Throw yourself into the unknown,
With pace and a fury defiant,
Clothe yourself in beauty untold,
And see life as a means to a triumph.
- David Le'aupepe, Achilles Come Down
Percy shrugged on his (thankfully in one piece) clothes the following morning. He'd just come back from brushing his teeth with a water bottle outside when he noticed Raven was blearily sitting up on her bed. Percy didn't try to avert his gaze, that ship had sailed.
"Morning." Raven yawned, stretching on her bed, apparently more used to things going this way than he was. Don't get him wrong, he'd been through a fair few one night stands since coming here, but he usually knew he'd be waking up at their place the next morning before they started making out on their floor.
"Morning." Percy echoed, gathering the last of his things and making sure he had everything he needed (including a certain incredibly valuable lamp)
"Heading out already?" Raven teased, though he was fairly confident she wasn't actually inviting him to stay. If anything, she probably found a way to view whatever had happened last night more casually than he did.
But all the same, Percy paused, considering her words for a moment. He wasn't actually considering staying — he wasn't that crazy. But now that he had found all the information he possibly could ask for on the relics, why did he need to walk around the wilderness in a pursuit to convince villages to come under his banner?
Because he wanted to, Percy decided. And that was that.
Speaking of which… "Yes, I am." he said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "I'm sure I'll see you again, though. Our… lines of work are a bit too similar not to run into each other again."
Raven began climbing out of her bed. "Don't get me wrong you're a great lay and all, but if I never see you again it'd be too soon."
Percy chuckled lightly, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I could say the same," he shot back. Despite how chummy he'd gotten with her, despite how much she'd helped him, she was still someone who raped and pillaged and killed to get what she wanted. As much as he could stand being around her personally, she was never someone he would like. Not as a person. "If you want to make sure you never see me again, steer clear of any villages claiming allegiance to me. Trust me, start making trouble with them and I'll be back."
"Oh, I'm so frightened." Raven rolled her eyes and began dressing herself. "I'll do as I please, Perseus." she deadpanned.
"Do as you please, but if I have to deal with you again, there won't be a next time." he threatened, turning to walk out the flap of her tent.
"Who knows." Raven said from behind him. He didn't need to look to see she was obviously teasing him. "Maybe I'll need you to come back and 'domesticate' me every once in a while."
Percy lifted a flap of the tent and looked back briefly, his tone dead serious. "If the reason I run into you again is that you've killed or enslaved civilians under my protection, I'll kill you."
Not giving her a chance to respond, Percy walked out of the tent. As fun as she'd proven she could be, Percy doubted he'd be paying her any social visits. And so, he found himself wishing he'd never see her again. He knew, though, that that was wishful thinking at best.
Percy stayed like that for months. Wandering the frontier, going from village to town to city (though on remnant they almost never called anything except for the big four a 'city', preferring to call them settlements or villages) and convincing them to raise his banner. Sometimes, he failed. The reasons were as varied as the people he met and the populations he came across. Sheer stubbornness, a lack of need, greed for power, a want for autonomy or freedom. All of them legitimate in some shape or form. He regretted that he'd had to take it from them anyway.
One thing he did not regret, however, was how bloodless the entire ordeal was. Skirmishes when his police arrived were a rare thing, and often without any casualties (or very few) on the police of Windpath's side. As much as one could compare numbers to numbers on paper, there really was a difference between even half a dozen highly trained, highly armed Windpath police with an armed bullhead, and even up to a hundred angry villagers with hunting rifles and basic anti-grimm weaponry. The odds would not work out much in their favor.
Speaking of which, considering the still relatively high unemployment, job security, and high demand, becoming a police officer in Windpath had become one of the foremost career choices. The city had never been more crime-free, of course, but with all of the officers they were sending around the continent to protect and occupy settlements they were scrambling to get all the officers they could. Most would stay away from Windpath for months or years at a time.
It was more a military than a police force, at this point. With the assault rifles, gas masks, and new uniforms that were akin to the Mistrali police forces, they looked the part as well. He was just glad things were progressing smoothly.
Taxes were rolling in, his protection was being dished out, and the continent became a much safer place. Of course, taking over the many settlements of Mistral also provided ample opportunity for smuggling and running other illegal operations well out of the view of Mistral's main government or the families. Hades, he hadn't even run into too much trouble for it!
Well, until now.
