Chapter 56: Dance of the Vice-Captains
"Have you finished writing the invitations, dear sister?" Florian Halcourt said, his smile not betraying a hint of his emotion.
He looked very similar to both of his siblings, with the same grey eyes and ink black hair, but cut short into a fade. Even though he was off duty, he still wore the signature robes of the Golden Dawn, and his square, steel rimmed glasses gleamed in the light of the chandeliers above them.
Zoe Halcourt didn't look up from the parchment in front of her, her quill scratching against the page in sharp, deliberate strokes. Her ink magic allowed her to write flawlessly, the letters forming with perfect precision, but the tension in her posture betrayed her irritation.
"I've finished most of them," she replied curtly, the edge in her voice clear. "But some of us have actual responsibilities beyond writing out the family's endless invitations." She paused, dipping her quill back into the inkwell. "Not all of us can spend our time drafting strategies and sitting behind a desk."
Florian's smile didn't falter, but there was a flicker of cold amusement in his eyes as he leaned against the grand oak table. He adjusted his glasses with a measured hand, the faint clink of metal against metal echoing in the room.
"Ah, yes. Responsibilities. Such as brooding in the library or sketching those little drawings in your notebook?" he said, his tone perfectly polite but layered with condescension. "Tell me, Zoe, when do those activities translate into anything practical?"
Zoe's quill paused mid-stroke. She turned her head to look at him, her grey eyes sharp and narrowed. "I'm sorry, Florian. Were you under the impression that being an insufferable know-it-all counted as practical?"
Florian chuckled softly, but the sound lacked warmth. "Better a know-it-all than a sentimental dreamer who thinks the world revolves around her 'art.' Do you think Ink Magic alone will ever make you stand out? Do you think you'll ever be as good as Anastacia?"
The name hit like a thunderclap, and Zoe's fingers tightened around her quill. She looked back at the parchment, pretending his words didn't sting, pretending she hadn't heard that comparison her entire life.
"And here we go again," she muttered under her breath. "Do you ever tire of bringing her up?"
"Not when it's relevant," Florian replied smoothly. "Anastacia may be blunt, but at least she's reliable. She doesn't waste her time sulking when there's work to be done."
Zoe slammed the quill down, the tip snapping under her grip. Black ink splattered across the parchment, marring her perfect lettering. She stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she pushed it back, and rounded on Florian.
"Reliable?" she hissed, her voice low but trembling with anger. "You mean the sister who vanishes for weeks on end without so much as a word? The one who lets everyone else clean up her messes because she's too busy playing the 'hero'? If that's your definition of reliable, then you're even more deluded than I thought."
Florian's smile faded, replaced by a steely expression that made him seem colder than ever. "Watch your tongue, Zoe," he said, his voice dropping into something more dangerous. "Anastacia earned her rank. Her absence is no excuse for your bitterness."
Zoe crossed her arms, glaring at him with defiance. "Bitterness? Or maybe I'm just sick of the both of you treating me like I'll never measure up. At least I'm here, Florian. Can you say the same for her?"
There was a heavy silence between them, the only sound the faint crackle of the chandelier's enchanted candles. Florian's eyes bore into hers, the air thick with unspoken accusations and old wounds.
Finally, he exhaled, pushing away from the table and straightening his robes. Adjusting his glasses once more, he turned back to Zoe, his tone clipped and icy.
"Where the hell even is Anastacia, anyways?"
…
Pulling hair.
That was what Anastacia Halcourt was doing. Pulling the hair of her fellow vice captain Frida Mertens.
"Wench!" she yelled, her usually pale complexion red with anger.
"Hussy!" Frida retorted, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she tugged particularly hard on Frida's hair.
"Bitch!"
"Hooker!"
"Bimbo!"
"Whore!"
"That's the same thing, you dumbass!" Anastacia yelled. Frida simply pushed her away and summoned Hannibal's Blade, her temper again reaching critical levels.
"I've had just about enough of you!" she declared, her blade glinting menacingly in the evening light.
