Descendants of Time (Role-Play Act 5: Revolutionary Moment)
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Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Claudia was laid down on a bed when Rose started casting some healing magic back in the villa beside San Diego’s beach.
“With the way our group was spread out, I suppose it was impossible for us to join so fast,” Rose mentioned as she examined the state of her arms. “I cannot say if you have the devil’s luck or extreme misfortune.”
Marco sighed. “Definitely luck, she loves fighting crazy bastards, I tell you.”
The Countess and Ansel were missing. George wasn’t there as usual. It seemed like the fight was more or less over now, and it was already the next day when Claudia awoke. Last she remembered, she had fallen asleep on Marco’s arms.
Claudia sighed as she attempted to move her arms and legs; still nothing, as expected. “Call it an impulse, but maybe guys who are able to level cities get me excited.”
Rose ignored the remark and turned to Marco. “You know, it’s a perfect opportunity to peg her now.”
“Good idea,” Marco joked.
“Ooh, I might be into that. But would you want to do that with Rose here?” Claudia jested.
“You may not know, but she gets off to people being tortured more than you think,” Marco said with a laugh and Rose frowned.
“I’m not exactly as twisted as you two would think,” Rose said, rather displeased with the joke. “Well, you’d best do your part and rest. Excuse me,” she said as she left the room.
Marco could only shrug after seeing her go.
“Mnn. She didn’t like that joke, huh?” Claudia said, grunting in an attempt to adjust herself on her bed. She was starting to become accustomed to being bed-ridden at this point.
“Haha… well, she is a native English unlike us, so maybe that’s the reason. She’d lump us for weirdos but not herself, apparently. You think you’ll be fine soon?”
“Heh. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Bastard mostly did a number on my teeth. Hurts like a bitch.”
“That actually sucks, those will take a bit of time to grow back. Hope you don’t mind missing on gritting †˜em. You won’t be able to take a bite on a person with those things there.”
Claudia groaned and cursed under her breath in her native language. “Well that’s just great. I guess this is what they meant by eating your food through a straw… well I’d still be drinking it, but you know what I ebb to.”
“By the way, it seemed like Aries escaped just before Mi’lady finished him off. So we might stay here a while longer. Considering the situation, perhaps we’ll wait it out for Virgo to make an appearance too.”
“Greeaaaat,” Claudia said, feigning excitement. “Nine times out of ten, both Aries and Virgo will go for my arms again. I think I’m starting to develop a phobia of it. Maybe I won’t be so sure to jump in so quickly.” She could only let out a weak chuckle at that. She really was starting to become cautious of her arms.
“Arms aside, fair Lady, it’s quite common to lose parts of your body when you fight the larger anomalies of the Magic World such as the Descendants, or even the Representatives like Mary.”
Claudia snorted. “Don’t remind me.”
“With the way our group was spread out, I suppose it was impossible for us to join so fast,” Rose mentioned as she examined the state of her arms. “I cannot say if you have the devil’s luck or extreme misfortune.”
Marco sighed. “Definitely luck, she loves fighting crazy bastards, I tell you.”
The Countess and Ansel were missing. George wasn’t there as usual. It seemed like the fight was more or less over now, and it was already the next day when Claudia awoke. Last she remembered, she had fallen asleep on Marco’s arms.
Claudia sighed as she attempted to move her arms and legs; still nothing, as expected. “Call it an impulse, but maybe guys who are able to level cities get me excited.”
Rose ignored the remark and turned to Marco. “You know, it’s a perfect opportunity to peg her now.”
“Good idea,” Marco joked.
“Ooh, I might be into that. But would you want to do that with Rose here?” Claudia jested.
“You may not know, but she gets off to people being tortured more than you think,” Marco said with a laugh and Rose frowned.
“I’m not exactly as twisted as you two would think,” Rose said, rather displeased with the joke. “Well, you’d best do your part and rest. Excuse me,” she said as she left the room.
Marco could only shrug after seeing her go.
“Mnn. She didn’t like that joke, huh?” Claudia said, grunting in an attempt to adjust herself on her bed. She was starting to become accustomed to being bed-ridden at this point.
“Haha… well, she is a native English unlike us, so maybe that’s the reason. She’d lump us for weirdos but not herself, apparently. You think you’ll be fine soon?”
“Heh. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Bastard mostly did a number on my teeth. Hurts like a bitch.”
“That actually sucks, those will take a bit of time to grow back. Hope you don’t mind missing on gritting †˜em. You won’t be able to take a bite on a person with those things there.”
Claudia groaned and cursed under her breath in her native language. “Well that’s just great. I guess this is what they meant by eating your food through a straw… well I’d still be drinking it, but you know what I ebb to.”
“By the way, it seemed like Aries escaped just before Mi’lady finished him off. So we might stay here a while longer. Considering the situation, perhaps we’ll wait it out for Virgo to make an appearance too.”
“Greeaaaat,” Claudia said, feigning excitement. “Nine times out of ten, both Aries and Virgo will go for my arms again. I think I’m starting to develop a phobia of it. Maybe I won’t be so sure to jump in so quickly.” She could only let out a weak chuckle at that. She really was starting to become cautious of her arms.
“Arms aside, fair Lady, it’s quite common to lose parts of your body when you fight the larger anomalies of the Magic World such as the Descendants, or even the Representatives like Mary.”
Claudia snorted. “Don’t remind me.”
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Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Weiss had some trouble setting up a trip to America for herself from Japan. Considering she never ever had to get a ticket for herself before and the Steel Princess would take care of everything, this was a new experience to her. Her employer simply bid her to travel to New York to meet up with her old android comrades, and there were hardly any given papers; no documents, tickets, money, information, or anything. She was all on her own with this. She even had to use her own money to get the ticket.
It was ironic. Her payments from work were used to pay for travels for work. Was the Steel Princess going to make compensation later? Regardless, the pay was worth the travels—she thought—as she’d be able to face the one she wanted to kill all along.
This feeling of sweet vengeance and the little bit of shaking stopped when Weiss learned that she’d have to step down from the Magic Train before even getting to the United States of America, however. When she examined where she’d be traveling to with the Magic Train, it just so turned out that she could go as far as the bordering State of America.
So after the trip… Weiss would end up at Los Angeles. While New York was on the other side of the entire country!
“. . .Well, this is pleasant.” She looked at the map in the station. “So, this is Los Angeles and there is New York.” She sighed and shook her head. This is going to be a long walk.
Indeed, but one would wonder how Weiss could considering walking of all things. The distance was incredibly long already. She only got off the Realm for the Magic Train station that was hidden in South Gate.
Weiss started to walk.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
She turned and finally faced the person who had been walking behind her all along.
“Stop following me!” She shouted at the person. “Why? I don’t have any money at all!”
All along her walk, there was always a shorter head of silver marching behind her. She didn’t feel any blood lust or her instincts telling her that she was in danger, but it had gone on long enough.
Some people turned to the pair as Weiss shouted, but the shorter girl who had been following the android was completely unfazed.
“You are the same as ever. You pretend to be a professional, but you’re so clumsy in reality. Did you forget who I am?” the girl questioned, after revealing her opinion of Weiss’ personality. This pursuing girl was wearing a white one-piece only, and heels. She could hardly be compared to a mercenary, much less another android.
“. . .” Weiss walked closer to the short girl and knelt down. “Oh, it’s you.” She patted the short girl. “Just don’t tell the others, okay?”
“Patting isn’t going to convince me,” she answered, still showing indifference. “So, do you truly intend to walk all the way to New York?”
“I know that you like the pat and yes, my vehicle is back at home base and the last time I rode a bus was ages ago.” She stood back up.
She’d want to use her vehicle…
Even though the fellow android’s expression didn’t change, why did Weiss feel as though she was being pitied?
“Based on calculations, I believe we should utilize our time properly. Walking is out of the question.”
“I know, it’s not like there’s an airport where we can go to and take a ride on.”
“Actually, there is one in the west.”
“Is it functional?”
“Why would it not be?”
“I thought airplanes were unable to go around countries because of the thick clouds and such.
“Look up above you.”
Weiss looked up as told and saw an airplane passing by. “. . .Alright let’s go to the airport then!”
“Would she be fine alone…?” The girl sighed as she murmured to herself a question. It was a good thing that she had followed her.
“Did you say something, Knight?”
“Of course not. Why’d you say that?
“I thought you said something rather unpleasant or maybe I was imagining things.”
“No, not at all,” the girl said with a big smile. “I’d never do that.”
“Somehow I sense that you are hiding something from me. Especially with that suspicious smile on your face.” She paused and continued, “Wait a minute, you never smiled before!”
“Oh, I am surprised that someone as aloof as you would notice such a thing.” The girl known as Judgement Knight smiled regardless.
“I still care about my comrades, you know. The only thing that I don’t know is the real names of each of the Judgement series. Anyway we should book a flight.”
“You? Caring? Color me surprised. Anyway, I got some pass, so I shall book the flight for us.”
“I am a nurse after all.” She chucked. “Alright, I’ll follow.”
It was ironic. Her payments from work were used to pay for travels for work. Was the Steel Princess going to make compensation later? Regardless, the pay was worth the travels—she thought—as she’d be able to face the one she wanted to kill all along.
This feeling of sweet vengeance and the little bit of shaking stopped when Weiss learned that she’d have to step down from the Magic Train before even getting to the United States of America, however. When she examined where she’d be traveling to with the Magic Train, it just so turned out that she could go as far as the bordering State of America.
So after the trip… Weiss would end up at Los Angeles. While New York was on the other side of the entire country!
“. . .Well, this is pleasant.” She looked at the map in the station. “So, this is Los Angeles and there is New York.” She sighed and shook her head. This is going to be a long walk.
Indeed, but one would wonder how Weiss could considering walking of all things. The distance was incredibly long already. She only got off the Realm for the Magic Train station that was hidden in South Gate.
Weiss started to walk.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
She turned and finally faced the person who had been walking behind her all along.
“Stop following me!” She shouted at the person. “Why? I don’t have any money at all!”
All along her walk, there was always a shorter head of silver marching behind her. She didn’t feel any blood lust or her instincts telling her that she was in danger, but it had gone on long enough.
Some people turned to the pair as Weiss shouted, but the shorter girl who had been following the android was completely unfazed.
“You are the same as ever. You pretend to be a professional, but you’re so clumsy in reality. Did you forget who I am?” the girl questioned, after revealing her opinion of Weiss’ personality. This pursuing girl was wearing a white one-piece only, and heels. She could hardly be compared to a mercenary, much less another android.
“. . .” Weiss walked closer to the short girl and knelt down. “Oh, it’s you.” She patted the short girl. “Just don’t tell the others, okay?”
“Patting isn’t going to convince me,” she answered, still showing indifference. “So, do you truly intend to walk all the way to New York?”
“I know that you like the pat and yes, my vehicle is back at home base and the last time I rode a bus was ages ago.” She stood back up.
She’d want to use her vehicle…
Even though the fellow android’s expression didn’t change, why did Weiss feel as though she was being pitied?
“Based on calculations, I believe we should utilize our time properly. Walking is out of the question.”
“I know, it’s not like there’s an airport where we can go to and take a ride on.”
“Actually, there is one in the west.”
“Is it functional?”
“Why would it not be?”
“I thought airplanes were unable to go around countries because of the thick clouds and such.
“Look up above you.”
Weiss looked up as told and saw an airplane passing by. “. . .Alright let’s go to the airport then!”
“Would she be fine alone…?” The girl sighed as she murmured to herself a question. It was a good thing that she had followed her.
“Did you say something, Knight?”
“Of course not. Why’d you say that?
“I thought you said something rather unpleasant or maybe I was imagining things.”
“No, not at all,” the girl said with a big smile. “I’d never do that.”
“Somehow I sense that you are hiding something from me. Especially with that suspicious smile on your face.” She paused and continued, “Wait a minute, you never smiled before!”
“Oh, I am surprised that someone as aloof as you would notice such a thing.” The girl known as Judgement Knight smiled regardless.
“I still care about my comrades, you know. The only thing that I don’t know is the real names of each of the Judgement series. Anyway we should book a flight.”
“You? Caring? Color me surprised. Anyway, I got some pass, so I shall book the flight for us.”
“I am a nurse after all.” She chucked. “Alright, I’ll follow.”
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Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
In New York now, Weiss—accompanied by the Judgement Knight—exited the plane and crossed various streets on her way to the little Steel Union hideout. The Knight refused to walk, and simply called upon a taxi. She claimed to have some money for traveling expenses.
It was a free deal for Weiss, not knowing any better; she hopped on and now they were on their way to a particular apartment.
Of all places, the entire Judgement team was gathered in a rather small apartment in the middle of New York. Weiss expected a really comical scene with most members crammed in the living room, but unfortunately, it just so happened that most of them were out due to boredom.
On the other hand, Steel Princess seemed to be on the bed in another room just looking out past the window.
“Excuse me,” said Weiss after knocking on the Steel Princess’ room. “Weiss Accherman and Judgement Knight reporting for duty, ma’am.”
“Ah, welcome,” Steel Princess said. Welcome? Since when did Steel Princess ever say such a word? Regardless, she continued, “Is your ammo loaded?”
“Armed and ready. Along with full ammo clips and such,” Weiss said proudly.
“Then for now, you are free to rest your weary mind and body. There will be an operation soon so make sure your body is clean,” the Steel Princess answered without looking at either of the androids. “The same goes for you too.”
“Understood,” Judgement Knight answered, before turning back and leaving the room.
“I see, no wonder that the others aren’t around. I’ll just stay here and clean my weapon,” Weiss said while holding his weapon. And probably get a shower.
I suppose I have to give them one final modification… Steel Princess mused.
There would be a war, after all.
It was a free deal for Weiss, not knowing any better; she hopped on and now they were on their way to a particular apartment.
Of all places, the entire Judgement team was gathered in a rather small apartment in the middle of New York. Weiss expected a really comical scene with most members crammed in the living room, but unfortunately, it just so happened that most of them were out due to boredom.
On the other hand, Steel Princess seemed to be on the bed in another room just looking out past the window.
“Excuse me,” said Weiss after knocking on the Steel Princess’ room. “Weiss Accherman and Judgement Knight reporting for duty, ma’am.”
“Ah, welcome,” Steel Princess said. Welcome? Since when did Steel Princess ever say such a word? Regardless, she continued, “Is your ammo loaded?”
“Armed and ready. Along with full ammo clips and such,” Weiss said proudly.
“Then for now, you are free to rest your weary mind and body. There will be an operation soon so make sure your body is clean,” the Steel Princess answered without looking at either of the androids. “The same goes for you too.”
“Understood,” Judgement Knight answered, before turning back and leaving the room.
“I see, no wonder that the others aren’t around. I’ll just stay here and clean my weapon,” Weiss said while holding his weapon. And probably get a shower.
I suppose I have to give them one final modification… Steel Princess mused.
There would be a war, after all.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
It had been two days since the group arrived to the United States of America—the New World—with Frederica’s aid. The Duchess paid for the trip for everyone who signed up for the operation to end Virgo once and for all. There were so many people that they simply booked the entire Magic Train for that trip. However, to reach New York, where most were supposed to rendezvous, they had to take a flight from Los Angeles on the same day they arrived in America.
Needless to say, most were too tired for anything the first day. Even if some had experienced the luxury of a flight, others were too tired to relish the experience.
Now, Aramus had finally decided that it was high time his group should meet up and discuss the particulars for the big upcoming battle. Of course, such a group needed a proper place to meet, and even though there were many options, Aramus couldn’t pick a public area. He wouldn’t want uninvolved people to hear a group of people talking about what would seem like occult topics.
In the end, Aramus simply reserved a lounge in their hotel. This was the only solution he could think of. He felt bad for his wallet. The group was too big for a gathering in one little hotel room.
There, on the couches, was Aramus with Elizabeth beside him. Opposite to him was Lily, Michael, and Svetlana. Mary sat on a single sofa. Takeru intruded the party blatantly, claiming that Aramus must let him in. With some feeling of camaraderie formed from the battle against Sagittarius, there was no reason to deny him. So he soon took a seat beside Aramus too.
“Good evening everyone, I’m sorry to call you all together after a long day so I’ll try and keep this short. For those unfamiliar, I’m the Magister, Aramus Valmark, a teacher at the Eastern Magic Academy. For the rest, it’s good to be working with you again.” He then gestured towards Takeru. “The man beside me is Takeru Mikaido, he’s my senior Magister and will be leading our team. I hope for your cooperation in this endeavour—”
“Now, now,” Takeru begun, completely composed as would befit a leader, except that the truth was something else entirely. “I would believe you have developed a case of amnesia,” he deduced. “For I do know for a fact that you are the real leader of this team.”
Aramus looked at him glumly, the expression speaking various amounts of †˜Why would you do this?’ evident from his sour visage. “Or so I had wished. Even though I personally believe the senior Magister should be the one leading, it has somehow fallen to me. Somehow.”
“Well, it started with only you and me, so you were originally deemed the only senior,” Mary gently informed as a reminder, but Aramus knew she was laughing at him on the inside. Her expression just gave it away somehow.
“Laugh at me all you want, Mary. I don’t exactly believe in decorum as it only bogs things down in missions like these so feel free to speak your mind.”
“Good luck,” Mary said, maintaining her bright smile. “That’s all I have to say.” She laughed triumphantly.
“...So, what exactly are we talking about?” The voice of the one who questioned belonged to Svetlana. The once cheerful prankster teacher was now one giving away a vibe full of depression and vengefulness.
“Basically, where everyone will fit into our little team. What are your strengths, schools of magic, anything related to how we can get all of us working together like a tight outfit. Virgo will have her own set of allies, it would be both disappointing and life threatening if we are unable to function properly as a team in battle against them.” Aramus eyed Svetlana as he said this, not entirely sure of what she brought to their team. Sure he had heard some… rumors from the other teaching staff, but nothing concrete.
Svetlana seemed to listen, but spoke nothing in return.
“Well, leader, it’s up to you with how you want us to start. I would suggest that we should all explain our skills and abilities for the group to hear, but in what order?” Takeru said.
Aramus looked at Takeru tiredly as he spoke his answer. “I’ll go first, then you and so forth in that sequence I suppose. My primary magic is Aurum, followed by Aquam and then a smattering of others. I specialize in duelling with other mages and unfortunately do not have much in the way of support spells.
That’s all from me.”
“Name is Mikaido Takeru. A Magister like our Aramus Valmark here. I use an original spell I invented to crush my opponents with my grip,” Takeru said, waving his right hand to add to his point. “Basically, I use martial arts and brute strength more often than magic. I suppose I’m meant for close combat against enemies. I use supportive Vim spells—among others—to keep an eye on my enemies. I’m a little slow, after all. So my enemies would hide at a distance.” The man laughed, reminding himself that of all the duels he had, most opponents had indeed hid away. “My primary Technique is Intellego, and I use some Vim on the side as I mentioned already. Naturally, I employ corpus considering my signature spell.”
