The next chapter is here! And I'm telling everyone once more. Our Grammer is still not great. So, read this knowing our specific flow.
I also want to mention how we do not accept offers regarding our fanfiction. We only do this when we have time, we don't have time to worry about the story when our life is already exhausting enough. We got older and one of us got married, so we apologize for not replying to you. Yes, busy enough to even look at our phones most of the time.
Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: We do not own any Franchise. We just love being imaginative.
Chapter – 2
drip*
drop*
"…"
The air in the room was a damp, heavy blanket, clinging to the cold concrete walls that wept with condensation. A single, flickering bulb sputtered overhead, its weak light casting long, dancing shadows that writhed along the floor. In the center of this depressing space, a young man sat chained to a rusty metal chair. The steel shackles had left crimson imprints on his wrists, and his eyes, though weary, burned with a stubborn defiance that seemed to mock the very room itself.
The silence was broken by an annoyed voice. "Now, tell me who you are and what you are. Then we can talk about your situation," the interrogator said. He was a man of unremarkable height with an ego that seemed to inflate to compensate. He sat across from the young man, a smug grin playing on his lips as he tapped his finger impatiently on the table. "Glaring at me like that doesn't resolve your situation. Now… tell me! So, I can report to the master that my action the prior day was not of my own volition."
"I don't even know what you're talking about," the prisoner responded, his voice laced with frustration at the absurdity of his situation.
"Agh! Enough, just answer me already!" the interrogator snapped, slamming his hand on the table with a resounding bam! He believed he was a master of psychological manipulation, but he clearly underestimated the resolve of the young man before him. "Do you think this is a joke? Do you think you can get away after what you did to one of those under the noble Landou family? You commoner!"
He stood up, his grin widening as he approached the prisoner with a showy swagger. grab! He plucked at the young man's fox-like ear, intending to instill fear, but received only a slight, irritated twitch in response.
"…." the young man remained silent.
"Huh? What did you say?" The interrogator taunted, his smile now a cruel, sickening thing.
"Let go," the young prisoner's voice was low, but a dangerous current ran beneath its surface.
"I can't hear you. Is mentioning the esteemed Landou scared you? Pfft! Pathetic." The interrogator continued his mocking, blissfully unaware he was poking a caged beast.
"I said," The chains rattled as the young man pushed himself up from the chair. The sound alone spoke of their weight and restraint, yet he moved as if they were little more than ribbon. His height, once concealed by the low chair, now towered over the interrogator, whose hand still held his ear. "Let go of my ear!"
The interrogator felt a jolt of fear- ! He hadn't anticipated such pressure, such simmering rage. His hand released its grip as he stumbled back, his eyes wide with a dawning horror at the figure now looming over him. The young man was a storm of furious tension, his body straining against the heavy chains, multiple spectral forms pushing against the metal constraints.
click! The interrogator frantically grabbed a remote from the table, his hands trembling as he pressed a button. The chains tightened with a metallic screech, wrapping around the young man, pinning him into a rigid, agonizing lock.
"Guards! Guards! Get in here and lock him up!" the interrogator shrieked, scrambling to hide under the table.
Two men, clad in light armor, entered the room on his call. Their faces showed a distinct lack of enthusiasm as they wordlessly went to lift the struggling young man, each holding one of his chained arms with relative ease but annoyance. They've seen many similar situations before, always the same.
"Look at what you made me do, you monster!" The interrogator peeked out from under the table, his gaze fixed on the young man as he was being carried away. "Not only did you kidnap me, but you also tried to kill me here! I tried to be understanding, but you forced my hand, punk!"
"Grrr!" The young man's head turned, his eyes locking with the interrogator and a wave of pure hostility radiating from them.
"Ah!" The interrogator's legs seemed to give out beneath him as he collapsed once more. For a fleeting moment, his eyes had seemed to change, morphing into something feral and terrifying as the young man sent a dangerous directed gaze at him. He was the only one who saw it, his expression a mix of fear and something else, something unidentifiable.
"Get him out of here quickly! He must be a fragmentum monster, don't let your eyes off him for a second! The master will hear of this!" he stammered, desperation replacing his earlier smugness. The young man was a frightening unknown, and he wanted him gone. He was not a simple commoner… he was something else, something dangerous.
The chill of the stone floor seeped through his thin trousers, a constant reminder of his predicament. Once more, another dark place. A cellar under a large house, rows of cells designed for holding people, for keeping them subdued. This was his reality, once again. The heavy locks and chains on each of his limbs felt like a second skin, cold and restricting.
growl
"Ugh… Could've at least left something to eat," he grumbled, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence. His stomach churned with a familiar ache, a stark contrast to the exotic, if slightly unsettling, snails he had feasted on days ago.
"…"
"Did they just leave me here?" He scanned the corridor visible from his cell, but found it empty. No guards, no sign of life.
"…"
"Hey! I thought you guys were supposed to watch me!" he called out, but his voice seemed to dissolve into the silence, leaving him with the unsettling feeling that he was truly alone.
"…"
True to his word, or lack thereof, the guards had simply locked him in, securely bound him, and quietly vanished while he'd been ranting about the injustice of it all.
"I WANT RAMEN!" He roared, the word ripped from him by a combination of hunger and frustration.
The silence of the dungeon was a heavy blanket, cold and damp, the kind that could drive a person to madness.
drip
"Damn it," tears began to well up in his eyes. He was tired, achingly hungry, and felt the weight of helplessness pressing down on him. He couldn't even muster the strength to lift a limb, even if the restraints were to mysteriously disappear.