Percy grunted, rolling out of the way of a throwing axe and behind a nearby tree. He was confident it wouldn't hold against any actual attack, but it would give him a millisecond of time to breathe. He used that millisecond for all it was worth before ducking out of the way again as the tree bark exploded above him.
Cursing, Percy tossed down his duffel bag and pulled out Riptide, uncapping it almost before it was fully out of his pocket. Dodging behind another tree, he managed to avoid the peppering of machine gun bullets that would have torn into his aura.
Fighting one huntsman he was pretty much invincible, sure. But a full team of them? He felt like playing it safe.
Speaking of which, he dove to the ground right in time to avoid another explosion tearing apart the tree behind him. He needed a way to close the distance. All four of the huntsmen that had been sent after him (wild guess as to who had done that) had long ranged weapons. Percy… did not.
He was really getting tired of the bevy of the grenades, throwing axes, bullets, and fucking grass that had been peppering him. And he was helpless to do anything about it, considering using his powers was pretty much out of the question.
Well, not all of them.
He still didn't enjoy using his control over water, especially against enemies he intended to leave alive, just in case the information would be used against him in the future. But, well, they did already know his 'semblance'.
He might as well use it.
The next strike was a storm of grass, somehow being turned into razor sharp, tiny, quick projectiles that could wither his aura as quick as a tornado of glass. Instead of dodging he yanked his hand to the side, willing the water within the grass to follow his movement. It did, and the grass that hit him was not the sharp, rigid grass that had hit him last time. Instead it was a vaguely formed cloud of soft, crumpled, brown grass that did nothing but bump off of him.
Taking advantage of their momentary surprise (something that wouldn't last more than a second, he was sure) Percy turned and ran.
They were right on his tail, but often their attacks fell just short, or he was able to use a tree to protect himself. Sure, he could have stayed and fought. Probably pulled up some ground water, ripped some from the surrounding trees (which still made him cringe to think about the dryads that lived there on earth and what their reaction might be to such a strategy), and altogether just made life really difficult for them until he won.
But why would he bother with all of that when he had a small pond a couple hundred meters behind him?
So Percy ran, outpacing each one of them by quite a bit and reaching the pond without any real trouble. Without hesitation he dived into the pond, gathering his control and biding his time for the few seconds it took for them to catch up.
As soon as they did they ground to a halt. The leader said something (Percy couldn't hear what from so far underwater) and began backing up. They'd probably been told about his supposed semblance, Percy decided rather easily. Which also meant that they realized the mistake they'd just made. Unfortunately for them it was a bit too late.
The water exploded towards them, grabbing each of them in a watery mass and pulling them under like a monster from a fairytale might. They each tried different things to get out. It mostly consisted of thrashing and struggling, but one did manage to launch a few grenades further out into the pond closer to where Percy was. He calmly willed the water to contain each of their explosions, drifting a few feet to the left so that a grenade that was particularly close wouldn't be able to do anything to him.
And eventually the same fate befell all of them. The seconds, the minutes, ticked by, and all of them struggled in vain for breath.
Their thrashing helped speed up the process a bit at least. Percy let them thrash about in the water, if only so they would be rendered unconscious sooner than later. There was about twenty seconds difference between the four, but after about three minutes all of them were solidly unconscious.
Percy wasted no time in throwing them to shore. He was well aware of what could happen to someone who was underwater for too long. Hopefully their aura would prevent any lasting brain damage, but he didn't want to take any risks.
The moment they were on shore he popped out and looked for any handcuffs on the hunters that had come after him. Cursing, Percy grabbed the two he found and quickly clasped two of the huntsmen in them. Sprinting back to his duffel, he grabbed the rope he used to set up his small tent and rushed back to the pond. After all, time was of the essence. He knew he had five minutes tops before every one of them were conscious again. They'd be a bit bleary but still quite capable of making his day worse than it had already become.
Thankfully he got back in time to wrap the remaining two's hands in rope. He didn't have the rope to tie their legs, unfortunately, and he didn't have the time nor hands to attempt to set them up so that he could tie them all together.
Shaking his head, Percy tossed aside the last small bit of rope and jogged back to grab his duffel. He would not let it leave his sight longer than absolutely necessary.
When he returned, two of them were already conscious and halfway through awkwardly attempting to get back onto their feet. Sure these were very athletic people capable of standing up even without their hands, but that required shifting their center of mass forwards, which was much harder to do while your arms were tied behind your back.