“Good evening, my name is Elizabeth Cavendish Bentinck,” Elizabeth introduced with a natural perfect smile befitting her stature as a young noble lady. “Unfortunately, I am also one of those suited more for combat, close-range like Mikaido. I specialize in the usage of Ignem spells. I am also experienced in providing back-up, so I think I wouldn’t need to be necessarily on the frontlines.” Many wouldn’t think a noble would opt for such a thing, considering they loved glory, but Elizabeth knew that Aramus was going to be overprotective anyway.
The job of introduction was then passed on to the opposite couch where Lily, Michael, and Svetlana lied.
Lily started. “I am known more as the Knight of Lilies than my real name, so please refer to me as Lily. I am a Templar Knight of the Organization known as the Church like my partner, and I happen to specialize in melee-combat too. However, I have tricks to immobilize my opponents as well. I use mostly Herbam spells. It is fact that my spells are regardless tools meant to further support my use of broadsword in combat, much like Mister Magister Mikaido.” She then poked at Michael.
Michael was leaning to the side, softly snoring, while his cheek was resting on his hand. Lily’s poke brought him to consciousness, which also made him glance towards her. It was just then he noticed a new person sitting among them, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed him until now. He tilted his head as he smiled goofily towards them, unsure why they were all silent. Once again his gaze turned towards Lily, who raised her eyebrows as if to scold him. He took a shot in the dark and guessed it was time to introduce each other. I’ll ask Lily for the other two’s names later… I think. “Good day to all of you, I am Michael Kallweit, a Priest of the Church. An Exorcist, Executor, a hunting dog, if that’s what you prefer,” He was smiling all throughout, feeling completely relaxed.
“Svetlana Astakhov. I mostly use Ignem, Herbam, and pretty much most of the other Forms. I know Cre, Rego and Muto for Techniques. I used to work as a mercenary—a Rider in Russia—so I specialize in fighting all kinds of people. So, I can use all kinds of spells; be it offense or defense, I can do both.”
“And lastly, my name is Mary Shelley. Due to… various rumors, I seem to be known to many already. Anyway, please don’t believe them because I happen to be a normal scholar like any other you’d find in London.” Who was going to believe that? Anyway, Mary went on as if she had successfully dispelled all those suspicious thoughts circulating about her in the minds of her teammates. “I specialize in melee too but… well, let’s just say that I also happen to be a clairvoyant. So I hope I am able to lend my aid to this team in a supportive way.” One could easily note that she didn’t speak of her spells at all aside from clairvoyance.
Aurum, or Vim perhaps? Takeru guessed but didn’t voice it.
“Right, so we’ll have Takeru and Lily on the frontline,” Aramus said. “I’d imagine your forms of combat would complement each other very well. I will provide ranged magic support alongside… Michael. Are guns your weapon of choice in an engagement?” Aramus asked, turning to Michael.
“Most probably. If we had the opportunity to, I could also set up some traps beforehand,” he added. “That being said, I can also fight in close quarters if need be. You could say I could fill up the gaps in our formation as we go along.”
“Alright, then you’ll support the front or backline if they require it but otherwise, stick to ranged. Mary, you’ll be on a supportive role with your clairvoyance alongside Svetlana. I feel both of your expertise would be best utilized there. Elizabeth will also be together with you unless the situation requires another front liner. Does anyone have any objections to this arrangement?” Aramus said, sweeping an arm across all the members of the team.
“Works for me,” Michael replied.
“Got it,” Mary said, giving a nod. “Let’s work together well, Miss Astakhov.”
“...Yes, I look forward to working with you,” Svetlana said like any Japanese would phrase for formality. The translation of said Japanese to English via the spell from the magic accessory appeared to have voiced something strange to Mary, but she figured that it was an issue with the supernatural ability.
“Understood, teacher,” Elizabeth gave a terse response of understanding.
“So, are we going with the approach that Elizabeth will be protecting our back-ups—Miss Mary and Miss Astakhov?” Takeru inquired.
“That is the idea,” Aramus replied. “I think this should be alright.”
“I feel like we should make use of Miss Bentinck’s firepower more, though. Maybe some ranged spells are possible to be utilized?” Takeru suggested.
“It is indeed possible,” Elizabeth confirmed. “I would like to claim that I can handle both protection and provide ranged support; but I cannot make any such guarantees for completely flawless performance. However, I am fine trying either way, personally.”
“You should be fine. I still remember the holes and burnt portions of my cloak from when we spared. Would there be anything else? Otherwise, we can adjourn for the night to get some rest,” Aramus said with a quick nod.
“Yes, actually. About the second-in-command. That’s… not me, right?” Takeru asked with a quirked eyebrow, hoping that it was perhaps Mary or someone else.
“If no one wants the job, I’m afraid it’s going to be you, senpai,” Aramus responded with a knowing smile, suddenly all too cheerful.
Takeru looked over to Mary—who looked away, grinning—and everyone else pretending to not see him.
“Alright, alright, I got it. Jeez, don’t be so cold on the first day, guys,” Takeru accepted, putting his hands up in surrender.
“Ok then, it’s all settled here so I’ll see you all in the morning,” Aramus said as he got up, patting his pants to smooth out the wrinkles. “They better pray it’s a buffet breakfast.”
Everyone got up and the group started to disperse from the lounge. As Aramus was going, however, Mary showed a sign with her hand to indicate that they had to talk.
“What’s this Mary? A scholar asking for some after-school tuition? Or perhaps something else?” Aramus asked in an exaggerated tone, insinuating at something or the other. However, his next line was barely a whisper as he expected what she had to say. “That’s why I had Takeru play the part. We’d best keep it quiet.”
“Yes, I understand that much,” Mary said with a forced smile, motioning for Aramus to sit down for a while longer.
Elizabeth seemed to be waiting outside for Aramus, however. There was that look on her face that gave Aramus the chill. “We have more important business, remember? Stop wasting time with other young ladies,” it translated.
Aramus returned her look with one of apology and promised cupcakes, clapping his hands together in front of his face to tell her he was sorry. He would visit her later, suspicious as it was, but Mary had wanted some secrecy on this and he owed her that much. Otherwise, he’d still be eating flies somewhere.
Elizabeth seemed to have sighed and walked away.
“Oh, I do apologize if I caused a rift between the lady you were courting, Mister Valmark,” Mary said, sitting down on a couch.
“Does it look that way to you?” Aramus asked, somewhat perturbed. “She will understand though, she always does. I figured you wouldn’t want her here so… And just so you know, we aren’t going out. Really.”
“Then you needn’t sound so desperate.” Mary laughed. “Well this isn’t anything special but I figured that you’d want in-depth explanations about Svetlana Astakhov. She seems to have something exceptional in her.”
“We’ll have to keep her in check. Judging from the way she reacted to Duchess Margaret, she might become a liability if she is unable to keep her emotions in control during our battles. There is something more to her then?” Aramus said, hurrying to change the topic to anything but Ellie.
“There is some kind of an evil presence inside her. While I judge that it may be a power favorable to our side, it may be considered heretical if displayed before many magis,” Mary revealed, a little worried about Svetlana. “I honestly do not know where she came across such strength, may she became a diabolic. Whatever it is, it must have its reins in place.”
“In this case, I would think it is possible. The way she grieved was telling enough,” Aramus mused. “We will have to settle it before we return but for now, can you keep an eye on her? She’s even more of a threat if that power takes over during a crucial moment.”
“I do not think it will take over. The mage that is Svetlana is it a sufficient level—no, likely beyond average. As long as she doesn’t activate it herself we may not have any fears to deal with.”
“I’ll trust your judgement. You have the †˜all seeing eye’ after all,” Aramus said with a laugh. “Would there be anything else you’d like to add?”
“I’m not so stupid as to waltz out in the middle of the fight with my power,” Svetlana said from the door. Her glare gave chills down Aramus’ spine. It somehow felt demonic. “Quit analysing me, and don’t underestimate me.”
“That remains to be seen, Svetlana. I have insufficient experience from working with you to get a good handle on what you are capable of. If there is something in you that does endanger the team then it is better that I keep an eye on it. It’s nothing personal, I hope you understand,” Aramus said flatly.
“These small worries will endanger your team more. I am perfectly capable of handling my own poison,” Svetlana replied. “I’m surprised that everyone here thinks their weak magic can win this war over,” she commented with a lower tone of voice.
“It can. And we will win, Miss Svetlana. I sincerely believe this to be true,” Michael butted in, holding a piece of bread in his hand and hugging a few more in his arms. “Also considering what you were able to do against the Representative.”
“That’s right, I thwarted the Representative without even using what you’re all afraid of.” Svetlana folded her arms over her chest. “One small thing in me isn’t going to win me over.” She then walked away.
“...She already appears so mentally violent,” Mary stated, sighing with Svetlana’s departure.
“Well, I’ll leave her to you Mary. Knock yourself out,” Aramus said, not particularly bothered. Instead he was gazing intently at Michael, rather what the priest was holding in his hands.
“You’re so easy to read,” Mary commented. “Maybe we should have dinner…?”
“...I am having dinner,” Michael replied. He tossed one of the few loaves of bread he was holding towards Aramus. “That’s an apology for trying to shoot you, Mister...”
“Shoot?” Mary looked back and forth between the two. “Wait, I don’t get any?”
“I assumed you’d much prefer the buffet,” Michael replied. “I personally don’t have the money to partake in such feasts. The bread, however, was free.”
“I could always give you a treat. It’d be a waste to not have good food while you’re here. Besides, only bread for dinner can’t be good for you,” Mary suggested.
Aramus hurriedly caught the loaf, a look of happiness dawning on his face the more he stared at the bread. “Thank you Michael. This freshly baked loaf will not be forgotten!” He peeled a small portion off and popped it into his mouth, the light flavor filling his mouth. “W-We should eat. Who knows when our last meal will be!” he added, trying to salvage some of his dignity but failing miserably. Aramus shuffled off in the direction of the buffet. Breakfast be damned, he was going to have some now. “Eat, drink and be merry, at least for tonight.”
“Well someone is happy at my idea…” Mary shrugged. “Well, shall we?” she asked Michael.
“Well, I can come with, but as I’ve said I’ve been eating dinner. I doubt I can eat any more,” he replied.
“There’s always room for dessert. Quick, quick, before they stop serving the buffet!” Aramus cried out from in front of them, still peeling off pieces to feed his everlasting hunger.
“Calm down, we have at least two more hours,” Mary reminded as Aramus pulled them out of the lounge anyway.
Needless to say, most were too tired for anything the first day. Even if some had experienced the luxury of a flight, others were too tired to relish the experience.
Now, Aramus had finally decided that it was high time his group should meet up and discuss the particulars for the big upcoming battle. Of course, such a group needed a proper place to meet, and even though there were many options, Aramus couldn’t pick a public area. He wouldn’t want uninvolved people to hear a group of people talking about what would seem like occult topics.
In the end, Aramus simply reserved a lounge in their hotel. This was the only solution he could think of. He felt bad for his wallet. The group was too big for a gathering in one little hotel room.
There, on the couches, was Aramus with Elizabeth beside him. Opposite to him was Lily, Michael, and Svetlana. Mary sat on a single sofa. Takeru intruded the party blatantly, claiming that Aramus must let him in. With some feeling of camaraderie formed from the battle against Sagittarius, there was no reason to deny him. So he soon took a seat beside Aramus too.
“Good evening everyone, I’m sorry to call you all together after a long day so I’ll try and keep this short. For those unfamiliar, I’m the Magister, Aramus Valmark, a teacher at the Eastern Magic Academy. For the rest, it’s good to be working with you again.” He then gestured towards Takeru. “The man beside me is Takeru Mikaido, he’s my senior Magister and will be leading our team. I hope for your cooperation in this endeavour—”
“Now, now,” Takeru begun, completely composed as would befit a leader, except that the truth was something else entirely. “I would believe you have developed a case of amnesia,” he deduced. “For I do know for a fact that you are the real leader of this team.”
Aramus looked at him glumly, the expression speaking various amounts of †˜Why would you do this?’ evident from his sour visage. “Or so I had wished. Even though I personally believe the senior Magister should be the one leading, it has somehow fallen to me. Somehow.”
“Well, it started with only you and me, so you were originally deemed the only senior,” Mary gently informed as a reminder, but Aramus knew she was laughing at him on the inside. Her expression just gave it away somehow.
“Laugh at me all you want, Mary. I don’t exactly believe in decorum as it only bogs things down in missions like these so feel free to speak your mind.”
“Good luck,” Mary said, maintaining her bright smile. “That’s all I have to say.” She laughed triumphantly.
“...So, what exactly are we talking about?” The voice of the one who questioned belonged to Svetlana. The once cheerful prankster teacher was now one giving away a vibe full of depression and vengefulness.
“Basically, where everyone will fit into our little team. What are your strengths, schools of magic, anything related to how we can get all of us working together like a tight outfit. Virgo will have her own set of allies, it would be both disappointing and life threatening if we are unable to function properly as a team in battle against them.” Aramus eyed Svetlana as he said this, not entirely sure of what she brought to their team. Sure he had heard some… rumors from the other teaching staff, but nothing concrete.
Svetlana seemed to listen, but spoke nothing in return.
“Well, leader, it’s up to you with how you want us to start. I would suggest that we should all explain our skills and abilities for the group to hear, but in what order?” Takeru said.
Aramus looked at Takeru tiredly as he spoke his answer. “I’ll go first, then you and so forth in that sequence I suppose. My primary magic is Aurum, followed by Aquam and then a smattering of others. I specialize in duelling with other mages and unfortunately do not have much in the way of support spells.
That’s all from me.”
“Name is Mikaido Takeru. A Magister like our Aramus Valmark here. I use an original spell I invented to crush my opponents with my grip,” Takeru said, waving his right hand to add to his point. “Basically, I use martial arts and brute strength more often than magic. I suppose I’m meant for close combat against enemies. I use supportive Vim spells—among others—to keep an eye on my enemies. I’m a little slow, after all. So my enemies would hide at a distance.” The man laughed, reminding himself that of all the duels he had, most opponents had indeed hid away. “My primary Technique is Intellego, and I use some Vim on the side as I mentioned already. Naturally, I employ corpus considering my signature spell.”
“Good evening, my name is Elizabeth Cavendish Bentinck,” Elizabeth introduced with a natural perfect smile befitting her stature as a young noble lady. “Unfortunately, I am also one of those suited more for combat, close-range like Mikaido. I specialize in the usage of Ignem spells. I am also experienced in providing back-up, so I think I wouldn’t need to be necessarily on the frontlines.” Many wouldn’t think a noble would opt for such a thing, considering they loved glory, but Elizabeth knew that Aramus was going to be overprotective anyway.
The job of introduction was then passed on to the opposite couch where Lily, Michael, and Svetlana lied.
Lily started. “I am known more as the Knight of Lilies than my real name, so please refer to me as Lily. I am a Templar Knight of the Organization known as the Church like my partner, and I happen to specialize in melee-combat too. However, I have tricks to immobilize my opponents as well. I use mostly Herbam spells. It is fact that my spells are regardless tools meant to further support my use of broadsword in combat, much like Mister Magister Mikaido.” She then poked at Michael.
Michael was leaning to the side, softly snoring, while his cheek was resting on his hand. Lily’s poke brought him to consciousness, which also made him glance towards her. It was just then he noticed a new person sitting among them, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed him until now. He tilted his head as he smiled goofily towards them, unsure why they were all silent. Once again his gaze turned towards Lily, who raised her eyebrows as if to scold him. He took a shot in the dark and guessed it was time to introduce each other. I’ll ask Lily for the other two’s names later… I think. “Good day to all of you, I am Michael Kallweit, a Priest of the Church. An Exorcist, Executor, a hunting dog, if that’s what you prefer,” He was smiling all throughout, feeling completely relaxed.
“Svetlana Astakhov. I mostly use Ignem, Herbam, and pretty much most of the other Forms. I know Cre, Rego and Muto for Techniques. I used to work as a mercenary—a Rider in Russia—so I specialize in fighting all kinds of people. So, I can use all kinds of spells; be it offense or defense, I can do both.”
“And lastly, my name is Mary Shelley. Due to… various rumors, I seem to be known to many already. Anyway, please don’t believe them because I happen to be a normal scholar like any other you’d find in London.” Who was going to believe that? Anyway, Mary went on as if she had successfully dispelled all those suspicious thoughts circulating about her in the minds of her teammates. “I specialize in melee too but… well, let’s just say that I also happen to be a clairvoyant. So I hope I am able to lend my aid to this team in a supportive way.” One could easily note that she didn’t speak of her spells at all aside from clairvoyance.
Aurum, or Vim perhaps? Takeru guessed but didn’t voice it.
“Right, so we’ll have Takeru and Lily on the frontline,” Aramus said. “I’d imagine your forms of combat would complement each other very well. I will provide ranged magic support alongside… Michael. Are guns your weapon of choice in an engagement?” Aramus asked, turning to Michael.
“Most probably. If we had the opportunity to, I could also set up some traps beforehand,” he added. “That being said, I can also fight in close quarters if need be. You could say I could fill up the gaps in our formation as we go along.”
“Alright, then you’ll support the front or backline if they require it but otherwise, stick to ranged. Mary, you’ll be on a supportive role with your clairvoyance alongside Svetlana. I feel both of your expertise would be best utilized there. Elizabeth will also be together with you unless the situation requires another front liner. Does anyone have any objections to this arrangement?” Aramus said, sweeping an arm across all the members of the team.
“Works for me,” Michael replied.
“Got it,” Mary said, giving a nod. “Let’s work together well, Miss Astakhov.”
“...Yes, I look forward to working with you,” Svetlana said like any Japanese would phrase for formality. The translation of said Japanese to English via the spell from the magic accessory appeared to have voiced something strange to Mary, but she figured that it was an issue with the supernatural ability.
“Understood, teacher,” Elizabeth gave a terse response of understanding.
“So, are we going with the approach that Elizabeth will be protecting our back-ups—Miss Mary and Miss Astakhov?” Takeru inquired.
“That is the idea,” Aramus replied. “I think this should be alright.”
“I feel like we should make use of Miss Bentinck’s firepower more, though. Maybe some ranged spells are possible to be utilized?” Takeru suggested.
“It is indeed possible,” Elizabeth confirmed. “I would like to claim that I can handle both protection and provide ranged support; but I cannot make any such guarantees for completely flawless performance. However, I am fine trying either way, personally.”
“You should be fine. I still remember the holes and burnt portions of my cloak from when we spared. Would there be anything else? Otherwise, we can adjourn for the night to get some rest,” Aramus said with a quick nod.
“Yes, actually. About the second-in-command. That’s… not me, right?” Takeru asked with a quirked eyebrow, hoping that it was perhaps Mary or someone else.
“If no one wants the job, I’m afraid it’s going to be you, senpai,” Aramus responded with a knowing smile, suddenly all too cheerful.