"What's Ramen?" a soft voice echoed, breaking the oppressive silence. A teenage girl, with bright blue eyes and short blonde hair stood before his cell. She wore a simple white blouse, a skirt reaching her knees, and leggings, as if she were prepared for the very cold cellar. She was small, almost dainty, he thought, though his perspective might have been skewed, what with him being suspended in the air for the time being.
"sniff Huh?" He quickly wiped at his eyes, trying to hide any trace of the vulnerability he'd momentarily fallen victim to. "Who are you?"
"…"
She was silent for a moment, taking him in from head to toe, assessing him like an unusual specimen.
"Ah, hello? I said –!"
"You were crying, weren't you?" she interrupted, her face breaking into a small, knowing smile that was somehow both innocent and mischievous.
"Ack! No, I wasn't. I just… you know, the dust in here." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he scrambled for a pathetic lie.
"The cells aren't dusty, they're damp," she pointed out with a gentle amusement.
"Right, right, the dampness of the room draws me to tears," he insisted, his face contorting into an absurd mask of denial. He cringed internally; why was it so frustrating to talk to her? Still, her expression told him that there might be hope in this situation, for a bit.
"Pfft! Hahaha. Ha… Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself," she clutched at her waist, her small frame shaking with laughter, thoroughly enjoying his frantic attempts at saving face.
"Yeah… real funny. So, who are you again?" he asked, his face still burning with mortification and a touch of annoyance.
"Sorry. I was surprised, so I forgot to introduce myself," she said, her earlier amusement fading into genuine curiosity as she looked at the unusual prisoner in her family's dungeon.
growl
"Do you have anything to eat? Cause I don't care who you are anymore. I need food," the pain of hunger returned, sharp and demanding. He was nearing his breaking point, and that was never a good thing.
"Rude, when a refined and cute girl like me is in your presence. Shouldn't you be a little more reserved? I was about to tell you, my name," she said, attempting a regal bearing despite her young age. She'd been taught so many things, and while most of it hadn't particularly resonated, she still felt it necessary to maintain a certain level of decorum.
blink
blink
silence
"Say something!" she exclaimed, feeling a sting of embarrassment at his unresponsive attitude.
"…" he simply stared back at her, his expression a mixture of desperation and pleading.
"Oh, you did mention hunger," she said, her eyes widening with sudden realization. She quickly opened the door to his cell and unlocked the chains that held him suspended. He fell to the ground with a loud thud, startling her.
"He wasn't lying. Now, I feel guilty," she muttered, witnessing the painful fall from her vantage point.
She gently helped him onto the dungeon floor, then opened a snack bar she'd been carrying and offered it to him.
munch
"Wow, it's good!" he exclaimed, feeling a flicker of energy returning. He sat beside her and promptly devoured the rest of the snack. "You see, I've been eating only weird stuff I found around that freezing place. By far, this is the best I've ever had."
"Really? That's strange, is there anything you like other than those?" she asked, genuinely curious about his tastes.
"Tree bark," he replied without looking at her, still focused on the last remnants of the snack.
"…"
"It does take time to chew it but that taste of nothing was way better than the others." He responded as if it was the most natural thing he had been doing. He meticulously picked at the last remnants of the stale, flavorless crackers she had begrudgingly offered him – emergency rations meant for dire situations. His statement hung in the small, dusty storage room, thick with the scent of damp earth and forgotten supplies.
"Right…" She shifted uncomfortably, the metal of a hidden dagger cold against her thigh. "Here, this is some chestnut juice. It should give you more proteins and the necessary nutrients. I insist." Hearing more of his predicament, the girl, no older than sixteen, carefully handed him a small, stoppered flask. It was part of her personal stash, something she'd bartered a valuable trinket for, but his hollow cheeks and the almost unsettling calmness in his eyes sparked a pang of empathy.
"Thanks!" He accepted the flask with surprising grace, his face lighting up with a genuine, if fleeting, joy. He tilted his head back and drained the juice in several long gulps, the action far too swift for such a small container. A faint chestnut aroma lingered in the air.
The girl didn't want to know what kind of life he was living since she had a gist of an idea. The stark realities of poverty weren't abstract concepts within the labyrinthine undercity she called home. She had seen the gaunt faces, the desperate measures, the hollow echoes of hunger. She felt a little lucky, a little shielded in her relative comfort, and a sharp sting of guilt pricked at her conscience as she watched the boy beside her.
"Phew! That filled me up," he declared, a hand going to his stomach. "So, you got any ramen?"
"…" She blinked, genuinely surprised. He had devoured the meager rations and the nutrient-rich drink with an almost alarming efficiency. It was as if he hadn't eaten in days. "What's even a ramen?" she asked, the word foreign on her tongue.
"Don't know." He replied, a shrug accompanying his answer. The girl looked at him, a frown deepening on her brow. Was he being deliberately obtuse? Asking for something he couldn't even define? The situation was growing increasingly bizarre.
"Okay, now then, if you sated your hunger. You can get out of this place." She gestured towards the heavy, reinforced door. Her initial sympathy was beginning to fray, replaced by a prickle of unease.
"Right!" With a happy grin that suggested he'd just won a grand prize, the young man stood up. As he did, a subtle shift occurred. The fabric of his worn trousers tightened, and a series of what she had initially mistaken for dark belts or decorative straps around his waist twitched and lifted. Four distinct, sleek tails, his messy hair, rose and swished gently behind him, like curious cats.
"I have to ask, you're human, right?" The question escaped her lips before she could stop it, her eyes fixed on the mesmerizing movement of the tails.
"If you're one then shouldn't I be one too?" He tilted his head, genuinely confused.
"…" The girl was once more flabbergasted at his blunt reply, which completely lacked the comprehension she expected. He looked… human, superficially. Aside from the obvious.
