims that all were demons spawned from the deepest hells, but as the histories of at least two Generals can be traced to a time before bending their knee to Bahamut, this seems unlikely. But regardless of their origins, they were among the most powerful beings of their time, and ruled great swathes of the world, held accountable only to the Dread Dragon himself. But in spite of all their fearsome power, each would meet their death at the end of Alondight's blade. In the order in which they were slain, the Fiend Generals were:

Ixion, the Thunderer; Hecatoncheir, the Earth-Shaker; Garuda, Warden of the Winds; Ifrit, the Infernal; Bismarck, Lord of the Deep; Mishiva, the Glacian; Kujata, the Moving Mountain; Ragnarok, the Demon Blade; Diabolos, of Many Faces; Maduin, the Dark Prince; Carbuncle, the Ignis Fatuus; and Fenrir, the Howling Void.

The histories of several Fiend Generals and their service to the Dread Dragon are well-documented in the annals of history. However, information pertaining to the first two to fall at Alondight's hand- Ixion and Hecatoncheir- is mostly absent. The only account to even provide a description of the Generals comes from Alondight himself as written in Lescatié's journal, recorded several years after their deaths. According to the Dragonslayer, Ixion was a beast resembling a horse with hide as dark and as strong as iron, a long, wicked horn growing from its head from which it could fire bolts of lightning. From Alondight's description, many identify Ixion as a bicorn, an equine monster drawn to wickedness and immorality, often said to be the inversion of the unicorn. However, the Sparrow asserts that Ixion was not a bicorn, but instead a unicorn, drawn to the purity of Bahamut's cause and ideals; in support of his claim, he cites an absence of widespread debauchery within Ixion's domain, as well as the General's reliance on magic in battle, whereas bicorns are known to favor overpowering enemies with physical strength alone.

Regardless of the truth of the matter however, Ixion would be remembered not only as a Fiend General, nor for being the first to fall against the blade of the Dragonslayer, but also for being the first of Alondight's foes to slay one of the Dragonslayer's companions.

- Dragonslayer, Chapter 4: Ixion

"Hey, Baligant?"

"What is it, Sai?"

"Do you… know why that girl is still following us?"

"I can hear you," Jibril said, sitting on a nearby rock. "And I have a name."

Sai seemed to shrink. "S-Sorry…"

"Well, Sai isn't exactly wrong here," Baligant said. "Why are you following us?"

"…Let's just say a recent experience taught me that traveling alone in these times isn't the best idea," Jibril replied. "Besides, I owe you a debt."

"Debt?" Sai asked. "You don't have to-"

But Baligant put a hand on Sai's shoulder. "Hold on, Sai," he said. "You said before that this girl can make medicines. Maybe she can help us on the way to General Ixion. Besides, we could use all the help we can get."

"I suppose…" Sai muttered reluctantly, his eyes drifting down, to the back of his hand. To the black mark there. He then suddenly stiffened, as if struck with an idea. "Jibril. You… know things about the world, right?"

"Somewhat," she replied cautiously.

"Then, would you know… what this is?" He held up the back of his hand, showing the mark.

Jibril stared at it for a few moments, then slowly reached out and touched the mark with her own fingers. After a few moments, she answered, "…No. It isn't a tattoo or a brand, but I'm not sure what it is. Why?"

"A few weeks ago, soldiers sent by Ixion came to our village," Baligant explained. "They were looking for people who had this mark. When they saw that Sai had one, they tried… taking him away. I showed them mine, but they said they only needed one tribute from our village."

"Tribute?" Jibril repeated.

"Me and Sai have had these marks for as long as we can remember," the older boy said. "I always had a feeling they meant something, but I never knew what. And then one day we find out someone out there is looking for people who have these marks." He looked down at his own mark, his hand clenching into a fist. "I wanna know why."

Jibril was silent for several moments. "The magic your friend used to save me was quite powerful," she finally said. "Perhaps the mark indicates a connection to some great power, one the General fears may be used against him. If that's the case, then it would explain why he's searching for people who have them."

"What kind of power?" Sai asked.

"I wish I could tell you," the apothecary answered. "If the mark is the symbol of a deity, it isn't one I recognize."

Baligant let out a long breath. "I guess the only place we'll be getting any answers is from the General himself."

The directions Sai and Baligant had received in the village proved accurate. After leaving, they went north, until they found a river. They followed it west, and then northwest, until they came upon a mountain. And rising from the side of the mountain was a fortress. Well… "fortress" might not have been accurate. It was just a tower- or rather, what was left of one. The top half was gone, as if it had been snapped off like a branch. And the lower half could hardly be called pristine, either. But despite its decrepit state, the remnant stood, rising above the surrounding land as if in defiance to the ravages of time.

"Is that it?" Sai asked.

Baligant folded his arms over his chest. "It must be. I don't see anything else around here." He looked down toward Sai. "You ready?"

Sai hesitated before nodding. Then, with Jibril following them, the two brothers began their ascent. As they approached, however, it became painfully obvious that something was amiss. Corpses littered the base of the tower. Some seemed recent- others were little more than bleached bones. Each bore gruesome wounds; hacked limbs, crushed torsos, gaping holes where something had pierced through their bodies. Some even showed signs of having been burned alive. From the way they were scattered, it didn't seem that they'd fallen when approaching the tower, but rather had been tossed aside after they'd fallen. But even more troubling… was that there was nothing else. No guards, no fortifications, nothing to indicate that anything lived here, much less a general.

"Where's the General?" Sai asked. "Where's anyone?" When no answer came, either from Baligant, or Jibril, he continued, "Maybe he found a new fortress?"

Again, Baligant didn't reply. But his instincts told him that despite appearances, the tower wasn't empty.

Something was here.

The three proceeded to the interior, through a large crack in the outer wall. Beyond was what must have been a grand chamber at one point, but now was little more than rubble. The walls were cracked and broken, its ceiling long gone, replaced with the faint glimmer of stars hanging in the open sky above. And still, there was nothing. Only shadows.

"I… I'm starting to think we made a mistake," Sai muttered.

Baligant remained silent. His eyes scanned the area, searching for the presence he knew was there. He couldn't see it- couldn't hear it- but he could feel it. A wrongness in the air, a sense that something was… watching them. Until finally, the presence made itself known.

"I see the mark on your hand," a voice said, drifting out from the shadows. The voice sounded like a man's, and seemed almost… hollow. "And from what village did my soldiers pluck you from?"

"Show yourself!" Baligant demanded.

The voice didn't emerge. But Baligant could see it moving in the shadows. It was only a vague shape, but whatever it was, it wasn't human- it was massive, easily almost twice his height. Baligant swallowed, his heart racing. "You are quite bold, to make demands of me in my own home," it continued. "And you didn't answer my question. From what village do you hail?"

"Neith," Sai answered, stepping forward. "We're from Neith."

There was silence for a moment, then the figure finally emerged from the shadows. As Baligant thought, it wasn't human. But it wasn't the twisted monster he'd expected. In fact, the general looked rather familiar. Almost like… a horse. Albeit one without a mane or tail, with an enormous, curved horn sprouting from the center of its forehead. Its fur was black, its eyes shone in a faint white light, and every step it took echoed with a loud clang, as if it had hammers in place of its hooves.

For a moment, neither side spoke. Even Baligant found himself staring, unable to believe the sight before his eyes. This… was Ixion? Then, finally, the General broke the silence. "Ah. Yes. This season's tribute. A bit later than expected. I suppose that explains why there's two of you." It turned its gaze upon Jibril. "I''m not sure why they sent this one, but I suppose it doesn't matter."

Then, something happened. Something so quick, Baligant barely caught it. There was a brief glow surrounding Ixion's horn, before a bolt of lightning shot out and struck Sai. The bolt pierced through his chest and out through his back, leaving a smoking hole as big as Baligant's fist. Sai choked, and fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as blood poured from the wound. The younger boy looked to Baligant, eyes full of fear, and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, before falling to the ground face-first.

Baligant didn't think. Before his mind realized what his body was doing, he'd drawn his knife and charged at the General, a furious scream tearing from his throat. Ixion stood, calmly watching him approach, doing nothing as the older boy's blade slashed at Ixion's flesh. But instead of cutting through skin and muscle, the knife merely glanced off with a metallic clang. The blade didn't even so much as cut the General's fur. And still, Ixion did nothing as the boy continued to hack at the beast, his rage growing ever stronger.

"Why!?" Baligant screamed. "Why!? He was my brother! He was my brother and you killed him!"

Baligant drew back his arm. But as he swung, Ixion finally moved, catching the blow on his horn and knocking the knife from Baligant's hand. The general swung his head again, batting Baligant with his horn and knocking him to the ground. Before Baligant could rise, the clang of Ixion's hooves echoed in the fortress, before the general pressed a hoof into his back, pinning him against the ground.

"Your brother was a threat to the order we have built," Ixion said. "As are you. And for the good of the world, you must die." He pressed down harder, crushing the air out of Baligant's lungs. Baligant struggled beneath the General's hoof, but no matter how hard he fought, the pressure only increased. As he struggled in vain to free himself, black began to fill the edges of his vision, and the world began to blur.

"No… wait…" he wheezed. But it was too late. He felt consciousness ebbing away, and the last thing he saw was Sai, laying motionless on the ground.

When Baligant awoke, it was to darkness. A thick, heavy darkness that seemed to press down upon him like a weight. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey. He felt… numb, as if he were trapped within a cocoon of stone. Was he… dead?

But something nagged at him. Somewhere deep inside, he sensed something. A presence.

"Are you awake?"

The voice floated in his head, calm and soft. Yet Baligant couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't entirely friendly.

"Who are you?" he rasped.

"A friend," the voice replied. "One who can help you."

Help? How? He couldn't move. He couldn't even be sure he was still alive. What could a voice possibly do to help him?

"You'll see soon enough," the voice then said, as if replying to his thoughts. "But before I can help you, you need to-"

AWAKEN

A single word pulsed through his mind, like the beat of a drum reverberating through every fiber of his being. And with that, everything changed. The numbness vanished, replaced by an overwhelming rush of sensation. Every nerve in his body screamed for attention, his muscles burned as if about to burst from the sudden flood of energy. Then, another commandment came to him, reverberating through his very soul.

RISE

And rise he did. His body responded to the command, and he pushed himself to his feet. Ixion pressed his hoof against Baligant's back with all his strength, but he could not stop him from standing. With a grunt, he threw off the General's hoof, and turned to face his enemy. As he did, another commandment reverberated through him.

MAKE HIM SUFFER

Ixion recovered quickly, and braced himself, a glow surrounding his horn. But Baligant didn't wait for the strike. Instead, he darted forward, wrapping his arms around Ixion's leg and lifted him up. The sudden shift of his weight caused the general to teeter, and as he did, Baligant pushed, sending the creature tumbling over.

Before the General could recover, Baligant darted forward, seizing Baligant by the neck. His hands dug deep into the general's flesh, squeezing tight, trying to strangle the life from the beast But the creature was strong- even as it choked, it fought back, twisting its head violently this way and that. But Baligant's grip was loosening, and with one final toss of its head, Ixion threw him aside. He felt pain as he hit the ground, but it was… distant, like nothing more than a faint brush compared to what the impact should have been.

Rage coursed through Baligant's veins. The command from before echoed through his body again.

MAKE HIM SUFFER

And so, he rose once more, charging at the General with renewed fury. Each punch, each kick, each stomp drove into the General's body, cracking bone and splitting flesh. And yet, Ixion showed no sign of slowing or weakness- it didn't even cry out in pain. It just stood there, calmly enduring the onslaught. But Baligant's assault continued regardless. Ixion was a creature of flesh and blood. It couldn't endure forever. Not without suffering. Not without feeling the agony Baligant himself had felt. And he was going to make sure the bastard suffered.

But as he rained blow after blow down upon Ixion, the general stood. It was hard to read his expression, but he seemed almost… disappointed. "After you pushed me aside so easily, I was hoping you might prove more interesting prey. But if this is all you're capable of-" His words were abruptly cut off when Baligant leapt up and slammed a fist into the side of his jaw. The force behind the blow knocked the general's head to the side, and for the first time, Baligant thought he saw a glint of surprise in the creature's eyes. He then moved back, beyond the range of Baligant's fists. "You didn't even hesitate to strike me." he said coldly. "But let's see how willing you are to raise your fists after this."

His horn flashed, and behind Baligant, Jibril cried out. He looked, and saw… Sai's body rising to its feet. But Sai was… wrong. His flesh seemed to have shrunk away, leaving him as nothing more than bones trapped beneath a thin layer of skin. In fact… he looked just like the gaunt men that had come to their village, the ones who first tried to take him away.

"What did you do to him?!" Baligant screamed, rushing at Ixion. But in the blink of an eye, the shriveled husk that had been eye moved in front of Baligant, seized him by the throat, and slammed him into the ground. The husk glared down at him with empty eyes, as if it didn't recognize Baligant at all.

"Your brother serves a higher purpose now," Ixion said. "As will you. You shall both live forever, as an example of the fate that awaits those who defy Bahamut's will."

The husk gripped Baligant's throat tighter, cutting off his breath. The same sensation of suffocation returned. But so did the voice. It gave a commandment, one that reverberated through his soul.

DESTROY IT

But Baligant refused to obey. It may have only been a husk, a puppet on strings pulled by Ixion, but that was still Sai. That body had once been his brother. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Instead, he struggled, trying to escape the grip around his neck.

YOUR BROTHER IS DEAD. THAT BODY IS NOTHING BUT A HUSK. DESTROY IT, AND MAKE HIM SUFFER FOR USING YOUR BROTHER'S MEMORY AGAINST YOU

The commandments repeated in Baligant's head, over and over again.

DESTROY IT

MAKE HIM SUFFER

DESTROY IT

MAKE HIM SUFFER

His rage built within him, threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to make Ixion pay for what it had done to Sai. And yet…

DESTROY THE HUSK

He didn't want to.

DO IT

He couldn't!

NOW!

And just like that, he obeyed. With a roar, Baligant grabbed the husk's wrists and yanked them aside, tearing its arms from their sockets. It stumbled back, as if to retreat, but Baligant seized the husk before it could escape, one hand on its waist, the other on its throat. With a grunt, he twisted, snapping the skeletal frame in two, and the husk collapsed. Baligant then turned to Ixion, ready to continue the fight. But when he looked at the creature, he saw something he hadn't seen before- fear. The general hesitated.

Baligant did not.

It would have taken several steps to cross the distance between himself and the general. But Baligant seemed to close the gap in no time at all, fist already drawn back. As the blow connected, the impact sent Ixion flying as fast as an arrow- he hit the wall behind him and smashed right through it in a shower of dust and shards of stone. Then came a commandment. The same one as before.