The tension between Anastacia Halcourt and Frida Mertens was practically palpable as the two Vice Captains stood in the clearing, glaring daggers at each other. Anastacia's crimson armour glinted in the fading evening light, her gauntlets clenched into fists, while Frida's Silver Eagle robes were dishevelled, her brown hair slightly mussed from their earlier brawl.
"Admit it, Mertens," Anastacia growled, stepping closer, her voice dripping with contempt. "You intentionally took the left flank because you knew I'd planned to lead from there."
Frida rolled her eyes, adjusting her hair with deliberate nonchalance. "Oh, please. I took the left flank because someone had to do it, and I didn't see you stepping up to the plate. Too busy playing 'commander' with no strategy."
"No strategy?" Anastacia's voice rose as her hands tightened into fists. "I had a strategy, you pretentious hack! You just can't follow orders unless they come out of your own damn mouth!"
Frida smirked, folding her arms. "Maybe if your plans weren't as rigid as your magic, I'd actually consider them. But no, you just bark orders and expect everyone to fall in line like they're your pawns."
"Ladies," came a drawling, disdainful voice from the side. Hugo Vance, the Vice Captain of the Aqua Deer, stood leaning against a large boulder, his signature White Sand Magic swirling lazily at his feet. His Aqua Deer robes were spotless, his entire demeanour exuding smug confidence. "As entertaining as it is watching you two try to outwit each other with the finesse of squabbling street vendors, we do have a mission to complete."
Anastacia turned on him, her fiery anger now redirected. "Stay out of it, Vance! Unless you want a piece of this, too."
Hugo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "A piece of what, exactly? Your temper tantrum? Please. The wyvern might already be dead from boredom if it's been listening to this nonsense."
Frida snorted in amusement, but Hugo's smirk faltered as she added, "At least I don't have to rely on sand to make myself look useful. What's next, Hugo? A sandcastle?"
Hugo's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Mertens. If you want a demonstration of 'usefulness,' I'd be happy to oblige."
"Would you all shut up?" Langris Vaude's icy voice cut through the growing argument like a blade. The Golden Dawn Vice Captain stood a short distance away, arms crossed, his expression one of utter disdain. He leaned casually against a jagged rock, but the glint in his eyes suggested he wasn't far from losing his patience. "Your bickering is pathetic. Honestly, it's no wonder they had to send five Vice Captains for this. Apparently, none of you can focus on anything except your egos."
Anastacia bristled at his tone. "Big talk, Vaude, coming from someone whose entire personality revolves around being insufferable."
Langris's smirk turned razor-sharp. "Better insufferable than incompetent. I didn't realise the Crimson Lions had started recruiting theatre performers."
Before Anastacia could respond, a faint rustling in the underbrush signalled the arrival of the last member of their group. Fransiska "Fani" Granvorka appeared, hurrying toward them with her grimoire clutched tightly against her chest. Her long Purple Orcas robe was slightly askew, and her long golden hair was tangled from the trek through the forest. Her timid gaze darted between the group, clearly dreading what was coming.
"You're late, Granvorka," Hugo snapped immediately, his voice cold and sharp. "Do you even understand the concept of time, or is that asking too much?"
Langris let out a derisive laugh. "She barely understands how to cast a spell, let alone show up on time."
Frida rolled her eyes. "This mission is hard enough without having to babysit someone who can't even handle basic communication."
Anastacia chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "At this rate, the wyvern might actually eat her before she even opens her grimoire."
Fani stood frozen, her usual fear evident in her trembling hands. For a moment, it seemed like she'd shrink back into her shell as usual. But then something changed. She straightened her back, her grip on her grimoire tightening, and when she looked up, there was a spark of defiance in her eyes.
"Y-you think you're all so perfect, don't you?!" Fani stammered, her voice shaking at first but growing stronger with each word. "Hugo, you're so full of yourself, I'm surprised there's room for air in your lungs! If you spent half as much time working as you do preening, you might actually be useful."
