A/N: Messed up my days! We'll have a massive update for Apples and Atoms tomorrow, alongside other things. Dark wrote this chapter, I simply adjusted and made edits.

Every review truly does help me write, large or small, any feedback is better than nothing at all.

As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.

I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.

Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that.

In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!

SPOILERS FOR SHADOWS OF THE ERDTREE AHEAD!

"Let not the mask slip...

~?

Omen of Clues

Marika stood before the mirror, her reflection a ghost of who she once was. A queen, a goddess, a mother—yet, in this moment, merely a woman struggling to sculpt her face into something it refused to become. She forced herself to smile. A cold, brittle thing, stretched thin across her lips. A mimicry of warmth that never reached her eyes.

She did not like the expression. It did not suit her.

Her hand lifted, then struck. A sharp, stinging slap against her cheek. Once. Twice. Golden tresses tumbled over her shoulders with the force of the motion, the sharp jolt grounding her in something tangible, something real.

"He is not a Hornsent."

The words left her in a whisper, wavering yet insistent. A mantra. A command.

"That boy is your grandson. You are his grandmother. Act like it."

And yet—instinct warred with reason, revulsion curling deep within the marrow of her bones. Not his fault. She knew that. He had not asked to be born an Omen. He had not chosen the twisted horns sprouting from his brow, the cursed vestiges of impurity that tainted her bloodline. She had sought to cleanse it. Had fought, bled, and sacrificed to purge every trace of it from her descendants.

Yet here he was. A testament to failure. A living reminder of all she could not undo.

Marika inhaled, slow and measured, though the breath shuddered on the way out. Her fingers trembled at her sides before curling into fists, nails digging into her palms until the sting cut through the tide of emotion threatening to consume her.

A queen must not recoil.

A goddess must not hesitate.

A true ruler must not be swayed by emotion.

When she opened her eyes again, her smile had returned. Hollow. False. But serviceable.

She had worn this mask for so long. What was one more time?

Godfrey was waiting.

(.0.0.0.)

The inn smelled of old wood, stale ale, and candle wax burned down to stumps. The air was thick with the weight of past conversations, hushed deals, and broken oaths, but for now, it was quiet. That much, at least, Naruto appreciated.

He and his companions had taken the darkest corner booth, backs pressed to the wall, where the flickering candlelight struggled to reach. The shadows swallowed them whole.

Fortissax sat cross-legged beside him, a beast draped in a man's form, a long dark cloak hanging from his broad shoulders. Even in the dimness, his great golden eyes gleamed—slitted like a predator's, watchful, unblinking. He did not fidget, did not stir. He simply existed, vast and silent as a mountain waiting to move.

Lansseax was his mirror, though smaller, leaner, her form poised like a drawn bowstring. Her gaze, sharp as an eagle's, flicked across the room, dissecting every movement, every shift in the candlelight. Where Fortissax exuded patience, she was readiness incarnate.

Closest to Naruto, Albedo sipped from a goblet of wine, slow and deliberate, as if savoring each drop for the secrets it might hold. She did not lower her guard, nor did she soften, her pale fingers ever so slightly curled around the goblet's stem like a poised blade. Her gaze flickered, assessing, calculating, seeing through the wooden walls, through the man across from them—seeing too much.

And across from them, smiling like a snake waiting to strike, sat Lord Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing.

It was a thin smile, stretched tight over a craggy face, all lips and no mirth. A thing of habit rather than sincerity.

"A pleasure to meet you," he said, voice rich with the confidence of a man who had never once spoken a word he did not believe in.

Naruto said nothing.

He did not trust this Gideon guy. Not one bit.

Albedo sniffed, adjusting the cuffs of her tunic with a slow, deliberate motion. A statement.

"Cur," she said, her voice carrying the weight of disdain as if the very air around her soured at Gideon's presence.

"Agreed," murmured Lansseax, as smooth as polished glass.

The smile did not waver. If anything, Gideon seemed to find amusement in their hostility, the gleam in his sharp eyes that of a man well accustomed to playing this game.

"Ah, but that is hardly fair," he chuckled, steepling his fingers together as he leaned forward just slightly. "We are all seekers of truth, are we not?"

He let the question hang in the air like a snare waiting to tighten.

"Your hunt for the Dung Eater's patron—an elusive thing, I must say. I assume you are here because you require knowledge."

Fortissax did not blink.

"We require facts," Fortissax rumbled, voice deep enough to shake the bones of the table. "Not your riddles."

Gideon chuckled, a dry, knowing sound, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Ah, but facts can be such tricky things, my dear dragon. They shift with perspective, twist with time. One man's truth is another's delusion. Tell me—why do you care so much for this chase? The Dung Eater is but a mad dog, gnawing at the roots of this world. His master, whoever they may be, is likely just another festering thing best left to rot in obscurity."

Naruto thumbed his chin, expression unreadable. Then, he smiled.

"You make a good point."

Then he grinned. A sharp, wolfish thing.

"Allow me to offer my rebuttal."

CRUNCH.

The sound echoed through the dimly lit tavern as his boot came down atop the table, the aged wood groaning beneath his weight. A single flex of his foot, and the sturdy oak cracked, a jagged split running through the grain. Gideon's wine cup trembled from the force, the deep red liquid swaying dangerously close to the rim.