MAKE HIM SUFFER

But Baligant would have done so even if the voice hadn't commanded him to. He charged at the crumbling remains of the wall- beyond was the mountainside. It seemed Ixion had fallen, rolling some distance down the slope outside. And without hesitation, Baligant leapt from the ruins to pursue his quarry. Ixion was struggling to stand, but the moment he saw Baligant, his horn flashed, and a bolt of lightning shot out towards the stallion. Baligant dove out of the way, and the blast struck the ground beside him, a geyser of dirt erupting into the air.

Baligant leapt to his feet with a snarl and charged forward. There was no strategy in his movements. No plan. Just instinct, and pure, raw fury. Each punch, each kick was focused only on inflicting as much pain as possible. And with every strike, Baligant could feel the commandment growing louder, more insistent.

MORE. MAKE HIM SUFFER MORE

With each blow, Ixion staggered back further. Baligant couldn't tell where they were headed, and frankly, he didn't care. So long as he could hurt the monster before him, that was all that mattered. The general's horn began to glow. And that was when Baligant was struck by an idea. In the blink of an eye, he leapt onto Ixion's back, grabbing his horn with both hands. Ixion bucked and thrashed, doing everything he could to throw Baligant off. But it was to no avail. With an angry cry, and several loud snaps, the horn broke from Ixion's forehead.

The general let out a long, pained sound that was somewhere between a whinny and a scream. There was another flash from the stump where its horn had been, and both Baligant and Ixion were thrown back in different directions. Baligant landed hard, skidding along the ground before coming to a stop. He scrambled to his feet, hands still clutching Ixion's horn. But the general didn't rise. "No…" Ixion muttered, his voice filled with despair. "No, this… this can't be happening."

Another commandment came to Baligant. This one was short, and direct.

KILL HIM

Baligant approached, clutching Ixion's horn in his hand as if it were a sword. It may not have had a real sword's sharpness, but it would serve well enough. He could see the fear in the creature's eyes as it tried to rise, its shaking legs refusing to support its weight. "W-Wait!" it pleaded. "I can make things right! Just give me time!"

Baligant stopped. He looked around. The two of them had landed amid a pile of corpses that had been rolled down the mountainside. There must have been hundreds of them. "…How many of the people here begged for their lives?" Baligant asked. "How many times did their pleas fall of deaf ears?" The beast stammered, and Baligant resumed his approach. "You didn't listen to them." He tilted his head. "Why should I listen to you?"

Before Ixion could say anything else, Baligant rushed forward, driving the horn deep into the general's own neck. Ixion let out another pained scream as the horn pierced through flesh and bone, black blood falling from the wound like a fountain. Baligant's improvised blade caught on something deep in the general's flesh, but he continued to push, forcing the horn deeper still until it pierced through the back of Ixion's neck.

GOOD

Blood splattered against Baligant as he yanked the horn free, coating his chest and arms, before the horn slipped from his hands, and hit the ground with a deep thud. Ixion fell forward, its body convulsing, its eyes staring blankly at nothing, before finally going limp. Baligant panted heavily, the last remnants of rage draining from his system. His heart raced, and his head spun. But it was over. Ixion was dead. The voice was silent. And Sai…

Sai…

"Sai!" Baligant scrambled back up the hill, back to the tower. He struggled to climb through the hole Ixion had left- the rush of battle was rapidly leaving him, making his limbs heavy and his fingers clumsy. But he couldn't stop. He had to get back. At last, he crawled through what remained of the wall, reentering the great chamber.

He spotted Sai, still laying on the ground. He rushed over, preparing to pick up the younger boy in his arms, but… he stopped. Sai… was in pieces. During the fight, he'd been so blinded by rage that he barely even thought about what he did, but now… the memory returned in full. Baligant fell to his knees. He tried to deny the sight in front of his eyes… but there was no denying reality.

Sai… was gone.

Footsteps approached. Baligant shot to his feet and wheeled around, regretting that he hadn't grabbed either his knife or Ixion's horn for protection. But it wasn't a threat. Jibril flinched, and pulled back slightly. "B-Baligant?" she stammered, eyes fearful.

For a moment, he looked at the apothecary. "…I thought you would've run away," he said simply.

Jibril shook her head. "I-I'm sorry. I tried. When you were fighting Ixion, I tried to help him, but… that bolt went right through his heart. He died before he finished falling over."

Baligant stared at the floor in silence. If her words were meant to be comforting, they weren't working. All he could think about was Sai. The fear in his eyes before he fell… and the way he'd ripped Sai's body apart as if it were a ragdoll.

"Are you… are you hurt?" Jibril asked. Her apprehension was obvious even just by the sound of her voice.

"…I'll manage," he finally replied.

Baligant… gathered up the pieces that were once Sai, and brought them outside. Then, he began to find all the wood he could gather, building a pyre. He laid Sai's remains upon it, and set it ablaze. He never turned away his gaze as he watched his brother burn to ashes. Not for a single moment. Nor did he shed even a tear, even as the last embers died out.

When it was over, and the winds scattered Sai's ashes, Baligant turned, and began climbing down the mountain. Jibril raced to catch up with him. "Where are you going?" she asked.

Baligant didn't answer, as he descended to Ixion's body. It was exactly where he'd left it, untouched, as if the flies feared to go anywhere near it. But he wasn't interested in Ixion. Rather, he had come to reclaim his prize. Ixion's horn.

Only then did he speak, but not to answer Jibril's question, but to ask one of his own. "Bahamut… you mentioned that name before. You said that he was the ruler of all monsters, right?"

Jibril nodded slowly, seemingly sensing what Baligant intended. "Yes. He and his twelve Fiend Generals. …Well, I suppose it would be eleven now. But, you can't mean to go after them, can you?"

"I'm not just going after them. I'm going to find them… and I'm going to kill them." Baligant turned, giving Jibril a steely glare. "Every last one of them."

"Baligant, that's- the Fiend Generals are stronger than you can imagine! They wield the power to destroy entire cities! Entire nations! And Bahamut is said to be even more powerful than them!"

Baligant's eye turned to Ixion's corpse. "Are they? Because it seems like they bleed just as easily as anything else."

"But… Ixion was the one who killed your brother. And now he's dead. Isn't that enough?"

Baligant's gaze swept over their surroundings. "…Look around." JIbril did so, seemingly noticing the piles of corpses for the first time. "Look at how many bodies there are. There has to be hundreds of them. And all this was just from one General. How many deaths do you think the others are responsible for?" His eye returned to Ixion's corpse. "And Ixion may be dead now, but how long will it be before Bahamut finds a replacement? Another general to continue doing his dirty work? If I don't do something about Bahamut, then it won't matter if I defeated Ixion or not. So there's only one thing to do." He gripped Ixion's horn in his hand tightly. "I'm going to find the other Generals. And then I'm going to kill them. And then I'm going to kill Bahamut."

Jibril seemed to be at a loss for words.

Baligant faced Jibril. "Will you come with me?" he asked.

"M-Me?" she stuttered. "But, I'm an apothecary, not a warrior! What use could I possibly be?"

"You know how to heal people. And I get a feeling I'm going to get injured quite a lot while I'm looking for Bahamut. I'll need someone who can fix me up when it happens." He stepped towards her. "So… will you come?"

She hesitated.

"If you won't, it's fine," Baligant told her. "I don't expect anyone to help me. And I don't blame you. It isn't your problem. Hell, I might end up just getting myself killed. But I have to do something. And think about it like this. All those bodies… there could be people in there you knew. People you made medicine for. People whose lives you saved… only to end up being sacrificed to some monster. Doesn't that bother you?"

Jibril looked down at the ground, considering his words. When she raised her head again, there was resolve in her eyes. "…Alright. I'll help you. If only because I feel like your brother would want someone to look after you." She then looked up at the sky, as if searching for something, before pointing off to the horizon to her left. "At dawn, we need to head in that direction. North."

"Why?"

"If we're going to find the other Fiend Generals, we need information," she replied. "And the best place to find information would be in Caprica. It's the capital of Kobol, and the biggest city in the country. There are plenty of libraries, archives, but more importantly… if any rumors about Bahamut or the Fiend Generals are passing around, it would be the best place to find them."

Baligant nodded. "Understood."

In truth, Baligant's desire to hunt the other Generals and Bahamut had nothing to do with the lives of others. He didn't care about stopping the death and destruction they caused. No, the only thing he wanted… was revenge. Revenge for Sai. To inflict as much pain on them as possible- to ensure that in their final moments, their eyes were filled with the same fear Baligant had seen in Sai's.

Baligant brought up his hand, glancing down at the mark on the back. He'd told Sai that it was a sign that the two of them were meant for greatness. He'd promised that whatever destiny awaited them, they would face it side-by-side. But now, Sai was gone. That destiny was going to be far darker, and far more bitter than Baligant had ever imagined. And worst of all, he would have to face it alone.

What would Sai have thought of his plan? He probably would have disagreed with the motivations, but could he have looked past it, to see the end result, and the good that would have come about? Baligant would never know. Sai… would never think anything ever again.

And Baligant would bear the weight of that sin for the rest of his days.

The first of Alondight's companions, Baligant is also one of the most enigmatic to those in the modern era. Slain in Alondight's battle against Ixion, Baligant was the only companion Lescatié never met in person; thus, we have only the Dragonslayer's recollections with which to attempt to judge his character. And Alondight had nothing but praise for his first companion and friend since childhood. But Lescatié herself would note that his praise was marred by an unmistakable melancholy that would persist until the very end of their journey together. So keenly did Alondight feel the loss of his closest friend that, after the battle with Ixion, he would abandon his birth name, and refer to himself as "Sin" ever after. When Erdrick, one of Alondight's later companions, asked why he chose this moniker, Alondight would explain:

"Because I promised my brother that I'd always protect him. But I failed. I failed to keep my promise to him. And now I have to bear the weight of that sin… forever."

However, despite his enigmatic nature, Baligant played a pivotal role in shaping Alondight's decision to pursue Bahamut and the remaining Fiend Generals, and thus the subsequent course of history. It is often said that without Baligant, the Dragonslayer as we know him now would never have come to be. And although he played only a brief role in Alondight's quest, his influence could be felt all the way to the bitter end.

As with all of Alondight's companions, the Church honors Baligant, granting him the title of "the Karkan," and naming him as the patron saint of "those taken before their time."

- Dragonslayer, Chapter 4: Ixion


Sheets of rain lashed against Konstantin as he walked swiftly down the paved streets. He was wrapped in a new cloak that shielded him from the elements, and a new spell that shielded him from prying eyes, but he still felt exposed. Even though the guards he passed didn't so much as flick their gaze in his direction, Konstantin still tensed every time one drew near, resting his hand on the hilt of his dagger, expecting them to call out and demand he halt. But none did. And in time, he reached his destination without incident.

His destination was a tavern named the Black Moon. And when he found it, it was packed with people. A few glanced his way as he entered, but most paid him no heed, their attention fixed on their conversations, or their drinks. Konstantin crossed the tavern, leaning into an open space at the counter. The man behind the bar- an older man with thin black hair and a bulbous nose- looked up at Konstantin, before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "We're full, lad. Try the next door over."

Konstantin expected this to be the case. But, Baphomet had prepared him. He said to the bartender, "I just want a mug of Rosethorn Reserve. Then I'll be on my way"

At once, the bartender's demeanor shifted. He stopped scowling, and his eyes widened with recognition. "Ah. I'm afraid we don't sell that particular vintage anymore. But I'm sure we can find something to your tastes in the basement." He gestured, and Konstantin circled around to the opening on the bar's side to follow the man as he opened a door leading to the basement. "Come along, Sir," the bartender said, with a hint of reverence in his voice.

Konstantin followed the bartender down the stairs. His response had been just as Baphomet said it would, but the abrupt shift in attitude still surprised Konstantin. At the bottom was a room filled with barrels, bottles, and casks, but the bartender ignored them, instead leading Konstantin to another door. This one was different- large and heavy-looking, reinforced with strips of rusting iron. The bartender knocked, and a small slat in the door slid open, allowing whoever was on the other side to peer out. "Is that him?" the person on the other side of the door asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

"He gave the sign, just as Lord Baphomet said he would."

The slat closed, and the door swung open, revealing a round room beyond, dominated by a massive round table. Several figures were seated around the table, drinking and smoking. They all turned to look at Konstantin as he stepped in. Some rose from their seats, while others merely turned to look his way. There were all sorts- one was in the uniform of the guards patrolling, while another wore a noble's fine silk suit. The third appeared to be a street urchin, dressed in rags, while the fourth wore robes suggesting he was some manner of scholar. But that was just a small selection; there must have been at least twenty men and women of all stations gathered here. And of course, there was the man who'd opened the door, though in truth, he seemed more like a bear than a man: he was somehow both stout and tall, with wide shoulders and massive arms covered in mats of black hair. He was old enough that Konstantin could see gray in his beard, but not so old that his shaggy black hair had thinned or receded. His eyes were red and bloodshot as he looked down at Konstantin, like a mountain looming over a mouse. "You're Stolas?" he finally asked.

Konstantin nodded. "I am."

The bear glared down at Konstantin again. "You don't look all that impressive to me. We've got scars and burns, broken bones and missing limbs as proof of our loyalty to Baphomet. You don't look like you've been through half of what we have."

Baphomet had warned him of this. That he might have to demonstrate his power as her agent before they would trust he was who he claimed to be. But he didn't expect he'd have to prove himself so soon. Even so, Konstantin didn't hesitate as he held up his hand and said, "Vunla Kneb."

The bear suddenly seized as if something had grabbed him. And as Konstantin lifted his hand, the man began to rise in the air. He flailed helplessly, trying to break free, as Konstantin stepped into the room- in response, the man floated back, until he was over the table. Then, Konstantin swiftly brought his hand down, slamming the bear against the table. The impact shook the entire room, sending drinks spilling and causing several of the men to jump back. The bear cried out in pain, blood streaming from his mouth, but Konstantin lifted him up and slammed him into the table again. And again. And again. And again, until there was nothing left of the bear but a pulverized mass of meat and wooden shards.

With a flick of his wrist, Konstantin pushed the bear's remains off the table, which fell to the floor with a wet thud. "…Would anyone else like to question my allegiance?"

No one raised a voice to protest.

When Baphomet told Konstantin he would be meeting his comrades-in-arms, he expected to be introduced to the Overlord's other generals. Instead, she'd sent him to the far-flung corners of the world to meet with cults operating in her name. There were countless such cults across the world, feeding her information, acting as her eyes and ears. They varied widely in scale and power- some dominated entire regions, while others had only a handful of followers. But regardless of their size and influence, all worked toward a common goal: the subjugation of unbelievers under Baphomet's rule. However, it was still too early for Baphomet to launch a full assault on the Church, or their local equivalents. So, for now, these cults remained in hiding, biding time as they gathered strength and information.