Hugo's mouth fell open, stunned into silence.
"And Langris," Fani continued, turning on him, "your superiority complex is so big, it's amazing the planet doesn't revolve around you. Maybe if you stopped looking down on everyone, you'd actually be tolerable!"
Langris's eyes widened, shock and fury warring on his face. He raised his hand, then decided to put it down, remembering Kaiser.
"And Frida," Fani said, rounding on the Silver Eagle, "you're so busy criticising everyone else that you haven't even noticed your hair looks like a dead ferret. So maybe focus on yourself for once."
Frida gasped, her hand flying to her hair.
Finally, Fani turned to Anastacia. "And you. You act like you're above everyone else, but all I see is someone too insecure to let anyone else take the lead. Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with control, people might actually respect you!"
The clearing was dead silent. Even Kirsch Vermillion, who had been quietly observing the chaos with an amused smile, raised an eyebrow in surprise. Then he gave a slow, mocking clap.
"Bravo, Fransiska. Truly, you've brought some much-needed colour to this otherwise dull dispute."
"Shut up, Kirsch!" everyone yelled in unison, including Fani.
The argument reignited, louder and more chaotic than before, as insults flew back and forth. No one noticed the shadow looming over them until an ear-splitting roar tore through the clearing.
The wyvern landed with a thunderous crash, its crimson scales gleaming like molten metal, golden eyes blazing with fury. It bared its razor-sharp teeth and lashed its tail, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.
"Well," Hugo drawled, summoning his White Sand Magic into a swirling barrier around himself. "At least now we have something productive to argue about."
The wyvern roared, a deafening sound that shook the ground beneath their feet and sent birds scattering from the trees. Its crimson scales glistened in the dimming light, and its massive wings beat the air with enough force to stir up gusts that made the mages squint. The tension from their earlier argument lingered, but the beast's sudden charge forced them to focus.
"Move!" Anastacia shouted, her voice cutting through the din as she stepped forward, her grimoire glowing with power. Without hesitation, she raised her arm, calling out her spell.
"Armament Magic: Cannonball!"
A massive, gleaming steel cannonball materialised in front of her, brimming with raw mana. With a sharp motion, she thrust her hand forward, sending the projectile hurtling toward the wyvern like a meteor. The impact struck the creature square in the chest, forcing it back with a screech. The ground trembled under the force of the blow, but the wyvern only staggered, quickly recovering as its golden eyes locked on Anastacia.
"Someone follow up!" she barked, dodging as the wyvern's tail swept toward her, its spiked tip ripping through the earth where she had just stood.
Langris stepped forward, his expression cold and calculating. His grimoire flipped open beside him, glowing with golden light. Without a word, he extended his hand, and shimmering energy began to coalesce in the air.
"Spatial Magic: Archangel's Severance."
A radiant portal opened above the wyvern, light pouring from its edges as several shimmering blades of pure spatial energy descended. Each blade was precise, slicing through the wyvern's wings and forcing it to the ground with a pained roar. One blade pierced deep into the beast's side, causing blood to spurt in a glowing arc. The wyvern writhed, its movements growing more frenzied as it struggled to rise.
"Don't think you've won yet," Langris muttered, his gaze sharp.
"Enough with the theatrics," Hugo Vance said, stepping up with a smirk, his white sand already swirling around him. His grimoire glowed as the sandstorm intensified, whipping around him in a cyclone of mana-infused particles.
"White Sand Magic: Desert's Embrace!"
The sand surged forward like living vines, wrapping around the wyvern's limbs and wings. It roared in frustration, thrashing as the sand tightened, immobilising it in place. The creature's claws scraped against the ground, trying to dig itself free, but the sand only constricted further.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Hugo taunted, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Frida Mertens rolled her eyes at his attitude, stepping into the fray with a flourish of her grimoire. "Honestly, such barbaric methods," she muttered, her amethyst eyes gleaming as she raised her hand.