Walking up casually, Percy lightly kicked the two back down into the dirt. They looked miserable, the both of them. Dripping wet, breathing heavily, lying in the dirt. He could dry them off, but meh. Why bother?
Percy shook his head once again and pulled out his scroll, navigating down his short list of contacts until his thumb hovered over a contact he hadn't been sure he would ever use. With a long sigh he pressed the call button, making sure it was a video call so that he could show the headmaster proof for what he was about to ask of him.
It took quite a while until he picked up, long enough that Percy was almost convinced he wasn't going to at all. But after almost a minute of ringing the call was accepted for audio only.
"Perseus," Ozpin greeted, sounding at once indulging and like he'd just rolled out of the grave. "I'm sure you're aware of what time it is here. I do hope this is urgent."
"Ozpin," Percy greeted back, relishing the look on the now fully awake team of hunters when they heard who was on the other line. "You did say you were interested in helping me, and I get the impression you'd like to keep as many huntsmen alive as possible."
"That's correct…" Ozpin said, his voice attentive now.
"I've been offering my protection to a number of settlements across Anima. I tried to convince headmaster Lionheart not to start a conflict over it, but…"
"It didn't go well."
"He told me to shove it." Percy agreed. "And now, a few months later, it seems he finally decided to try something. I have a team of huntsmen tied up in front of me."
"A team? Of huntsmen? And not students? You're sure?"
Percy glanced at one who had a beard larger than Percy's head. "No, definitely not students. Now, I managed to keep these ones alive while subduing them, but I may not have that luxury the next time. If you could pass on a message to the headmaster I would appreciate it."
"I'll make sure Leonardo remembers his objective, and the role of huntsmen in our society. I apologise Perseus…" he took a long breath, as if to calm himself down. "If there is anything I can do to make up for this—"
"Asking Lionheart to stop will be more than enough, Ozpin. I'd just rather this all be over with."
"As for the team of huntsmen…"
Percy let out a long sigh. "I'll have to sit around for a while and send for a bullhead to pick them up. But I'll make sure they get back to Haven safely."
"Thank you Perseus. Now, if you'll excuse me I believe we both have calls to make."
Percy smirked down at the group of hunters before him. "Yes, it seems we do. Have a good night, Ozpin."
Percy reached up to scratch the scruff around his chin that could only by the loosest of definitions be called a beard.
"This them?" he asked, though it was fairly rhetorical. It very obviously was.
Before him was a small array of human-shaped drones. They were large and bulky, and from the sketches he had been shown they'd be replaced by much slimmer, more effective models in the coming years. But for now, these did more than well enough.
Each of the faceless drones had an assault rifle in hand and stood perfectly rigid in the well-lit warehouse. Everything in the room had been manufactured by Johnson and Wesserschmitt, from the drones to the rifles.
He was back in Windpath now, though you certainly wouldn't know it from looking at him. He'd been on the frontier for months, doing his best to unite the continent under one banner. He was met with mixed results to put it lightly, but between him and the many police in his employ most of the northern and western continent had been united. Argus had been left out — that would likely require going to war with Atlas, which Percy had no intention of doing — but generally, things were going much better than he could have hoped.
He hadn't received any interruptions from Lionheart since Ozpin had talked to him, and Shiro had things going steadily back in the big city. He could proudly say that his months of effort were paying off.
The outer cities were hardly goldmines when it came to lien and taxes, but they gave him a good bit of manpower when put all together. Unfortunately most of that was used to protect the small frontiers he got them from. So, they were hardly all that profitable, at least compared to controlling some land in Mistral. Speaking of which…
"How many floors are under our control now Shiro?"
"Four. Any higher and we're meeting a lot of resistance from the families. Enough that we literally can't get a foothold."
Percy nodded slowly. "And what about these drones? Think they'd be able to put a dent in the huntsmen they send after us?"
Shiro considered that for a moment, rubbing his chin.
"Nope."
"No?"
"Yeah, no. They're sending teams of huntsmen to disrupt our operations. Nothing we have, including me and you, can deal with that."
Percy hummed. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was fairly confident in his ability to take on one team of huntsmen. He was able to months ago, and that was months of training and muscle growth that he hadn't had at the time that he did now. Normally that wouldn't be such a big deal, but with his demigod physiology and Aura combined? He fancied his odds. That being said, he didn't like his odds half as much against multiple teams of huntsmen, if they decided to send them.