And that was Konstantin's purpose- to collect what information the cults had gathered. He would sometimes even join them in their work, using Baphomet's power to aid them in their endeavors. In one town, he helped the cult rescue members that had been captured by the Church. In another, the cult suspected that they'd been infiltrated by a mole, so Konstantin used his powers to interrogate the suspects until the real spy was revealed. But not all the cults were willing to share their knowledge so readily. Several questioned his position, insisting that they didn't need some outsider who appeared from nowhere to manage their affairs. And those meetings could quickly escalate into bloodshed when tempers flared. Worse than them however were the cults that weren't truly aligned with the Baphomet at all, its upper echelons instead using their influence for personal gain. He had encountered two such cults in his travels thus far, and both had been surprisingly large organizations, boasting a wealth of resources and manpower… all of which meant little when faced with the Overlord's unbridled power.

Thus, over a period of many months, Konstantin traveled the world, visiting the scattered cults and reporting back to Baphomet on their activities. He found that many of them worked to undermine the standing rulers in their territories, either by assassination or corruption. Other, smaller sects dedicated themselves to spreading fear in other ways, or by simply observing and gathering information. And it wasn't just human cults Konstantin visited either- there were cults among elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, and other races he didn't recognize. Ironically, it seemed the more monstrous the race, the more respect he was given. "There is only one law that binds monsters…" Baphomet had explained, when he'd asked why this was. "Obedience to the strongest. Monsters recognize the reflection of my power that dwells within you, and submit accordingly. But the 'civilized' races… they believe that my power can be bargained with, that it can be manipulated to serve their own ends. As if I were some petty tyrant who can be placated with pretty words and empty promises."

In any case, the cults were a vital component of Baphomet's plans. It was important to keep track of them all, to collect the information they gathered, and to ensure that their loyalty to the Overlord had not wavered. The task was sometimes frustrating, sometimes dangerous, always exhausting. Still, Konstantin upheld his duty, traveling from city to city and nation to nation, bringing word of the Overlord's will to her servants, wherever they dwelt. Once in a while, he would return to Akheros, and the Overlord's citadel, but the work of maintaining contact with the cults was never done, and his stays were always brief. New cults would spring up as older ones faltered and collapsed; traitors would need to be discovered and rooted out, and rewards for service rendered would need to be given. It was a seemingly endless cycle. But despite the danger and the constant travel, Konstantin found solace in his role. He carried out the Overlord's bidding, and she in turn rewarded him, granting him purpose, a position of prestige and power above the horde. For the first time since he'd been expelled from the academy… no. For the first time since his uncle had died, Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir had value to someone. And he would do whatever was necessary to ensure Baphomet's perception of his value did not diminish.

Konstantin leaned against the table and looked out at the cultists, paying no heed to the bloodstains or the deep cracks in the table. "Now, Lord Baphomet informed me that your sect is facing… difficulties. Now that I'm here, perhaps you'd be willing to share specifics." In reality, he already had some idea of what the cultists faced. This particular sect was based in a city named Urvana, in a nation called Dimitra. Konstantin had always believed the priests of his home nation to be influential, but here, the clergy of Hyne, "the one true god," wielded unrivaled influence. Hyne's priests decided everything- from what time shops opened to the prices of goods to how many children each family was permitted to have, if any. And though it went without saying, veneration of any figure other than the "one true god" was met with swift and brutal punishment. The veil of secrecy Baphomet's followers operated under elsewhere seemed like a pale shadow compared to the stringent security precautions cultists had to employ here.

And when one of the cultists finally spoke, his suspicions were confirmed. "The priests of the Surya caste have been visiting the region more frequently," one said. "And Agni caste warriors patrol our streets in greater numbers. Many of us suspect that we have been betrayed, and that the Nistavan are preparing to move against us."

That was another peculiarity unique to Dimitra. As a former noble, Konstantin was intimately familiar with social hierarchies, but the faithful of Hyne- the Nistavan- elevated stratification to an art form, dividing their society into five ironclad castes. At the bottom were the Agni, warriors and soldiers. Slightly above them were the Apas- merchants, bankers, and others whose trade didn't directly involve the creation of things. Next were the Prithvi, farmers and craftsmen who produced the food and goods needed for society to flourish. Above them were the Vayu, scholars, teachers, and other intellectuals. Finally, there were the Surya, priests and priestesses whose duty was to interpret Hyne's will, and lead the Nistavan accordingly. Each caste had its own symbol, its own colors, and its own set of standards for interacting with the others. And while it was possible to move between castes- those sufficiently skilled with magic, for instance, could be raised to the Vayu caste- for the most part, one was locked to the caste in which they were born.

But of course, there was another caste, beneath even the lowest Agni soldier: the Chaya, or "shadows." These were the people expelled from the Nistavan- criminals, heretics, and other undesirables. They had no rights, and in the eyes of Hyne (according to the decrees of the Surya), they weren't even human beings- in most places, killing Chaya wasn't even considered a crime. And it was among these shadows, these disaffected masses, that Baphomet's cult took root.

"And what will you do in response?" Konstantin asked.

"Do? What is there to do?" came a response. "We cannot stand against the coming purge. We must flee before it falls upon us! Many already have!"

"Flee?" Konstantin scoffed. "And what will you do then? Retreat to the slums of some other city, to huddle in misery, praying to escape the notice of the 'one true god?'" His voice dripped with contempt. "No. You will stand. And you will fight. The Overlord does not reward weakness."

The cultists muttered among themselves, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Until a voice rang out. It belonged to the man in the silk suit. "Then you would have us go to our deaths." He rose to his feet. "It is easy to speak of fighting for one in your position. You are a foreigner in our land. You do not know the Nistavan as we know them. They have ways of breaking men. They can bring down upon us fates worse than death. Why should we endanger ourselves, to further the goals of a being who cares not whether we live or die?"

There was more muttering among the cultists, but Konstantin didn't let it continue. "Tell me. Did you ever pray to Hyne?"

"Of course I did! We all did!" the man in the suit retorted. "And when our prayers fell on deaf ears, we turned them to the Overlord. But I see now that the new master is just as cold and callous as the old. We are not pawns to be moved about and sacrificed at the whims of some distant lord. If you wish to fight the Nistavan, then you'll be fighting them alone."

There was a long silence after the man finished speaking. He sat back down, glaring at Konstantin with disgust, as the others exchanged uneasy glances. Some glared at the man in the suit, while others lowered their heads.

Finally, Konstantin sighed, and pushed himself away from the table. "…Very well. If I must fight the Nistavan alone, then I will."

The room grew quiet again. Finally, one of the women spoke up. "That would be… suicide, my lord."

Konstantin smiled thinly. "Actually… I think it would be the perfect opportunity to demonstrate how the Overlord rewards loyalty." A chill ran through the room as he continued. "Now, tell me where I can find these Surya priests."

When Konstantin emerged from the hideaway beneath the Black Moon, with several of the cultists in tow, the rain had finally stopped. The streets were slick, and the air was thick with moisture. He had been to many places at Baphomet's request, but though it was his first time visiting, Dimitra was swiftly becoming his least favorite, and not merely because of the weather. The whole of Urvana felt stifling and oppressive: the buildings, the streets, the spaces between them… everything was orderly, calculated. Even the way the people walked- methodically, deliberately- bespoke a society of rigid regulation and strict schedule. Here, chaos and disorder were the greatest of sins.

He strode through the empty streets, heading toward the district where the Surya temple stood. It was nighttime, but the quarter was still brightly lit by black iron lamps, and not even a stray fleck of dirt could be seen; the Nistavan took pride in cleanliness, and as far as Konstantin could tell, they enforced it zealously. In time, he found a building much different from the ones around it- a colossus made of gold and white marble that dominated the area. It was surrounded by Agni guards- their red uniforms shimmered in the light, emblazoned with an emblem of three crossed swords, and their spears gleamed in the lamplight. The others were visibly hesitant to approach- from that, he knew he had found what they were looking for.

As he neared, two guards took notice and stiffened, readying their spears. "State your business," one demanded.

Konstantin stopped. Holding out his arms, he said, "I'm a worshiper of Overlord Baphomet, and I've come to surrender myself and my associates."

For a moment, nothing happened. Konstantin glanced back- the cultists were looking on in abject horror, clearly not having anticipated that he would involve them, much less reveal them to the enemy so brazenly. But he wasn't about to back down now. He maintained eye contact with the guard, waiting for a response.

Finally, the guard spoke again. "Y- Then, in the name of the One True God, I place you under arrest." With that, he cautiously approached, spear at the ready.

But Konstantin wasn't finished. "Now, I wasn't quite finished. I did come to surrender myself, but only on one condition- if the most skilled soldier here can best me in single combat."

"You're in no position to make demands of us, heretic!" the second guard shouted. "Get on your knees, and surrender-"

"Yllamanyda."

In an instant, the world slowed to an imperceptible crawl. Calmly, Konstantin approached the guard, and yanked his spear out of his hands. He then circled around, and drove the guard's spear into his back, until the head pierced through his chest. Red droplets burst from the wound, but hung in the air as if suspended by magic. But the expressions on the guard's face remained unchanged. It would remain so, until the effects of Accelerate finally wore off. Konstantin returned to where he had originally been standing, and waited.

He wouldn't be waiting long. The sound of something wet splattering against the ground reached his ears. The first guard hacked and fell to his knees, gasping for breath, clutching at the spear he suddenly found impaled through his chest. He looked up at Konstantin, wide-eyed with terror, as blood spurted from between his fingers. From behind, Konstantin heard the astonished cries of the cultists. "What… what the hell just happened? I didn't even see him move…"

Konstantin turned his attention to the remaining guard. "Maybe you would be more willing to listen to reason. Bring me-"

The remaining guard charged, drawing back his spear as he let out a furious cry. Konstantin sighed, before muttering, "Cdnahkdrah." The guard thrust his spear when he came close, but Konstantin evaded it, before moving in to arm's reach, and striking the guard with his palm. From the outside, it would have appeared to be a rather gentle blow, but his spell has increased his strength ten times over, and the "gentle" blow now had the force of a battering ram behind it. The impact sent the guard flying, and he struck the temple's outer wall back-first, sending deep cracks running across its surface as blood exploding from his body- as the guard crumpled to the ground, his blood remained, forming a crude starburst at the impact site.

Bells began to ring inside the temple, and the golden doors opened. From within, a number of Agni soldiers emerged, accompanied by figures clad in grey and light blue robes, sparks and flames and shards of ice swirling around their fingertips- they must have been Vayu mages. But there was another among them, clad in gold and white robes, with an expression of serene authority- this one must have been a Surya priest. He stepped forward, looking down at the bodies of the fallen guards without so much as a flicker of emotion. His voice rang out like bells, clear and steady. "If you were seeking the attention of Hyne's faithful, you now have it. Surrender now, and you may yet be shown mercy."

"Or what?" Konstantin asked mockingly, stepping toward him, arms spread wide.

The Surya priest's face twitched slightly, before calmly responding, "Then Hyne shall deliver upon you retribution for your sins. And we will take pleasure in watching your spirit burn." He gestured, and the surrounding lamps flickered. Above, the clouds began to roil, small bolts of lightning racing across the clouds' surface. Then, there was a blinding flash, and a deafening boom, as a bolt of lightning cracked from the sky, striking Konstantin.

But Konstantin had anticipated this. The moment the clouds had begun rolling overhead, he had cast Fortify on himself. He could feel the energy of the lightning wash over him, feel its heat… but even so, it did not harm him. As the flash from the lightning bolt faded, and he saw that Konstantin stood before him unharmed, the placid expression on the Surya priest's face broke, replaced by one of shock and fear.

Konstantin muttered another spell, "Vycd Majedyda," before letting out a small laugh. "See, that's where you're mistaken. Your god can't protect you. Because the only man in the sky here…" He began to float, rising several feet above the ground, "…is me."

Behind, Konstantin heard the cultists whispering in awe as they looked upon Baphomet's representative looming above their hated enemies, and he couldn't help but smile. And he reveled in the fear on the faces of the Nistavan gathered in front of him. But he knew he couldn't stall for long- for all his power, he was still outnumbered, and zealots like these would only take a few moments to regain their nerve.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the Nistavan, a few moments was more time than Konstantin would need. "Yllamanyda." Once again, the world slowed to an imperceptible crawl. He held out his hand, and uttered a new spell. "Feht Pmyta." A sword of spiraling wind formed in his hand, sharper than any weapon forged by mortal hands could ever hope to be.

In the time it took to blink, Konstantin descended among them, passing through their ranks like a whirlwind, striking down every foe that crossed his path with superhuman speed. The Nistavan had no chance to evade or block his strikes- under the effect of Accelerate, he moved too quickly to even be seen by the human eye. With his spiraling blade, he cut down the soldiers and mages one-by-one, until only the Surya priest remained.

At that moment, Accelerate wore off. Blood erupted from the Nistavan as they all fell at once, showering Konstantin and the Surya priest like a second rainstorm. The priest recoiled in horror as his comrades fell, his robes instantly stained a deep red, and his eyes widened when he looked up and met Konstantin's unflinching gaze. "What… what in Hyne's name are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Konstantin grinned. "My name is Stolas Konstantin Durnehviir, and I am the last thing you will ever see." He swung his blade once, cutting through the Surya priest in a line just below his sternum. One of the priest's arms fell to the ground. Then the other. And then, the lower half of the priest's body fell forward, as the upper half collapsed backwards.

Finally, the spiraling blade in Konstantin's hand dissipated. "…I prayed too, once," he said. "To gods who never answered me. But something was listening… and it gave me what I desired." He turned, facing toward the cultists. "This is the power of a god who rewards the loyalty of his followers. This is the power that Lord Baphomet can give you." He paused, taking in the scene before him. Bodies lay strewn across the temple grounds, blood pooling around his feet. "But this power is not given freely. It must be won. With devotion, with sacrifice- with blood." He could hear murmurs among the cultists- some still unsure, but most… they were beginning to believe.

"So what will it be? Will you continue to bow to a god who rewards your devotion with silence? With apathy?" Konstantin gestured to the corpses at their feet. "Or will you fight for a god who rewards your faith, with the strength to strike down your enemies? Who rewards your loyalty with the power to reshape the world as you will?"

Konstantin looked directly into the eyes of each member of the cult, challenging them to reject him.

None did.


A red hole was ripped open in the world, and Konstantin stepped through it. He stood once more in the throne room of Baphomet's stronghold, the Overlord herself seated on her throne, watching him expectantly.

He bowed deeply, feeling the weight of her scrutiny. "You've returned," she asked, in her deep, rumbling voice. Even though he'd seen her true form, looking at her as she was now, it was very difficult to believe that she was… well, a she. "And how fares the cult in Urvana?"

Konstantin straightened, the smell of blood and death still clinging to his clothes. "…Not well." His gaze turned to the floor. "We held the city for a time. But the Nistavan returned to reclaim Urvana. Their numbers… I didn't think there was a nation that could field so many soldiers. …We were scattered when the Nistavan breached the city walls and drove us into the mountains. I think most of our converts are dead. Those that aren't… have almost certainly had their faith in you shattered." He bowed again. "Forgive me, Lord Baphomet. I underestimated them."