"Amethyst Crystal Magic: Shattering Voile!"
A massive crystal appeared above the wyvern, its surface catching the fading sunlight like a prism. With a deafening crack, it shattered into hundreds of razor-sharp shards, each one glowing with violet energy. The shards rained down on the wyvern in a deadly cascade, piercing its scales and pinning parts of its body to the ground. It screeched in pain, its tail thrashing wildly as blood spattered the earth.
"Elegant and effective," Frida said smugly, already preparing another spell.
On the other side of the battlefield, Fani Granvorka hesitated for a moment, her trembling hands clutching her grimoire. But the wyvern's roar snapped her focus, and she squared her shoulders, determination hardening her features. Her golden hair began to writhe, infused with mana as she chanted her spell.
"Hair Magic: Golden Drill!"
Her hair elongated and twisted, forming massive, drill-like constructs that spun with deadly speed. With a shout, she launched them at the wyvern, each drill tearing into its exposed wounds and burrowing deep into its flesh. The wyvern roared in agony, its massive tail whipping toward her, but Fani leapt aside with surprising agility, her drills retracting just in time.
"Not bad for someone who stutters, huh?" she muttered under her breath, a small, triumphant smile creeping onto her face.
Kirsch Vermillion, who had been watching with an air of calm amusement, finally decided it was time to act. His grimoire floated beside him, emanating a soft pink glow as he stepped forward.
"Well, it seems the amateurs have warmed it up. Shall we, Vance?"
Hugo shot him an annoyed glance but nodded, the sand around him swirling more fiercely. "Fine. Just don't slow me down, Vermillion."
The two Vice Captains began to chant their spells simultaneously, their mana intertwining in a dazzling display of power.
"White Sand Magic: Celestial Purge!" Hugo called out, his sandstorm intensifying.
"Cherry Blossom Magic: Crimson Requiem!" Kirsch echoed, his blossoms glowing a fiery crimson as they swirled into the mix.
The combined spell created a storm of sand and cherry blossoms that enveloped the wyvern, grinding and slashing at its already battered body. The creature shrieked, its movements growing sluggish as the storm tore through its tough scales and left deep gashes in its flesh. The battlefield was bathed in a crimson glow as the spell reached its peak, the wyvern collapsing under the relentless assault.
"Magnificent, as always," Kirsch said, flipping his hair dramatically.
"Shut up," Hugo muttered, though he couldn't hide a small, smug grin.
"Let's finish this!" Anastacia shouted, her fiery determination reigniting as she raised her hand. The others followed suit, each of them preparing their final attacks. Langris summoned another wave of spatial blades, Frida unleashed another barrage of crystal shards, Fani's hair drills struck deep into the wyvern's weakened body, and Hugo and Kirsch's combined magic intensified one final time.
The wyvern let out one last, ear-splitting roar before collapsing with a ground-shaking crash. The air grew still, the beast's massive form lying motionless as the dust settled around them.
Anastacia wiped sweat from her brow, turning to the others with a satisfied smirk. "Well, that was chaotic," she said, though her tone carried a hint of respect.
Fani let out a shaky breath, her hands still trembling, but there was a newfound confidence in her eyes.
"Impressive," Frida said, her tone begrudging. "For a Purple Orca."
Fani shot her a glare but didn't bother responding.
"Let's just grab the core and get this over with," Langris said, brushing dust off his pristine robes.
The group nodded, setting aside their grudges for the moment as they turned their attention to the wyvern's massive, glowing core.
The air around the wyvern's massive form was thick with the scent of scorched earth and blood, but it was the faint hum emanating from the core that caught their attention. As the group approached the glowing orb embedded in the wyvern's chest, its light began to pulse rhythmically, sending faint waves of mana rippling outward.
"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Anastacia asked, narrowing her eyes as she lowered her weapon.
"No," Langris said curtly, stepping closer. "Cores don't hum, and they definitely don't pulse like this. Something's off."