But Gideon himself did not flinch. Not a single muscle in his face twitched. He merely arched a pale brow, as if watching an unruly child throw a tantrum.

Albedo smiled into her goblet, lips curling around the rim as she took another slow sip.

"Just answer the question," Naruto continued, his voice light, almost casual. Too casual. "Before I get impatient."

A long silence stretched between them. The tavern's distant murmurs seemed to fade, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Then, Gideon sighed. Not in fear, nor in submission, but in the manner of a man burdened with far too many troubles and far too little patience.

"Very well." He traced a gloved finger along the rim of his untouched wine cup. "There are whispers, as there always are. The Dung Eater serves something that festers beneath the surface—something old. If you seek the root, perhaps you should look not to the lands above, but to those below. There are catacombs in the eastern cliffs, past the ruined church. They say the dead there do not rest."

Albedo tilted her head, intrigued. "And why share this with us so freely?"

"A good question," Lansseax murmured, her gaze never leaving Gideon.

Gideon's thin smile returned, more of a shadow than an expression. "Because I would rather have you chasing ghosts than knocking on my door."

Naruto watched him for a moment longer, eyes sharp, weighing, measuring. Then he exhaled through his nose, the grin fading as quickly as it had come.

"Fine. We're done here."

He turned without another word, motioning for the others to follow. Albedo placed her goblet down with a quiet clink, standing with fluid grace. Lansseax adjusted the clasp of her cloak, casting Gideon a lingering look before stepping away.

Fortissax was the last to move.

For a moment, he lingered. His golden eyes—deep, ancient—locked onto Gideon's.

A silent conversation passed between them. One that required no words.

Then, with the slow, deliberate motion of something both regal and monstrous, Fortissax pulled his hood up and strode after the others.

Gideon watched them go, fingers still lightly steepled together. Then, at last, he lifted his wine cup, swirled the dark liquid once, and took a slow sip.

Alone once more, he exhaled, low and thoughtful.

"…Interesting."

No sooner had they stepped outside than Naruto felt it.

A shift in the air. A ripple in the fabric of the night, subtle but unmistakable. A presence lurking just beyond sight.

Then—

A blade whistled down at his head.

Naruto caught it with one hand.

His fingers curled around the steel like it was nothing more than a twig, stopping the strike mid-swing with effortless precision. His attacker—a gaunt man with sunken cheeks and wild, bloodshot eyes—lurched forward from the sudden halt, his grip tightening instinctively around the hilt. He tried to pull back.

He couldn't.

Naruto reeled him in with the ease of a fisherman drawing in a small, feeble catch.

"Hello there," he said, his tone light, conversational, as if greeting an old friend. "Is there a particular reason you're trying to kill me?"

The thug bared yellowed teeth, breath reeking of bile and desperation.

"Wretched Omen! Die!"

Naruto blinked.

"Ah," he said. "Got it."

He cast a glance at his companions.

Fortissax looked amused, his great golden eyes gleaming with quiet anticipation. Lansseax merely sighed, adjusting the clasp of her cloak as if this were nothing more than an inconvenience.

Albedo, on the other hand, was grinning. Wide and sharp, like a cat who had just found something particularly entertaining to toy with.

Naruto sighed. "You make a good point."

Then he drove his fist into the thug's gut.

The impact was immediate, brutal. A sickening crunch echoed through the empty street as ribs shattered beneath the force of the blow. The man's breath left him in a wet, gasping wheeze, his entire body lifting off the ground before gravity reclaimed him.

He slammed back down with a dull thud. His limbs twitched. His eyes rolled back. His mouth foamed slightly at the edges.

Naruto let him drop.

Then, with a casual shrug, he dusted off his hands.

"Well, that was pointless."

Albedo let out a delighted giggle, tipping her head. "Not entirely. It was fun to watch."

"Agreed," Fortissax rumbled, stretching his fingers, the bones popping like distant thunder. "Perhaps next time we shall let them bring more."

Lansseax sighed again, though there was no real annoyance behind it. She adjusted her cloak, casting a sharp glance around the empty street, scanning the rooftops, the alleyways.

"Let us hope there is not a next time," she murmured. Then, after a pause, "Shall we move on?"

Naruto nodded, but before he turned, something made him glance back.

Back toward the inn.

Back toward the window.

And there, standing behind the thin, grime-smeared glass, was Gideon. Watching them.

Smiling.

Not surprised. Not unnerved. Satisfied.

Naruto's eyes narrowed slightly.

Then he turned away, stepping over the unconscious body without a second thought.

The night was far from over.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wish I could've made this longer, but the Holidays are doing my head iiiiiiin.

I'm well aware that this story isn't as popular as the others, but even so, I'll try to keep going.

Aaaand there we go. As ever, reviews keep me alive. Without them, I lose hope. Guess that makes me weak. So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly?

Here, have some previews.

Some are the same.

And as ever.

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

HERE BE SPOILERS!

(Preview)

...whaddya want now, witch?"

Ranni puffed out her cheeks. He would've called it adorable if the redhead didn't look so angry.

"I require thy aid."

"Funny way of asking for help...

EDIT: Hey, you made it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a blast to write.

Looking forward to chatting with you all when I get back from work~!

Seriously, writing only to receive silence hurts. It hurts alot.

Tired,

~Nz.

R ~!