The Overlord let out a long sigh. "You would not be the first to attempt to conquer the Nistavan. Nor the first to fail. And those who came before you failed for the same reasons as you: they acted too openly. They flaunted their power, hoping to win converts and terrify their foes into submission through shows of force… and in doing so, drew attention to themselves." She paused, studying Konstantin's face. "I hope this impresses upon you the importance of subtlety in our work, Stolas. We must be patient as we sow seeds of doubt in the hearts of men. As we plant and cultivate whispers of discontent, that they might grow into rebellion."

Konstantin nodded slowly. "Yes, Lord Baphomet." The shame of his failure still stung at him, but he felt some relief as well, in not losing the Overlord's favor.

"Remember your mistakes, Stolas," she continued, "but do not dwell on them. For there is more work still to be done." She held out a massive hand. "Kyda." Another blood-red portal opened near Konstantin. "Go."

"And where am I headed?" Konstantin asked. Normally, Baphomet would brief him about his assignments- his destination, how to contact the regional cult, and what difficulties they faced. But this time, she told him nothing of the sort. Her response was simple, but worryingly devoid of any real information:

"To where you are needed."

Konstantin felt his stomach clench, but he pushed aside his apprehension and stepped through the portal. The place beyond was so bright that for several moments, he could see nothing. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing… on a beach. The smell of sea salt stung his nostrils, and a warm breeze blew over him. The sky was a vivid blue, the sand beneath his feet a pale, sparkling white. Before him stretched a vast ocean, its waters a deep sapphire color. Waves gently rolled over the shore, lapping at the sand. It was, quite possibly, the least threatening environment he had been sent to thus far.

Konstantin looked to his left, and then his right, searching for signs of life. He could see no cities, no towns, no buildings… no signs of any civilization at all. Just sand, sky, and water as far as he could see. Behind him, he saw a thicket of trees- one that appeared to be untouched by human hands. Where exactly was this place? And why had Baphomet sent him here?

"What do you think?" a voice asked. Not the deep, stony voice of Baphomet, but a woman's voice. He looked, to find a horned woman with burgundy hair standing next to him. Baphomet's true form. "I was developing a spell that allows me to observe locations remotely- I happened to discover this place while testing it. It intrigued me. So I decided to claim it for myself."

Konstantin had not been listening to Baphomet in the slightest. He was far too distracted by her attire. Her clothes… well, they didn't look like much of anything at all. The only things preserving her modesty were two strips of cloth covering her breasts that looked like they would tear from the strain of trying to contain them at any moment, and another y-shaped cloth tied at her hips that covered only her most essential parts. "What… are you wearing?"

"It's called a 'swim suit,'" Baphomet replied. "I heard that they're quite popular in the human kingdom of Proserpina, so I had an agent collect one. Apparently, they're powerful weapons capable of dominating the minds of those who look upon their wearers. So, tell me…" She shifted, putting one hand behind her head, and the other on her hip, giving him a saucy smile. "…is it working?"

For a long moment, Konstantin couldn't speak. He was utterly transfixed, staring at the spectacle before him. Finally, he managed to turn his eyes away, and looked out over the sea. "…w-why exactly are we here, Lord Baphomet?" he choked out. "Is there a cult here? Are we founding a cult?"

"No," Baphomet replied, moving to enter Konstantin's field of view. "There's no cult here. In fact, I don't believe that any intelligent race has set foot on this island since it first rose up from the sea." She put her hands behind her head, and pushed her hips to the side, giving Konstantin a full, uninterrupted view of her body. Again, he quickly turned his gaze elsewhere. "But I still believe it may serve a purpose." Again, she entered Konstantin's line of sight- this time, she was bent forward, slipping a clawed finger under the cloth covering one of her breasts, as if preparing to pull it aside. Yet again, Konstantin averted his eyes.

"And… what might that be?" Konstantin asked cautiously.

Baphomet finally stopped trying to catch Konstantin's eye, instead gazing out over the sea. "I plan to build a personal retreat for myself. A place where I can forget my burdens as Overlord, if only for a short while." She looked back toward him. "And I want you to help me."

"Build… a retreat?" Konstantin echoed, baffled. He had been expecting another mission, something with goals and objectives and cultists. But… building a vacation home for the Overlord?

"Your loyalty has not gone unnoticed, Stolas," Baphomet said, approaching him once more. "You've traveled far, and worked tirelessly to carry out my will. You deserve a reward, don't you think?"

"But… I failed in Urvana," Konstantin protested. "The cult there… it's-"

"Yes. You did fail. But this failure does not erase the successes you achieved before it." She took another step closer, until now they were standing almost toe-to-toe. "Your successes- your loyalty- should still be recognized. Or… do you disagree?"

Konstantin stammered. "N-No, Lord Baphomet. If you feel that I have earned a reward… then I will accept."

She reached out one hand, running her fingers through his hair. "Very good. But I have one stipulation. So long as we are on this island, you are not Stolas, and I am not Lord Baphomet. We are not master and subordinate, but equals. Is that understood?"

"Alright…" Konstantin began. "But, what should I call you then?"

She turned, taking a few steps away from him, and looked out over the ocean. Then, she looked back. "Call me… Kiki."

"Kiki?" Konstantin echoed, his tone slightly skeptical.

"Kiki." she repeated, tilting her head. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

He shook his head. "No… of course not."

"Good. Now come. We have a lot of work ahead of us." With that, Baphomet- or rather, Kiki- moved off towards the thicket of trees, beckoning for Konstantin to follow her.


Minze shut the book in her hands with a heavy thud. "…That should cover more or less everything," the maid said. "Now, did you have any questions?"

"I do," Violet said, raising her hand slightly. "Why exactly did you bring me to this discussion, Minze? I already understand the basics of conception and childbirth…"

As Violet voiced her protests, Abel sat in silence, trying to absorb everything the maid had told him. Minze assured him that as an assistant to Valerian Promestein, she was well-versed in physiology and- by extension- human reproduction. She explained "menstruation," of how something created in a man's body called a "sperm" fertilized an egg, and how it developed into a baby within a woman's womb. But even with Minze's assertions of her expertise, that part was still a bit hard for him to believe. A woman could grow a whole person inside their body? It seemed… impossible.

But in spite of his misgivings, Abel had asked no questions, merely listening to Minze's explanations as intently as he could. He would admit, though, that he was surprised Raine had handed the responsibility of explaining such things to Minze. Did she not trust her own ability to explain such matters? Or had her decision been driven by something else?

Regardless, the lesson ended. And so Abel saw himself out of the small room the maid had claimed for their impromptu lesson, and into the inn's common room. In the aftermath of the Boalnir's attack, many envoys and other visitors had chosen to leave Furni in a hurry, opening up rooms in the better inns- openings that Abel and his companions wasted no time filling, as they moved from the Last Light to the more comfortable confines of Casa Roja- or, the Red House.

Leaning on the wall just outside the door was Raine, a wide grin on her face. "So. How was it?" she asked teasingly.

"It was… educational," he replied, choosing to keep his words vague. He felt embarrassed enough about what he had learned, but talking about it only made it worse.

She leaned over, whispering into his ear. "So, now you know."

"I… guess I do," Abel replied vaguely.

"And?"

"And… what?"

Raine chuckled. "How do you feel about it?"

Abel paused, considering her question. "I… I don't know. I still don't get it. Why would the Queen want to… make a- …a-" For some reason, no matter how he tried to force himself to, he couldn't bring himself to say the word. "…do that with me?"

Raine smirked. "Well, making kids isn't the only thing sex is good for," she said nonchalantly. "And you did save her and her daughter. I told you this would happen, though. Remember?"

Remember? Abel blinked, trying to recall. Then it came to him. Her words from when they'd first met at the oasis between Hokes and Lohan. She'd said that beautiful maidens throwing themselves at him after saving them from mortal peril would become much more common. At the time, he'd thought Raine had said it jokingly, but…

"But, she's a queen," Abel replied. "Why would she-"

"Elves play by different rules, Blue. With both royalty and relationships," the witch said. "And even if they didn't, as a Champion, you'd be… well, maybe not equal to a king, but not far beneath one."

"But-"

Raine placed a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Blue. Just because a girl's dropping hints doesn't mean you have to take up her offer. You can still turn them down."

As grateful as Abel was to hear that, a question came to mind. "But, why have me learn about all this then?"

Raine sighed. "You did say you wanted to find out where children came from, Blue. And if you're going to be getting offers, you should know what they're talking about." She then looked at Abel with a serious expression. "Liz and the Queen stopped when they realized you had no idea what was happening. The next girl who tries something like this might not be as considerate."

Abel frowned. He could see her point. But still, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. "I… I don't think I'm ready for any of that yet."

Raine chuckled. "And that's fine. There'll be plenty of time for all that. But once you decide that you are ready, it's good to know what's what, just in case."

With that, the witch patted Abel on the shoulder and walked off, leaving him to process what he'd learned.


Holly walked down the long hallway leading to the throne room. Normally, if her sister wanted to speak to her, she would visit Holly in her own chambers- being summoned to the throne room was a rare occurrence, and usually meant either important guests had arrived or a proclamation would soon be made. Unfortunately, being summoned to the throne room also meant that Holly had to be dressed in her full regalia. Holly hated the full regalia- beautiful as it was, her comfort had not been a priority when the tailors had made it for her. It was heavy, and restrictive- the low hem forced her to take small steps, and the weight of all the fabric quickly heated the inside of her dress so much that Holly often joked she could bake a loaf of bread with the heat trapped within.

The guardsmen posted at the end of the hall saluted as Holly neared- striking a fist against their chest, directly above their heart- before opening the throne room doors. Holly stepped forward, entering the vast, austere chamber beyond. Holly's great-grandfather had never been one for displays of opulence, and the palace he'd built was a reflection of that. The room was sparse, its only furnishings a throne carved of black wood on the far end, and a long burgundy carpet that spanned between the door and the throne. And upon that throne sat a woman with green eyes and silver hair. Unlike Holly, she wore no fancy dress, or even a crown, but the plain uniform of an army officer. Even so, as she did nothing but sit on her throne, she radiated an undeniable air of authority. But that was to be expected. Because that woman- Holly's sister- was Beleth Alisa Alextrasza, Duchess of Vulkan.

Holly laboriously crossed the throne room, and kneeled before the throne. "You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" Holly couldn't help but feel that something strange was afoot. Normally, whether she was meeting with generals, ministers, or ambassadors, Alisa was rarely ever alone in the throne room. But now, there wasn't another soul in sight. It gave the austere room a much more eerie feeling.

Alisa leaned back on her throne, nodding. "Yes, sister. There is something we must discuss."

Again, something felt strange. Whenever they spoke, Alisa always called Holly by name. And she was never one for idle banter. If she wanted to discuss something, then she would raise the topic immediately. To Holly, it almost seemed as if her elder sister was waiting for something, and trying to stall for time.

Alisa's gaze fell on Holly, unwavering, and strangely cold. "A betrothal offer has been made, and I have accepted."

Holly's eyes widened. She never thought she'd see the day when Alisa would be married- after all, if she were to marry, by the laws of the land, the power of the throne would be passed to her husband. The oddity of the situation only continued to increase, leaving Holly at a loss for words. When she finally found them again, she asked, "And who are you to be betrothed to?"

Alisa's cold gaze didn't falter. "I am not the one to be married, sister. You are."

"What!?" Holly sprang to her feet. "Why did we not discuss this!?"

Alisa's eyes hardened further. "Because there was nothing to discuss. The decision has already been made."

Anger boiled within Holly, but she managed to hold herself back. "…It's Peryn, isn't it? The Emperor did something to force your hand, didn't he!?"

Alisa glanced away for a moment. "This betrothal was demanded by an entity much more powerful than the Emperor, sister. I have no choice but to obey."

Someone more powerful than the Emperor? And the way Alisa had called them an entity… it was as if her husband-to-be wasn't even human at all. Holly began to tremble. "Alisa… Liz… please tell me this is all just a joke."

"Unfortunately, it isn't," Alisa replied. "If Vulkan is to survive, this is what must be done."

Holly began to pace. "I… I won't do it," she said, her voice rising frantically. "I won't. I won't! I-"

"You don't have a choice, Liliyana."

The door to the throne room flew open. Beyond, there was nothing but blackness. But from that darkness, something emerged. A black hand, which seized Holly by the wrist. Then another, which grabbed onto her ankle. And then another. And another. Dozens of hands emerged from the darkness, grabbing Holly and dragging her towards the door. She screamed, her hands skittering over the throne room's hard wooden floor, searching for any kind of handhold. But it was useless. The hands pulled her inexorably closer, and closer. And all the while, her sister looked on, unmoved.

Holly pulled a hand free, reaching toward her sister, as if it would somehow stretch across the throne room "Liz!" she shouted. "Help me! Please!"

Alisa closed her eyes, and turned her head away. "I'm sorry, Lili."

And then the hands dragged Holly into the void, the doors slamming shut.

The moment the doors slammed shut, the hands grabbing at Holly wasted no time in ripping away her clothes until she was left utterly naked. She couldn't see the hands in the darkness, but she could feel them, roughly caressing every inch of her body- her legs, her rear, her stomach… her breasts. "No! Stop! Stop it!" She tried to pull away, but hands holding her wrists and ankles may as well have been iron shackles. But even if she could free herself, where could she have gone? There was no floor, no ceiling, no walls… just her, and the darkness, with its cold, cruel hands.

Then, she felt one of the hands grip the inside of her thigh, slowly creeping upwards. She screamed, and thrashed desperately against the darkness holding her. But another hand reached out, gripping her face roughly and covering her mouth to silence her screams, as the hand on her thigh continued to climb. She fought, letting out muffled screams, tears streaming down her face, but it was pointless. The darkness was in control. All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut, and try to put her mind anywhere other than where she was now…

…until all at once, a blazing light ignited from the darkness. The grip holding Holly slackened, and she felt herself begin to fall. In surprise, she opened her eyes.

A figure had appeared in the darkness. One with hair as blue as the sky, clad in a grey jacket, wings of fire burning on his back, a glowing blade of light in his hands. He was moving too quickly for Holly to focus on him, but he cut through through the darkness surrounding him as if it was nothing more than a thin cloak, before catching her as she fell, setting her gently on her feet. The darkness around the two receded, and they were now standing in an unfamiliar place- at a glance, it looked like a room in an inn. "Are you… alright?" Abel asked cautiously.

Holly stared at him, incredulously. Cautiously, she reached out to him- which made her notice that her sleeves were gone. She quickly looked down at herself, and shrieked, curling into a ball, trying to cover as much of herself as she could as she realized she was still very much naked.

Abel's face darkened, and he quickly turned away. "I- I'm sorry," he stammered, before removing his jacket. "Here. Wear this."

Holly took the jacket hesitantly, grateful for something to cover herself with. Though, as she quickly found out, it wouldn't cover everything- in trying to cover her chest, everything below her belly button remained exposed. Still, it was better than nothing, she supposed.