Takeru looked over to Mary—who looked away, grinning—and everyone else pretending to not see him.
“Alright, alright, I got it. Jeez, don’t be so cold on the first day, guys,” Takeru accepted, putting his hands up in surrender.
“Ok then, it’s all settled here so I’ll see you all in the morning,” Aramus said as he got up, patting his pants to smooth out the wrinkles. “They better pray it’s a buffet breakfast.”
Everyone got up and the group started to disperse from the lounge. As Aramus was going, however, Mary showed a sign with her hand to indicate that they had to talk.
“What’s this Mary? A scholar asking for some after-school tuition? Or perhaps something else?” Aramus asked in an exaggerated tone, insinuating at something or the other. However, his next line was barely a whisper as he expected what she had to say. “That’s why I had Takeru play the part. We’d best keep it quiet.”
“Yes, I understand that much,” Mary said with a forced smile, motioning for Aramus to sit down for a while longer.
Elizabeth seemed to be waiting outside for Aramus, however. There was that look on her face that gave Aramus the chill. “We have more important business, remember? Stop wasting time with other young ladies,” it translated.
Aramus returned her look with one of apology and promised cupcakes, clapping his hands together in front of his face to tell her he was sorry. He would visit her later, suspicious as it was, but Mary had wanted some secrecy on this and he owed her that much. Otherwise, he’d still be eating flies somewhere.
Elizabeth seemed to have sighed and walked away.
“Oh, I do apologize if I caused a rift between the lady you were courting, Mister Valmark,” Mary said, sitting down on a couch.
“Does it look that way to you?” Aramus asked, somewhat perturbed. “She will understand though, she always does. I figured you wouldn’t want her here so… And just so you know, we aren’t going out. Really.”
“Then you needn’t sound so desperate.” Mary laughed. “Well this isn’t anything special but I figured that you’d want in-depth explanations about Svetlana Astakhov. She seems to have something exceptional in her.”
“We’ll have to keep her in check. Judging from the way she reacted to Duchess Margaret, she might become a liability if she is unable to keep her emotions in control during our battles. There is something more to her then?” Aramus said, hurrying to change the topic to anything but Ellie.
“There is some kind of an evil presence inside her. While I judge that it may be a power favorable to our side, it may be considered heretical if displayed before many magis,” Mary revealed, a little worried about Svetlana. “I honestly do not know where she came across such strength, may she became a diabolic. Whatever it is, it must have its reins in place.”
“In this case, I would think it is possible. The way she grieved was telling enough,” Aramus mused. “We will have to settle it before we return but for now, can you keep an eye on her? She’s even more of a threat if that power takes over during a crucial moment.”
“I do not think it will take over. The mage that is Svetlana is it a sufficient level—no, likely beyond average. As long as she doesn’t activate it herself we may not have any fears to deal with.”
“I’ll trust your judgement. You have the †˜all seeing eye’ after all,” Aramus said with a laugh. “Would there be anything else you’d like to add?”
“I’m not so stupid as to waltz out in the middle of the fight with my power,” Svetlana said from the door. Her glare gave chills down Aramus’ spine. It somehow felt demonic. “Quit analysing me, and don’t underestimate me.”
“That remains to be seen, Svetlana. I have insufficient experience from working with you to get a good handle on what you are capable of. If there is something in you that does endanger the team then it is better that I keep an eye on it. It’s nothing personal, I hope you understand,” Aramus said flatly.
“These small worries will endanger your team more. I am perfectly capable of handling my own poison,” Svetlana replied. “I’m surprised that everyone here thinks their weak magic can win this war over,” she commented with a lower tone of voice.
“It can. And we will win, Miss Svetlana. I sincerely believe this to be true,” Michael butted in, holding a piece of bread in his hand and hugging a few more in his arms. “Also considering what you were able to do against the Representative.”
“That’s right, I thwarted the Representative without even using what you’re all afraid of.” Svetlana folded her arms over her chest. “One small thing in me isn’t going to win me over.” She then walked away.
“...She already appears so mentally violent,” Mary stated, sighing with Svetlana’s departure.
“Well, I’ll leave her to you Mary. Knock yourself out,” Aramus said, not particularly bothered. Instead he was gazing intently at Michael, rather what the priest was holding in his hands.
“You’re so easy to read,” Mary commented. “Maybe we should have dinner…?”
“...I am having dinner,” Michael replied. He tossed one of the few loaves of bread he was holding towards Aramus. “That’s an apology for trying to shoot you, Mister...”
“Shoot?” Mary looked back and forth between the two. “Wait, I don’t get any?”
“I assumed you’d much prefer the buffet,” Michael replied. “I personally don’t have the money to partake in such feasts. The bread, however, was free.”
“I could always give you a treat. It’d be a waste to not have good food while you’re here. Besides, only bread for dinner can’t be good for you,” Mary suggested.
Aramus hurriedly caught the loaf, a look of happiness dawning on his face the more he stared at the bread. “Thank you Michael. This freshly baked loaf will not be forgotten!” He peeled a small portion off and popped it into his mouth, the light flavor filling his mouth. “W-We should eat. Who knows when our last meal will be!” he added, trying to salvage some of his dignity but failing miserably. Aramus shuffled off in the direction of the buffet. Breakfast be damned, he was going to have some now. “Eat, drink and be merry, at least for tonight.”
“Well someone is happy at my idea…” Mary shrugged. “Well, shall we?” she asked Michael.
“Well, I can come with, but as I’ve said I’ve been eating dinner. I doubt I can eat any more,” he replied.
“There’s always room for dessert. Quick, quick, before they stop serving the buffet!” Aramus cried out from in front of them, still peeling off pieces to feed his everlasting hunger.
“Calm down, we have at least two more hours,” Mary reminded as Aramus pulled them out of the lounge anyway.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
After being dragged all the way to the dinner hall, Mary, Michael, and Aramus laid their eyes on the massive place where there were endless tables and chairs and a sea of people who were all there to dine.
“This is a little more than I imagined,” Mary said, taken aback. Having stayed in England for so many years, these kinds of scenes were rather foreign to her. She’d remind herself that she was in a foreign land at the moment, but her mind wasn’t quite responding. Even in the Magic Academy she saw nothing like this.
The buffet seemed to be progressing, rejecting Aramus’ fear, but the line of people for it was rather long.
“Plan what you want to eat. Don’t gorge right off the bat, try and savor whatever they have to offer. Get food that complements each other,” Aramus murmured to the both of them, his mouth practically watering as they got closer and closer to the spread. “Most importantly, enjoy yourself.”
“Y...Yeah, I’ll try…!” Mary nervously said, but somehow she was pumped up.
Michael munched on the bread he was holding. “I guess I’ll be reserving our seats.” He then walked towards the tables.
“As expected of a priest, he is hardly shaken from the calls of gluttony,” Mary commented as Michael walked off. Aramus merely gave Michael the thumbs up, approval from the glorious leader of their party.
The two finally joined the people in line, and after five minutes, they filled their plates before going up to Michael and their seats.
Of course, Aramus took much more than Mary. He plonked it down on the table, separating the food as he took stock of what he had taken.
Considering their accommodations were rated three stars, there wasn’t anything particularly fancy that they had to offer. Not that any of it mattered to Aramus. What laid before him was what one could call traditional American cuisine, littered with potatoes, bacon, sausages, ribs and many others. They even had a Philly cheese steak. He had looked forward to trying that one in particular.
Wiggling his fingers, he picked up a small slider. The tiny burger looked miniscule compared to everything else, barely the size of his palm, but the charm of it was that each slider was loaded with different condiments but still retained the same beef patty. However, this one was slightly different and contained pulled pork. He lifted the top bun off the miniscule burger, noting that the meat was drizzled in barbeque sauce. Glazed onions rounded it out and he quickly put the top back on, finishing the small morsel in two bites. This was only the beginning.
The next to go were the chili cheese fries. An all-american favorite, the fries were cut thickly, skin on and then deep fried to golden perfection. Placed in a large basket, they were then smothered by beef chili and cheese to the point that one could barely see what lied beneath the layer of absolute goodness. Aramus plunged his fork into the dish, breaking through the wholesome layer easily and a small mouthful of fries came away, the cheese still struggling to stay together as strands formed whenever he moved his fork.
“I have to hand it to the Americans. They definitely know how to indulge in sin,” Aramus said before munching on the chili cheese fries. The first flavor he tasted was the strong cheese, followed shortly by the beef chili. Even though it was named as such, it was not particularly spicy. A bit of a tang was all he felt before he finally swallowed. A sound of satisfaction left his mouth as he finished, cut short as another mouthful quickly took its place.
“...Are you really going to eat all that, Mister Valmark?” Mary asked, intimidated from all the food Aramus stacked up on his plate. Despite what she said, a side of her was dazzled by their looks, tempting her to go back and get some of them. Mary’s plate only really consisted of a strawberry crepe, while she also carried a separate plate with a hamburger.
“It would be disrespectful if I left anything behind after I had already taken it from the buffet. No, Mary. That would not do, absolutely won’t do,” Aramus replied, his eyes already glazing over. “I will definitely send the chef my regards after this meal. Oh yes I will.”
“I… I see. I-It’d be disrespectful if I don’t eat more, wouldn’t it? We’re paying quite the fee for it and all,” Mary said, somehow in-line with Aramus’ thoughts.
“What other purpose does food exist other than to be eaten? To be savored, enjoyed and ultimately providing us nourishment!” Aramus raved, though he made sure that his voice wouldn’t exactly carry too far. Well, he tried at least. “There can be no greater dream than this! A buffet, where one can eat and drink his fill. Now Mary, be part of the feast! ”
“And with that said, here,” Mary said, passing the separate plate of hamburger to Michael. “I took this out for you. Have something else for a change.”
“I’ll have to pass, I am already full,” Michael replied, waving his hands in front of him. “Please don’t mind me.”
“Shame,” Aramus said, pointing at the plate. “You sure you don’t want that? Maybe grab some cake or ice cream instead. I hear they have some pretty good pies too.”
“No, no, it really is okay. Thank you both for the offer, though.”
Aramus shrugged, looking at the abandoned hamburger with desire. Let it be known that he still had his own hamburger right in front of him. “I’ll… I’ll finish it for you later,” he said quickly before pausing to look at Mary with eyes full of hope. “Unless, you want it?”
“No, no, go right ahead. I’ll be getting other food after this,” Mary said, letting Aramus take the burger.
Aramus all but purred in delight, going back to his own food with renewed vigor. After a short period, he decided it would be prudent to take a short respite from all he had been consuming. The only one eating had been him for some time after all.
“So Mary, on the topic of Claudia, were you referring to Michael and Lily when you said other people were on the case as well?”
“Yes, indeed I was,” Mary answered, her crepe finished some time ago. It was now replaced with some other set of food she had picked up after hearing Aramus’ inspiring speech about food. Her plate now had some chinese food, among other things. Details aside, she continued, “They are members of the Church, and said Organization was originally responsible for taking out her family, and now they want her gone too.”
“I see. So even before she came to the orphanage, they were already after her?” Aramus asked. “She did not speak much of her past nor did I pry.”
“According to the reports, Claudia was simply missing. However, her blunder of casting a Supreme Spell in a practice match hosted at the Royal Academy roused the attention of the Church,” Mary explained. “The case was, of course, covered up to protect the reputation of the Academy. However, rumours had spread.”
Needless to say, England had been a treasure trove of rich and fluctuating rumors for decades now. In fact, Aramus wouldn’t have heard of Mary if not for said rumors.
“What was she thinking, even doing that…” Aramus said, popping a french fry into his mouth. “Her lack of common sense is astounding. Then again, she was never the most normal child during our time together anyway.”
“Indeed, she simply lashed out. I tried to lessen the burden of the situation from the Headmaster’s punishment. Taking back the sword The Society leased to her.” Mary shrugged. “However, my action proved fruitless, for she joined BLoodLuSt some days later.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it that way but she was indeed getting into scuffles a lot as a child,” Aramus said, starting up his food engine again and beginning to eat at an increasing pace. “Out of the pan and into the fire.”
“Michael and I both faced her the night of the Queen’s Meeting, but were not successful in bringing her down,” Mary further elaborated on the tale. “Michael fought her again recently, I believe.”
Aramus looked at Michael, halfway through a piece of chicken. The juices leaking from it almost distracted him from what he was going to say. Almost. “Does she still wear that tiara?”
“Yes, she does,” Michael replied. He had simply been observing the two until he was addressed by the man named Aramus. It seemed that this person was an acquaintance of Claudia from her childhood. “What is with that tiara, anyway?”
“Beats me. She had it when she came to the orphanage but whenever the other kids teased her about it, she’d get a little violent. It’s like, she was never without it. I don’t recall a time where she took it off,” Aramus muttered, figuratively scratching his head.
“I see. Well then, I guess that tiara doesn’t really matter much. I mean, as long as we try not to—or to move it, depending on how we want her to be.” Michael rested his cheek on his hand. “What we need to watch out for, aside from the Countess and Claudia, are her allies. I have fought at least one of them… the one who attacked the Queen.”
“Did you kill him?” Aramus said, his eyes narrowing to slits. Too bad the image was ruined as he was still holding a half eaten drumstick.
“No. The first time I encountered him, he ran away; the second was when he attacked the Queen. I only managed to find Claudia then. His name is Marco, also known as the Noble Diner. He was able to bite my partner in our first encounter, which he used to get within striking distance of the Queen without her noticing.” Anger was very noticeable from his voice when he described Marco.
“Yes, indeed,” Mary added after Michael. “He is Marco, the Diner of Noble Blood. He targets anyone he deems to have †˜rich’ blood. Basically, any aristocrats, wealthy individuals, and even people with noble hearts may be targeted. The first encounter Mister Kallweit described was when I was his target.”
“Hoh. So you both have a vendetta against him as well,” Aramus noted, setting the now clean drumstick on a plate. “Do you think either of them would pursue us here? After what happened with the Countess and Duchess Margaret…”
“It would be possible for them to move in pairs now, knowing that Claudia was at an disadvantage in her last two fights,” Michael said. “Regarding what you have said, I would like to say that to me, at least, it is us pursuing them. I will try tapping into the network of Executioners in America to see if we can track their movements here.”
“They seem extremely focused on the White Lotus here in America, but seeing as I’ve confirmed Claudia to be coming here, something may pop up,” Mary said. “On that note, I have heard rumors of Claudia fighting Aries in California already.”
“Alright. I’ve promised that I would leave her to you, as much as I’d love to join in her pacification. She seems to want to test her might against everything that moves. Perhaps you might catch her after one such instance,” Aramus said, already beginning to munch on something else.
“Promised?” Michael asked.
“Promised to leave Claudia to us,” Mary answered in Aramus’ stead.
“As long as she is stopped, it doesn’t matter who does it anymore,” Michael said, averting his gaze. He had wasted his opportunities to stop Claudia far too much at this point. “I was too sure of myself the last time we fought, and now that I have thought about it, I doubt it will be as easy next time.”
“The problem only gets worse with time. I’ll be counting on you both in more ways than one then,” Aramus muttered. He stood up to get more food, whatever he had had on his plate already demolished. “I’m going to grab some dessert, you two want anything?”
“Surprise me,” Mary said, smiling.
“Tea. Is that okay?” Michael asked.
Aramus nodded at both their requests and took off, glee on his face as he swiftly joined the queue for more food. Returning faster than both expected, he laid more plates on the table, passing a small cake to Mary. “I got you some buttermilk pancakes with blueberries. There’s maple syrup on the side if you want.”
“Thank you,” Mary replied. “Seems great; I love maple syrup.”
Handing Michael his desired beverage, Aramus placed a couple of sugar packets and a small pitcher of milk on the table. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your tea so…”
“Thanks,” Michael said, taking the tea, but leaving the sugar packets and milk.
“That said, you are after the hellfires, was it?” Mary asked Aramus.
“Yup,” Aramus answered, pouring a copious amount of maple syrup over his own buttermilk pancakes. “They’re somewhere here. I’ll just have to find one somehow.” He continued with a wave, looking a little displeased.
“Hellfire? What for?” Michael asked out of curiosity.
“Ah, I’m going demon hunting,” Aramus said after a mouthful of fluffy pancakes. “Just something I gotta do on the other side of the gate. Call it a request from someone important.”
“I see. Good luck with that, then.”
“Well, if you’re planning to open one yourself, or finding one, I’d think confronting the MVA directly would be a wise judgement,” Mary advised. “Since otherwise, you may get arrested.”
“The MVA huh. Good idea, perhaps they could even offer some advice on how to go back doing it.” Aramus smiled pleasantly. Things were looking better and it wasn’t just because of the pancakes he was eating.
“Currently, they’re responsible for all matters pertaining to Infernals in the country—especially because of how the Infernals are in excess around here—so you should seek them out. I hear the leader has been dealing with demons for about a decade now,” Mary added informatively.
“Busy man. Perhaps he might squeeze some time in his schedule to meet with me. I’ll bring some souvenirs,” Aramus added with a laugh.
“If you want to meet him you’d best go to California,” Mary suggested. “Since he is operating there at the moment, based on what I’ve heard from the Aries and Claudia incident.”
“California. I wonder if we could arrange a meeting on the beach… Anyway, thanks for the help, Mary.”
“This is a little more than I imagined,” Mary said, taken aback. Having stayed in England for so many years, these kinds of scenes were rather foreign to her. She’d remind herself that she was in a foreign land at the moment, but her mind wasn’t quite responding. Even in the Magic Academy she saw nothing like this.
The buffet seemed to be progressing, rejecting Aramus’ fear, but the line of people for it was rather long.
“Plan what you want to eat. Don’t gorge right off the bat, try and savor whatever they have to offer. Get food that complements each other,” Aramus murmured to the both of them, his mouth practically watering as they got closer and closer to the spread. “Most importantly, enjoy yourself.”
“Y...Yeah, I’ll try…!” Mary nervously said, but somehow she was pumped up.
Michael munched on the bread he was holding. “I guess I’ll be reserving our seats.” He then walked towards the tables.
“As expected of a priest, he is hardly shaken from the calls of gluttony,” Mary commented as Michael walked off. Aramus merely gave Michael the thumbs up, approval from the glorious leader of their party.
The two finally joined the people in line, and after five minutes, they filled their plates before going up to Michael and their seats.
Of course, Aramus took much more than Mary. He plonked it down on the table, separating the food as he took stock of what he had taken.
Considering their accommodations were rated three stars, there wasn’t anything particularly fancy that they had to offer. Not that any of it mattered to Aramus. What laid before him was what one could call traditional American cuisine, littered with potatoes, bacon, sausages, ribs and many others. They even had a Philly cheese steak. He had looked forward to trying that one in particular.
Wiggling his fingers, he picked up a small slider. The tiny burger looked miniscule compared to everything else, barely the size of his palm, but the charm of it was that each slider was loaded with different condiments but still retained the same beef patty. However, this one was slightly different and contained pulled pork. He lifted the top bun off the miniscule burger, noting that the meat was drizzled in barbeque sauce. Glazed onions rounded it out and he quickly put the top back on, finishing the small morsel in two bites. This was only the beginning.