"No, no, no, no." She shook her head, trying to make him understand.
"What? I don't look any different than you do. So, what's wrong?" He gestured vaguely at himself, a picture of bewildered innocence.
"No." She insisted, pointing at her own head.
"?" He looked even more confused.
"Look at my head, and look at yours. I don't have animal ears sticking out of mine. Not to mention, your tails, and they are even moving on their own like a usable limb." She gestured emphatically towards his posterior.
"Ah… don't you have one?" He glanced back at his tails as if noticing them for the first time that day.
The girl pointed at the stark differences, her voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and morbid curiosity. Yet, the young man simply didn't seem to grasp the significance, replying with a subtle, almost bland answer.
"Can I touch them?" She couldn't help but ask, her hand instinctively reaching out.
"No." He said quickly, pulling away slightly.
"…" She paused, her fingers hovering in the air.
"Hey, hey, hey! That's sensitive!" He yelped as her fingers brushed the base of one of his tails despite his warning.
"It's actually so soft. It's even more soft than anything I've ever touched. How did you do it?!" While gently grasping two of his tails, ignoring his protests, the girl invaded his personal space, her eyes wide with fascination. "Did you use some homemade ingredient that only you know, cause all this hair isn't cleaning itself?"
"Ah… let's focus on the moment." He gently disengaged her, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. "Anyway, about getting out of this place."
"Oh, right, sorry, it's been a while since I talked to someone without holding back. Hehe… let's see." The girl, regaining her composure, then explained the path he needed to take, a convoluted route through the undercity tunnels. He listened intently, though she could see a flicker of confusion in his eyes as she detailed the specific turns and landmarks. In the end, sensing his struggle, she offered to help guide him.
"Okay," Finally getting out of the cramped cell, the girl started guiding him towards the exit entrance to the creepy dungeon-like place, the heavy iron door groaning on its hinges behind them. "My name is Serval Landou, what's yours?"
"…" He paused, his brow furrowed.
"I don't know."
Shut!
Serval stopped dead in her tracks, nearly tripping over a loose stone.
"Wait, why are you locking yourself back in!?" She watched in disbelief as the young man walked back into the cell and sat on the rough-hewn bench, folding his arms. Facing away from her, his shoulders were stiff, his tails held rigidly still.
"You said Landou."
"So?" She asked, bewildered by his sudden change in demeanor.
"The guy who threw me in here said something about the 'great noble Landou' and names like 'commoner'. What the hell does that even mean!? All I can say is that first impression isn't good enough to trust someone." His voice was low, a hint of suspicion finally coloring his otherwise blank expressions. The naive facade seemed to have cracked, revealing a cautiousness born of harsh experience. The softness of his tails, she realized, was a far cry from the hardened shell he was now displaying.
"…"
With a sigh that carried the weight of unspoken frustrations, she slid down the cold metal, eventually settling on the rough stone floor, her knees drawn to her chest.
"The life of a noble isn't all that great, you know," she muttered to the damp, silent air of her cell. Being here, confined within these stone walls, paradoxically brought those familiar pressures back with stinging clarity. It was a strange kind of freedom, this isolation. No grand halls, no forced smiles, just the echo of her own thoughts, many of them bitter.
The memories surfaced unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. Her father's booming voice, laced with disappointed expectation. "Especially when you are expected to be so much more when even your best is mediocre in their eyes. Relinquished those hobbies of yours and joined the other distinguished children of our peers. What are you thinking about, Serval? Listen and understand the great contribution our family has made to our civilization. How long are you going to keep making these trinkets? There are better ways of spending your time."
"Always the same thing," she whispered, her voice tight with remembered indignation. "Can't they ever leave me alone? So, what if I like taking out mechanical items and reconstructing them? Or even wear something loose and comfortable instead of those overly decorated dresses. This is my life too, you know."
A tear escaped and traced a cold path down her cheek. She scrubbed at it angrily. "Sorry that a noble girl like me keeps talking about herself when you have your own stuff to worry about," she added, a self-deprecating sniffle punctuating the silence.
For a long moment, only the drip of unseen water broke the quiet. Then, a soft gasp escaped her lips as she was suddenly lifted from the ground. Not by rough hands, but by something surprisingly gentle. She blinked upwards to see not a guard's stern face, but the concerned expression of a young man with a pair of sleek, fox tails that had encircled her waist. They were surprisingly warm, and one of them delicately wiped away the stray tear clinging to her lash. He gently lowered her back to her feet.
"I… should also apologize," he said, his voice hushed with guilt. His gaze darted around the cell, then back to her. "There was really no need for me to doubt you."
His brow furrowed, and he avoided her eyes. "You came out of nowhere and even gave me food without threatening or interrogating me, unlike that other guy. You even promised to help me escape. I'm sorry, Serval. I can't answer your question either because I don't know my name." He finished with a deep, ninety-degree bow, his posture radiating sincerity.
Serval stared at him, a flicker of genuine surprise in her eyes. Then, a slow smile began to spread across her face.
Click!
Shut!
Twist!
Lock!
In a blur of motion, Serval's hands darted out, slamming the cell door shut and twisting the lock with a decisive click. The speed and suddenness of her actions left the young man with his mouth agape, his heartfelt apology frozen mid-air.
"Ha! Got you out!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. "I was lying when I said that! You shouldn't be so gullible, because you're not getting back in! The look on your face was so priceless! Hahaha!"
"But… you cried!" he stammered, gesturing weakly to his damp tail.
"Fake tears! Any girl can do it! Ha!" She punctuated her laughter with a triumphant toss of her head. Then, with a flourish, she hurled the heavy iron keys into the darkest corner of the cell, where the meager light barely penetrated. The clang echoed in the confined space.