"Four floors isn't close to enough support to actually launch an attack on the upper floors yet. Sure we'd win if we suddenly attacked the families, but then everyone outside of those four floors wouldn't exactly be content and we'd have a mess on our hands. We can bide our time."
Shiro nodded. "I don't see much of another option. But once we clean up the southwest of the continent… what's left? We'll have every frontier on the continent. I know you well enough that you won't stop, but I think we're done here, except to bide time and wait until we're strong enough to push up a floor."
Percy allowed a small smile to creep up on his lips. "Shiro, heads or tails."
"Huh?"
Percy shook his head slightly, forgetting Remnant didn't exactly have coins with heads or tails. Didn't mean he couldn't make it work though.
"Heads, or tails. Pick one."
Shiro shrugged. "Heads, I guess."
Percy pulled out a lien chip from his pocket and flicked it into the air, and watched as it came to rest on his hand top side up. "Heads. Well, Vale it is."
"What about Vale?" Shiro furrowed his eyebrows.
"We're taking over the Valean underworld. We've done everything we can in Mistral… it's time to move on to greener pastures. How long you think it'll take to take over the Valean crime syndicates with our current resources?"
Shiro blinked owlishly. "Percy, neither of us know anything about Vale. How they operate, their culture or customs, anything about them or their crime families, or even where to find them. Now, I'm sure our network could help us with the last one, but this isn't going to be a quick process. We can't just show up in a city of tens of millions of people and… take it over. Plus, most of the villages around Vale don't have nearly as much crime. Not everywhere is like Mistral, Percy. The underworld doesn't run the country."
Percy shrugged in return. That was true for now, but if he was taught anything by the history of crime in New York, it was that any system could become controlled with enough muscle and enough money applied in just the right places. Besides, his knowledge of the American/New Yorker underworld and their customs would probably serve him greatly in Vale, which seemed to be this world's equivalent of America.
He vocalized his thoughts. "I look Ameri— Valean, don't I? And I have a bit better of a grasp of their practices than you might imagine. I just need to meet with some of the top guys down there and sort some things out. Remember what I said Shiro. Follow me—"
"—until you lose, yeah yeah I get it. You've succeeded as much as can possibly be expected in everything so far. I trust you Percy, I'm just warning you that you won't find their underworld nearly as lucrative as Mistral's."
Percy nodded his thanks. "I appreciate the heads up Shiro. I'll fly into Vale tomorrow after I clean up. The keys to the kingdom are yours."
Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Not gonna try and invade Vale like you did outer Mistral?"
Percy snorted. "Please, I'm not an idiot. I think. It'd take everything we have to go toe to toe with Vale's police force, much less their huntsmen. And that's assuming Ozpin doesn't get to me first. No, I'll emulate what I did in Mistral. And if the gangs there are as weak as you say, it should be much easier to pull a takeover. Hades, I may not need to fight at all, intimidation may do the trick."
Shiro let out a long-suffering sigh but waved him off. "I'll take your word for it, just don't get into too much trouble. In the meantime, how do you plan on convincing the Schnees to invest in these things over scroll call?"
Percy cursed, he hadn't quite considered that he'd need to actually see the Schnees in person to sell them on the idea of drones. Though thinking about it, he wouldn't exactly dread another chance to stay the night there.
"I guess I'm taking a quick trip to Atlas before heading out to Vale, then. But before that, I need a shower and a shave."
Shiro snorted. "Don't have to convince me, enjoy the fruits of civilization for a bit before heading back out again."
Percy shot him a grin, took one last glance at the automatons arrayed in front of him, and ducked out of the room. He couldn't wait for a warm shower.
"I'm telling you, it's the pragmatic thing to do!"
"And when have we ever been pragmatists? It's been our honor and our loyalty that has gotten us this far."
"We were pragmatists during the time of the king, when Mistral walked as more powerful than any other. Since then we've had only our honor and our blood. Look how far that's gotten us."
"Farther than any group of nobles in the history of Remnant! We control the kingdom on our own, not ruled over by a king, or a general, or a corporation or a council or a headmaster."
"Do we rule Mistral? Do we? Every day that boy encroaches on our territory more, and every day we rule a bit less of Mistral. Why do you think we still rule Mistral? Because our funds haven't diminished? Because if we simply look away we can pretend it isn't happening?"