The next to go were the chili cheese fries. An all-american favorite, the fries were cut thickly, skin on and then deep fried to golden perfection. Placed in a large basket, they were then smothered by beef chili and cheese to the point that one could barely see what lied beneath the layer of absolute goodness. Aramus plunged his fork into the dish, breaking through the wholesome layer easily and a small mouthful of fries came away, the cheese still struggling to stay together as strands formed whenever he moved his fork.
“I have to hand it to the Americans. They definitely know how to indulge in sin,” Aramus said before munching on the chili cheese fries. The first flavor he tasted was the strong cheese, followed shortly by the beef chili. Even though it was named as such, it was not particularly spicy. A bit of a tang was all he felt before he finally swallowed. A sound of satisfaction left his mouth as he finished, cut short as another mouthful quickly took its place.
“...Are you really going to eat all that, Mister Valmark?” Mary asked, intimidated from all the food Aramus stacked up on his plate. Despite what she said, a side of her was dazzled by their looks, tempting her to go back and get some of them. Mary’s plate only really consisted of a strawberry crepe, while she also carried a separate plate with a hamburger.
“It would be disrespectful if I left anything behind after I had already taken it from the buffet. No, Mary. That would not do, absolutely won’t do,” Aramus replied, his eyes already glazing over. “I will definitely send the chef my regards after this meal. Oh yes I will.”
“I… I see. I-It’d be disrespectful if I don’t eat more, wouldn’t it? We’re paying quite the fee for it and all,” Mary said, somehow in-line with Aramus’ thoughts.
“What other purpose does food exist other than to be eaten? To be savored, enjoyed and ultimately providing us nourishment!” Aramus raved, though he made sure that his voice wouldn’t exactly carry too far. Well, he tried at least. “There can be no greater dream than this! A buffet, where one can eat and drink his fill. Now Mary, be part of the feast! ”
“And with that said, here,” Mary said, passing the separate plate of hamburger to Michael. “I took this out for you. Have something else for a change.”
“I’ll have to pass, I am already full,” Michael replied, waving his hands in front of him. “Please don’t mind me.”
“Shame,” Aramus said, pointing at the plate. “You sure you don’t want that? Maybe grab some cake or ice cream instead. I hear they have some pretty good pies too.”
“No, no, it really is okay. Thank you both for the offer, though.”
Aramus shrugged, looking at the abandoned hamburger with desire. Let it be known that he still had his own hamburger right in front of him. “I’ll… I’ll finish it for you later,” he said quickly before pausing to look at Mary with eyes full of hope. “Unless, you want it?”
“No, no, go right ahead. I’ll be getting other food after this,” Mary said, letting Aramus take the burger.
Aramus all but purred in delight, going back to his own food with renewed vigor. After a short period, he decided it would be prudent to take a short respite from all he had been consuming. The only one eating had been him for some time after all.
“So Mary, on the topic of Claudia, were you referring to Michael and Lily when you said other people were on the case as well?”
“Yes, indeed I was,” Mary answered, her crepe finished some time ago. It was now replaced with some other set of food she had picked up after hearing Aramus’ inspiring speech about food. Her plate now had some chinese food, among other things. Details aside, she continued, “They are members of the Church, and said Organization was originally responsible for taking out her family, and now they want her gone too.”
“I see. So even before she came to the orphanage, they were already after her?” Aramus asked. “She did not speak much of her past nor did I pry.”
“According to the reports, Claudia was simply missing. However, her blunder of casting a Supreme Spell in a practice match hosted at the Royal Academy roused the attention of the Church,” Mary explained. “The case was, of course, covered up to protect the reputation of the Academy. However, rumours had spread.”
Needless to say, England had been a treasure trove of rich and fluctuating rumors for decades now. In fact, Aramus wouldn’t have heard of Mary if not for said rumors.
“What was she thinking, even doing that…” Aramus said, popping a french fry into his mouth. “Her lack of common sense is astounding. Then again, she was never the most normal child during our time together anyway.”
“Indeed, she simply lashed out. I tried to lessen the burden of the situation from the Headmaster’s punishment. Taking back the sword The Society leased to her.” Mary shrugged. “However, my action proved fruitless, for she joined BLoodLuSt some days later.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it that way but she was indeed getting into scuffles a lot as a child,” Aramus said, starting up his food engine again and beginning to eat at an increasing pace. “Out of the pan and into the fire.”
“Michael and I both faced her the night of the Queen’s Meeting, but were not successful in bringing her down,” Mary further elaborated on the tale. “Michael fought her again recently, I believe.”
Aramus looked at Michael, halfway through a piece of chicken. The juices leaking from it almost distracted him from what he was going to say. Almost. “Does she still wear that tiara?”
“Yes, she does,” Michael replied. He had simply been observing the two until he was addressed by the man named Aramus. It seemed that this person was an acquaintance of Claudia from her childhood. “What is with that tiara, anyway?”
“Beats me. She had it when she came to the orphanage but whenever the other kids teased her about it, she’d get a little violent. It’s like, she was never without it. I don’t recall a time where she took it off,” Aramus muttered, figuratively scratching his head.
“I see. Well then, I guess that tiara doesn’t really matter much. I mean, as long as we try not to—or to move it, depending on how we want her to be.” Michael rested his cheek on his hand. “What we need to watch out for, aside from the Countess and Claudia, are her allies. I have fought at least one of them… the one who attacked the Queen.”
“Did you kill him?” Aramus said, his eyes narrowing to slits. Too bad the image was ruined as he was still holding a half eaten drumstick.
“No. The first time I encountered him, he ran away; the second was when he attacked the Queen. I only managed to find Claudia then. His name is Marco, also known as the Noble Diner. He was able to bite my partner in our first encounter, which he used to get within striking distance of the Queen without her noticing.” Anger was very noticeable from his voice when he described Marco.
“Yes, indeed,” Mary added after Michael. “He is Marco, the Diner of Noble Blood. He targets anyone he deems to have †˜rich’ blood. Basically, any aristocrats, wealthy individuals, and even people with noble hearts may be targeted. The first encounter Mister Kallweit described was when I was his target.”
“Hoh. So you both have a vendetta against him as well,” Aramus noted, setting the now clean drumstick on a plate. “Do you think either of them would pursue us here? After what happened with the Countess and Duchess Margaret…”
“It would be possible for them to move in pairs now, knowing that Claudia was at an disadvantage in her last two fights,” Michael said. “Regarding what you have said, I would like to say that to me, at least, it is us pursuing them. I will try tapping into the network of Executioners in America to see if we can track their movements here.”
“They seem extremely focused on the White Lotus here in America, but seeing as I’ve confirmed Claudia to be coming here, something may pop up,” Mary said. “On that note, I have heard rumors of Claudia fighting Aries in California already.”
“Alright. I’ve promised that I would leave her to you, as much as I’d love to join in her pacification. She seems to want to test her might against everything that moves. Perhaps you might catch her after one such instance,” Aramus said, already beginning to munch on something else.
“Promised?” Michael asked.
“Promised to leave Claudia to us,” Mary answered in Aramus’ stead.
“As long as she is stopped, it doesn’t matter who does it anymore,” Michael said, averting his gaze. He had wasted his opportunities to stop Claudia far too much at this point. “I was too sure of myself the last time we fought, and now that I have thought about it, I doubt it will be as easy next time.”
“The problem only gets worse with time. I’ll be counting on you both in more ways than one then,” Aramus muttered. He stood up to get more food, whatever he had had on his plate already demolished. “I’m going to grab some dessert, you two want anything?”
“Surprise me,” Mary said, smiling.
“Tea. Is that okay?” Michael asked.
Aramus nodded at both their requests and took off, glee on his face as he swiftly joined the queue for more food. Returning faster than both expected, he laid more plates on the table, passing a small cake to Mary. “I got you some buttermilk pancakes with blueberries. There’s maple syrup on the side if you want.”
“Thank you,” Mary replied. “Seems great; I love maple syrup.”
Handing Michael his desired beverage, Aramus placed a couple of sugar packets and a small pitcher of milk on the table. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your tea so…”
“Thanks,” Michael said, taking the tea, but leaving the sugar packets and milk.
“That said, you are after the hellfires, was it?” Mary asked Aramus.
“Yup,” Aramus answered, pouring a copious amount of maple syrup over his own buttermilk pancakes. “They’re somewhere here. I’ll just have to find one somehow.” He continued with a wave, looking a little displeased.
“Hellfire? What for?” Michael asked out of curiosity.
“Ah, I’m going demon hunting,” Aramus said after a mouthful of fluffy pancakes. “Just something I gotta do on the other side of the gate. Call it a request from someone important.”
“I see. Good luck with that, then.”
“Well, if you’re planning to open one yourself, or finding one, I’d think confronting the MVA directly would be a wise judgement,” Mary advised. “Since otherwise, you may get arrested.”
“The MVA huh. Good idea, perhaps they could even offer some advice on how to go back doing it.” Aramus smiled pleasantly. Things were looking better and it wasn’t just because of the pancakes he was eating.
“Currently, they’re responsible for all matters pertaining to Infernals in the country—especially because of how the Infernals are in excess around here—so you should seek them out. I hear the leader has been dealing with demons for about a decade now,” Mary added informatively.
“Busy man. Perhaps he might squeeze some time in his schedule to meet with me. I’ll bring some souvenirs,” Aramus added with a laugh.
“If you want to meet him you’d best go to California,” Mary suggested. “Since he is operating there at the moment, based on what I’ve heard from the Aries and Claudia incident.”
“California. I wonder if we could arrange a meeting on the beach… Anyway, thanks for the help, Mary.”
0
Fallan
Kamen Rider Cheeki
Third day into New Work—the New World—United States of America, and Michael was still having a hard time believing how beautiful the world was in all its natural glory. The clear blue sky and the bright warm sun that adorned it were things much missed back in the gloomy country that was England. Japan was similar, but it held its own futuristic charms that overcame the gloom and soot in the air.
Here, the air was cleaner and the sky was azure blue. The culture seemed completely alien to him, however. As a consolation, it wasn’t like Japan where local churches did not exist, for Christianity did exist in America. More so, it was influential.
Exiting Hotel Edison in Times Square, Michael faced the bustling city of New York. There were countless pedestrians, many cars passing by, and it seemed like it was a busy hour. Unlike Japan, there were no levitating cars or transparent roads across the sky, but neither were there carriages.
He had contacted the headquarters to meet some local Executioners, and maybe help them in exchange for information. He had been focused to gather data in order to increase his and the team’s preparedness for when BLoodLuSt or Virgo would decide to reveal themselves. So far, he had nothing much to go on aside from things he already knew, a trend that had seemed to appear in his past few jobs. He took the liberty of taking a break, excusing himself from the group, in order to meet one certain Executioner that was nearest to him at the moment. Through a series of correspondence, they had agreed to meet in a nearby park.
Ever since he had arrived in America, he wore the clothes Hare helped pick. He started walking towards a nearby newsstand to ask for directions. The man’s accent seemed fascinating to him as he talked to the proprietor who seemed to feel the same way about him. It took him a tad bit more than he liked, speaking to the man before he took off towards his actual destination. On the way, he bumped into quite a lot of people who always seemed to be in a hurry. He gave up apologizing when he realized it wasn’t going to go anywhere at the rate he was travelling. Eventually, arrived at his his destination: De Witt Clinton Park.
This park that was beside the Hudson River was large. There were spaces for various sports, Michael observed. There were families on their outings and children running around, perhaps playing tag.
It was peaceful.
It’d be a shame if Virgo brought about terror here, or the vampires for that matter. People here took peace for granted, doubting the possibilities of war and the likes.
He then noticed one blonde woman sitting on a bench. She drew attention—as people stared at her—and despite realizing this, the woman didn’t care. Unmistakably, the habit she donned was that of a woman trained in perhaps a convent; she dressed as a nun.
Michael headed towards the nun and stood in front of her. “Excuse me, Sister Emilia?”
Emilia, the nun, otherwise an Executioner in reality, stood up and gave Michael a terse bow. Her posture was that of any other nun as her hands were joined before her navel and her legs maintained hardly any distance between them. However, her expression was extremely cold. Michael reminded himself—this was the face of a killer. Such people were common among Executioners. In fact, Michael was the odd one out.
“Good morning. I have been awaiting you, Father Michael.”
“Good morning to you, too. Please forgive my tardiness. In any case, it is nice seeing you in person.” He extended his hand towards her. He took note of the nun’s modified habit, which exposed her legs and improved her mobility. However, they weren’t in battle at the moment; at best she’d just mistakenly be identified as someone in costume. Like those ones we saw in Japan. He smiled at the thought.
“That is forgivable, I understand that navigating this city must’ve been difficult.”
“Everyone seems to be always in a rush… But in any case, I am here now. As I have stated in my letter, I wish to assist in your hunts.”
“To be frank—and pardon my choice of words—but everyone here, including the Executioners are always in a rush.” Emilia then handed her Tablet to Michael. Never mind how she took it out from under her already cut-short habit. Was it some form of space forming magic?
Michael found on the screen of the Tablet a list. A list of all kinds of missions. Details were neatly organized and it seemed like this was how the modern world Executioners and Church members operated in general. There was even a priority list, and they were to hunt for demons in this very borough, Manhattan.
“No wonder,” he said, scrolling back and forth through the list. “Where should we start?”
“We’d be hunting some demons, however… recently there have been hints about the White Lotus.”
“White Lotus? First time I’ve heard of it.”
“You are from England, Father, so I wouldn’t place any blame for the lack of circulating words over there. White Lotus is an infamous vampire in America. She is thought to be involved in various illegal trades, including human trafficking. She sells people to demons and even fellow vampires.”
“I see. So what are these hints, then?”
“Many children were reported to have gone missing recently. We have narrowed down many claims and have discovered that children of rich families are being targeted.”
“What did the local investigators come up with?” he asked, hoping that in this New World, the local authorities could at least give them leads. “From the news, I mean.”
“Most details were not given out,” Emilia simply answered. “They did mention that there was an odd rate of change in migration right after these incidents started.”
“Odd? I’d find it much odder if it didn’t.” He gestured towards the seat beside her and sat down when she nodded. “Have you an idea on what he is planning now? Or maybe even what he looks like?”
“It’s supposedly a woman. I only know that the target has the ability to manipulate her hair, and apparently uses tricks and illusions for escaping pursuers. Based on the information, I believe that she is accumulating her products for her customers.”
“Who’s her next target?”
“I believe it has to be here,” Emilia briefly answered and manipulated a map deftly with an index finger. She then showed Michael a particular marked location. It stated the †˜Bowery Ballroom.’ It was basically a concert venue.
Another concert... “Understood. Have you checked the schedule of activities of the venue?”
“Tomorrow night. I have only one ticket so far, however. One of us must sneak inside.”
“That is no problem. I will gain entry through other methods.”
“Very well. I apologize for not preparing another ticket in advance.”
“No, no, it was just me intruding upon your job,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively.
“Since White Lotus is a large prey to us Executioners, the credits awarded would be large but… how would you like to cut the rewards?”
“I would defer to your decision.”
“Personally, I would prefer to cut the amount after accomplishing the job. We’d know who deserves more of the amount that way.”
“That’s even better. Tomorrow, then?”
“Yes. We shall meet outside the venue before splitting up.”
Here, the air was cleaner and the sky was azure blue. The culture seemed completely alien to him, however. As a consolation, it wasn’t like Japan where local churches did not exist, for Christianity did exist in America. More so, it was influential.
Exiting Hotel Edison in Times Square, Michael faced the bustling city of New York. There were countless pedestrians, many cars passing by, and it seemed like it was a busy hour. Unlike Japan, there were no levitating cars or transparent roads across the sky, but neither were there carriages.
He had contacted the headquarters to meet some local Executioners, and maybe help them in exchange for information. He had been focused to gather data in order to increase his and the team’s preparedness for when BLoodLuSt or Virgo would decide to reveal themselves. So far, he had nothing much to go on aside from things he already knew, a trend that had seemed to appear in his past few jobs. He took the liberty of taking a break, excusing himself from the group, in order to meet one certain Executioner that was nearest to him at the moment. Through a series of correspondence, they had agreed to meet in a nearby park.
Ever since he had arrived in America, he wore the clothes Hare helped pick. He started walking towards a nearby newsstand to ask for directions. The man’s accent seemed fascinating to him as he talked to the proprietor who seemed to feel the same way about him. It took him a tad bit more than he liked, speaking to the man before he took off towards his actual destination. On the way, he bumped into quite a lot of people who always seemed to be in a hurry. He gave up apologizing when he realized it wasn’t going to go anywhere at the rate he was travelling. Eventually, arrived at his his destination: De Witt Clinton Park.
This park that was beside the Hudson River was large. There were spaces for various sports, Michael observed. There were families on their outings and children running around, perhaps playing tag.
It was peaceful.
It’d be a shame if Virgo brought about terror here, or the vampires for that matter. People here took peace for granted, doubting the possibilities of war and the likes.
He then noticed one blonde woman sitting on a bench. She drew attention—as people stared at her—and despite realizing this, the woman didn’t care. Unmistakably, the habit she donned was that of a woman trained in perhaps a convent; she dressed as a nun.
Michael headed towards the nun and stood in front of her. “Excuse me, Sister Emilia?”
Emilia, the nun, otherwise an Executioner in reality, stood up and gave Michael a terse bow. Her posture was that of any other nun as her hands were joined before her navel and her legs maintained hardly any distance between them. However, her expression was extremely cold. Michael reminded himself—this was the face of a killer. Such people were common among Executioners. In fact, Michael was the odd one out.
“Good morning. I have been awaiting you, Father Michael.”
“Good morning to you, too. Please forgive my tardiness. In any case, it is nice seeing you in person.” He extended his hand towards her. He took note of the nun’s modified habit, which exposed her legs and improved her mobility. However, they weren’t in battle at the moment; at best she’d just mistakenly be identified as someone in costume. Like those ones we saw in Japan. He smiled at the thought.
“That is forgivable, I understand that navigating this city must’ve been difficult.”
“Everyone seems to be always in a rush… But in any case, I am here now. As I have stated in my letter, I wish to assist in your hunts.”
“To be frank—and pardon my choice of words—but everyone here, including the Executioners are always in a rush.” Emilia then handed her Tablet to Michael. Never mind how she took it out from under her already cut-short habit. Was it some form of space forming magic?
Michael found on the screen of the Tablet a list. A list of all kinds of missions. Details were neatly organized and it seemed like this was how the modern world Executioners and Church members operated in general. There was even a priority list, and they were to hunt for demons in this very borough, Manhattan.
“No wonder,” he said, scrolling back and forth through the list. “Where should we start?”
“We’d be hunting some demons, however… recently there have been hints about the White Lotus.”