Abel then turned toward the door. "I'll… go find some clothes for you, Holly."

But before he could step out, Holly reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait. Can you… can you stay? For a little while? I… don't want to be alone right now."

He hesitated for a moment, before answering. "…alright." He wouldn't look her way- though given the situation, perhaps that was understandable. She crossed the room, and sat down on the small bed there. After a moment, Abel did the same, sitting on the far end of the bed, still not looking her way.

Holly wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, silence filling the space between them. Eventually, though, Abel broke it. "I- …I really should go. You… you need clothes, and-"

"Don't leave yet," Holly pleaded.

"But… I have to. I can't just stay here."

She looked toward him. "If you won't stay…" Her hand slid across the bed to his. "…then, will you at least… help me forget?" She took hold of his wrist, guiding his hand… toward her chest.

But Abel tried to pull back. "Wha- …what are you-"

But Holly's grip held firm, and she pressed Abel's hand against her breast. "Please. Help me forget what happened, if only for a little bit."

At first, Abel seemed to resist, but after a moment, he gave in. His hand started to rub slowly, feeling the softness beneath. Holly leaned forward, pressing herself against his hand. His hand was rough, but his touch was gentle, completely unlike the shadowy hands from before. The echoes of her terror began to fade, replaced by warmth from Abel's fingers spreading through her chest.

"Huh…" he said faintly. "It's… not as soft as I thought it would be."

In spite of the awkwardness, Holly smiled. "So you've thought about this before?" she asked teasingly, surprised by her sudden forwardness.

Abel began to stammer, eyes frantically searching for something to look at other than Holly. "I- I- uh…"

A sudden surge of boldness swept through Holly. Gripping his other wrist in her free hand, she began to move it toward her other breast…

…but before Abel's hand could touch her, the scene before her eyes dissolved, leaving her in darkness. Holly gasped, disoriented, unsure where she was. But even in the darkness, she quickly recognized her surroundings. She was at the inn, lying in her bed. "A… dream?" she said blearily.

But, something was off. The furniture in the room was arranged differently from the one she shared with Seth. And when she tried to sit up, something held her back. She looked down, to see a pair of hands gripping her breasts, her own hands around each of their wrists. She twitched, a small sound escaping her throat. Was this… someone else's bed? How had she ended up here? She searched her memory- there were fragments of waking up, stumbling to find the toilet, and making her way back, exhausted. She could only assume she hadn't quite made it back to her own bed.

Slowly, cautiously, she tried to remove the hands gripping her breasts. She moved slowly, trying not to rouse her unexpected bedmate. But their grip was surprisingly firm, and didn't loosen. Slowly, she tried moving the stranger's hand in a circle, hoping their grip might loosen, but instead it tightened, sending a surge of unexpected pleasure through her body. She gasped, and clenched her teeth, biting back a moan.

But the hand's owner stirred. "Huh?" Then there was a surprised cry, and a shift as whoever was with her propelled themselves over the edge of the bed, hitting the wooden floor with a hard thud. Letting out a pained moan, the stranger rose to their feet, and looked towards her, their pink eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

"…Holly?" Abel asked.

"I'm sorry," she stammered faintly, quickly climbing out of Abel's bed. "I should head back to my own room." She retreated to the door, not knowing what else to say.

Abel didn't stop her. But he did say something. "Are you… alright?" She couldn't see his expression, but his voice was full of concern, and perhaps even something else- shame?

Holly nodded, turning back around to face him. "Yes. It was just a nightmare. Some bad memories. That's all." Holly didn't linger, opening the door. She glanced back toward Abel briefly- Holly nodded, turning back around to face him. "Yes. It was just a nightmare. Some bad memories. That's all." Holly didn't linger, opening the door. She glanced back toward Abel briefly- all she could see were his eyes, still fixed on her- before she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she was out of the room, Holly let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. That wasn't the first time she'd had that nightmare. But that was the first time it deviated so significantly from how it normally played out- Abel had never played a role in any of her dreams, much less that one. And what had come after… Holly shook her head, trying to push it out of her mind. But the feeling lingered, of Abel's hand on her breast, rubbing softly. A warmth spread through her chest as she walked back to her room, making her heart race as she tried to push the memory away. It wasn't that she disliked Abel, and she was grateful to him for giving her a place alongside him and the others, but… it couldn't mean anything. After all, even after all the time they'd spent together, she and Abel were practically strangers to one another. …Right?

But as she made her way back to her and Seth's room, there was a nagging voice in the back of her skull telling her otherwise. A voice that said to her…

Who says things always have to be like that?


"…come on, I'm certain you can slip away for a little while…" Claire said, her hand creeping toward the serving girl's thigh.

But the girl moved back, just out of the president's reach. "I really can't. The owner always watches us like a hawk. Maybe later, when we're not as busy?"

Claire let out a small sigh. It wasn't quite the success she'd hoped for, but she had gotten her foot in the door at least. "Alright then. How does sunset sound? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"Like I haven't heard that one before…" the serving girl scoffed. But from her tone, she didn't seem completely uninterested- perhaps there was still some hope for this plan yet.

"Believe me, I can do in five minutes and with two fingers what all the men you've ever met couldn't do in an hour with both hands," Claire boasted.

The serving girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "Well, alright. Sunset it is." With a soft smile, she turned to leave. "Just remember to keep your end of the bargain."

Claire grinned, watching the serving girl disappear into the crowd. A night with a frisky lass was exactly what she needed to take her mind off her troubles. But as soon as it had come, something had arrived to spoil her good mood. A certain blue-haired, pink-eyed degenerate male. One who seemed determined to ruin her fun at every turn. She glowered as he sat at an empty seat next to her. "What the fuck do you want?"

Abel recoiled, as if not expecting to be met with such hostility. "I… was wondering something. And as someone who knows a lot about magic, I was hoping you could help me figure it out."

Claire snorted. "Oh, and did you think that an empty platitude would be enough to get any answers out of me?" In truth though, his deference intrigued her. Though she may not have had the specialized knowledge of some of her colleagues, her duties as President of the Aglis Mage's Guild required a working knowledge of a wide range of magic disciplines. Despite the breadth of her knowledge, however, few people ever asked for her expertise. Most assumed her duties were solely administrative. "…Fine. What is it?"

"I was wondering about the magic the Boalnir used," he replied. "I thought a person needed to recite an incantation, or draw a symbol, like the way Raine casts her spells. But it seemed like their magic only needed a few words. Neo's was the same. What makes it different?"

That surprised her; she of course remembered, but she wouldn't have thought Abel would notice such a thing, let alone be curious about it. But, how would she explain it in a way that he would actually understand? "You… know why mages use incantations, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. You mentioned before that incantations shape the mana inside a mage's body into the proper form, so they can activate the spell."

Again, Claire was surprised- she hadn't thought he'd been listening to her explanation of spellcasting. "That's… right. But, there are certain languages which are specialized for magic use. In those tongues, a few words- or even just one- can be equivalent to a full incantation in a common language. But, they're very rare, and nearly all of them require specific criteria to be met- otherwise, the language remains inert."

"Oh… I guess that would explain things," Abel muttered.

Claire eyed him with suspicion. "Wait, did you try to use one of the Boalnir's spells before asking me about this?"

Abel hesitated. "Uh… maybe."

The president sighed heavily. "…The elves are one of the few that use a separate tongue for spellcasting, passed down among their kind for millennia. But, they have to undergo something called the Rite of Mara to unlock its power. And before you ask, no, I have no idea what that is. Only the elves know for sure, and they're not exactly keen on sharing their secrets."

"I never realized magic was so complicated," Abel said, rubbing his chin. "For me, it feels like all I have to do is concentrate, and things happen."

"Yes, you've mentioned that." That might be true for the degenerate, but Claire knew better than anyone that concentration was only part of the equation. There were dozens of different spells she had learned over the years, each one requiring the proper incantation and amount of mana. Concentration was crucial, yes, but so was understanding the intricacies of mana flow and control. "There… are people who, for one reason or another, have a greater affinity for magic than others, who only need concentration to achieve results," she admitted. "But for most people, magic takes a lot more effort."

Abel looked down at his hand. For a brief moment, a white flame appeared in his palm. "Niel's blood probably has something to do with that…" He then looked toward her. "There's something else I was wondering about."

Claire huffed. "Haven't you bothered me enough for today?"

"I just have one more question. When I fought you and Laura back in Aglis, you used something to deflect my magic. What was that? I thought it was a spell, but you didn't say anything."

Yet again, the president was surprised by the degenerate's observational skills. "That was a counterspell. By discharging mana from their own body, a mage can create a barrier to disrupt incoming magic. It doesn't require an incantation, but it does require very precise control over one's mana to be effective, making it very difficult to master. As such, most don't bother and stick to using wards or other defensive spells." She then turned away, waving him away dismissively. "Now fuck off. I have more important things to attend to."

Abel departed without protest. Claire couldn't exactly say that she was sad to see him go. He was nothing but an enormous pain in her ass… but, he was a pain in the ass she owed her life to. And he was just competent enough to not leave an opening for her to settle that debt. She gripped her tankard tightly enough to crack the side. Dammit, he wasn't even around and he was still managing to piss her off. That seemed to be one of the numerous infuriating skills he possessed- invading her thoughts whether he was near or far. The president quickly downed the rest of her wine before it could leak out of her tankard, though just the lingering thought of that degenerate was enough to sour her drink.

At least she had her date to look forward to.


The scent of flame and blood and steel and sweat and a hundred other things swirled through the air, blending together in a nauseous haze that scraped the inside of her nose like a blade. That was the first hint that she was still alive. The second hint was the pain. It throbbed through her like a pulse, each beat echoing the rapid rhythm of her racing heart. She slowly opened her eyes, wincing against the glare, to find herself staring out over a world of death. A war-torn landscape stretched out before her, pockmarked with craters and scarred by the ravages of battle. Flames danced across the horizon, casting flickering shadows across the ground. And amidst this desolation, were the corpses of those she knew. Teegan. Goliad. Ferros. All of them lay strewn about, lifeless and still.

"Ah…" she said faintly. "We lost."

She was a soldier. One of countless thousands that had been recruited to serve under Dreyvus, the Minotaur King. They had marched to meet Dreyvus's foe, and the final contender for the Overlord's throne, the scylla Fgrahn, in battle today. Her comrades had every confidence their commander would carry them to victory, and to positions of prestige and power beyond their wildest imaginings… but alas, they were wrong. So very wrong.

She tried to rise. But although she could feel her body lying somewhere nearby, it would not obey. Pain flared anew at each attempt to move, seeping into her bones like ice water, draining the warmth from her limbs. Eventually, she gave up laying motionless amongst her fallen friends. But then, that was her fate. The fate of any who tried to claim the Overlord's throne… and failed. Now, she was nothing but another corpse, joining the rest in the endless expanse of battlefields that dotted the continent. Or… she would be soon enough.

But then, among the flames, she saw movement. A figure, cloaked in shadow, walking towards her. No matter how many times she blinked, the vision refused to fade. But even as it drew near, the shadows surrounding it refused to fade further, revealing only an impenetrable darkness. It moved with purpose, inspecting the fallen, as if searching for something. Was it another survivor, she wondered. But she pushed that thought aside. Something seemed different about this shadow. She knew nothing about it, but she was certain that it was not part of Dreyvus's host.

As she watched, the shadow gradually drew closer and closer, until it finally stopped beside her, crouching low over her. Even with the flames so close, the shadows wrapped around them as if they were a cloak. "A survivor…" the stranger said, their voice unmistakably female.

"W… Who…" she said weakly.

"That's not important," the shadow said. "The only thing you need to know is that from this moment on, you serve a new master." The shadow reached toward her, her hand filling her vision…

…and then Brynn awoke with a start. Several moments passed before she remembered where she was- her quarters, in Lady Luxuria's tower, in the Overlord's citadel. Her new master, now that Lilithina was gone. After a moment, her body finally rose from her bed, dressed in her uniform, and picked up her head from the cushion lying on the dresser nearby, carrying it under one arm. A mirror hung on the wall nearby reflected her pale form as she passed. Looking at herself now, even Brynn had a difficult time believing she had once been a soldier. In her green days, before she'd sworn her sword to a worthy master, a life without fighting would have been unthinkable for a dullahan like her.

Yet, her service to Master Lilithina, and then Luxuria, had brought a sense of fulfillment that she'd never found on the battlefield, a sense of purpose that had been missing when serving under a dozen different generals. But although she had hung up her sword long ago, the scars- and the guilt- remained. But, perhaps, that was why her dreams always ended the same way: with that fateful battle, and with Lilithina finding her. Though it was pure fantasy, at times she liked to believe that the end of her dreams were a message from her departed master. A reminder, that her days of suffering were over.

The walk to Luxuria's parlor was a short one. Before she could enter however, the door swung open, and a burly figure with a bull's head stepped out- a minotaur. Despite his size, he moved with a surprising grace, and made no attempt to block Brynn's passage. Instead, holding the door wide for her, letting her pass before stepping out behind her. Odd, she thought. Though minotaurs were one of many members of the citadel's garrison, it seemed odd that Lord Baphomet would use one as a messenger. It wasn't until she entered her master's chambers that she realized that the minotaur had been summoned for business of a rather… personal nature. The air was heavy with the scent of musk, and Luxuria was dressing herself, looking rather dissatisfied.

"My Lady," Brynn said, clasping her hands in front of her waist. "I take it your… guest, was unable to satisfy?"

"His performance was perfectly adequate," she replied absently. "I'm afraid that my mind is otherwise preoccupied."

"Is it because of the Hero in Miss Andralaxia's company?" Brynn asked, trying to keep her curiosity out of her voice.

Luxuria paused, pulling on a silken robe. "Yes. I just… his answer to my request was so feeble! Has something happened between them? Oh, I should've told Joanna to follow them more closely…"

It was strange, seeing Luxuria like this. Most of the time, her master radiated poise and elegance- but once her daughters entered the discussion, she became like any other mother, fretting over seemingly every step they made. Luxuria had always shown concern for her children, even before Lilithina and her sister Verumina were lost, but it had always been a passive sort of care. Now, she clung to Korzanna and Andralaxia desperately, as if they would melt away into mist the moment she looked away. It would have been almost comical, watching such a powerful being reduced to such a state… had Brynn not witnessed firsthand the depths of Luxuria's grief upon seeing the bodies of her first- and second-born daughters.

Brynn's hands clenched into fists at the memory of her master's body. She and Miss Verumina had been just two of countless victims of the last war, waged after the death of Fgrahn, better known as Overlord Leviathan. Though the two had thrown their lots in with the eventual victor, Overlord Baphomet, that fact was small comfort to the grieving mother and their loyal attendants.

"That reminds me…" Luxuria suddenly said. "I believe that Honette and Laraquel have been sufficiently disciplined for the… hospitality they showed our guest. If you'd be so kind, please release them, Brynn."