"So crush the brat. Or did you want to reward him for crossing us? We've been over this, if we could just send some huntsmen—"
"Yes, we have been over this. Barely a huntsman in Mistral is willing to take our Lien anymore. You heard Lionheart, the headmasters have come to agree that any huntsman meddling in political affairs is to be declared persona-non-grata and hunted to the ends of the earth as a rogue element. Nary a huntsman on Remnant is willing to risk that sort of attention."
"'The headmasters', by which you mean Ozpin! The meddling old fool. Can't he see this isn't political? It's an invasion!"
"Not according to Ozpin, it's not. You heard just like I did about the boy meeting with Ozpin, in his emerald palace no less. He has the old man supporting him, even if indirectly. We're in no position to move against him, so that leaves us either to live with him encroaching on us, or to invite him into the fold."
"We shan't give up our dignity for a few pieces of empty land!"
"And what about the pieces of land that aren't empty? You know as well as I do that he's taken a few floors at the bottom all for himself, even if you aren't quite as concerned as I am. What about when he moves higher? The few huntsmen we can convince to take our money to look tough and our hired guns without aura won't be enough forever, and the economic power is already shifting. The factories he's creating down there are crude but effective."
"And? Do you think that if we agree to allow him to be a minor lord that he'll just hand it all over?"
"He'll have to abide by our rules, if he wishes to be one of us. He may still collect the profits, but the authority over all of Mistral will be returned to the nobility and a threat will be stopped in its tracks. He'll have no grounds to keep advancing."
"I suppose you're correct. You don't have my support, but I won't speak against you in the upcoming meeting. Let's see how it goes."
One trip to Atlas and rather successful meeting later, Percy was stepping off a bullhead at the docks in Vale. Winter had been there, and he was glad things weren't exactly awkward between them, if his staying the night had been any indication.
He mentally berated himself for getting distracted. He was in Vale now, and he had a lot to do to make sure his trip here was as short as possible. Unfortunately he didn't fancy his odds of this being an in-and-out visit. If he was being completely honest he was ready to join a local mafia here in order to get into the position he needed to. That'd require some time invested, but no more than his time at Windpath. And controlling even a good chunk of the Valean underworld? That, he could use some time on.
He began slowly following the map on his scroll to where he'd rented an apartment near the bulldocks, suitcase rolling behind him. He tried not to look too green, but Vale was so much like some of the outer parts of New York it was hard not to just stare around at some of the shops. It made him… homesick. With all the Asian, German, and vaguely Balkan culture thrown around, he'd not had a chance to really realize how much he'd become disconnected from what he used to be. Or at least, where he used to live.
But here in Vale? Here was filled with familiar sights, sights he hadn't seen in… gods, it'd been most of a year now. Businessmen apathetically walked through the streets, eyes focused straight ahead in a very quick walk — they were already late for a meeting and wouldn't suffer wasting any time with observing the sights.
Pedestrians blatantly ignored traffic laws, crossing all over the streets despite the glowing red 'don't walk yet' signs. A variety of food stands were scattered around the street, on each corner you could see a myriad of foods all being served at low prices by men and women who looked like they'd been working for the last 16 hours without a drink of water.
It was oxymoronically almost romantic in how unromantic and real it was. Things he never thought he'd miss — someone bumped him out of the way as they walked past, something he let happen with a dumb grin on his face — were suddenly flooding him with an emotion he wasn't sure he knew existed before now.
He wasn't a very nostalgic person but damn… it felt good to be home. Or at least, the closest thing he could find to it.
He made himself busy walking back towards his apartment. It was already turning evening, and he was pretty determined to get in contact with at least someone tonight. Luckily the Malachites had a pretty extensive network here, and even more luckily the Valeans were much less attached to things like honor and loyalty than the Mistralans, which meant much more of her network was intact as well.
Of course, most would never know Malachite had died — they just sent in the information that was requested of them — but it was useful to catch the stragglers nonetheless. So as soon as Percy had gotten settled in his apartment and headed back to hit the town, he knew exactly where to go to find his first target.
He had a sort of strategy for his time here in Vale. He knew that there was a good chance he couldn't just show up with a large bank account and some sick skills and convince everyone to join him. While he was proud of his abilities he didn't fancy taking on the entire Valean underworld, and bringing people from Mistral was not an option. That would gain Ozpin's attention and, very likely, ire.