“White Lotus? First time I’ve heard of it.”
“You are from England, Father, so I wouldn’t place any blame for the lack of circulating words over there. White Lotus is an infamous vampire in America. She is thought to be involved in various illegal trades, including human trafficking. She sells people to demons and even fellow vampires.”
“I see. So what are these hints, then?”
“Many children were reported to have gone missing recently. We have narrowed down many claims and have discovered that children of rich families are being targeted.”
“What did the local investigators come up with?” he asked, hoping that in this New World, the local authorities could at least give them leads. “From the news, I mean.”
“Most details were not given out,” Emilia simply answered. “They did mention that there was an odd rate of change in migration right after these incidents started.”
“Odd? I’d find it much odder if it didn’t.” He gestured towards the seat beside her and sat down when she nodded. “Have you an idea on what he is planning now? Or maybe even what he looks like?”
“It’s supposedly a woman. I only know that the target has the ability to manipulate her hair, and apparently uses tricks and illusions for escaping pursuers. Based on the information, I believe that she is accumulating her products for her customers.”
“Who’s her next target?”
“I believe it has to be here,” Emilia briefly answered and manipulated a map deftly with an index finger. She then showed Michael a particular marked location. It stated the †˜Bowery Ballroom.’ It was basically a concert venue.
Another concert... “Understood. Have you checked the schedule of activities of the venue?”
“Tomorrow night. I have only one ticket so far, however. One of us must sneak inside.”
“That is no problem. I will gain entry through other methods.”
“Very well. I apologize for not preparing another ticket in advance.”
“No, no, it was just me intruding upon your job,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively.
“Since White Lotus is a large prey to us Executioners, the credits awarded would be large but… how would you like to cut the rewards?”
“I would defer to your decision.”
“Personally, I would prefer to cut the amount after accomplishing the job. We’d know who deserves more of the amount that way.”
“That’s even better. Tomorrow, then?”
“Yes. We shall meet outside the venue before splitting up.”
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
On Delancey Street, Manhattan, Michael met up with Emilia before the Bowery Ballroom. The concert house held a rather European image. The designs reflected its name. It seemed like there were many guests tonight. As expected, most appeared to be the rich and wealthy, powerful individuals of the mundane society.
Emilia wore a red velvet gown, or so it seemed. She appeared fashionable, and would easily be mistaken for a rich man’s daughter.
“Let us review; we’re here for the White Lotus tonight,” Emilia said after the two distanced themselves a little from the venue. “There may be other targets showing up but we should ignore them till the main query is taken out.”
“Other targets?” He looked at her quizzically. “In any case, if we can tag them we could also hunt them later if possible. How do we know it is her?”
“There are possibilities of other vampires assisting in her shadowy chores.” Emilia almost forgot that Michael wouldn’t know all the traits surrounding the White Lotus. “As her name states, she appears to be literally white—she dresses in white, and has white hair.”
“A white-haired woman dressed in white, got it. Well then, good luck to us.”
“Before we part, please accept this.” Emilia handed him a dagger that was fashioned as a rosary.
“This is?” he asked as he took the strange weapon. He hung it where he’d usually attach his sword sheathe, which he did not bring today because it would be too conspicuous.
“I have casted magic upon it. It should allow me to detect your location. Since I have strong sensitivity to magic, I have an Arcane Connection to that knife so there should be no problem differentiating your presence from all kinds of magical interference.”
“Interesting, that’s actually pretty useful,” he said, touching the dagger at his hip.
“Of course, this means that I was right; there are some ominous presences around here.”
Michael used his sense to confirm the ominous presence but failed to confirm their numbers, or direction. “I will gain entrance to the venue now, and proceed in identifying probable suspects.”
Emilia gave a nod. The two then went different ways. The operation would now begin to find and exterminate White Lotus.
Emilia wore a red velvet gown, or so it seemed. She appeared fashionable, and would easily be mistaken for a rich man’s daughter.
“Let us review; we’re here for the White Lotus tonight,” Emilia said after the two distanced themselves a little from the venue. “There may be other targets showing up but we should ignore them till the main query is taken out.”
“Other targets?” He looked at her quizzically. “In any case, if we can tag them we could also hunt them later if possible. How do we know it is her?”
“There are possibilities of other vampires assisting in her shadowy chores.” Emilia almost forgot that Michael wouldn’t know all the traits surrounding the White Lotus. “As her name states, she appears to be literally white—she dresses in white, and has white hair.”
“A white-haired woman dressed in white, got it. Well then, good luck to us.”
“Before we part, please accept this.” Emilia handed him a dagger that was fashioned as a rosary.
“This is?” he asked as he took the strange weapon. He hung it where he’d usually attach his sword sheathe, which he did not bring today because it would be too conspicuous.
“I have casted magic upon it. It should allow me to detect your location. Since I have strong sensitivity to magic, I have an Arcane Connection to that knife so there should be no problem differentiating your presence from all kinds of magical interference.”
“Interesting, that’s actually pretty useful,” he said, touching the dagger at his hip.
“Of course, this means that I was right; there are some ominous presences around here.”
Michael used his sense to confirm the ominous presence but failed to confirm their numbers, or direction. “I will gain entrance to the venue now, and proceed in identifying probable suspects.”
Emilia gave a nod. The two then went different ways. The operation would now begin to find and exterminate White Lotus.
0
Fallan
Kamen Rider Cheeki
Michael shadowed across the hall and the corridors of the Bowery Ballroom. Songs resounded across the walls of the premises, and after each session a round of applause would be heard. Sneaking in wasn’t easy. Cameras—technology he had only recently learned of in Japan—were employed all around the New World. Escaping the gazes of these dark lenses, and those of people, was perplexing. More than it was back in London.
The priest could tell that this structure was old as he stuck close to the walls. Having went through many harsh times, these walls naturally gave away the feeling of being worn from time.
So far, he hadn’t seen anyone suspicious, nor sensed anyone in particular giving away the ominous presence.
Eventually, he was back to searching for the prey. Beyond the area of staff members, Michael could hardly find anything that could give a solid clue. Since Emilia covered the concert hall, he’d have to cover the rest, obviously.
His final choice for navigation to hunt for clues was the air ducts. Obviously, passage through the air ducts could lead him anywhere, even places one wouldn’t want seen. Who knows, perhaps he’d find White Lotus sucking copious amounts of blood of a young child in a secret, locked room, or perhaps get closer to some place where he’d sense more evil.
With such expectations, he persevered. Crawling around in this small space needed diligence and patience, after all.
Roughly thirty minutes in the wandering, and he couldn’t quite hear the songs anymore. He descended quite a lot. While hoping to find a storage room or something similar, he was now hearing cheers.
It was strange.
He’d hear cheers accompanied by applause from the music hall usually, if anything, but it was different now.
Michael approached one of the vents. Looking downward, he found something like an end to a corridor. Taking it off, he jumped down and kept to the walls—ones that didn’t seem so old and worn from time here—before peeking out to the newfound hall.
Both ladies and gentlemen of this supposed underground secret event were wearing masks. Their excitement was apparent from the cheers and the atmosphere.
It was a masquerade.
Of course, the ominous feeling here was far, far stronger. It was jackpot to say the least.
He pulled back into the shadows and started working on his traps. He took his grenades and rigged them on the entranceways, and weaved snare traps similar to what he did back in London around the various vents and hallways, making sure to get the areas where no light would shine upon the strings. He found old rusty metal implements—props he assumed—and turned them into makeshift spear-like rods that would impale anyone who’d step on the trigger. Satisfied with his handiwork, he returned to the place where he saw the masquerade and tried searching for the White Lotus, if she was indeed there.
Upon taking time to observe, Michael found out that this event was basically an auction where Infernal people were all bidding upon innocent young boys and girls. There was a white-haired teenager among the audience to this show, and she sat on the upper level of seats, ones seemingly for special guests. There were a few beside her. One of these extras was particularly notable to him.
There was, as he looked on, Claudia, just beside White Lotus.
Michael gritted his teeth in anger, managing to calm himself down. He did not expect to actually find Claudia here along with the White Lotus, and if he factored in the rest of the auctioneers, it was basically a battle he and Emilia wouldn’t be able to take. However, this knowledge was already worth the trouble. If he could only find a way to stop the auction for now, he would be overjoyed. With this in mind, he decided to observe the stage and venue for what he could use. Could he kill the power perhaps? Or incite panic with the grenades he rigged? Maybe. Was it possible to cause a structural collapse and bury the bloodsuckers? But what about the children, then? Where did they keep the children, anyway? He decided to find a better vantage point, one that could give him more options, but failed to hear the coming presence from behind.
As Michael watched, pondered, and attempted to answer the questions that came to mind, something extremely hard struck against his head. He could hardly find time to think of what occurred. As his vision blurred and soon darkened, his consciousness drifted away as he fell to the floor.
The priest could tell that this structure was old as he stuck close to the walls. Having went through many harsh times, these walls naturally gave away the feeling of being worn from time.
So far, he hadn’t seen anyone suspicious, nor sensed anyone in particular giving away the ominous presence.
Eventually, he was back to searching for the prey. Beyond the area of staff members, Michael could hardly find anything that could give a solid clue. Since Emilia covered the concert hall, he’d have to cover the rest, obviously.
His final choice for navigation to hunt for clues was the air ducts. Obviously, passage through the air ducts could lead him anywhere, even places one wouldn’t want seen. Who knows, perhaps he’d find White Lotus sucking copious amounts of blood of a young child in a secret, locked room, or perhaps get closer to some place where he’d sense more evil.
With such expectations, he persevered. Crawling around in this small space needed diligence and patience, after all.
Roughly thirty minutes in the wandering, and he couldn’t quite hear the songs anymore. He descended quite a lot. While hoping to find a storage room or something similar, he was now hearing cheers.
It was strange.
He’d hear cheers accompanied by applause from the music hall usually, if anything, but it was different now.
Michael approached one of the vents. Looking downward, he found something like an end to a corridor. Taking it off, he jumped down and kept to the walls—ones that didn’t seem so old and worn from time here—before peeking out to the newfound hall.
Both ladies and gentlemen of this supposed underground secret event were wearing masks. Their excitement was apparent from the cheers and the atmosphere.
It was a masquerade.
Of course, the ominous feeling here was far, far stronger. It was jackpot to say the least.
He pulled back into the shadows and started working on his traps. He took his grenades and rigged them on the entranceways, and weaved snare traps similar to what he did back in London around the various vents and hallways, making sure to get the areas where no light would shine upon the strings. He found old rusty metal implements—props he assumed—and turned them into makeshift spear-like rods that would impale anyone who’d step on the trigger. Satisfied with his handiwork, he returned to the place where he saw the masquerade and tried searching for the White Lotus, if she was indeed there.
Upon taking time to observe, Michael found out that this event was basically an auction where Infernal people were all bidding upon innocent young boys and girls. There was a white-haired teenager among the audience to this show, and she sat on the upper level of seats, ones seemingly for special guests. There were a few beside her. One of these extras was particularly notable to him.
There was, as he looked on, Claudia, just beside White Lotus.
Michael gritted his teeth in anger, managing to calm himself down. He did not expect to actually find Claudia here along with the White Lotus, and if he factored in the rest of the auctioneers, it was basically a battle he and Emilia wouldn’t be able to take. However, this knowledge was already worth the trouble. If he could only find a way to stop the auction for now, he would be overjoyed. With this in mind, he decided to observe the stage and venue for what he could use. Could he kill the power perhaps? Or incite panic with the grenades he rigged? Maybe. Was it possible to cause a structural collapse and bury the bloodsuckers? But what about the children, then? Where did they keep the children, anyway? He decided to find a better vantage point, one that could give him more options, but failed to hear the coming presence from behind.
As Michael watched, pondered, and attempted to answer the questions that came to mind, something extremely hard struck against his head. He could hardly find time to think of what occurred. As his vision blurred and soon darkened, his consciousness drifted away as he fell to the floor.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Among the audience of the underground halls was Claudia, all alone with someone named White Lotus. To make social matters worse, they had only just met about thirty-odd minutes ago.
Recounting the incident, Claudia had been doing nothing but recuperating back in the villa when the Countess came as suddenly as the wind and gave her a wonderful invitation to an †˜event,’ or so it seemed to the girl. The Countess described it as a †˜gathering of likeminded individuals.’ She also said that it was high time Claudia got to meet with the members of the †˜under’ society. These people worked and interacted with the black market, but were otherwise comprised of vampires, demons, devils, nymphs, and all kinds of Infernal creatures one would be able to think of.
A majority of the crowd here was not particularly strong, but they possessed wealth and other kinds of talents or abilities, and likely influence. This club was for the powerful, after all. It’d be wise to assume some held power of some form. However, interacting with them was a completely different matter. To begin with, these people were vastly different compared to humans. To make matters worse, the Countess didn’t accompany her on the trip.
Indeed, the Blood Countess of Hungary instead decided that Claudia was to be tossed down from the cliff as a lioness would its cubs. Metaphorically, it was up to Claudia to climb back up now. Thus she was put in a black car, and a man she had never met before drove her straight to the Bowery Ballroom—a quaint concert venue.
White Lotus was apparently the president of this elite-people’s club, and she was also tasked to introduce the happenstances and matters to Claudia that were otherwise common knowledge to the people of the underworld.
This esteemed lady wore an exquisite white dress of Victorian era design with a teal-color checkered pattern across her skirt. She wore a pair of black shoes and socks with the same checkered pattern. Her white hair was neatly kept, long, and straight.
As her name implied, she was white as far as looks went.
So far, seven young children had been auctioned. Claudia was given five million dollars by the Countess to spend on this auction.
Literally, her employer said she could do whatever she wanted with said money. It was apparently compensation for all the blood and tears she shed for the Organization so far.
Gazing upon the auction, Claudia couldn’t help but leer back to how disgusted she was with slavery, granted her experience so long ago. She wondered why the Countess of all people thought this was a good idea.
“But at the same time… I was always into stuff like this,” Claudia figured. “And then there was Cosette…” Jamming her hands into the pockets of her suit jacket, Claudia sighed, realizing something like this was her own doing, no less. She truly was beginning to become ironic.
Still, she would rather not get riled up on a night like this. Her arms and leg still ached from the fight with Aries. She never thought that she would regain control of her limbs so soon, or at all for that matter. As an afterthought, five million dollars? How many slaves did the Countess think she would buy? She wasn’t that gluttonous of a person.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Catherine…” Claudia grunted. She glanced over to a few of the auctioneers and furrowed her brows. She felt like she was in London all over again, being surrounded by such people. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would want a slave for, thinking the purpose would only be a disgusting one. “There I go, being ironic, again…”
Claudia adjusted her tie and black leather gloves with a sigh, lamenting the thought of this entire thing. At least she had an excuse to leave the villa after a little while. Taking a seat along what was called the premium chair, spreading her legs and resting her elbows along her knees, Claudia saw the same woman in white sitting right beside her, and hummed once she actually looked at her, getting a better look this time. Huh. She’s actually pretty cute…
“So is it me, or are the drinks here not even strong enough? I can’t drown my sorrows enough with just wine alone,” Claudia commented glumly, lacing it under the guise of another joke.
“What? You saying you can get drunk off blood?” White Lotus replied with a question, not really understanding if the girl was being sarcastic or something, but nonetheless she replied in the most honest manner possible.
Her so-called honest manner, however, included showing a really bored and perhaps annoyed expression. She didn’t bother to hide her face when disappointed, nor would she ever hide excitement.
Claudia shrugged. “Never tried, really. I’m only saying; something like this is… not really my forte. Forgive me for saying, but it only brings back bad memories.”
“Oh? Interesting. How many bad memories does Cosette get you?”
“Recently? Now that I actually thought about it? I kind of see myself in her… y’know, without the deadpan attitude.”
“If that’s the case then you’ve essentially seen yourself seven times tonight.”
Claudia chuckled. “Really wish I could deny that, ahahaha…”
How the fuck do they like this person over at the main group? “You sure would. I’m surprised you didn’t buy off a little boy or girl right off the bat considering that you sympathize with their fate.”
“Well… it’s not like I lack the money to do that…” Claudia figured, actually considering that. “But, what good will it do when slavery’s just commonplace in the under society?”
“Whatever good you can think of.”
“Why did I even have to tell you that” was basically what her face could be translated to. You lack the money, your employer doesn’t, however.
“That’s where it matters, I suppose,” Claudia said, feigning understanding, internally depressed from all this. I got half a mind to fuck everyone’s shit up in here and let all these people go… but I don’t have that much of a conscience.
Recounting the incident, Claudia had been doing nothing but recuperating back in the villa when the Countess came as suddenly as the wind and gave her a wonderful invitation to an †˜event,’ or so it seemed to the girl. The Countess described it as a †˜gathering of likeminded individuals.’ She also said that it was high time Claudia got to meet with the members of the †˜under’ society. These people worked and interacted with the black market, but were otherwise comprised of vampires, demons, devils, nymphs, and all kinds of Infernal creatures one would be able to think of.
A majority of the crowd here was not particularly strong, but they possessed wealth and other kinds of talents or abilities, and likely influence. This club was for the powerful, after all. It’d be wise to assume some held power of some form. However, interacting with them was a completely different matter. To begin with, these people were vastly different compared to humans. To make matters worse, the Countess didn’t accompany her on the trip.
Indeed, the Blood Countess of Hungary instead decided that Claudia was to be tossed down from the cliff as a lioness would its cubs. Metaphorically, it was up to Claudia to climb back up now. Thus she was put in a black car, and a man she had never met before drove her straight to the Bowery Ballroom—a quaint concert venue.
White Lotus was apparently the president of this elite-people’s club, and she was also tasked to introduce the happenstances and matters to Claudia that were otherwise common knowledge to the people of the underworld.
This esteemed lady wore an exquisite white dress of Victorian era design with a teal-color checkered pattern across her skirt. She wore a pair of black shoes and socks with the same checkered pattern. Her white hair was neatly kept, long, and straight.
As her name implied, she was white as far as looks went.
So far, seven young children had been auctioned. Claudia was given five million dollars by the Countess to spend on this auction.
Literally, her employer said she could do whatever she wanted with said money. It was apparently compensation for all the blood and tears she shed for the Organization so far.
Gazing upon the auction, Claudia couldn’t help but leer back to how disgusted she was with slavery, granted her experience so long ago. She wondered why the Countess of all people thought this was a good idea.
“But at the same time… I was always into stuff like this,” Claudia figured. “And then there was Cosette…” Jamming her hands into the pockets of her suit jacket, Claudia sighed, realizing something like this was her own doing, no less. She truly was beginning to become ironic.