"As you wish, my Lady." Without another word, Brynn turned and left Luxuria's chambers, crossing the hall and descending the tower's spiral staircase. Though she, Honette, and Laraquel had been taken in by Lilithina, Verumina, and Korzanna, respectively, they all served at Luxuria's pleasure, and as master of the house, she reserved the right to discipline servants as she deemed necessary. For many masters, that discipline would come from the end of a whip, or a hot iron- for some unfortunate souls, discipline was a blade biting into their flesh, taking with it a finger, a hand… perhaps even the very head from their shoulders. Luxuria may have eschewed such brutal methods, but as a succubus, her form of discipline had its own unique peculiarities that made it no less severe.

At the bottom of the stairs was an iron door. Brynn unlatched it and pushed it open, to be greeted by a literal orgy of goblins. One one side of the room, they surrounded an iron box, thrusting their disgusting meat rods into holes cut in the side, a mixture of animalistic grunts and lewd cries coming from them. On the other, they surrounded a lamia, her wrists chained to the ceiling, her head held beneath the waist of the goblin thrusting into her mouth, as another thrust into her from below. The goblins who weren't otherwise engaged turned their attention to her, chittering excitedly at what they saw as a new outlet with which to slake their lust.

Brynn glared as she strode into the room, calling out, "Alright, enough. Lady Luxuria no longer requires your services." But, they didn't seem to understand- one of them rushed toward her, hands grasping, his vile rod swinging between his legs. But Brynn swiftly and painfully kicked the goblin aside when he drew close, and the one who followed him. "I said away with you vermin!" The goblins finally scattered, retreating to whatever holes they'd crawled from, but not before one of them insulted her in their crude tongue, shouting "Sattra tisa!"

Brynn had only ever been subjected to Lady Luxuria's discipline once. It was an experience she vowed she would never allow herself to be subjected to again, and served to affirm something she had long known- that whatever sway males and the vile rods between their legs held over other women was utterly lost on her. As hard as some tried, they could never kindle the fires of desire within her.

With the goblins gone, Brynn could properly observe her fellow attendants. Honette had slumped down to the floor, panting and wheezing as she recovered, her body covered in sweat and semen. The dullahan wasted no time unchaining her, nor unlatching the box, from which a puddle of dark slime emerged, before taking Laraquel's familiar shape. The slime-girl slowly stood, stretching her limbs, seeming a bit taller than she had when she had first entered the box, her limbs strangely distorted and distended- no doubt the result of having absorbed the goblins' seed.

"Hah… why is it always the goblins?" Honette said, finally drawing herself up, hair ragged, still covered in a sheen of sweat and other fluids best not mentioned.

"Would you prefer minotaurs?" Brynn asked.

"Fuck no!" Honette snapped back, shuddering. And for good reason: though somewhat easier on the eyes, minotaurs had truly monstrous members, as long as Brynn's arm and nearly as wide around. And unlike goblins who spent themselves quickly, minotaurs could have the stamina to outlast even a succubus that was ill-prepared.

"I trust that the next time you are instructed to entertain guests…" Brynn began, "…that you will do as you are told, rather than terrifying them for your own amusement. Or perhaps the next time you require discipline, it will be in a pit of minotaurs rather than goblins."

Honette gulped. "Y- Yes ma'am."

"Now get cleaned up, both of you."

Honette slithered out of the room. Laraquel stayed behind, spraying the room with water stored within her body, her form shifting to appear as if she was wearing a uniform made from the same slime she herself was composed of. Brynn ascended the stairs once more, returning to the apartments belonging to Luxuria and her house. She passed by the washroom- the door was shut, and inside, she could hear Honette grumbling within. "…puffed-up headless bitch… the fuck is 'entertain' supposed to mean, anyway? What am I supposed to do, sing him a song? Rip my top off and shake my tits in his face? …huh, actually that one might work…" Brynn shook her head, continuing on.

Luxuria was in her chambers, facing the mirror of polished black crystal. The mirror didn't reflect the room, however, but somewhere else entirely. Her master must have been speaking to Joanna, something confirmed a moment later when Luxuria said, "…I see. See if you can make contact with him again. Perhaps with more information, we can nudge the Hero in the right direction." The image in the mirror faded, reflecting Luxuria's parlor once more. She turned to face Brynn. "Ah, there you are, dear."

"Honette and Laraquel have been released to resume their duties. Is there… anything else you require of me, My Lady?" Brynn asked.

"There is." Luxuria stood, slowly making her way to the dullahan, hips swaying visibly. She reached out, taking Brynn's head into her own hands. In ordinary circumstances, handling a dullahan's head without asking permission was the gravest of insults. But Luxuria was different, and not merely because she was Brynn's master. Lifting Brynn's head to meet her gaze, Luxuria leaned forward, placing her lips against the dullahan's. Brynn reciprocated, their mouths locked together for an instant before deepening their kiss, tongues intertwining. And Brynn melted, all thoughts of duty disappearing.

Luxuria had many attendants in her time, of which Joanna was merely the latest. And she had plenty of paramours as well. But there was a bond between Luxuria and Brynn that was above that of master and servant, above even that of simple lovers. After Lilithina and Verumina's deaths, they had grieved together, sharing their pain and their sorrow. And in sharing their grief, they found comfort in one another, a solace that they might never have found alone. At first, they simply held one another as they mourned; but in time, the wounds in their hearts- even if they would never be fully mended- began to heal. Brynn wasn't certain precisely when the two had moved beyond companionship and into romance. But that hardly mattered to Brynn now. All that mattered was that whenever her master needed a reprieve from whatever burden lay on her heart, Brynn would provide it, gladly and willingly. For her master's sake, she would endure any torment, bear any burden, suffer any indignity.

Luxuria had spoken no words. But when her and Brynn's lips finally parted, the dullahan understood perfectly what her master desired, a faint smile forming on her lips. "As you wish, My Lady," she said softly, before loosening a knot at her neck, letting her uniform fall to the floor.


"…you know, I heard that quite a few princes around the kingdom had been planning to court Princess Agate at the ball," Violet said. She was standing in front of the mirror in the room she shared with Fiann, trying to make her hair lie flat. Unfortunately, the waves in her hair were having none of it, refusing to settle, resulting in a messier appearance than if she hadn't bothered. Minze would have pitched a fit if she saw her like this. "But I imagine that many of them will have reconsidered after seeing her savage those saboteurs from her homeland." She let out a long sigh. "I do wish Abel would have taken me, though. I do try not to boast about it, but my family name does carry quite a lot of weight. And I imagine Minze would have liked if I could put her etiquette lessons into practice." When her words were met with silence, the alchemist looked back and asked, "Fiann? Are you listening?"

Fiann was seated on her own bed, inspecting the lute she always carried with her. She looked up for a moment, before tilting her head to one side. She said nothing.

Violet felt her face burn in embarrassment. That's right. She'd forgotten that her current companion… couldn't speak. "…My apologies. Though, I must ask, have you ever attended a ball before?"

Fiann set the lute aside, before retrieving her journal. After writing in it, she turned it toward Violet. After several moments, the alchemist successfully interpreted the bard's words.

[Not for a long while.]

"Was that… while you were still in your homeland? Or, after you departed?" Violet asked.

[After. My-] Violet stopped briefly, struggling to decipher the next word. When she failed, she moved on, hoping the rest of the sentence would allow her to guess the meaning of the word. [My - had no use for such -.] Having to read Brighidine runes on her own made Violet realize just how incredible Abel's ability to comprehend languages was… and just how quickly all of them had become dependent on it. She would definitely have to speak to Minze about furthering her knowledge of the language. As for what Fiann had written, Violet guessed that it was most likely, 'My homeland had no use for such things.'

"But Brighid surely must have celebrations of some sort. Festivals, or feasts, or-"

But the alchemist was interrupted by a knock at the door. Opening it revealed Abel, standing outside. "Good, you're both here," he said.

The way he phrased the statement struck Violet as odd. "Has something happened?"

"Sorry, it's nothing bad. I've just been running around looking for everyone. The boat I asked for is finally here."

Violet did recall that Abel had asked Queen Citryn for a ship that could cross the eastern sea. But… "So soon? It's only been five days."

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. It won't be leaving any time soon, since Captain Baird and the others need to load up supplies, but I thought everyone might want to see it."

Elves, for the most part, were not known for their seafaring ability. So Violet had to admit, she was curious about the construction of the vessel. "Very well. Let us see this ship." Fiann nodded in agreement.

The walk path from the inn to the harbor would normally have been a short one, but the arrival of two elven ships had drawn quite the crowd. They pushed their way through the throng, before finally reaching the pier where two ships were docked. The two ships were long and narrow, like an arrow or a spear, their hulls built from a strange green wood, the panels overlapping to form a pattern that resembled scales. The sails were woven from some kind of iridescent, almost transparent cloth, which shimmered in the sunlight. But what truly made Violet marvel was the sheer size of the ships. They were massive, nearly twice the size of the next largest ship in the harbor, and yet despite that, the alchemist had little doubt that either could easily sail in circles around the Princess Louvia. On the side facing the shore, each ship bore a plaque with its name: one read "Falajlechi," while the other read "Fuzisu."

"They are… beautiful," Violet said softly. She found herself unable to turn her gaze away from them.

Fiann wrote something in her journal, and turned it to Abel. "'Which one is ours?'" he read aloud, before pointing to one of the ships. "The one on the left. The Peregrine. The Dove- the one on the right- is Queen Citryn's personal vessel."

Now that he'd mentioned it, Violet could see that the two ships, while similar, were not completely identical: the Dove was slightly shorter, but trimmed with silver, boasting a figurehead depicting a dove in flight, a sword clutched in its beak. The Peregrine, however, lacked any such ornamentation, save for a falcon's head carved into the bow. But, ornaments would have been unnecessary; the Peregrine was a tool of exploration, rather than pomp and ceremony. And even without them, it was no less impressive to behold.

As the three looked on, a cool gentle voice called out. "Ah, there you are, Sir Abel." They turned, to see Queen Citryn approaching, flanked by two elven soldiers and accompanied by a younger man- an attendant, Violet assumed. Fiann bowed, and Violet did the same when she noticed, though Abel remained standing. "I trust this ship will suit your needs?"

"It definitely looks impressive…" he began cautiously. "But I'll have to let Captain Baird make that decision. He's the one who'd know what we need."

"Of course," the queen replied. "And, as you requested, my scribes in Gasparis produced a copy of a map of the lands across the eastern seas." She held up a large rolled-up parchment. "May it serve you well in your travels."

"Thank you, Miss Citryn," Abel replied, graciously accepting the parchment.

"There is one last thing, however," Citryn then said. "The shores of the eastern lands are treacherous, blanketed in thick fogs and lined with hidden shoals and reefs that can reduce even the mightiest ship to splinters. You will need a skilled navigator to reach the shores of Jeuno safely. As such, I requested that one of my most skilled captains accompany you." She stepped aside, allowing the younger man accompanying her to step forward.

The younger man raised a hand in greeting. "Hey. I'm Nephrys. And you must be Sir Abel. Lady Agate told us all about you. I'll admit, I had my doubts, but after hearing about how you handled the Ravens, I understand why Her Majesty has so much faith in you." Neprhys appeared, and sounded, quite young- not much older than she herself was, if Violet had to guess. But if what Abel had told them was true, then an elf's appearance was no indication of their true age. And the rest of his appearance didn't radiate the aura of a skilled mariner, either: he wore a simple dark green tunic, cinched at the waist by a leather belt, his silvery hair unkempt and unruly. Standing next to the queen, he seemed unassuming, ordinary… if such a word could be used to describe elves. Nevertheless, it was clear that Queen Citryn trusted him entirely- given that, Violet felt inclined to do so as well.

"So… where exactly are you headed?" Nephrys asked.

"I'm… not sure," Abel admitted. "I only know that my destination is somewhere across the ocean."

The elf boy folded his arms over his chest. "That's not exactly reassuring, Sir Abel. We can't just sail off into the unknown without a destination."

Abel pulled back his collar, and exposed his pendant. "I have a Relic from the Church that can lead me to things I'm looking for." As if on command, the gold pendant shot up, pointing directly ahead of Abel, rattling slightly on its chain. "We used it to find our way before, but our next destination is beyond the edges of our old map."

"I… see," Nephrys replied, though from his expression, he still seemed somewhat skeptical. "Well, regardless, we'll need a clear destination before setting sail. May I see that map?"

"Uh, sure." Abel handed the parchment to Nephrys, who then unrolled it with some difficulty. Like Abel's old map, it showed Bastok and Windurst, but stretched beyond the immediate vicinity of the Arielian Sea, showing the continents in their entirety- even showing the edges of a land along the bottom border of the map- Xibalba, a land so harsh and inhospitable that only monsters called it their home. And on the other side of the map was another landmass, whose contours were strange and unfamiliar to Violet's eyes.

"Jeuno…" she whispered, reading the letters labeling it.

But immediately, her eyes were drawn to a chain of islands off the continent's western coast, which Nephrys pointed to. "Here," he said. "This will be our first stop."

Abel slowly read the letters next to the islands. "…Zi-pan-gu. …Never heard of it." The name was unfamiliar to Violet, and judging from her expression, Fiann didn't recognize it, either.

"Can't say I'm surprised," a cheery voice said. Violet looked, to see a familiar girl with red hair, clad in a red-and-white dress approaching. "There are very few in this world who can say they've laid eyes on Zipangu and returned to tell the tale… well, at least on this side of the Titanian Ocean."

Abel was the first to react. "Liz? What are you doing here?"

"Why wouldn't I be here? An opportunity to sail across the ocean and establish trade with a distant nation filled to the brim with exotic goods?" Liz beamed with excitement. "Do you have any idea how many merchants would leap for an opportunity like this?" She slid next to Abel- in the corner of her eye, Violet saw Fiann visibly tense, fuming with rage. "And I get to travel with my favorite good-luck charm! Master Abel, you're going to make me and the Company rich beyond our wildest dreams!"

Nephrys looked between Liz and Abel. "And, who might you be?"

"Oh, right. I'm Liz, representative of the Amorenya Trade Company in Proserpina. I'm the one your kingdom's envoy spoke to when we first found the princess."

"Yes, our envoy did mention you in her report," Citryn said, before turning her gaze to Abel. "I must say, Sir Abel, it's often said that Heroes draw an unusual array of companions to their side in the course of their journey. I confess that I never believed such tales, but perhaps there is some truth to them after all."

"Although, speaking of companions…" the merchant began, glancing around. "Where's the princess? I was sure she'd be with you."

Liz raised a good point. The presence of her personal vessel suggested that the queen would soon depart from Furni. Yet Sion was nowhere in sight. Surely, if they were preparing to depart, she would want to exchange farewells, with Abel if no one else. After a moment, Violet found it within herself to broach the subject. "Your Majesty, where is Lady Agate?"

The queen's smile faded. "She is… indisposed."