The core was an unusually vivid crimson, its surface swirling like molten glass. A faint symbol—intricate and unfamiliar—hovered just beneath its surface, rotating slowly as though it were alive.
Frida's amethyst eyes narrowed as she examined it, her grimoire floating at her side. "This isn't natural. It looks like… a spell matrix. But why would a wyvern's core have something like this?"
Hugo scoffed, though even he looked wary. "Probably just residual mana from its overgrown body. Nothing to worry about."
"Residual mana doesn't form symbols," Kirsch said sharply, surprising everyone with his sudden seriousness. He stepped closer, his hand brushing his grimoire as a precaution. "That's advanced magic—someone put this here."
"Someone?" Fani's voice was barely above a whisper, her golden hair shifting slightly with her unease. "You mean… it was m-m-man-made?"
Before anyone could respond, the core began to glow brighter, its pulse accelerating. A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and making their skin crawl.
"Step back!" Anastacia barked, her arm snapping out to pull Fani behind her.
The group retreated several paces, their grimoires opening in unison as the core's glow became blinding. Suddenly, the symbol inside twisted and locked into place, emitting a sharp, high-pitched sound. Cracks began to spiderweb across the core's surface, leaking tendrils of dark, inky mana that writhed unnaturally in the air.
"That's not mana," Frida said, her voice uncharacteristically tense. "It's something else."
"Corruption," Langris said, his tone clipped. "I've seen this kind of magic before. It's forbidden."
The ground beneath the wyvern's body began to tremble as the cracks deepened, and the inky mana began to pool, forming a growing void around the core.
"What kind of lunatic would implant forbidden magic into a wyvern?" Hugo demanded, his sand swirling defensively around him.
"Someone who wanted to use it as a weapon," Frida replied, her grimoire glowing as she prepared another spell. "This isn't just a core—it's a bomb."
Before they could react further, the core shattered completely, releasing a wave of corrupted mana that knocked them off their feet. The wyvern's corpse convulsed, its body twitching unnaturally as the black mana seeped into its wounds, filling them with a dark, pulsating glow.
"No, no, no," Fani stammered, scrambling to her feet. "It's still alive?! Or—something's making it move!"
"It's reanimating," Anastacia growled, summoning another cannonball with her magic. "This thing isn't going down without a fight."
"Then we destroy it for good this time," Langris said coldly, his grimoire glowing fiercely. "No mercy."
The reanimated wyvern let out a guttural, unnatural roar, its once lifeless eyes now glowing a sickly black-green. It rose shakily to its feet, the corrupted mana oozing from its wounds and swirling around it like a living shroud.
"Stay sharp," Kirsch said, his usual flamboyance replaced with grim determination. "Whatever this is, it's not like anything we've faced before."
The wyvern's bloodshot eyes locked onto the group, its jaws snapping shut with a horrifying screech as it charged once more, the corrupted mana surrounding it like a storm. Just as it seemed about to strike, a powerful surge of mana flooded the battlefield. A distinct, oppressive pressure filled the air, and the wyvern froze mid-lunge, its body trembling as if it had encountered an insurmountable force.
From the shadows, a woman stepped forward, her presence sharp enough to cut through the tension. She was tall, with bright light green hair that stopped just beneath her shoulders. Her icy blue eyes glinted with a cold intensity, a calculating look that made the air around her crackle with unease. Her lips were curved in a smile that was far too thin, her skin unnaturally pale, and every step she took was deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.
Her name was Irina Halloway, Vice Captain of the Blue Rose, and her very presence sent a chill down the spine of everyone present.
"Stop," she commanded simply, her voice smooth and almost sweet, yet laced with an undercurrent of malice.
The wyvern froze in place, its massive claws suspended mid-strike as the acid magic swirling around Irina began to take form. Her grimoire fluttered open, and a pulse of toxic green light poured from the pages, the air crackling as the acid seemed to eat away at the very fabric of the space around her.
Irina extended her hand, her fingers flexing delicately as she cast her spell.