Still, she would rather not get riled up on a night like this. Her arms and leg still ached from the fight with Aries. She never thought that she would regain control of her limbs so soon, or at all for that matter. As an afterthought, five million dollars? How many slaves did the Countess think she would buy? She wasn’t that gluttonous of a person.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Catherine…” Claudia grunted. She glanced over to a few of the auctioneers and furrowed her brows. She felt like she was in London all over again, being surrounded by such people. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would want a slave for, thinking the purpose would only be a disgusting one. “There I go, being ironic, again…”
Claudia adjusted her tie and black leather gloves with a sigh, lamenting the thought of this entire thing. At least she had an excuse to leave the villa after a little while. Taking a seat along what was called the premium chair, spreading her legs and resting her elbows along her knees, Claudia saw the same woman in white sitting right beside her, and hummed once she actually looked at her, getting a better look this time. Huh. She’s actually pretty cute…
“So is it me, or are the drinks here not even strong enough? I can’t drown my sorrows enough with just wine alone,” Claudia commented glumly, lacing it under the guise of another joke.
“What? You saying you can get drunk off blood?” White Lotus replied with a question, not really understanding if the girl was being sarcastic or something, but nonetheless she replied in the most honest manner possible.
Her so-called honest manner, however, included showing a really bored and perhaps annoyed expression. She didn’t bother to hide her face when disappointed, nor would she ever hide excitement.
Claudia shrugged. “Never tried, really. I’m only saying; something like this is… not really my forte. Forgive me for saying, but it only brings back bad memories.”
“Oh? Interesting. How many bad memories does Cosette get you?”
“Recently? Now that I actually thought about it? I kind of see myself in her… y’know, without the deadpan attitude.”
“If that’s the case then you’ve essentially seen yourself seven times tonight.”
Claudia chuckled. “Really wish I could deny that, ahahaha…”
How the fuck do they like this person over at the main group? “You sure would. I’m surprised you didn’t buy off a little boy or girl right off the bat considering that you sympathize with their fate.”
“Well… it’s not like I lack the money to do that…” Claudia figured, actually considering that. “But, what good will it do when slavery’s just commonplace in the under society?”
“Whatever good you can think of.”
“Why did I even have to tell you that” was basically what her face could be translated to. You lack the money, your employer doesn’t, however.
“That’s where it matters, I suppose,” Claudia said, feigning understanding, internally depressed from all this. I got half a mind to fuck everyone’s shit up in here and let all these people go… but I don’t have that much of a conscience.
0
Fallan
Kamen Rider Cheeki
Michael woke up, and before him was the same audience he had been peeking at from the sidelines. He tried to move his arms and legs, and every muscles of his body, but he was bound tightly with chains.
“We have a special product for everyone tonight,” a man beside the bound priest announced, holding a mic. He seemed to be the MC.
The guests showed excitement of all kinds. Some were disgusted, some were excited, some were simply treating him as any other product.
“An Executioner who snuck into our little event here. With permission from Lady White Lotus, we have decided that he will be sold. I hear many do not quite enjoy the blood of a priest, but wouldn’t one wish to torture such a person out of hate for our nemesis Organization?”
Holy shit. Bahahahah! That’s so fucking fitting! Claudia thought, holding back a snort. She was more than delighted to see that Priest under the foot of another for a change.
“If you ask me, the greatest torture even I cannot endure is being set free,” Michael commented as he looked around. Whoever binded him must’ve hated the Church a lot, for his whole body ached, especially his wrists and ankles. If anything, he was glad that they kept his clothes on.
“Hahaha! Bold words!” the MC excitedly shouted. “Now, shall we find out who will own him? Ladies and gentlemen, place your bids!”
“Can I bid for myself?” he asked, managing to keep his composure at the moment. Getting angry right now wouldn’t do him any good, so he hoped Emilia managed to find him, even if they took his equipment away from him. Well, I’m on the stage so she’d probably see me.
“Assuming you have any money at the moment,” the announcer said with a laugh.
When Michael looked up, he found Emilia at the corner of his eyes, staring him down from the same corner of the beginning of the corridor where he was previously standing. In her hand was a bloodied golden dagger.
“Ah well, I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow some?” he spoke out loud. Good, good, focus on me. “Actually, I’m surprised you monkeys know how to use money.”
As Michael distracted the audience and the announcer on stage, Emilia silently slaughtered the guards that stood watch from the highest level from where she was originally observing him and the audience. The guards went down one by one noiselessly, or perhaps their noises were suppressed by the audience themselves.
It seemed like Emilia was able to use the chains attached to her daggers to attack from a distance, thus she didn’t need to get dangerously close to her targets. Such weapons were very effective. Albeit Michael would regardless prefer his beloved guns.
“What was that?! We are a race more superior than you humans anyway!” someone shouted to Michael from the audience.
“Unfortunately, I do not think I have the cash you’d need to bid for yourself,” the MC replied. He was already expecting high bids.
“Since when are glorified mosquitoes better than anything else?” Michael smirked at the audience.
“We as mosquitoes kill more of you people than you all do though, despite your numbers.”
This response came from White Lotus herself as she looked down from her premium seat with a dignified smile. Unlike the rest, she didn’t seem to be too interested in Michael. Perhaps she chose to speak out of boredom. From the corner of her eye she gave Emilia a glance, but looked back down to the priest wordlessly.
“Ah, never thought you’d really admit it,” Michael replied looking back towards her. “So I guess the White Lotus herself thinks of you lot as mosquitoes after all.”
“Yeah, I can agree with you on that.” White Lotus nodded. “Apart from bloodsucking, there really is nothing to compare, but if it pleases you I can agree with whatever. It doesn’t really change anything.”
“Well, you forgot your incessant buzzing, but I’d forgive that.”
“I’m sure you humans buzz a lot more. What are you, a sheltered brat?”
“I’m anything but. Then again, you wouldn’t know,. Really, we just met. Want to see a movie sometime?”
“You are, though. Your accent gives it away. You Brits have hardly spent time seeing the majority of the world… and why don’t you sound a bit more like a gentleman when you ask a lady out on a date?”
“Ah, mum never had the money to get me schooled. We can teach each other things, if you want.”
“Ahahaha, you’re one heck of a brat. You know what? I’ll place a bid.”
“Oh, hey thanks. Maybe you can set me free, too. If it’s not too much.” He grinned towards her.
“So you actually intend to buy this man,” Claudia said, not necessarily asking. She was actually visibly disappointed, knowing that he wasn’t going off to some lecherous slaver.
“Why not? He beat you, a Representative, twice, at that,” White Lotus said as though she was calling out on Claudia for ignoring a treasure. “He is hated in our world, and I’d love to whip all that sassy crap about morals and Jesus out of him.”
That was more than enough to get Claudia on board. “Well, if you say that, then I want first crack at him.”
“What the fuck for? If you won’t buy him you ain’t touchin’ him after the deal is sealed. You want a bite? Fucking place a bid.”
“Unfortunately there’s no one whose ass I’d rather kick here other than the Priest,” Claudia replied. “But if you are so adamant about it, fuck it. I’ll be content knowing you’ll treat him any worse.”
Then shut the fuck up and never open that mouth if you don’t know how to have some real fun. Who did this person think herself to be? And how could she assume that she could just have †˜first crack’ on my merchandise? How rude, White Lotus thought, but didn’t voice it. Even if she was the lady of the house and the host, it’d be rude to the Countess. Needless to say, her respect to the Countess outweighed however annoying Claudia was her with her words.
“Oh, is that so? Great.”
“Let’s start off the bid then!” the MC finally said. “We’ll start with $10!”
“What, really? Couldn’t you start at a thousand at least?” Michael asked, but his face showed a brief glimpse of his inner fury at the practice of selling people. He realized he wouldn’t be able to keep calm for much longer; he was even a little surprised at himself being able to keep calm up to this point.
“$1,000!” “$5,000!” “$10,000!”
There were voices from every directions. People wanted to torture Michael. The words of the priest having irritated the audience, they now wanted to purchase him just to abuse him and possibly killing him.
“$150,000!”
“$3,000,000!”
This caused quite a lot of surprised tones.
“$7,000,000.”
The final bid was from White Lotus, who lazily spoke the sum of money.
“No more bidding?” The MC looked about, eyeing the audience. A total of ten seconds and there was a silence. “Then we have a buyer, folks.”
“Oh, joy,” Michael remarked.
“Hooray,” White Lotus cheered in a rather glum and bored tone before a wry smirk came up. “I might as well take his cute little partner with me.” As she said it, a corpse fell behind her.
A guard was beheaded, and Emilia stood a level above them with a cold gaze.
Claudia stood from her seat with a start, eyes widened as she witnessed what happened practically a mile away. “Aaaand, here we go,” she said with a tired and dull tone.
“A-A...An Executioner!”
“One without restraints…”
“This isn’t a show, right?”
“Oh no… run!”
With all the guards’ corpses on display most of the Infernals felt powerless and weak. The hall was in chaos the next moment as everyone scrambled to make way for the exits.
Since Emilia leapt over to the stage and stabbed the MC with her golden rosary daggers, the people made way for the exits on the back.
As she cut the chains and bounds on Michael effortlessly, there were destructive noises of explosions and ear piercing screeches of pain reverberating across the walls; Michael’s traps were set off and they mercilessly killed the poor and filthy souls that had dared stumble upon the them.
“Much obliged, Sister. Your timing couldn’t be better,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. They were aching quite a bit, but it wasn’t like he’d be useless in a fight; it was the opposite actually. He was raring to go. “I don’t suppose you carry with you my equipment?”
Emilia tossed the priest’s two guns from under her garments without any word of reply.
“Erm...” He noticed he only received his guns, not the extra ammunition they came with. “In any case, thanks again.” Thirty shots, roughly. I’ll have to improvise, I guess.
Claudia nonchalantly walked past it all, actually a little disappointed this hadn’t gone as planned. She reached for her hair that was tied into a long ponytail and pulled the rubber band off, letting her blonde mane free. She tightened the gloves on her hands with a sigh. “And here I was thinking that Priest was going to get sold. How troublesome that things never go how we intend them to,” she said.
She clapped her hands and spoke a few words under her breath, and with a surge of energy, her scythe—Lachesis’ Fang, appeared in her palm. She held it over her shoulder and lethargically walked into the direction of the distant destruction with another sigh.
“At least there’s a little excitement, so far…”
“The fuck you sayin’?” White Lotus suddenly said from her seat. “You think goin’ wild here is gonna solve shit? My brother will practically strangle me if anything happens to you. So get goin’ and return to yer car, lass.”
Claudia snorted. “Wait, your brother? Who would that be?”
“Who else? Ansel of course. I’m surprised you didn’t deduce that from our hair alone.”
“Agh…” Claudia glanced back and forth to White Lotus and the Infernals being slaughtered in the distance and swore under her breath. Having someone else get in trouble because of her recklessness wasn’t really her style. Groaning, Claudia let her scythe vanish in the wind and sighed. “Peu importe… “
Wordlessly, she fled, intending to exit through a door somewhere beside the stage.
“Now then,” White Lotus began as she walked down to the two. “It’s time to retrieve my products.” Her hair twitched and flowed in a rather eerie manner in the air as if it wasn’t held down by gravity. It was as though there was some kind of wind making it flow the way it did. “I really wouldn’t mind a new maid and a butler about now.”
“Surprised you let the Representative go,” Michael said, but in reality, he was somehow relieved. Fighting with Claudia was another thing entirely, and adding an unknown to that might have made their chances bleaker.
“Well, she sucks at fighting,” White Lotus boldly claimed while yawning. “Besides, I heard she is kinda sad and shit about being beaten up, so she might just kill you. That seven million dollars will weep if she does that.”
“Well, you could save yourself the trouble and turn yourself in.”
“Boring as fuck; no.”
“Had to try.”
Emilia charged without any words or hint of malice. Her face absolutely expressionless and her eyes devoid of anger of any form.
“Your friend sure is feisty.”
The nun’s golden rosary daggers clashed against the hair of the vampire. There were sparks as if they collided with something similar to steel.
Did magic reinforce these hair?
As expected, it wasn’t going to be easy. Emilia leapt backwards and manipulated her daggers across the air with their chains, making them swoop straight into the White Lotus horizontally. Some of the hair attempted to strike at her but she carefully released the reins of a dagger for a second and tossed a silver rosary dagger at the hair, deflecting it, before taking hold of the chain again.
Michael ran to the White Lotus’ side, aiming carefully so as to not shoot his companion. He flicked the selector to semi-automatic as he fired a couple of shots aimed at White Lotus’ head and heart. He expected at least one bullet to hit her, but she was apparently capable of responding even to bullets, as her hair blocked both of his shots. Deciding not to waste the precious few bullets he had, he decided to try to get on her rear and formulate another method to attack her.
He spotted a giant chandelier just hanging above her. At the moment, she was being distracted by Emilia. It was now or never; he fired shots towards White Lotus while also aiming the other gun towards the rusty chain holding the chandelier. Without any hesitation, he took out the link that held the chandelier, sending it crashing directly on top of the White Lotus.
With a rather adorable yelp White Lotus went down with said chandelier. In a moment, however, it was sliced to small bits by her hair from underneath. White Lotus got up with a slightly red face.
“Hey! That was a rude thing to do to a lady †˜ya know!!” White Lotus angrily spat at Michael. “That’s not how you treat your future Mistress!”
“...I’m going to find another chandelier.” Twenty-two shots left.
“Not if I can help it.” White Lotus’ hair extended to Michael before he knew it, and caught him and wrapped around his navel, holding him up in the air. Emilia tried to save Michael, but she was pushed away by other strands of hair.
Michael took this opportunity and started shooting her again, hoping that her defense would be lessened with the hair gripping him, but even then, there were still small strings of hair closer to her head still blocking them. The last bullet was caught by her very teeth before she grinned at the priest.
“I bet you’re running out of ammo. What will you do now?”
“Well, since you asked,” Michael dropped one gun and used that arm and wrapped it in her hair, gripping it tightly. With his other hand, he pointed the gun at her and decided to shoot at her, expending the bullets it had remaining. But both of these were in preparation for his Exorcism spell, which he immediately started casting. Glowing brightly in silver, he tightened his grip on her hair and continued shooting.
“You think I don’t understand magic?” White Lotus asked while blocking his bullets and the daggers. Before Michael could complete his casting, he was smashed against the floor with great force. At the same time, White Lotus felt the rosary dagger dig into her breast. With a cry, her grasp on Michael loosened.
Ignoring the pain and dropping his now ammo-less gun, Michael focused his mana once again to cast his exorcism spell.
Emilia took the opportunity. She focused her attack even more and her golden daggers clashed intensely against the hair. Now with her focus weakened, White Lotus’ concentration wasn’t enough and her hair’s react-timing was off. While Michael was casting, she was struck at least three more times.
Feeling that the situation wasn’t looking good, her hair caught Michael again and stopped his magic by bashing him to the floor, except not with as strong a force as before. She then jumped upwards while carrying the priest, and used her hair to break through the roof and escape.
“Find Mary Shelley!” he shouted to his partner, hoping she’d hear it.
As White Lotus elevated higher and higher with Michael coming to the upper hall where the concert hall was, a dagger sliced off half her leg. Basically, there was nothing beyond her left knee. The vampire gritted her teeth and tolerated the pain.
The music hall above was more or less empty with a few mundanes cleaning up the stage; the show was already over and the guests were gone. However, these few mundanes saw the white-haired beauty and a casually-dressed man going through their ceiling and beyond.
“We have a special product for everyone tonight,” a man beside the bound priest announced, holding a mic. He seemed to be the MC.
The guests showed excitement of all kinds. Some were disgusted, some were excited, some were simply treating him as any other product.
“An Executioner who snuck into our little event here. With permission from Lady White Lotus, we have decided that he will be sold. I hear many do not quite enjoy the blood of a priest, but wouldn’t one wish to torture such a person out of hate for our nemesis Organization?”
Holy shit. Bahahahah! That’s so fucking fitting! Claudia thought, holding back a snort. She was more than delighted to see that Priest under the foot of another for a change.
“If you ask me, the greatest torture even I cannot endure is being set free,” Michael commented as he looked around. Whoever binded him must’ve hated the Church a lot, for his whole body ached, especially his wrists and ankles. If anything, he was glad that they kept his clothes on.
“Hahaha! Bold words!” the MC excitedly shouted. “Now, shall we find out who will own him? Ladies and gentlemen, place your bids!”
“Can I bid for myself?” he asked, managing to keep his composure at the moment. Getting angry right now wouldn’t do him any good, so he hoped Emilia managed to find him, even if they took his equipment away from him. Well, I’m on the stage so she’d probably see me.
“Assuming you have any money at the moment,” the announcer said with a laugh.
When Michael looked up, he found Emilia at the corner of his eyes, staring him down from the same corner of the beginning of the corridor where he was previously standing. In her hand was a bloodied golden dagger.
“Ah well, I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow some?” he spoke out loud. Good, good, focus on me. “Actually, I’m surprised you monkeys know how to use money.”
As Michael distracted the audience and the announcer on stage, Emilia silently slaughtered the guards that stood watch from the highest level from where she was originally observing him and the audience. The guards went down one by one noiselessly, or perhaps their noises were suppressed by the audience themselves.
It seemed like Emilia was able to use the chains attached to her daggers to attack from a distance, thus she didn’t need to get dangerously close to her targets. Such weapons were very effective. Albeit Michael would regardless prefer his beloved guns.
“What was that?! We are a race more superior than you humans anyway!” someone shouted to Michael from the audience.
“Unfortunately, I do not think I have the cash you’d need to bid for yourself,” the MC replied. He was already expecting high bids.
“Since when are glorified mosquitoes better than anything else?” Michael smirked at the audience.
“We as mosquitoes kill more of you people than you all do though, despite your numbers.”
This response came from White Lotus herself as she looked down from her premium seat with a dignified smile. Unlike the rest, she didn’t seem to be too interested in Michael. Perhaps she chose to speak out of boredom. From the corner of her eye she gave Emilia a glance, but looked back down to the priest wordlessly.
“Ah, never thought you’d really admit it,” Michael replied looking back towards her. “So I guess the White Lotus herself thinks of you lot as mosquitoes after all.”
“Yeah, I can agree with you on that.” White Lotus nodded. “Apart from bloodsucking, there really is nothing to compare, but if it pleases you I can agree with whatever. It doesn’t really change anything.”
“Well, you forgot your incessant buzzing, but I’d forgive that.”
“I’m sure you humans buzz a lot more. What are you, a sheltered brat?”
“I’m anything but. Then again, you wouldn’t know,. Really, we just met. Want to see a movie sometime?”
“You are, though. Your accent gives it away. You Brits have hardly spent time seeing the majority of the world… and why don’t you sound a bit more like a gentleman when you ask a lady out on a date?”
“Ah, mum never had the money to get me schooled. We can teach each other things, if you want.”
“Ahahaha, you’re one heck of a brat. You know what? I’ll place a bid.”
“Oh, hey thanks. Maybe you can set me free, too. If it’s not too much.” He grinned towards her.
“So you actually intend to buy this man,” Claudia said, not necessarily asking. She was actually visibly disappointed, knowing that he wasn’t going off to some lecherous slaver.