"Ehh!?" The young man's bewilderment was complete.
"Now, now, this isn't the time to waste any more time," Serval said, her earlier melancholy completely vanished, replaced by a boundless energy. She pointed down a dimly lit corridor. "Come on, that way, and you go first this time. Hehe!"
The young man, his expression a mixture of surprise and betrayal, reluctantly shuffled forward, muttering under his breath. Serval followed, a buoyant spring in her step. As she watched his retreating back, a softer smile touched her lips.
"Such a doofus, making me say all that stuff," she whispered to herself, her tone now light and almost affectionate. "But thank you for listening." The young man abruptly stopped, his shoulders tense with lingering confusion, and Serval couldn't help but let out a small, amused giggle. The life of a noble might be suffocating, but sometimes, rebellion could be wonderfully liberating. And a little bit of mischief, well, that was just the perfect spice.
The heavy oak doors, cold to the touch, yielded with a groan as Serval pushed them open. The grand foyer of Landou Manor sprawled before them, an ocean of polished marble and towering murals. Light streamed through the enormous windows, illuminating the scenes of knights and ladies, a history lesson painted on the very walls.
"Welcome to Landou Manor, well, the ground floor anyway. Hehe…" Serval announced, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space. A playful smile danced on her lips as she turned to her new companion.
He stood beside her, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation. He had never seen anything like this before, homes he had known were small, humble things. This was a different beast entirely, a spectacle of wealth and power. "Wow… it's a big house you got. This place must have tons of rooms."
"It's more than just a house," Serval corrected, her tone shifting to a more formal note, she could not help but feel a sense of pride as she said the words. "This mansion has been in my family for generations. It's a training ground for young nobles, teaching them the values of leadership, honor, and responsibility. It's where I've spent most of my childhood."
He nodded, the weight of her words settling on him. "What kind of training do they do here?"
"Let's explore," she said, a mischievous twinkle returning to her eye. "I'll show you. Don't worry, with me guiding you. No one's gonna notice."
She led him through the maze of corridors, each turn revealing another grand room. The library, filled with the scent of old paper and wisdom, the study, where her father conducted meetings, and the dining hall, where feasts took place to impress guests.
As they approached the training hall, he could feel his heart race with curiosity. The vast space was adorned with banners and weapons, a mix of swords, shields, and ceremonial armor hung on the walls. "This is where the young nobles learn the art of combat and strategy," Serval explained, her voice filled with pride. "It's rigorous and demanding, but it teaches them discipline."
"Do you ever train?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
"I used to," Serval replied, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "But my parents decided it was better for me to focus on diplomacy and the military arts. They believed I could be more influential that way."
He couldn't shake the feeling that Serval would be formidable with a sword in her hand. "I can't imagine you being anything less than amazing in combat," he said, the words escaping before he could fully process them as his mind was still trying to comprehend what kind of life someone like her led.
"Ho? Is that a compliment? Didn't know we were close enough to say things like that," she said teasingly, not entirely sure that she did not like the compliment.
"I called it being polite. So, bite me," he replied back playfully.
Suddenly, the door at the far end of the hall burst open, a flurry of activity descended. Workers and guards rushed in, a clear signal that her father was arriving soon.
"Let's take a detour," Serval said quickly, tugging his sleeve.
"This house is too big!" he exclaimed, slightly panicked.
"Quiet, or they might hear you," she whispered as they hid behind a large pillar.
"When I get out of this place. I might just kiss the snow out of joy."
"Oh, and why would you do that?" she said, chuckling softly.
"Well, for first, the snow is not gonna manipulate you or guilt trip you!" He said with a small hint of anger in his voice as he remembered how he was thrown all of this.
"Oh, come on, no need to get so sour about earlier. Hehe…" she replied smiling softly, glad that she was not alone that understood her anger.
"At least one of us enjoys that…" he said, looking away from her, not wanting her to see him blush. It was strange, he had only known her for only a short while, yet she had this effect on him.
"Sis, I've been looking for you. Hold on, who is that with you?" A voice called out, both of them stopped in place, Serval immediately stood in front of the other young man, feeling protective.
A boy slightly taller than Serval, with similar traits, blue eyes, and platinum blond hair, appeared in front of them as they were about to descend another flight of stairs. This was Gephart, her younger brother.
"Sis, I've been looking for you. Hold on, who is that with you?"
A boy slightly taller than Serval, with the same striking Landau family features – sharp cheekbones, a defined jawline – but with ice-blue eyes that held a calculating glint and platinum blond hair that fell perfectly into place, appeared as if conjured from the shadows. They were halfway down a grand, spiraling staircase, the polished marble echoing their footsteps.
"Gephart! Hi," Serval chirped, instantly placing herself squarely between her brother and the young man behind her. It was a futile attempt, like trying to hide an elephant behind a teacup. "How are you? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be… dissecting some rare Lumina Beetle with Professor Thorne?"
Gephart raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I could ask the same thing, sister. And that's precisely why I'm here. You are also supposed to be dissecting said beetle with me. Father is not going to be pleased about another skipped session." His gaze, unwavering and sharp, remained fixed on the sliver of someone Serval was so desperately trying to conceal.
He took a step forward, his polished boots clicking on the marble. Serval shuffled back, her bright pink hair swaying. Gephart stood firm, an unyielding pillar of Landau propriety. "Anyway," he continued, his tone taking on a cool detachment, "I did hear talks swirling through the lower levels. Whispers about a wanderer assaulting Mr. Clause, our esteemed training house caretaker. Given your… proclivity for strays, I presume this must be him."