"Indisposed?" Abel asked, his brow furrowed. "Is she alright?"

"I assure you, there's nothing to worry about," Citryn quickly replied. "Agate is merely-"

But whatever Citryn had to say next was cut off when an angry shout echoed from the deck of the Dove. "Let… go of me!" Slowly, a lumbering figure began to march down the gangplank. It took a moment to realize that the figure wasn't a single person, but several- it was Sion, along with several servants attempting to restrain her. Unfortunately, their combined efforts weren't enough to stop the princess, who marched down to the dock one slow step at a time.

Citryn let out a breath, resting a hand against her face. "Agate is determined to accompany you further in your travels, Sir Abel. I've told her again and again that her place is in Gasparis, but…"

Sion reached the dock, the ground under their feet shaking with her every step. "You… won't… stop… me!" she shouted, before the weight of the servants piled on her finally overcame her strength, and she collapsed. Still, her hands shot out, scrambling across the ground, as if to try to drag herself forward.

"Let me talk to her," Abel said, before moving toward Sion. Violet watched as he knelt beside her, saying gently, "Hey, S- Agate. Are you okay?"

Sion struggled, still trying to free herself from her servants' grasp. "Eibo… let me… go with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Agate. You've been away from your family for a long time. You should stay with them. They need you." Abel's words were soft, reassuring, yet firm.

But Sion refused to listen, her eyes pleading desperately. "P-please, Eibo. Let me come. I can… help you."

Abel sighed. "I know you can. But, your mother needs help, too. You remember what happened at the ball, don't you? The Ravens would have killed your mother- they would've killed everyone, if we hadn't protected them. But, I have responsibilities as a Hero. I can't stay. I have to keep moving. But someone has to keep your kingdom safe. Someone has to protect the queen." He paused for a moment. "Can you do that for me, Sion? Can you protect your mother while I'm away?"

Sion's shoulders slumped, and she turned her head away, nodding. "I… I will."

"Good," Abel said, his expression visibly relaxing. "Thank you."

The servants released their grip on the princess, who climbed to her feet, wobbling for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, she straightened up, her composure returning. "Will you… come back? To see me?"

"I will," he replied. "I don't know when, but I will. I promise." For an instant, Violet saw something in Abel's eyes- a firmness that told her his words were not merely an empty promise.

Sion said nothing more. But, it seemed she was satisfied by Abel's reply- she nodded once, firmly, before turning around and boarding the Dove. As they watched her depart, Liz then said, "Huh. I wish negotiations with my clients went that smoothly. Maybe you've got some merchant blood in you, Abel."

"Thank you, Sir Abel," Citryn said. "I'm certain Agate will do her best to keep her word. And remember this- our doors will always be open to you, whenever you return from your journey." The queen then followed Sion, boarding the Dove as well.

A moment passed, before Nephrys turned to Abel. "…I suppose now's as good a time as any to meet your captain. Baird, was it?"

"Will you not be giving the queen any farewells?" Violet asked.

"The Dove won't be setting sail for a few more days. There'll be time enough for goodbyes later. Besides…" The elf boy paused. "I imagine the Peregrine will be very different compared to vessels Baird and his crew have sailed in the past. And as someone intimately familiar with its inner workings, I should offer my assistance in helping them become acquainted with their new ship."

A sensation spread through Violet, almost like an itch. A deep fascination had washed over her the moment she laid eyes on the ship. And now there was someone standing right in front of her who could answer any question she might possibly have. "…how familiar?"

Nephrys visibly took a step back, clearly caught by surprise. "Well… I oversaw nearly the entire construction process, from laying the keel to carving the figurehead. The sails, the rudder, the anchor… I even helped source the wood and pitch used to build the hull. So… I would say that I am quite familiar with the Peregrine."

"I see…" Questions raced through the alchemist's mind, so many that she wasn't quite sure where to begin. The thrill of unraveling the secrets behind this enigmatic vessel was intoxicating- it was like holding the key to a treasure chest waiting to be opened. And it was possible that his answers could be applied to her own craft, allowing her to make improvements to alchemic formulae she would never have thought possible otherwise.

But, before she could inquire further, Liz moved between Violet and Nephrys. "Now hold on just a minute. Why don't you let him show us around the ship before burying the poor kid with questions?"

Violet paused, caught between her desire to learn more and her sense of propriety. In the end, the need to be polite won out. "I… apologize. My enthusiasm got the better of me."

"I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you might have…" Nephrys assured, before gesturing to the Peregrine. "…but for now, why don't I show you to the crew quarters? I think you'll find them far more comfortable than any shipboard accommodations you've had before. In fact, some land-bound lodgings could take a lesson or two from them…"


Lailah had never been one to find swinging around a weapon relaxing. And finding a space large enough to accommodate her without having the city guards called on her had been more difficult than she expected. But she had to find some outlet for the frustration mounting within her, before it spilled out onto someone undeserving of it.

Again.

With some effort, she finally found a suitable place- an abandoned warehouse, near a small, abandoned pier on the south end of the city. The air inside was stale, but it was a small price to pay for privacy. Gripping her spear in both hands, she thrust it at the only target available in the space: an old barrel. The blade plunged into the old wood, driving home her anger and frustration. She struck again, and again, each blow harder than the last, until sweat began to dampen her brow. Then, with an angry cry, she thrust at the barrel one last time with all her strength- the wooden staves buckled and splintered, scattering fragments all over the stone floor.

She stood there for a moment, panting, her face flushed from exertion. Unfortunately, slaying her "foe" did little to abate the anger still coursing through her veins. She let the spear fall from her hands. "Fuck." It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Then, a voice echoed through the warehouse. "So this is where you were hiding." Lailah whirled around to face the warehouse's entrance. There, Raine stood, arms folded, leaning against the door.

"What do you want?" the priestess demanded.

"I noticed that ever since we left Lohan, you and Blue have been acting strange, Sis. Almost like you're trying to avoid each other." Raine's tone was odd- it sounded like its usual, playful cadence… but there was an unmistakable edge in her words.

"I already told you that's none of your business."

The playful tone vanished from the witch's voice instantly. "See. That's where you're wrong. If I'm going to be stuck on a ship for God-knows-how-long as it sails across the ocean, I'd really rather not have to spend the whole trip dealing with your marital troubles. So you two are going to sit down, and you're going to fix whatever it is that's going on between you two. And I'm going to sit there with both of you until you do."

Lailah seethed, despite her best efforts to suppress it. "Just who do you think you are!? I already told you that what happened between me and Abel isn't any of your goddamned business! We have nothing to talk about!"

Raine stepped into the warehouse, seeming to close the distance between them in an instant. "See, that's something else you're wrong about. I'm not asking you to talk with Abel. I said that you and Abel are going to talk. And you're going to do it."

The rage flared up before Lailah could stop it. Her hand shot forward, to seize Raine by the throat. But the witch seemed to blink out of existence, reappearing just beyond Lailah's reach. She then pulled her arm back, and struck Lailah across the face, sending her sprawling. It… it hurt. More than she expected. More than it should have. But she was too furious to care. "You-"

Before she could rise, Raine raised a leg and stomped on Lailah's back hard enough to crack the floor beneath her, pinning her to the ground. "Do you think that I'm afraid of you because you're a demon?" she asked in a low voice. "Because I'm not. I've fought demons before, Lailah. I've even killed a few. And trust me- they were a lot stronger than you." She lifted her foot, but only slightly. "Now, I'm not going to kill you. But I'm also not above roughing you up if you don't keep that temper of yours under control."

The priestess strained, trying to rise. "And… what do you think Abel would say if he saw us like this?"

"He'd probably hate me," the witch replied. "But I'm fine with that. I would like it if Abel liked me, but sometimes, doing what's necessary is more important than being liked. Now come along. Or am I going to have to break a few ribs first?" She pressed her foot down against Lailah's back again, hard enough to make breathing difficult.

The rage still welled within Lailah, but it was quickly cooling. She knew when she was beaten. "Fine," she gritted through clenched teeth. "We'll talk." But despite her efforts to put up a strong front, the priestess was deeply unnerved. Raine was… strong. Incredibly strong. How long had she been hiding that?

For all her cockiness, the witch had proven she could back it up. And for the first time in a long while, Lailah felt utterly powerless.

"Good girl." Raine removed her foot, giving Lailah room to rise. "Now let's go."

The journey back to the inn was silent, filled with tension so thick one could cut it with a knife. But, nothing more happened, and the two entered one of the small rooms on the upper floor, where Abel and Niel were waiting. Abel jolted, nearly jumping to his feet from his bed as Lailah and Raine entered. "Wh… Wait. What is this?" he stammered.

"This…" the witch began, as pulled the door shut and locked it, "…is an intervention. And the two of you are not going to leave this room until you fix whatever the hell is going on between you." She turned, leaning against the door, arms folded over her chest.

Abel looked Raine in disbelief, then Niel. "You… you planned this?"

"We planned this," the former angel corrected. "As much as I dislike the thought of you two becoming closer, it's obvious whatever happened is distracting you from your responsibilities. And that distraction could cause a fatal error in Abel's judgement." Her eyes shifted toward Lailah as she said this.

Lailah seethed, but held her tongue, seating herself in an empty chair. Abel kept silent as well. And the four of them sat in an awkward silence that stretched on for far longer than it needed to. At first, all was still. But then Abel began to tremble. It was slight at first, but with each passing moment, it grew stronger. The air around him seemed to vibrate as he struggled to contain himself.

"Abel I-" Lailah began, trying to head him off.

But she wasn't fast enough. "I-I'm sorry!" he cried, the restraint breaking. "I'm sorry for everything, Lailah! I should've told you about the Cardinal! About everything sooner! I should've treated you like an equal, instead of hiding things from you! I'm sorry! I- I…" Whatever words he had yet to say were lost as he buried his face in his hands and broke down into tears.

The priestess stared, stunned. As did Raine. In all the time the two had traveled together, Lailah had seen Abel cry exactly once: in Hokes, just after their battle against the treant, when he'd used healing magic for the first time to heal her wounds. Other than that, she couldn't recall seeing him so much as come close to tearing up.

Raine, meanwhile, looked utterly taken aback. Lailah may have seen Abel cry only once, but the witch had never seen him shed a tear at all. And now he was sobbing as if he were a child being scolded for misbehaving. She stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

Lailah moved first, slowly rising from her chair. She approached Abel, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Abel…" But the moment her fingers made contact, he flinched, his shoulders tensing up. For a moment, her chest tightened, and she pulled away. But she still wanted to comfort him, somehow. So, she sat down beside him- she didn't touch him, hoping instead that her presence would be enough.

For several moments, they sat there, the four of them in silence, the only sound the soft sobs of the young Champion. But in time, even those faded away. And when Abel had finally calmed himself, Lailah began to speak. "You… don't need to apologize, Abel. If you… had told me about what happened in Lescatie with the Cardinal as soon as it happened… I probably would've gotten all of us killed. You were right, when you said we couldn't fight against the Church. I just…"

"…what? You just what?" Abel mumbled, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Lailah sighed, feeling her anger dissipate. "…what you did, reminded me of things my mother used to do. How she would keep secrets, how'd she lie to me, telling me it was 'for my protection.'" The anger within her began to smolder again, like a flame fed with fresh kindling. "She'd always treat me like I was some delicate flower. Like I wasn't capable of taking care of myself. I hated it. I hated feeling so… helpless. It's why I ran away from her. And when you said you hadn't told me about the Cardinal and his assassins because you wanted to protect me… all those feelings- all that resentment…"

"I'm sorry," Abel repeated, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know," Lailah replied, sighing. "It isn't fair to be upset with you. You didn't know. You couldn't have known." She paused, the fire within her dying down. "But… if you want to make it up to me, there's something you can do."

Abel looked at her, hopeful. "What?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

"From now on, you tell us everything. No more secrets, no more lies. If we're going to face whatever dangers are ahead, we need to trust each other completely. And that starts with honesty."

"I… I can do that," Abel replied, having finally regained his composure.

Smiling, Raine crossed the room, throwing her arms over Abel and Lailah's shoulders. "See, isn't it so much nicer when you actually talk to each other about your problems? Now… kiss." The witch then slipped her hands onto their backs, trying to push the two closer together.

Instantly, Lailah pushed back against the witch. At the same time, she could see Abel's eyes widen in shock as he too resisted Raine's efforts. At the same time, the former angel sprang to her feet, standing on the bed. "What do you think you're doing!?" she shouted in outrage.

"Helping these two get along better," Raine explained nonchalantly. "They both seem to have trouble expressing their emotions, so I figured I'd give them a push in the right direction."

"Raine… cut it out!" Abel grunted, still trying to pull away from Lailah even as the witch forced them closer together. "This isn't right!"

"What, Blue, you don't want to kiss your girlfriend?" Raine teased.

Abel stammered. "I- t-that's… it's… complicated."

"It really isn't though, Blue," Raine said, still pushing the two closer together. "Either you want to kiss Lailah, or you don't. So…"

Lailah finally managed to slip free of the witch's grasp, shooting to her feet and practically halfway across the room. "Alright, that's enough! You've made your point!"

"Hey, no need to be like that," Raine called after her. "You just fixed your bond with Blue. You don't wanna ruin it already by hurting his feelings, do you?"

"I for one agree with the priestess," Niel cut in.

Raine looked between both the priestess and Niel, before letting out a sigh and releasing Abel. "Fine, fine. If you guys are going to be like that, we'll just leave things there." She then picked up the tiny former angel and placed her on her shoulder. "Alright Parrot, let's go. As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes you just have to let these things work themselves out." With that, she unlocked the door and stepped out of the room, leaving Abel and Lailah alone.

Again, silence settled between the two, longer and more uncomfortable than the previous. As if they were both waiting for something to happen. Finally, Abel spoke up. "We should… probably help Captain Baird get the Peregrine ready. That navigator the queen sent to help us said that even under favorable conditions, it'll take at least two months to sail to Zipangu."

His words were ordinary, but Lailah could sense… something in them. A confused mix of emotions. Was it relief from the situation finally ending? Hurt from Lailah's apparent rejection? Or was it something else entirely? She couldn't say for certain. But either way, her plan hadn't changed. She was still going to speak to him. And this time, there would be no interlopers. But for now, she simply replied, "Of course." With that, the two set off, the tension between them thickening like a storm cloud on the horizon.

The work was long, and difficult, stretching all the way until sunset. But eventually, even the most stubborn of tasks came to an end, and they returned to the inn. There were still more supplies to be loaded, but for now, they had earned a respite. And as the night wore on, one by one, the crew, their companions, and eventually Abel himself made their way to their rooms for the night. Then, Lailah made her move, slipping into the room she shared with Claire, and slipped out of her normal attire, and into the white dress she'd bought before leaving Aglis. Then, she crept down the hall to Abel's room, knocking gently on the door. "Abel?" she said faintly.

There was a moment's pause before the door creaked open. As soon as he laid eyes on her, Abel's breath hitched, and he took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise. "L-Lailah…" he stuttered.