“Why not? He beat you, a Representative, twice, at that,” White Lotus said as though she was calling out on Claudia for ignoring a treasure. “He is hated in our world, and I’d love to whip all that sassy crap about morals and Jesus out of him.”
That was more than enough to get Claudia on board. “Well, if you say that, then I want first crack at him.”
“What the fuck for? If you won’t buy him you ain’t touchin’ him after the deal is sealed. You want a bite? Fucking place a bid.”
“Unfortunately there’s no one whose ass I’d rather kick here other than the Priest,” Claudia replied. “But if you are so adamant about it, fuck it. I’ll be content knowing you’ll treat him any worse.”
Then shut the fuck up and never open that mouth if you don’t know how to have some real fun. Who did this person think herself to be? And how could she assume that she could just have †˜first crack’ on my merchandise? How rude, White Lotus thought, but didn’t voice it. Even if she was the lady of the house and the host, it’d be rude to the Countess. Needless to say, her respect to the Countess outweighed however annoying Claudia was her with her words.
“Oh, is that so? Great.”
“Let’s start off the bid then!” the MC finally said. “We’ll start with $10!”
“What, really? Couldn’t you start at a thousand at least?” Michael asked, but his face showed a brief glimpse of his inner fury at the practice of selling people. He realized he wouldn’t be able to keep calm for much longer; he was even a little surprised at himself being able to keep calm up to this point.
“$1,000!” “$5,000!” “$10,000!”
There were voices from every directions. People wanted to torture Michael. The words of the priest having irritated the audience, they now wanted to purchase him just to abuse him and possibly killing him.
“$150,000!”
“$3,000,000!”
This caused quite a lot of surprised tones.
“$7,000,000.”
The final bid was from White Lotus, who lazily spoke the sum of money.
“No more bidding?” The MC looked about, eyeing the audience. A total of ten seconds and there was a silence. “Then we have a buyer, folks.”
“Oh, joy,” Michael remarked.
“Hooray,” White Lotus cheered in a rather glum and bored tone before a wry smirk came up. “I might as well take his cute little partner with me.” As she said it, a corpse fell behind her.
A guard was beheaded, and Emilia stood a level above them with a cold gaze.
Claudia stood from her seat with a start, eyes widened as she witnessed what happened practically a mile away. “Aaaand, here we go,” she said with a tired and dull tone.
“A-A...An Executioner!”
“One without restraints…”
“This isn’t a show, right?”
“Oh no… run!”
With all the guards’ corpses on display most of the Infernals felt powerless and weak. The hall was in chaos the next moment as everyone scrambled to make way for the exits.
Since Emilia leapt over to the stage and stabbed the MC with her golden rosary daggers, the people made way for the exits on the back.
As she cut the chains and bounds on Michael effortlessly, there were destructive noises of explosions and ear piercing screeches of pain reverberating across the walls; Michael’s traps were set off and they mercilessly killed the poor and filthy souls that had dared stumble upon the them.
“Much obliged, Sister. Your timing couldn’t be better,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. They were aching quite a bit, but it wasn’t like he’d be useless in a fight; it was the opposite actually. He was raring to go. “I don’t suppose you carry with you my equipment?”
Emilia tossed the priest’s two guns from under her garments without any word of reply.
“Erm...” He noticed he only received his guns, not the extra ammunition they came with. “In any case, thanks again.” Thirty shots, roughly. I’ll have to improvise, I guess.
Claudia nonchalantly walked past it all, actually a little disappointed this hadn’t gone as planned. She reached for her hair that was tied into a long ponytail and pulled the rubber band off, letting her blonde mane free. She tightened the gloves on her hands with a sigh. “And here I was thinking that Priest was going to get sold. How troublesome that things never go how we intend them to,” she said.
She clapped her hands and spoke a few words under her breath, and with a surge of energy, her scythe—Lachesis’ Fang, appeared in her palm. She held it over her shoulder and lethargically walked into the direction of the distant destruction with another sigh.
“At least there’s a little excitement, so far…”
“The fuck you sayin’?” White Lotus suddenly said from her seat. “You think goin’ wild here is gonna solve shit? My brother will practically strangle me if anything happens to you. So get goin’ and return to yer car, lass.”
Claudia snorted. “Wait, your brother? Who would that be?”
“Who else? Ansel of course. I’m surprised you didn’t deduce that from our hair alone.”
“Agh…” Claudia glanced back and forth to White Lotus and the Infernals being slaughtered in the distance and swore under her breath. Having someone else get in trouble because of her recklessness wasn’t really her style. Groaning, Claudia let her scythe vanish in the wind and sighed. “Peu importe… “
Wordlessly, she fled, intending to exit through a door somewhere beside the stage.
“Now then,” White Lotus began as she walked down to the two. “It’s time to retrieve my products.” Her hair twitched and flowed in a rather eerie manner in the air as if it wasn’t held down by gravity. It was as though there was some kind of wind making it flow the way it did. “I really wouldn’t mind a new maid and a butler about now.”
“Surprised you let the Representative go,” Michael said, but in reality, he was somehow relieved. Fighting with Claudia was another thing entirely, and adding an unknown to that might have made their chances bleaker.
“Well, she sucks at fighting,” White Lotus boldly claimed while yawning. “Besides, I heard she is kinda sad and shit about being beaten up, so she might just kill you. That seven million dollars will weep if she does that.”
“Well, you could save yourself the trouble and turn yourself in.”
“Boring as fuck; no.”
“Had to try.”
Emilia charged without any words or hint of malice. Her face absolutely expressionless and her eyes devoid of anger of any form.
“Your friend sure is feisty.”
The nun’s golden rosary daggers clashed against the hair of the vampire. There were sparks as if they collided with something similar to steel.
Did magic reinforce these hair?
As expected, it wasn’t going to be easy. Emilia leapt backwards and manipulated her daggers across the air with their chains, making them swoop straight into the White Lotus horizontally. Some of the hair attempted to strike at her but she carefully released the reins of a dagger for a second and tossed a silver rosary dagger at the hair, deflecting it, before taking hold of the chain again.
Michael ran to the White Lotus’ side, aiming carefully so as to not shoot his companion. He flicked the selector to semi-automatic as he fired a couple of shots aimed at White Lotus’ head and heart. He expected at least one bullet to hit her, but she was apparently capable of responding even to bullets, as her hair blocked both of his shots. Deciding not to waste the precious few bullets he had, he decided to try to get on her rear and formulate another method to attack her.
He spotted a giant chandelier just hanging above her. At the moment, she was being distracted by Emilia. It was now or never; he fired shots towards White Lotus while also aiming the other gun towards the rusty chain holding the chandelier. Without any hesitation, he took out the link that held the chandelier, sending it crashing directly on top of the White Lotus.
With a rather adorable yelp White Lotus went down with said chandelier. In a moment, however, it was sliced to small bits by her hair from underneath. White Lotus got up with a slightly red face.
“Hey! That was a rude thing to do to a lady †˜ya know!!” White Lotus angrily spat at Michael. “That’s not how you treat your future Mistress!”
“...I’m going to find another chandelier.” Twenty-two shots left.
“Not if I can help it.” White Lotus’ hair extended to Michael before he knew it, and caught him and wrapped around his navel, holding him up in the air. Emilia tried to save Michael, but she was pushed away by other strands of hair.
Michael took this opportunity and started shooting her again, hoping that her defense would be lessened with the hair gripping him, but even then, there were still small strings of hair closer to her head still blocking them. The last bullet was caught by her very teeth before she grinned at the priest.
“I bet you’re running out of ammo. What will you do now?”
“Well, since you asked,” Michael dropped one gun and used that arm and wrapped it in her hair, gripping it tightly. With his other hand, he pointed the gun at her and decided to shoot at her, expending the bullets it had remaining. But both of these were in preparation for his Exorcism spell, which he immediately started casting. Glowing brightly in silver, he tightened his grip on her hair and continued shooting.
“You think I don’t understand magic?” White Lotus asked while blocking his bullets and the daggers. Before Michael could complete his casting, he was smashed against the floor with great force. At the same time, White Lotus felt the rosary dagger dig into her breast. With a cry, her grasp on Michael loosened.
Ignoring the pain and dropping his now ammo-less gun, Michael focused his mana once again to cast his exorcism spell.
Emilia took the opportunity. She focused her attack even more and her golden daggers clashed intensely against the hair. Now with her focus weakened, White Lotus’ concentration wasn’t enough and her hair’s react-timing was off. While Michael was casting, she was struck at least three more times.
Feeling that the situation wasn’t looking good, her hair caught Michael again and stopped his magic by bashing him to the floor, except not with as strong a force as before. She then jumped upwards while carrying the priest, and used her hair to break through the roof and escape.
“Find Mary Shelley!” he shouted to his partner, hoping she’d hear it.
As White Lotus elevated higher and higher with Michael coming to the upper hall where the concert hall was, a dagger sliced off half her leg. Basically, there was nothing beyond her left knee. The vampire gritted her teeth and tolerated the pain.
The music hall above was more or less empty with a few mundanes cleaning up the stage; the show was already over and the guests were gone. However, these few mundanes saw the white-haired beauty and a casually-dressed man going through their ceiling and beyond.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Aramus was in California together with Elizabeth. More specifically, San Francisco. Since taking the train seemed to be no good—according to Aramus—they opted for a plane. Elizabeth offered to pay for the expenses, but her benevolence could not be accepted by the teacher; hence Aramus paid painstaking prices.
Earlier yesterday, Aramus contacted the MVA and upon mentioning hellfires, the talk was smooth. He was granted an appointment with the commander-in-chief, Christopher.
The headquarters of the MVA was a rather normal building. It didn’t appear any special from the other company buildings across the neighborhood. Aramus and Elizabeth witnessed people clad in business suits coming and going through the entrance. Likely, most of these individuals were mages. Aramus could tell from the airs they could give off. It was purely a warrior’s instinct.
Entering inside, Aramus spoke with the receptionist, and the pair was soon led to the office room of Christopher.
Upon knocking on the door, there was a baritone voice from the other side beckoning them inside.
“Welcome, welcome,” the tall man with his well-built body cheerily spoke, finding Aramus and Elizabeth in his office. His skin was brown, making it apparent that he was of a different culture—possibly—in comparison to a native. Then again, all kinds of people were known to gather in America. “I had been very curious about you two. It’s good to see that you’re here safe and sound.” It seemed like the last sentence was directed to the young noble lady instead of the teacher.
“Thank you for having us, Director. I know you’re a busy man and I appreciate you making the time for us today. My name is Aramus Valmark, and this scholar under my tutelage is Elizabeth.” Aramus bowed slightly towards Christopher.
“Oh no, please. I hardly ever have visitors so it’s rather lonely here,” Christopher responded. In truth, he was always visited by people. Staff members who’d be reporting something bad. To be frank, he was tired of those types of visits. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Valmark.”
Holding opposing hems of her dress, Elizabeth gave a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Uncle Bradley.”
“It’s nice to see you’re ready to fly off the handle like always, Elizabeth!” Christopher remarked.
Aramus observed the interaction between the two with interest, finding it a little surprising that Elizabeth greeted him more informally than she usually did. “She can be quite the handful from time to time, yes. A joy to teach nonetheless.”
“...Not as much as you, teacher,” Elizabeth immediately shot back with a remark of her own. She was a bright child, but a prideful one at that.
“I know, right?” Meanwhile, Christopher completely agreed with Aramus. “Challenging me to a duel right when I visit. She is so intent on battling, much like her mother.”
“T-That… was a long time ago. Please do not remind me of such events.”
Elizabeth was flustered as she looked away in shame while the Archmage laughed heartily.
“Would do you some good to spar against the Director though. I’m sure he would be interested to see how much you’ve progressed,” Aramus said.
“I could not possibly burden my busy Uncle with such an unreasonable requests. I am no longer a child.”
“Don’t be so cold,” Christopher commented. “Albeit, it is true that it’d be hard to make the time.”
“The burdens of growing up. Well then, maybe after this mess, there will be some free time before we return. At least spend some time together since you’re already here,” Aramus reasoned.
Elizabeth simply ignored Aramus and gave a certain look at Christopher, who could only smile wryly.
“Alright. Now that you two are here, I suppose we should discuss the matter. So far, I am aware that you intend to cross over to hell,” Christopher began. “However, we must be given proper information on the matter before we help, lest you wish to be arrested and interrogated by yours truly,” he added with a wink.
“I have no problem with that. It would be rude of me otherwise.” Aramus smiled in return. “What would you like to know?”
“What do you intend to gain from hell?” With this question, his tone and expression flipped and he appeared much more cold. “From what I know it is full of demons and is a dangerous venture. Not to mention you intend to take young Elizabeth here.”
“Redemption, Director,” Aramus said, returning his gaze with one just as serious. “I am tasked with retrieving a relic from beyond the gates, the sword Laevateinn. The quest was handed down to me from King Solomon, whom I met in the Faerie realm. I would like to reduce the amount of danger Elizabeth is exposed to as well. That’s why I’m here to see if there is a safer method of getting into hell.”
“Hm… I see that this is serious—with Her Majesty Victoria and the King involved. Very well, we’ll cooperate. I owe a debt to Her Majesty for not being able to help with the matter of Virgo, too.” Christopher gave one look to Elizabeth for a moment and then continued, “I’m afraid the Mistress of Cavendish Bentincks is your fastest option. Otherwise, we are not ones that usually bring forth the hellfires. The devil worshippers—the Diabolics are the ones committing the acts. I do not think they’d wish to waste effort helping you.”
“I didn’t know it was such an ordeal of this scale, however,” Elizabeth expressed, pouting. It was moments like these when she loathed her teacher for limiting the amount of information exposure after she’d expressly inquired about it.
“It’s just a retrieval mission, I don’t want to complicate it more than I have to,” Aramus replied, looking powerlessly at Elizabeth. “It’s already a selfish request of mine coming here and shamelessly asking for help.”
“But teacher, that is clearly beside the point…” Elizabeth insisted.
“Better than using a live sacrifice…” Aramus muttered as he looked away indignantly.
It felt like they were talking about two different things now, so Elizabeth simply fell silent, not knowing how to respond to the sentence.
“W...Well, ahem,” Christopher interrupted, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere. “So, now that it’s come to this, I’m gonna call in a specialist to lead you guys through this †˜redemption’ ordeal.” He then took up a phone. “You two can rest easy because he travels across hell all the time.”
“Much appreciated, Director.”
Aramus looked expectant and eager to get the whole ordeal over and done with. Though he’d probably bake some muffins or cupcakes later for Elizabeth...
Earlier yesterday, Aramus contacted the MVA and upon mentioning hellfires, the talk was smooth. He was granted an appointment with the commander-in-chief, Christopher.
The headquarters of the MVA was a rather normal building. It didn’t appear any special from the other company buildings across the neighborhood. Aramus and Elizabeth witnessed people clad in business suits coming and going through the entrance. Likely, most of these individuals were mages. Aramus could tell from the airs they could give off. It was purely a warrior’s instinct.
Entering inside, Aramus spoke with the receptionist, and the pair was soon led to the office room of Christopher.
Upon knocking on the door, there was a baritone voice from the other side beckoning them inside.
“Welcome, welcome,” the tall man with his well-built body cheerily spoke, finding Aramus and Elizabeth in his office. His skin was brown, making it apparent that he was of a different culture—possibly—in comparison to a native. Then again, all kinds of people were known to gather in America. “I had been very curious about you two. It’s good to see that you’re here safe and sound.” It seemed like the last sentence was directed to the young noble lady instead of the teacher.
“Thank you for having us, Director. I know you’re a busy man and I appreciate you making the time for us today. My name is Aramus Valmark, and this scholar under my tutelage is Elizabeth.” Aramus bowed slightly towards Christopher.
“Oh no, please. I hardly ever have visitors so it’s rather lonely here,” Christopher responded. In truth, he was always visited by people. Staff members who’d be reporting something bad. To be frank, he was tired of those types of visits. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Valmark.”
Holding opposing hems of her dress, Elizabeth gave a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Uncle Bradley.”
“It’s nice to see you’re ready to fly off the handle like always, Elizabeth!” Christopher remarked.
Aramus observed the interaction between the two with interest, finding it a little surprising that Elizabeth greeted him more informally than she usually did. “She can be quite the handful from time to time, yes. A joy to teach nonetheless.”
“...Not as much as you, teacher,” Elizabeth immediately shot back with a remark of her own. She was a bright child, but a prideful one at that.
“I know, right?” Meanwhile, Christopher completely agreed with Aramus. “Challenging me to a duel right when I visit. She is so intent on battling, much like her mother.”
“T-That… was a long time ago. Please do not remind me of such events.”
Elizabeth was flustered as she looked away in shame while the Archmage laughed heartily.
“Would do you some good to spar against the Director though. I’m sure he would be interested to see how much you’ve progressed,” Aramus said.
“I could not possibly burden my busy Uncle with such an unreasonable requests. I am no longer a child.”
“Don’t be so cold,” Christopher commented. “Albeit, it is true that it’d be hard to make the time.”
“The burdens of growing up. Well then, maybe after this mess, there will be some free time before we return. At least spend some time together since you’re already here,” Aramus reasoned.
Elizabeth simply ignored Aramus and gave a certain look at Christopher, who could only smile wryly.
“Alright. Now that you two are here, I suppose we should discuss the matter. So far, I am aware that you intend to cross over to hell,” Christopher began. “However, we must be given proper information on the matter before we help, lest you wish to be arrested and interrogated by yours truly,” he added with a wink.
“I have no problem with that. It would be rude of me otherwise.” Aramus smiled in return. “What would you like to know?”
“What do you intend to gain from hell?” With this question, his tone and expression flipped and he appeared much more cold. “From what I know it is full of demons and is a dangerous venture. Not to mention you intend to take young Elizabeth here.”
“Redemption, Director,” Aramus said, returning his gaze with one just as serious. “I am tasked with retrieving a relic from beyond the gates, the sword Laevateinn. The quest was handed down to me from King Solomon, whom I met in the Faerie realm. I would like to reduce the amount of danger Elizabeth is exposed to as well. That’s why I’m here to see if there is a safer method of getting into hell.”
“Hm… I see that this is serious—with Her Majesty Victoria and the King involved. Very well, we’ll cooperate. I owe a debt to Her Majesty for not being able to help with the matter of Virgo, too.” Christopher gave one look to Elizabeth for a moment and then continued, “I’m afraid the Mistress of Cavendish Bentincks is your fastest option. Otherwise, we are not ones that usually bring forth the hellfires. The devil worshippers—the Diabolics are the ones committing the acts. I do not think they’d wish to waste effort helping you.”
“I didn’t know it was such an ordeal of this scale, however,” Elizabeth expressed, pouting. It was moments like these when she loathed her teacher for limiting the amount of information exposure after she’d expressly inquired about it.
“It’s just a retrieval mission, I don’t want to complicate it more than I have to,” Aramus replied, looking powerlessly at Elizabeth. “It’s already a selfish request of mine coming here and shamelessly asking for help.”