Gephart's attention finally shifted to the young man lurking behind Serval. He was indeed a similar age, but his attire was simpler, more worn. His posture was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the tense situation, and his eyes, a warm shade of brown, scanned the opulent surroundings with a curious, almost amused, expression. He seemed more interested in the intricate carvings on the banister than in the brewing confrontation.
"Oh," Serval said, her voice strained, "Gephart, this is my new friend… right, we still don't know your name." She offered a weak, apologetic smile to the stranger.
The young man chuckled softly. "Yeah, still trying to figure it out." he supplied, his voice a pleasant baritone.
"Änd no! I didn't assault anyone, I saved that old man's life!" He exclaimed, finally focusing on the conversation. "He was drunk and unconscious when I found him out in the snowstorm! Half-buried! He's lying!"
Gephart's expression remained coolly skeptical. "And why should I believe you, a complete stranger, over a trusted member of our household?"
"Stop it, Gephart." Serval's voice hardened. "I already got the gist of the situation, and after doing a little… investigating on my own, I can confirm Caelum's story. Mr. Clause was indeed heavily intoxicated when he was brought back. And it seems he's trying to curry favor with Father again by fabricating a story, conveniently labeling Caelum a mutated fragmentum because of his… specific features."
Gephart's blue eyes narrowed. "What? You believe this stranger over Mr. Clause? Stand back, sister. He must have done something to you, influencing your judgment. How else would you be so overly protective of someone you've just met, whose name you didn't even know moments ago? A fragmentum creature that can affect one's mind is indeed dangerous, especially one disguised as a human with… questionable features."
He looked from Gephart's intensely serious face to Serval's exasperated one. "He's kidding, right?" he asked Serval, seeking confirmation.
"No," Serval sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's one of his… quirks, I guess. Father's lectures on the dangers of fragmentum influence are deeply ingrained."
"Just knock him down, and we'll deal with this later," Serval muttered, gesturing towards her brother with a roll of her eyes.
"No need, sister. I shall take but a moment to resolve this," Gephart declared, puffing out his chest slightly.
"Sorry, buddy," The captive young man said, a mischievous glint appearing in his brown eyes. "She was talking to me."
Before Gephart could react, a blur of movement erupted from his lower back. Nine large, surprisingly agile tails, the color of bright orange, unfurled and whipped around Gephart with incredible speed. They moved with a life of their own, expertly binding Gephart's arms to his sides, looping around his ankles, and even securing a strip of something that looked suspiciously like reinforced tape over his mouth.
"Sorry, little brother, but I'm the victim here," He said with a wry smile as Gephart blinked in stunned silence, his blue eyes wide with disbelief.
"Stay put, Gephart," Serval said, already tugging him further down the stairs. "I'll explain everything later." She knew her brother. If their father found out about this before she could properly explain, the consequences would be… unpleasant, for everyone involved. They reached a landing lined with identical, ornate doors. Without hesitation, Serval opened one, revealing a surprisingly spacious walk-in closet filled with neatly organized riding boots and equestrian attire. With a combined effort, they gently shoved the still-bound Gephart inside.
"Don't worry, it's soundproofed," Serval reassured him with a sheepish grin as she closed the door. "He won't be able to tattle until we're good and gone." She turned to him, her initial panic fading into a relieved chuckle. "Well, that was… eventful. Thanks for the assist. And again, sorry about my brother. He means well, mostly. Just… incredibly by-the-book."
…..
The current floor, a wide corridor lined with what looked like dormant training dummies and holographic projection units, was their immediate objective. Beyond it lay a service exit, a rarely used portal to the unforgiving wilderness outside. For most, navigating this section would be a perilous dance with watchful guards and busy maintenance staff. But for Serval Landau, it was a familiar playground. She'd spent countless hours mapping its intricacies, not for tactical advantage, but for the thrill of evading responsibility. Stolen moments, skipped lessons, and evaded meetings – this wing was her secret sanctuary of rebellion.
"Stop, let's take this route," Serval murmured, her voice a low, confident hum. She gestured towards a dimly lit passage branching off to the left. "We can get out of here without getting noticed. No one comes near the supply storage during this time of the day. Too much inventory to count, too little glory to be had."
The young man constantly scanning their surroundings, nodded. "Right." He trusted Serval implicitly in this domain. Her recklessness might be a constant source of exasperation in other contexts, but here, it translated to an unparalleled understanding of the mansion's rhythms.
They pressed on, adrenaline humming beneath the surface. Despite Serval's expertise, the journey wasn't without its challenges. A gruff-looking groundskeeper pushing a utility cart, their path momentarily blocked by a pair of sparring instructors adjusting their gear. Each encounter was navigated with hushed whispers and well-timed dodges, Serval leading the way with an almost feline grace. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of tiptoeing and held breaths, the dull metal of the service exit door shimmered into view at the end of the corridor.
"Wait, Serval," He whispered, grabbing her arm gently.
She turned, her brow furrowed with impatience. "What is it?"
They lowered their voices further, the silence of the hallway amplifying their hushed tones. Each syllable seemed to hang in the air before dissolving away.
"You said the supply room also stored all the food, right?" HIs voice was barely audible.
A slow smile spread across Serval's face, a flash of mischief in her bright blue eyes. "You want to take some for the journey."
"Yes," He affirmed, a hint of a smile touching his lips.
"No," Serval deadpanned, before playfully smacking his shoulder. The sound, though soft, seemed amplified in the echoing hallway. She stifled a laugh, digging into the pocket of her borrowed uniform. A small, unassuming key materialized in her fingers.