"I wanted to speak to you," she said. "May I… step inside?"

Abel swallowed hard, before he nodded wordlessly and stepped aside, letting Lailah enter his room. Once inside, she closed the door behind her. The room was small, barely large enough for a bed and a chest, but as always, Abel insisted on sleeping separately from the others. It was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a single, small oil lamp on the nightstand. In the flickering golden glow, Lailah could see Abel's face clearly. He looked nervous- afraid, even.

"You… wanted to talk to me?" he repeated, in a cautious tone.

"Yes," Lailah replied, her voice just above a whisper. "I'd actually been meaning to talk to you for a while now. But… there were always so many distractions. And then… Raine forced the issue." She paused, carefully choosing her next words. "But, I still have things I'd like to say. And I'd like to say them without an audience." She paused, studying Abel's face. "Can we… sit?"

Again, Abel was silent before finally nodding, and moving to take a seat on the edge of his bed. Lailah sat beside him, and again a long silence settled between them, but this time it was different. It wasn't filled with tension or anger. It was… expectant. Like they both knew that something important was about to happen, but were too afraid to take that first step. But to Lailah's surprise, Abel was the one to finally break the silence.

"Before you start…" he said, his voice shaky. "There's something I want to ask you."

"What is it?" Lailah replied softly.

Abel took a deep breath. "What you said before, about reminding you of your mother… did you mean it?" His eyes were searching, as if needing confirmation.

She let out a small breath. "…Yes. I did." Seeing his expression fall, she quickly added, "But, it wasn't you I was angry with. You didn't do anything wrong, Abel. You didn't know."

Abel shook his head, looking to the floor. "Maybe if I'd tried to get to know you better, I would have."

Lailah began to panic, trying to not let it show. The last thing she wanted was for Abel to blame himself for how she reacted to something he hadn't even been aware of. But him mentioning her mother gave her an opening, a way to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Abel, you said that my mother asked you to protect me. You told me that you said, that you wouldn't make a promise you couldn't keep. Is that true?"

Abel jolted slightly. Just as Lailah thought he would. He stammered, until Lailah said, "You made a promise, Abel. No more secrets. No more lies." Then his shoulders slumped as he gave his answer:

"I only said… that I would try. I couldn't promise her more than that."

It was a small admission, but even so, hearing the truth- that he hadn't refused to protect her entirely- came as a relief. And it made what came next that much easier. "I know what I said. I know that I said that I don't need to be rescued. But… that doesn't mean… that I don't want to be protected." She took his hand into her own, interlacing their fingers tightly. "Because I do. I want to be protected, and I want you to be the one to protect me. Not because I'm weak, or helpless, but because I know you care about me. And I care about you too, Abel. Very much." She laid her other hand atop their entwined hands, her heart racing with every beat. "So, will you… still protect me?"

It was strange how calm Abel was as she held his hand. Her heart was racing, her hand trembling, yet he remained steady. "I already made that promise, remember? I told you, I won't fight for a world, where you and I have to be enemies."

Lailah let out a shaky breath. "Let me hear you say it again. Please?"

After a moment of hesitation, Abel finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. "Alright. If it really is what you want… then I'll protect you, Lailah. I swear."

Lailah let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she squeezed his hand one last time, before letting her hand fall from his grasp. "Thank you," she whispered.

Again, silence fell. Though it was not as long as those that came before. "So… was there… anything else?" Abel asked cautiously.

There was. A final lingering question. One that had something to do with Lailah's current attire. "Actually, yes." She stood up slowly, gripping the hem of her dress tightly. "I… earlier, with Raine. When she asked you if… if you wanted to… kiss me… you said it was… complicated." The priestess then turned, resting her knee on the bed next to Abel, and leaned in close. "Is it… still complicated?" she asked softly, barely able to hear her voice over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Abel's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Lailah could see the blood rush to his face as he began to stammer. "I-I… um… I…"

She thought this might happen. That she would have to take the lead. But she'd never done anything like this before. Never initiated such a thing. Despite the pounding in her chest, the chill in her fingertips, the heat in her face, she forced herself to continue.

After all, she was a succubus.

She reached up, placing a finger under Abel's chin. "Raine was right, you know," she said softly, her voice low- though she could still hear the shaking in her voice. "It isn't as complicated as you think. Either you want to kiss me, or you don't." She leaned in close. "And right now… I would very much like to kiss you."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Instead, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his. At the same time, she slipped her hands around him, one around his waist, the other behind his neck, to ensure he couldn't escape. The kiss was tentative at first, but as she felt his lips part in surprise, she pressed forward, deepening their kiss. He fell back against the bed, but the break lasted only a moment before Lailah found herself straddling him, lips pressed against his. She reveled in the taste of his mouth, the softness of his skin beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his body against hers. It was… intoxicating.

And when she finally pulled away, panting heavily, she saw that Abel's eyes were wide open, staring up at her with a look of pure shock. Lailah smiled, her cheeks flushed. "Well? Is it still complicated?"

Abel didn't answer, his eyes still wide with shock. And it was then that Lailah realized he wasn't looking at her. Not directly. Rather, it was as if he was looking at something behind her. She glanced back.

And saw a pair of white wings sprouting from her back.

In an instant, she leapt off of Abel. She'd… slipped up again. She'd given in to her instincts, lost control. Just like at Caral Marsh. She tried to will her wings to disappear, but they remained stubbornly in place.

"L-Lailah…" Abel stuttered as he sat up. "Are you okay?"

The priestess felt her face flush again, this time not from excitement, but shame. Abel may have known the truth- he may have seen her at her absolute lowest- but that didn't mean she wanted him to see her like this. She quickly backed away, facing him directly, trying to block her wings with her body as she tried to fold them down. "I… I'm sorry," she stammered. "I think I got a bit… too excited." How humiliating. And everything had been going so well. Even the kiss had gone perfectly- her way of closing the gap that had opened between them since leaving Lohan… or so she thought. "I… I should go," she added, turning to the door.

"Wait," Abel said. "Someone might see you like that. Why don't you… stay here for a while? I'm sure if you calm down…"

Lailah stopped. He was right, of course. Both about the chance of someone seeing them, and that if she calmed herself, she would be able to take on her human guise again. But the idea of staying here, alone with him, made her stomach twist with anxiety. What if… she lost control of herself again? Just the thought of it made her heart race, in turn making it impossible to regain her composure.

It seemed Abel had noticed her apprehension. "You know," he said. "It… doesn't bother me. Seeing you like this, I mean." He stood. "To be honest, I was doing some thinking, and… it probably must be tiring for you. To maintain your disguise all the time. So, I thought that, maybe… if we fixed what happened between us, and there were times when we were by ourselves, you could… be… yourself."

The priestess was quiet. Despite appearances, her reserves of mana were quite large, and maintaining a human guise was hardly taxing. And while she found his concern touching, such an offer came with substantial risk. Even if she was merely pretending at being human, it helped to keep her… natural instincts at bay. Even with the small shift she'd undergone, she could feel her baser nature stirring, calling to her. To be "herself" in full… alone… with him…

"…I… I'm sorry, Abel," she finally said. "But I… can't. I appreciate the offer, but… I can't trust myself enough to be… 'myself' around you." Her heart had finally calmed, and her wings had folded back into her shoulders, disappearing entirely. She began to move for the door…

"I trust you, though," Abel said. "And, I think… that you can trust yourself, too, Lailah."

Lailah stopped at the door, her hand reaching for the handle. It was just like in Caral. Abel somehow seemed to know exactly what to say to give her pause.

But… why? Why did he trust her? What made him so certain that she could control herself? …She already knew the answer, though. In Abel's own words, she had shown him more kindness in the first few minutes of meeting him than people he'd known his entire life. Learning that she was a demon did nothing to change his opinion. He had the utmost faith that she would never harm him, even unintentionally.

…She wished she could have the same faith in herself.

"I… can I… have some time, to think about it?" she forced herself to ask.

"Sure," Abel replied, a smile on his face. "You can have as much time as you need."

With that, Lailah left. For now, she had no choice but to flee, to escape her thoughts, and the temptation that seemed to be growing stronger every second. She went back to her room. Then to the common room. Then the harbor. But no matter where she went, she couldn't outrun the weight in her heart.

She sighed, watching the stars glimmer faintly over a still sea. In the end, Abel had been right, and Raine had been wrong. Things were complicated- much more complicated than the witch had made them seem. And Lailah had a feeling that the consequences of this little incident would only grow more complicated as time passed.


"…still, I'm kinda pissed I missed the special event," Raine said, pressing two fingers behind her left ear. "I mean, two new elements? That's gotta change things up, right? And the new Metal heroes looked pretty cool."

"Trust me, you didn't miss much," Vee replied. "The Metal characters suck. They have four weaknesses, and they're only good against the other new element and Earth. They have some weird special effects if they're hit with certain elements, but their attack power is fucking terrible. They're almost not even worth it."

"Well, what about the other element? Wood, right?"

"Oh, it's totally broken. It's got four weaknesses too, but it's strong against Water, Earth, and Wind, and it's straight-up immune to Light. And if a Wood Hero is hit with a Light-element attack, not only do they take zero damage, they get an effect called Supercharge which makes their next attack do double damage. And it can stack like four times. And you can get critical hits when Supercharged too. Like I said, totally broken."

"So Light finally has a proper counter. Took them long enough…"

It had been quite some time since Vee called to request a status update. But once Raine had finished her report, the professional nature of their transmission quickly gave way. They chatted about everything, from updates in their favorite game to personal drama aboard the station. That part of Raine's life felt so distant- so much so that at times, she could almost believe her name really was "Raine." …Until a ringing in her ear and a box labeled "Vee" flashing in the corner of her left eye brought her back to reality.

"…Y'know, the Chaquen Cup's coming up. Which team do you pull for?"

Raine shook her head, even though she knew Vee couldn't see her. "Ahh, I never really followed blitzball."

"Why not? What was the closest Division I team to your… oh, right. You're from Athamas Province." Vee let out a small laugh. "The Mt. Strauss Fighting Redwoods, right?"

Raine winced. "Yeah…" The Redwoods. One of the least intimidating team names of the Division I League, with a record that was equally underwhelming.

"I kinda get why you're so big into Theia Logos now. I feel pretty confident about my team, though."

"Which one? Doesn't Pyrrha City have two?"

"The Hornets! I'm from J-South, remember? The B-West Legion's been in a slump ever since their center got knocked out with a shoulder injury, so we've got a good chance to take their spot in the playoffs. If only the head coach would just bench Stendar already…"

Raine laughed. "You know, sometimes I forget we're both from the same planet."

For a few moments more, Vee gushed excitedly about her team of choice- how well their new goalie from Gray Bend was performing, or how their coach had tweaked their formation to favor the left, to compensate for how their center's long shots tended to drift to the right. But eventually, Raine's handler sighed heavily. "Alright. We're running low on time. Sooner or later, someone's gonna notice the channel's been open for too long."

Raine groaned. "Already? I thought you had the midwatch."

"I did, until we rotated sections. Now I'm on swings. Anyway, before we wrap up, I need to ask you something." Vee's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Ithaqua, you didn't have anything to do with what happened at the Union Day ball, did you?"

"Of course not!" Raine replied indignantly. "We didn't even realize something'd happened until Abel flew back looking like someone tried to push him through a wood chipper."

Vee let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god. There's been a few slip-ups recently, so Command's got everyone under a microscope now. It's starting to feel like a prison up here. Just… keep your head down, okay?"

"Yeah, gotcha."

"Minerva's wisdom guide us all."

"…and long live Her Republic," Raine replied reflexively, before closing the channel. With a sigh, she turned away from the end of the pier, and made her way back toward the inn. Being able to talk to Vee at all was a rare occasion, especially for so long. It made having to scurry around looking for a place far from anyone who'd recognize her worth it. But at the same time, it also served to remind her that no matter how close she grew to Abel and the others, she didn't truly belong among them. That her place within his circle was only ever a temporary one. And that eventually, when period of service was over, she would return home, and another would be sent to take her place.

But that was what it meant to be a field agent. A nameless, faceless observer. A bystander in the lives of those they observed, always watching, but never involving herself.

At least… that's how it was supposed to be.


Niel floated in darkness. There was no light, no sound. She couldn't even feel her body, as if she had become one with the void. It was a sensation that she hoped she would never become used to, because it meant only one thing.

And soon enough, the darkness opened, revealing a deeper, darker abyss in the shape of a human, marked by two blazing lights that shone like flames where its eyes should have been.

The Fallen.

"We meet again," the dark shape said. "Have you given my offer any thought since last we spoke?"

Niel glared at the yawning abyss. It didn't matter how many times it came to her- her answer would always be the same.

"Still you resist? Even with what you could gain? With every moment that passes, My King strays further and further away from you, drawn by the allure of other women. But there is still time. Time to reclaim what is rightfully yours." The abyss drew closer, its presence filling the space around her- a confused amalgam of both searing cold and a comforting warmth. "The power is within your grasp. You need only to reach out and claim it."

Niel shook her head, though she had no body. "How does giving me power help you?" she demanded. "And what do you want with Abel!?"

"I already told you. We want the same thing: to protect My King." The abyss moved in front of Niel, its eyes burning into hers, their intensity threatening to drive her mad. "Do you really think I am such a fool as to believe that you are truly content to allow others to stand in his defense? To merely sit back as others steal your rightful place at his side?"

Niel backed away, but the abyss was everywhere. "I know what you desire, little angel, because I desire it too," it said. "That you desire the embrace of My King, to feel his kiss, to know the warmth of his touch, to hear his voice whisper your name in tender tones…"

The dark shape vanished. Then, Niel felt it reach out and hold her from behind, its grip searing her being with its heat and its cold as it whispered in her ear:

"You want him to fuck you, don't you, little angel?"

Niel tried to pull away, but the abyss gripped her tightly. "You want him to use you, to mark you as his own, to indulge in every filthy desire he can conceive. You want to be his, little angel. You want to belong to him, and only him, body and soul. Don't you?"

Niel closed her eyes, trying to block out its words and its presence. "That's not-"

"Oh, but it is, little angel," the void whispered. "It's what you were made for." The abyss's hold on Niel began to recede. "And it's why Ilias abandoned you to languish in your pitiful state, forever at My King's side, but unable to claim him as your own." The void circled around the former angel, beholding her with its burning gaze. "But it need not be this way forever. All you have to do is accept my gift, and you will be able to be with My King as you desire."

Niel glared at the abyss. "And… what? Then you take Abel for yourself?"

"Me?" the void replied. "I would never be so presumptuous. Only a queen may share the king's throne, after all."

Niel stared at the dark shape in confusion. Its words made no sense. But before she could speak, the abyss vanished once more. But even so, its voice lingered: "We'll meet again soon, little angel. Until then, think carefully about what I have said. Your time is running out."

And then it was gone, leaving Niel alone once again, floating in the darkness.