"Acid Magic: Corrosive Embrace."
A blinding wave of acid surged forward, sweeping across the wyvern. The creature's body began to hiss and steam as the acid ate away at its corrupted flesh, reducing it to a molten, twisted mass. The wyvern screamed, but the magic didn't let up. Within moments, its form disintegrated into a pile of blackened remains, leaving nothing but the stench of burning flesh and the echo of its final cries.
Irina lowered her hand, her smile never faltering. Her eyes flicked briefly to Kirsch, who stood frozen at the sight of her, his face pale, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.
"I-Irina…" Kirsch stammered, his voice cracking. He instinctively stepped back, his body instinctively trying to distance itself from her.
Irina's gaze softened slightly, but the gleam of obsession in her eyes never wavered. She tilted her head, studying him with an unsettling intensity.
"I don't know what you mean, Kirsch," she purred, her smile widening as she took a step closer to him. "But I'm glad I could make it in time… to help. After all, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."
Kirsch visibly shuddered, his eyes darting around the group for a way to escape. His hands twitched, his body betraying his panic.
Frida, who had been watching the whole exchange, couldn't help but smirk. She crossed her arms, the smirk spreading to a full, knowing grin.
"Irina," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's been so long. How's your infatuation with Kirsch doing? Still obsessed with him, I take it?"
Irina's cold gaze snapped to Frida, her smile faltering for just a moment before it returned with even more intensity. Her icy eyes bore into Frida's, but Frida didn't flinch.
"Oh, Frida…" Irina murmured, her voice practically sing-song. "I'm sure Kirsch appreciates your little games. I just wish I could understand… why you think you can win him over when you know I'm the one he's destined for."
Kirsch flinched visibly, the tension in his body becoming even more pronounced. His eyes flicked desperately between Irina and Frida, his mind screaming for an escape from this tense situation. He knew all too well that Irina's obsession with him went far beyond mere admiration, but he couldn't deny the creeping fear that she might one day act on it.
Frida, enjoying the small victory she had over the situation, leaned back with a smug smile. "Oh, Irina, don't be so dramatic. Kirsch and I have been getting along just fine." She glanced at Kirsch, who was now sweating profusely, and her smirk only grew. "He seems to appreciate my company more than yours, I think."
Irina's gaze flicked to Kirsch once more, her icy stare hardening as she gave him a look that could freeze fire. Internally, she clenched her fists, her obsession with him tightening like a vice. She wouldn't let anyone—especially not Frida—take him from her. Not when she had already decided he would be hers.
But for now, she merely smiled again, albeit a little too wide.
"Well, Frida, I suppose you can enjoy your time with him for now. But don't get too comfortable." She turned, her voice taking on a more sinister tone as she spoke over her shoulder. "Things always work out in the end, and Kirsch will see the truth, just as he always has. He belongs with me."
With a final, lingering glance at Kirsch, Irina turned and walked away, her presence leaving a palpable weight in the air. The others, still reeling from the confrontation, remained silent.
Frida, however, couldn't resist. "Looks like someone's got a crush," she teased, the playful glint in her eye not fooling anyone.
Kirsch, desperate to change the subject, immediately snapped to attention. "We need to get moving," he said, his voice shaky. "Before—before anything else happens."
Fani, who had been quietly observing the scene, couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The vice captains were terrifying, in their own ways, but she couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot worse—especially with Irina still watching, hidden behind her cold demeanour.
"I'm heading back to base," Langris sighed. "This was ridiculous."
"Seconded," Hugo said. "They should have just sent my subordinates."
"Stay safe, Fransiska," Anastacia said mockingly, hopping on her broom and heading off.
Fani huffed. I never wanna become a vice captain, if the ego guaranteed comes with it, she thought, hopping onto her own broom.
All six vice captains gathered there sneezed unanimously.
A/N: I couldn't wait to drop this chapter, it was so fun to write!
The vice captains are such an underutilised concept in Black Clover, so in this fic I wanted to change that.