"Hold on…" she began, her voice a conspiratorial whisper as she approached the supply room door, its metal surface cold and uninviting.
She glanced back at him, her expression turning serious. "Don't ask, just get in there and take what you need. I'll stay back and cover you. Don't take long either."
"Thank you," He murmured, slipping inside the dimly lit room as the door creaked open just enough for him to squeeze through. The scent of dried rations and preserved fruits filled his nostrils, a welcome aroma after the sterile air of the mansion. He knew Serval wouldn't ask for thanks, but the unspoken gratitude hung heavy in the air between them. This wasn't just an escape for Serval; it was a calculated risk she was taking for him, a testament to a bond forged in shared rebellion and quiet understanding. The biting wind outside suddenly felt a little less daunting.
"This was a fun day. Hehe…" she murmured, the words a soft exhale of contentment.
"And what, pray tell, are you doing here, Serval?"
The warmth instantly leached from her face. That voice, a low, resonant rumble that could still make her stomach clench, cut through the lingering joy like a shard of ice.
"Dad!?" She spun around, the word escaping before she could censor it. Her posture, moments ago relaxed and carefree, snapped to rigid attention.
A tall figure emerged from the dimly lit corridor, his presence filling the space. Lord Landau, her father, was an imposing man, every inch of him radiating authority. His tailored suit, the subtle gleam of his signet ring, even the way his blonde hair was impeccably styled – all spoke of his status and unwavering control.
"Hmm… I do believe you have important matters to attend to right now," he stated, his gaze sweeping over her with an air of disappointment that felt heavier than any reprimand.
Serval instinctively took a few steps back from the door, her mind scrambling. She was supposed to be guarding this access point, a minor but necessary task assigned to her as a test of responsibility. Clearly, she'd failed. Again.
He continued his advance, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor. "As disappointed as I am right now, it seems you've been up to your usual unnecessary activities again. The caretaker has found numerous trinkets inside your room once again. Care to explain?" His voice held a razor-sharp edge of weary exasperation.
"What!? That creep went into my room again!?" Serval's shock momentarily overshadowed her fear. "And what's with the reaction?! Aren't you even concerned when some old creep rummages through your daughter's room?" A spark of indignation flared within her, battling the creeping dread.
"Quiet," he commanded, the single word silencing her like a physical blow.
Serval's jaw snapped shut. She stared at the granite floor, the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightening. Her father was the epicenter of her daily torment, a constant reminder that her passions, her very being, were deemed unsuitable. He disapproved of her fascination with mechanics, seeing it as frivolous and unbecoming of a Landau. He even criticized her clothes, the loose-fitting jackets and practical boots a constant source of his disapproval.
"As a Landau, you should know what it means to be a noble. Such acts will not be mentioned again. Need I remind you every single time, Serval? I have grown tired of this; you best watch yourself once more, as I will not be so forgiving the next time. Am I clear?" His voice was low and dangerous, a clear warning.
She hated this feeling, this crushing weight of judgment that made her feel small and insignificant. She yearned to argue, to defend her interests, to explain the joy she found in gears and circuits. But the words caught in her throat, choked by years of ingrained obedience and the fear of his displeasure.
"I said, am I clear?" His tone hardened, the barely suppressed anger now a tangible presence in the air.
"Ah… Yes, sir," she mumbled, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
"Hmm… alright. Now, head back. Your teachers are waiting, and go find your brother as well." He gestured dismissively.
"Yes, sir." Serval bit her lip, the metallic tang of blood a familiar sensation. He was about to turn away, to dismiss her and her feelings as always. A surge of something – desperation, maybe, or a flicker of the boldness she'd felt earlier – propelled her forward. "Wait. Dad, I mean Father."
He paused, his shoulders tensing. A sigh escaped his lips, a sound of weary annoyance. "What is it? Be quick, Serval. I have no time to waste."
She hesitated, the carefully constructed walls of her usual compliance threatening to crumble. She thought of the day, the thrill of creation, the shared laughter. For once, the stifling expectations of her family had faded into the background. A small spark of defiance ignited within her.
"I want you to know that I want to continue my passion for mechanics. The idea that a noble of the Landau always has to join the military is not right, and other passions can do just as well for the family and Belobog." The words tumbled out, raw and earnest. It wasn't an angry outburst, but a plea, a statement of her truth.
Silence descended, heavy and thick. Father and daughter stood frozen, locked in a silent battle of wills, their gazes unwavering.
"Is this your firm decision? Even after the many warnings I have stated?" His voice was dangerously calm, the calm before a storm.
"Yes." The word was small but firm, a tiny seed of rebellion planted in the barren ground of her father's expectations.
"I see."
The muscles in her father's jaw clenched. A vein pulsed in his temple, a stark indicator of the anger simmering beneath the surface. His hand, large and calloused, rose in a swift, familiar motion.
Why did I think I could convince him? He's never going to change. The thought flashed through Serval's mind, a painful whisper of resignation. This had happened before. The sting of his hand against her cheek, the sharp reprimands that followed – it was a well-trodden path.
Serval closed her eyes, bracing herself for the familiar impact. Dodging only prolonged the inevitable and intensified his fury. She waited, a knot of fear and a strange sense of weary acceptance tightening in her chest.
BAM!*
SLAM!*
"I'm done!"
As if luck was on her side, or maybe it was just a strange fate. Her father a militaristic man, was about to berate her again with his hand, something no one expected was the sudden thud of flesh against metal. She opens her eyes just in time to see him, wide-eyed and stunned, stumbling backward. The steel door slammed into him with a jarring impact, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Why did you close the door Serval? It was kind of dark in there you know and why are you on the floor again?"