No, he had to do this alone, and he couldn't brute force it. So he wanted to try the easy way first, and the hard way if that didn't work. The easy way, of course, being to wave his pocketbook around, and then if that didn't work to wave his sword around until he had the support of the underworld here. The hard way was more of a last resort, in which he'd join one of the larger gangs in Vale until he could make his way to the top. He didn't want to think about how much time that would take, so he just focused on making the easy way work.
Percy paused rather abruptly on the street, nodding apologetically to a few people who shot him dirty looks as they stumbled awkwardly to step around him.
The reason he'd 'chosen' the crime route in Mistral was because that's where all the power was there. He could become a politician and then he'd just be some warlord's puppet. Or he'd find some way to make an absurd amount of money and be muscled out by the much more violent and flexible gangs. But here, in Vale? The power lay with the politicians. The same was technically true in Atlas, though from what he'd seen it was more of an oligarchy between the Schnees and the Atlas military high command. He had the money and the Schnees — that was a nice head start in Atlas — and maybe he could even join the military down the line to get the legitimacy he needed. But in Vale all he needed to do was win a public office.
Then he remembered he was eighteen and laughed to himself. What idiot would vote for an eighteen year old with no political experience, no real business experience, and no (public) leadership experience? He might get a hundred votes if he was lucky and somehow convinced Ozpin to endorse him. But no, that was a long ways away. And even if he did manage it he'd be one councilman among what, a dozen? Maybe a little less but either way the point stood, it wouldn't do him much good when it came to guarding the relics.
Speaking of which…
He really hoped that having it in the most secure building in Windpath under triple guard was enough to keep it safe. Keeping it on himself made him anxious, especially when he wasn't out in the wilderness and couldn't realistically keep it constantly on him. If anyone that mattered knew it was there and tried to get it they could, and unfortunately there wasn't much he could do to stop that, but his largest advantage was that nobody did know it was there, not even Shiro. Hades the only one that knew he had the relic in the first place was Raven, and she was in a bandit camp miles from civilization (or scroll signal for that matter).
Percy sighed, shaking himself of his thoughts and continuing down the sidewalk. Maybe joining the Atlesian military was something to keep in mind and research later, but for now he had a schedule to hold together.
A few minutes later he made it to his destination. He was lucky a lot of the crime in the city seemed to take place near the docks, as that meant he could cut down some time. Time he would need tonight, if the easy way didn't work out.
He'd spoken with Shiro about this a little over the phone and they'd come up with a sort-of strategy. If he was going to try bullying and buying his way into the underworld, it was best to start small. A large organization was more likely to stand up to him, and a smaller one was more arrogant — less likely to take him seriously and make him pull out the stick rather than using the carrot. But one of the key differences between Vale and Mistral, is that Vale (Bless its similarities to America) was a lot more individualistic, and a lot less communal oriented. That meant that again unlike Mistral, there were some criminal empires built around individuals rather than organizations or families. So, all Percy needed to do was bully that one person into submission (or buy them out) and their very decentralized network of helpers would be his to play with.
Such was why instead of being at a known front for a mob, Percy was at a diner his target was known to frequent. (At least, by some of the contacts Malachite had in the area.)
The place was… not to Percy's taste. It was very uptown, (despite being about as downtown as you could get) and a few people gave him dirty looks when they noticed he wasn't in formal wear. Luckily he was in what he was now referring to in his head as mini-New York, so most people just didn't care. But those that did made it very clear.
It was pretty much as he expected, though. Most successful criminals, he'd found, that didn't start their own organizations tended to be a little bit less than fiscally responsible. Shrugging it off he continued past the hostess (who looked a bit offended and started signalling to someone across the room) right to the small bar. He leaned over to the bartender (who, like the rest of the staff eyed him with a very cautious curiosity) and ordered a drink.
"I'd like a Manhattan, and to know where I can find Roman Torchwick."
God im fucking tired I really wish I had time. The majority of chapter 26 (the one posted on pat-reon today) was written today, as a product of me havin like no time this weekend. Technically I don't have time right now, I should be asleep because I have to be awake in... 4 hours. Unfortunate but it's here. Huge shout out to silent on discord for editing chapter 26 at the last second so I can post this.
something something please check out discord and also pat-reon because the next chapter's already up there. Also, one of the people that was paying for a chapter cancelled literally minutes after I posted the last one. Unfortunate, but hey still 2 chapters. So now it'll be one on the first of the month, and then one on the fifteenth cause Shiro's goated and still payin for an extra chapter. Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter.
Next Chapter October 1