The voice was bright, almost cheerful, completely out of sync with the oppressive atmosphere of the workshop. A figure stepped through the newly sealed doorway, silhouetted against the brighter corridor light. He was tall and slender, with a mop of unruly brown hair and large, guileless eyes that blinked in the dimness. Trailing behind him, held aloft by three thick, prehensile tails, was an enormous, bulging bag.
He placed the bag down with a soft thud. It rustled with the promise of something good. His tails, twitching with an energy that contrasted sharply with his calm demeanor, then gently nudged Serval. One even hooked under her armpit, effortlessly lifting her to her feet. She felt strangely weightless in its grip.
"What's this? Is this a tooth? Where did come from? Huh?" The young man's brow furrowed in confusion as he knelt beside the prone General. He picked up a small, pearly white object, turning it over in his fingers.
His tails, acting with an almost independent curiosity, snaked out and touched the edge of the now-closed door. One pushed experimentally, then another gave a more forceful shove. The realization dawned on his face with slow, dawning horror.
"!?…" His eyes widened, darting between the unconscious General, the closed door, and the tooth in his hand.
"…" Serval could only stare, a bizarre mix of shock and burgeoning amusement bubbling inside her. This… this was not how she imagined standing up to her father. This clumsy, clueless young man, with his twitching tails and innocent confusion, had achieved in one accidental swing what she had spent her entire life failing to do.
The young man was now frantically trying to revive the General. He patted his cheeks, shook him gently, then, apparently remembering something he'd seen in a poorly dubbed action holo-drama, began chest compressions with surprising, if somewhat haphazard, force. He even tilted the General's head back and pinched his nose, trying to breathe into his mouth.
"Haha…" A small giggle escaped Serval's lips, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the years of fear. She tried to stifle it, but the image of her iron-fisted father being subjected to such clumsy, well-intentioned ministrations was too much. "Hahaha!" The laughter spilled out of her, bubbling and unrestrained, a sound she hadn't realized she'd almost forgotten how to make.
"This is not funny! I thought I killed the man. In fact, he sort of looks like you. Is he your father?" The young man turned to her, his large eyes filled with genuine distress. He'd gone from feeling mildly confused to deeply concerned, all within the span of a few seconds.
"Pfft! Yes, yes, he is," Serval managed between gasps of laughter, leaning against a workbench for support. This was so much better than the beating she'd anticipated.
"You idiot! Don't make so much noise! Now, I'm sure I'm going to be locked up for good." He gestured wildly with his hands, accidentally knocking over a tray of small metal components.
"Hahahaha!" Serval couldn't stop. The laughter was cathartic, a release of years of pent-up tension.
Their precarious peace was shattered by a new voice, sharp and accusatory.
"Huh? Master!?" A familiar man face went pale, his eyes widening further in alarm. A figure appeared in the doorway, a lean, impeccably dressed man with a neatly trimmed beard and cold, calculating eyes. He looked down at the dishevelled youngsters with a mixture of fear and annoyance.
"I know that voice," The young man groaned, stirring on the floor. He pushed himself up, one hand going to his jaw. His eyes, though still blurry, focused on the young man with a dawning fury.
"You escape!? You... You did this, didn't you!?" The man pointed a finger at the young man, his voice rising in anger. "Guards!"
"Hahaha!" Serval was still laughing, tears streaming down her face.
"Quit it, we're going!" The young man, his previous panic replaced by a surge of decisive action, grabbed Serval's arm. His tails, now significantly thicker and stronger, whipped out, encircling the large bag of food and hoisting it effortlessly. Before Serval could even register what was happening, she was being pulled along, the bag bumping against her side, the sound of approaching footsteps echoing from the corridor.
Their escape was as chaotic and improbable as the events that had led up to it. Serval, still giggling, was dragged through the corridors of the military compound by a clueless young man whose accidental heroism had inadvertently liberated them both. The years of fear and oppression felt like a fading nightmare, replaced by the dizzying reality of the present moment. Their adventure, chaotic and unexpected, had just begun.
Serval didn't stop laughing or at least the joy and amusement she was currently having. The comical scene of his father's predicament and her new friend doing his best and yet only makes the situation even funnier. The scene of him giving mouth-to-mouth to her father was also hilarious and she was never gonna forget that.
"*huff* *huff*"
The young man fell back on the snow-covered land, breathing heavily as he had to run with his life on the line.
"Hahaha! Oh my god, that was so funny!"
"Easy for you say *huff*"
Both lay down on the snow as they look up at the still white cloudy sky. No sign of any blue sky.
"Hey." Even she was a little out of breath from laughing so much.
"Yeah." He was exhausted for a whole other reason.
"This is it. Look over there."
She points and he looks in that direction, he has one word for it.
"So, cool…" After seeing nothing but snow for days, he was impressed at the enormous city. The view of his next destination was indeed amazing.
"Yeah, that's Belobog. My home and your next destination. If you go there, you might find something that can help you with that forgetful memory of yours."
"Wait, your home? As in living there but isn't your house already here?"
"No, didn't you pay attention dude? That small house was only a training area we used. My real house is way bigger and it's near the administrative district in Belobog."
The young man looked at the girl, who just said something in a very carefree tone. Yes, he might've lost his memories but he did not lose his common sense especially when it comes to having something.
"I'm not giving them back." He hugged the large filled food bag tightly.
"I wasn't asking!" She retorted back. Not realizing, the wealth her family had sometimes.
"Come on, get up. That pervert is relentless, so you shouldn't stay in one spot too long."
"Right, right. Let me-!?"
"!?"
Something hit the young man in the arm with a very similar shocking experience he knew very well.
thud*
"Hey, are you okay?! Get up!"
She approached her own friend and saw a short stick. Something she knew very well as it was something she herself made. Something her father confiscated from her and who knew it landed on the caretaker's grubby hands.
"Young miss, I am very disappointed. To think you conspire with the assaulter that caused problems not just me but your father as well."
"Clause…" Serval glared at the man, as he slowly approached her.
She never did like the man as he not only was like a lap dog for her father. But she had seen how much of a creep he was. Having his grubbing hands all over other's property.
"Now, let's not make such a scandalous face. Help me carry the ruffian back to your father and I might seal my lips on this little matter."
!* She spat at his face, disgusted at his actions up till now, and asking her of such a thing made her even angrier.
"Ha… young miss. I don't think that was such a good idea."
"…"
"Make that face all you want. No one would believe the disgrace of the Landau, especially after I tell them what has conspired here."
He grabbed her arm, causing some discomfort on her. She wasn't in tip-top shape as she forgot to wear anything to protect herself from the cold. Normally, a sleazebag like this was easy prey for her but right now her body felt numb and rigid from the extreme cold.
"Oh, you still think-!"
zap!*
He forgot she was holding on to the shock stick gadget and it tapped him causing him to jolt back. Letting her go to balance himself from falling, the man clenched his teeth in anger from the pain.
"Why I-!?"
The caretaker, confident in his perceived power, let his guard down as he stepped closer to Serval, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Hey! Leave her alone! Hidden finger jutsu, 'Thousand years of death!'"
Out of nowhere, the young man came out snow-covered. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. With a determined breath, he sprang from his hiding place, snow flying in all directions as he charged and proceeded to insert his index and middle fingers (similar to the Tiger hand sign) into the man's bottom.
"AH!" The man actually flew quite a foot high before coming down and hit the ground where instead of snow was covered in ice.
"W-What do you want, brat?" he sneered, but the young man was undeterred.
"You think you can treat her like this and get away with it? You're wrong!" With that, he leaped into action, executing a series of swift, fluid movements that could only be learned from years of training. He was a whirlwind of determination, snow spraying around him as he confronted the caretaker.
The man lunged at him, but the young man sidestepped with ease, countering with a well-placed punch that sent the caretaker stumbling back. The element of surprise worked to Naruto's advantage, and with every strike, he was fueled by a fierce protective instinct.
"Enough!" the caretaker growled, desperation creeping into his tone. But he wasn't finished. With a final burst of energy, he summoned a shadow clone, the two looked alike working in perfect sync. They overwhelmed the caretaker, forcing him to the ground, where he struggled against the onslaught.
"Don't you ever think you can hurt her again!" The young man shouted, his eyes fierce and unwavering.
Finally, with a final kick, he sent the man sprawling into the snow, a defeated look on his face. Panting, the young man turned to Serval, who stood there with wide eyes, her expression a mix of shock and gratitude.
"Serval! Victory!" He gave her a thumbs up signifying his victory and revenge on the man who was beyond a jerk.
"As funny as that was, how? Isn't this you?"
"Oh, that's just a decoy, a shadow clone."
"A shadow clone? Such a unique ability. Everything, down to the last detail feels and looks so real."
puff*
The one she was holding on the ground puffed out of existence while the original was standing before her with a confident grin.
"I'm not sure to be amazed or scared about multiple you running around."
"I just found out about it inside the supply room. I needed to search for stuff that could be useful, and since you close the door without turning the lights on. I thought of something and bam! I can create a shadow clone of myself."
"Anything else?"
"Oh, I can also do this. Fire!"
He finally created fire once again out of nowhere and on his hands.
"Idiot, you should've done this in the first place. I'm freezing here!"
She moved closer as she shivered, the fire he created helped a lot.
"Here, I warm it up for you." He gave her the large jacket he was wearing as he proceeded to use his tails again to warm himself up. Though a jacket was nice, it really couldn't compare when he wrapped his enlarged tails around him.
"Thanks."
"…"
"Let me get in there too."
"Hey, hey, hey! I realize how pushy you can be."
"Oh, be quiet."
Even though she had sufficient warmth, she wanted to try and she did. She dove inside his wrapped tails around him and snuggled into the warmth.
The two were not covered with his enlarged tails with the fire still burning on his hands in the middle.
After some time had passed, Serval finally separated from him. She recovered from the cold enough and it didn't take long for two guards from her family's private squad to arrive.
"It's fine, they're not here to cause trouble. Unlike that creep."
"Good, because I can't do another exhausting chase again."
The young man turns to the amazing scenery of his next destination.
"I'm going now."
Though it wasn't long, the young man and Serval stood together, a sense of camaraderie blossoming amidst the white landscape.
"Yeah… Ah, hey." She reached out her hand to his back but he was already moving forward.
"Well, see ya next time! And don't be a stranger!" The young man jumps down the cliff they are on and out of her sight. She wasn't worried after having a first experience of how durable and capable he was.
"Young miss!"
The guards finally arrived and she looked down. Her heart settled as she saw him walking down toward Belobog.
"Young miss?"
"Let's get out of here and grabbed Clause. He needs some explanation to do." She didn't care what the sleazebag would say to her father cause right now, her father cared little and she had a feeling he was still knocked out unconscious.
"And young miss, have you seen you're the young master? Your father has asked us to search for him a while ago."
"Ah.. right, almost forgot. Don't worry, I'll find him."
With a new feeling of fresh vigor, the girl turned back and did not care how much berating she was about to get. Today was quite an eventful day for her and she couldn't help but smile.
And done!
Age:
Naruto: ? (Naruto has a youthful appearance and looks to be a young adult)
Serval: 13
Gephart: 11
Bye!