“But teacher, that is clearly beside the point…” Elizabeth insisted.
“Better than using a live sacrifice…” Aramus muttered as he looked away indignantly.
It felt like they were talking about two different things now, so Elizabeth simply fell silent, not knowing how to respond to the sentence.
“W...Well, ahem,” Christopher interrupted, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere. “So, now that it’s come to this, I’m gonna call in a specialist to lead you guys through this †˜redemption’ ordeal.” He then took up a phone. “You two can rest easy because he travels across hell all the time.”
“Much appreciated, Director.”
Aramus looked expectant and eager to get the whole ordeal over and done with. Though he’d probably bake some muffins or cupcakes later for Elizabeth...
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
After the discussion was over. Aramus and Elizabeth were treated to dinner by Christopher. Needless to say, it wasn’t anything extravagant that a noble such as Elizabeth would be used to, and nor was it comparably good to that of a three-star hotel that Aramus had recently had the pleasure of dining at. It was a simple restaurant serving Indian cuisine on the corner of the street outside of the headquarters of the MVA.
Like this, at least two hours had passed. Christopher made the pair walk inside an alleyway, upon which they strolled into an empty yard.
Aramus turned to inquire why they were brought here, but before he knew it—the Director of the MVA was long gone.
“It’s… a little eerie. For Uncle to leave us in this way…” Elizabeth commented, looking around. It was clearly an empty place with hardly any trash.
“Have faith in the Director, let’s wait a little while longer,” Aramus said, slightly on edge as well. The Director had fed him some good curry so he couldn’t be a bad person.
There were footsteps, and out came a man clad in black from the entrance of a different alley way.
This newcomer’s skin was impeccably white, and he wore a long black unbuttoned coat that ran almost all the way to his forelegs. Underneath was a white shirt, and a jet black pair of pants completed his getup. His hair was also black and long—tied in a ponytail—same as his pupils. He held a cigarette and exhaled before speaking:
“Are you two the ones seeking entry to hell?”
“That would be correct,” Aramus answered, stepping forward to address the man.
“You are… a little familiar,” Elizabeth stated, albeit in the darkness here in the yard, it was hard to confirm. It was now evening, after all.
“My name is Nicholas Bradley, pleased to meet you two, and Miss Cavendish Bentinck—this would be our first time meeting, but I am Christopher’s twin brother.”
“I… I see, so you’re Uncle’s brother. I did not know since you were apparently too busy to visit,” Elizabeth said, taken aback from meeting another Archmage so soon. Only the facial features seemed to resemble the exotic leader of the MVA. Otherwise, Nicholas seemed to have a rather slim build of a body, and his tone give him away as a more strict, proper, and intellectual person.
The Twin Archmages of America. The Twin Guardians. The two who protected the United States from the hoard of demons. They were in reality very respected and famous figures in the Magic World.
“That said, where is Christopher? I should let him have a piece of my mind for calling me back from the Infernal Realm. Does he know how rude it is? I almost thought I’d have to seek a new alternative,” Nicholas questioned with a tone making his irritation apparent.
“He left after telling us to wait here,” Aramus added, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the dark alleyway. “My apologies for troubling you with this request.”
“Tch, so he ran away,” Nicholas grumbled. “Alright, moving on, I believe your scholar here is able to produce a pathway for us?”
“That would be correct,” Aramus said, gesturing to Elizabeth. “Although I am not entirely clear of the details on how, hence my meeting with your brother, the Director.”
“So she hasn’t mastered her family’s heirloom yet I assume?” Nicholas inquired.
“She will in time. Will it be a problem now?” Aramus asked, looking to Nicholas for confirmation.
“Not an issue. As long as she can cast it, I will take care of the rest,” Nicholas plainly spoke, as if dealing with the repercussions would be child’s play. “You can, yes?” he asked, facing Elizabeth.
“Yes, yes I can,” Elizabeth answered resolutely.
“Good.” The Archmage gave a nod. “So, how many vis do you have?” Nicholas asked Aramus.
“None unfortunately. Even as a Magister, it’s not something I’m able to afford,” Aramus said, looking abashed.
Nicholas stared at Aramus with the same inquisitive look as when he asked the question. He was literally frozen before finally calming down.
“Are you saying that you want to go to the Infernal Realm without vis?” he asked with incredulity. “Are you insane?”
“Well, I sure am not,” Elizabeth answered even though the question wasn’t directed to her. “I brought some along for myself. Fire aspected vis can be rather costly, however.”
Aramus squirmed under the man’s gaze. It was one thing to be told off, but when it was from someone as respected as an Archmage, you knew you screwed up. “I’ll manage… somehow,” Aramus squeezed out.
“You might not have studied up enough on the Infernal Realm to prepare for the trip,” Nicholas began. He wanted to say something that would possibly be insulting for a Magister but held it back. “But for those who do some research, it’s obvious that you cannot call forth the mana from other Realms inside there,” he explained in a manner befitting a cold teacher.
“My research was lacking. I will try not to burden us further.”
Nicholas sighed and tossed something at Aramus. The Magister caught the plastic bag. Unwrapping the bag he found stones, accessories, and all kinds of small items inside the pouch.
“They’re all objects infused with some mana. Basically, they’re vis. They’re cheap so use them as you see fit. They should have only Faerie Realm aspected mana. Considering they’re not very specifically attuned to the Forms, they may not be as effective as casting spells in this world, however.”
Aramus clutched the plastic bag, wrinkling the material. To have vis so casually tossed at him, even called cheap by Nicholas. The disparity was far too large.
“Thank you. It’s lucky I happen to use Faerie Realm magic...”
“Um,” Elizabeth began, “I believe my Uncle gathered and infused Faerie Realm mana just now, teacher.”
“I-I see,” Aramus said, pocketing the vis. He sorely wanted to throw his hands in the air and scream. Maybe another round of curry would help with his nerves.
“How observant of you,” Nicholas commented. “Indeed I had gathered some mana and distributed it as I spoke.” He then ran a hand across his black hair. “Shall we begin?”
Elizabeth looked at the two gentlemen, then gave a nod.
A sword formed and a bright flame was conjured before her palms after they were gathered before her chest.
This broadsword appeared facing the earth as Elizabeth held the hilt. There were golden carvings of an ancient Norse language.
The scholar then walked some distance away from the two and pulled her relic upwards, facing the dark night sky.
“O Surtr—the swarthy one—render the space and drink the essence of the Realm; forge a bridge to the Underworld for us to pass!” Elizabeth recited.
The sword was set ablaze with surging spiritual energy, and some of it spewed forth in all directions, making the two gentlemen step back. However, Elizabeth attempted to control the flames, and they converged into a spherical figure atop the blade.
The hellfire was soon in sight. It shined brightly, and was almost blinding. It was a flame with some traces of black but otherwise completely white.
“This is undoubtedly the rare hellfire. I must commend your scholar for being able to muster up such a thing… even if it is with the aid of her family’s relic,” Nicholas remarked.
“She is the pride of my class,” Aramus replied, the sentiments mirrored by the Magister.
Nicholas didn’t speak in return, but he knew by now that Elizabeth wasn’t as strong as her mother had been at her age.
“They’re coming,” he said.
Momentarily, the three heard echoing voices full of laughter. Black filth escaped from the fire and defiled the air of Earth. The demons from the Underworld sought freedom in this world, and more importantly, they sought the souls of humans.
However, they were all cut apart in a flash.
Aramus could only see Nicholas sheathing a blade with a faint noise. The scabbard was hidden behind his coat.
Nicholas stepped forward as if nothing had happened. “Let’s go. I hope you’ve braced yourself enough.”
Aramus nodded, swallowing the saliva in his throat with a gulp. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Nicholas walked forward and vanished into the air.
Aramus noted that it was the use of flashstep. It was his turn now. He felt nervous, but he couldn’t dally now with Elizabeth holding the portal open. He too stepped forward and jumped into the hellfire.
Plunging himself into absolute darkness, Aramus could feel a surge of heat and flames licking all over his body. He grit his teeth through the ordeal, eyes shut in reflex. Cracking open an eye through the pain, he noted that the earring Her Majesty had entrusted him with was shining. Right, she was guiding him along as well. A Magister of hers would not fall so easily!
Like this, at least two hours had passed. Christopher made the pair walk inside an alleyway, upon which they strolled into an empty yard.
Aramus turned to inquire why they were brought here, but before he knew it—the Director of the MVA was long gone.
“It’s… a little eerie. For Uncle to leave us in this way…” Elizabeth commented, looking around. It was clearly an empty place with hardly any trash.
“Have faith in the Director, let’s wait a little while longer,” Aramus said, slightly on edge as well. The Director had fed him some good curry so he couldn’t be a bad person.
There were footsteps, and out came a man clad in black from the entrance of a different alley way.
This newcomer’s skin was impeccably white, and he wore a long black unbuttoned coat that ran almost all the way to his forelegs. Underneath was a white shirt, and a jet black pair of pants completed his getup. His hair was also black and long—tied in a ponytail—same as his pupils. He held a cigarette and exhaled before speaking:
“Are you two the ones seeking entry to hell?”
“That would be correct,” Aramus answered, stepping forward to address the man.
“You are… a little familiar,” Elizabeth stated, albeit in the darkness here in the yard, it was hard to confirm. It was now evening, after all.
“My name is Nicholas Bradley, pleased to meet you two, and Miss Cavendish Bentinck—this would be our first time meeting, but I am Christopher’s twin brother.”
“I… I see, so you’re Uncle’s brother. I did not know since you were apparently too busy to visit,” Elizabeth said, taken aback from meeting another Archmage so soon. Only the facial features seemed to resemble the exotic leader of the MVA. Otherwise, Nicholas seemed to have a rather slim build of a body, and his tone give him away as a more strict, proper, and intellectual person.
The Twin Archmages of America. The Twin Guardians. The two who protected the United States from the hoard of demons. They were in reality very respected and famous figures in the Magic World.
“That said, where is Christopher? I should let him have a piece of my mind for calling me back from the Infernal Realm. Does he know how rude it is? I almost thought I’d have to seek a new alternative,” Nicholas questioned with a tone making his irritation apparent.
“He left after telling us to wait here,” Aramus added, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the dark alleyway. “My apologies for troubling you with this request.”
“Tch, so he ran away,” Nicholas grumbled. “Alright, moving on, I believe your scholar here is able to produce a pathway for us?”
“That would be correct,” Aramus said, gesturing to Elizabeth. “Although I am not entirely clear of the details on how, hence my meeting with your brother, the Director.”
“So she hasn’t mastered her family’s heirloom yet I assume?” Nicholas inquired.
“She will in time. Will it be a problem now?” Aramus asked, looking to Nicholas for confirmation.
“Not an issue. As long as she can cast it, I will take care of the rest,” Nicholas plainly spoke, as if dealing with the repercussions would be child’s play. “You can, yes?” he asked, facing Elizabeth.
“Yes, yes I can,” Elizabeth answered resolutely.
“Good.” The Archmage gave a nod. “So, how many vis do you have?” Nicholas asked Aramus.
“None unfortunately. Even as a Magister, it’s not something I’m able to afford,” Aramus said, looking abashed.
Nicholas stared at Aramus with the same inquisitive look as when he asked the question. He was literally frozen before finally calming down.
“Are you saying that you want to go to the Infernal Realm without vis?” he asked with incredulity. “Are you insane?”
“Well, I sure am not,” Elizabeth answered even though the question wasn’t directed to her. “I brought some along for myself. Fire aspected vis can be rather costly, however.”
Aramus squirmed under the man’s gaze. It was one thing to be told off, but when it was from someone as respected as an Archmage, you knew you screwed up. “I’ll manage… somehow,” Aramus squeezed out.
“You might not have studied up enough on the Infernal Realm to prepare for the trip,” Nicholas began. He wanted to say something that would possibly be insulting for a Magister but held it back. “But for those who do some research, it’s obvious that you cannot call forth the mana from other Realms inside there,” he explained in a manner befitting a cold teacher.
“My research was lacking. I will try not to burden us further.”
Nicholas sighed and tossed something at Aramus. The Magister caught the plastic bag. Unwrapping the bag he found stones, accessories, and all kinds of small items inside the pouch.
“They’re all objects infused with some mana. Basically, they’re vis. They’re cheap so use them as you see fit. They should have only Faerie Realm aspected mana. Considering they’re not very specifically attuned to the Forms, they may not be as effective as casting spells in this world, however.”
Aramus clutched the plastic bag, wrinkling the material. To have vis so casually tossed at him, even called cheap by Nicholas. The disparity was far too large.
“Thank you. It’s lucky I happen to use Faerie Realm magic...”
“Um,” Elizabeth began, “I believe my Uncle gathered and infused Faerie Realm mana just now, teacher.”
“I-I see,” Aramus said, pocketing the vis. He sorely wanted to throw his hands in the air and scream. Maybe another round of curry would help with his nerves.
“How observant of you,” Nicholas commented. “Indeed I had gathered some mana and distributed it as I spoke.” He then ran a hand across his black hair. “Shall we begin?”
Elizabeth looked at the two gentlemen, then gave a nod.
A sword formed and a bright flame was conjured before her palms after they were gathered before her chest.
This broadsword appeared facing the earth as Elizabeth held the hilt. There were golden carvings of an ancient Norse language.
The scholar then walked some distance away from the two and pulled her relic upwards, facing the dark night sky.
“O Surtr—the swarthy one—render the space and drink the essence of the Realm; forge a bridge to the Underworld for us to pass!” Elizabeth recited.
The sword was set ablaze with surging spiritual energy, and some of it spewed forth in all directions, making the two gentlemen step back. However, Elizabeth attempted to control the flames, and they converged into a spherical figure atop the blade.
The hellfire was soon in sight. It shined brightly, and was almost blinding. It was a flame with some traces of black but otherwise completely white.
“This is undoubtedly the rare hellfire. I must commend your scholar for being able to muster up such a thing… even if it is with the aid of her family’s relic,” Nicholas remarked.
“She is the pride of my class,” Aramus replied, the sentiments mirrored by the Magister.
Nicholas didn’t speak in return, but he knew by now that Elizabeth wasn’t as strong as her mother had been at her age.
“They’re coming,” he said.
Momentarily, the three heard echoing voices full of laughter. Black filth escaped from the fire and defiled the air of Earth. The demons from the Underworld sought freedom in this world, and more importantly, they sought the souls of humans.
However, they were all cut apart in a flash.
Aramus could only see Nicholas sheathing a blade with a faint noise. The scabbard was hidden behind his coat.
Nicholas stepped forward as if nothing had happened. “Let’s go. I hope you’ve braced yourself enough.”
Aramus nodded, swallowing the saliva in his throat with a gulp. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Nicholas walked forward and vanished into the air.
Aramus noted that it was the use of flashstep. It was his turn now. He felt nervous, but he couldn’t dally now with Elizabeth holding the portal open. He too stepped forward and jumped into the hellfire.
Plunging himself into absolute darkness, Aramus could feel a surge of heat and flames licking all over his body. He grit his teeth through the ordeal, eyes shut in reflex. Cracking open an eye through the pain, he noted that the earring Her Majesty had entrusted him with was shining. Right, she was guiding him along as well. A Magister of hers would not fall so easily!
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
When the trip ended, Aramus fell on solid dry ground flatly with a loud thump. His clothes were slightly burned and he felt quite a lot of skin-burning heat. His body was still burning. The ground wasn’t any colder either. He looked up at his state and found Nicholas standing before him.
The teacher felt something heavy falling on his back. It was soft, however. Turning back with a cringe, he found Elizabeth sitting rather elegantly on his back.
“I-I apologize,” Elizabeth immediately said. She got off and dusted herself.
When Aramus got up, he looked down at his clothes, somewhat revealing his masculine figure, and then back to Elizabeth whose dress hardly looked rustled. How nice magical protection were… he felt jealous.
He then looked around. The environment almost made Aramus think they came deep into the ground of the Earth as there was a ceiling of stone. Beneath the block of rock they stood upon was scorching magma that glowed brightly. There seemed to be only one path to the east, and beyond that there were only rocky walls surrounding them.
“Your objective is the Laevateinn, correct?” Nicholas questioned.
“Yes,” Aramus said, getting up and dusting off some of the scraps of his clothes. Not that he expected much from the Infernal Realm, but it was quite the dreary place.
“Is your breathing alright?” he asked. “Don’t feel suffocating here, do you?”
“I don’t feel particularly bothered by the atmosphere, no.” Aramus shook his head. “Would there be anything else to look out for?”
“Well, you can’t stay in the Infernal Realm for long… you may not have noticed but your body is likely expending stamina to stay healthy in this atmosphere,” Nicholas stated calmly. “Basically, if you stay here long…”
“You will likely perish,” Elizabeth finished the sentence. “There is the saying that humans can only live in the human world and that demons should reside only in the demon world.”
“However, demons and the remnants of this Realm are superior, so they do not necessarily suffer there. Albeit, they do require human life to maintain presence in our world,” Nicholas explained further.
“Then we had best make this quick. I can’t die till Her Majesty gives me the †˜ok,’” Aramus said with a grin.
The three started walking east, guided by Nicholas who seemed to be familiar with the Realm.
They spent some minutes as Nicholas seemed to have made them wander around. They came across some evil entities, but the Archmage sliced through them faster than the naked eye could follow.
“...I can tell where Laevateinn is.” Nicholas looked towards the north as they faced a sea of magma beyond a cave. “It is beyond this sea of magma… and even farther than that.”
“Well that’s problematic,” Aramus said, giving his head a scratch in thought. “Any suggestions on how to get across?”
“I could part the sea but that wouldn’t be an ideal option,” Nicholas said with a sigh. “I could get across with Fiery Steps spell on my own, but I doubt either of you know it?”
“I do,” Elizabeth said, a little nervous. “But I am not very confident about crossing what seems like magma ranging more than five-hundred meters…”
Aramus clicked his tongue in annoyance, frowning at the magma. “Conservation of our mana is important… Are there any alternate paths to the blade?”
“Likely. We’ll have to find them,” Nicholas answered. “Which means we’ll have to traverse this maze,” he elaborated, gesturing towards the cave they just exited from behind.
“Hmm. I could technically fly across with the aid of my spells, but it is not something meant to be used for long distance,” Aramus mused.
“Which spell are we speaking of, specifically?” Nicholas inquired.
“Soaring Winds. Good for short distance but…” he trailed off, looking across the sea. “I’m not sure where this ends.”
“A CreoAurum spell, huh?” Nicholas considered it for a moment. “It’d require more than just concentration. However, with those vis you may power up its output.”
“That is fine,” Aramus said, taking out the pieces of vis from his pants. “They would be expended in a fight against demons or by simply remaining here.”
“Very well, I shall try my best,” Elizabeth said.
“If you’re sure, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. In the case that Miss Cavendish Bentinck falls, I shall retrieve her. I cannot catch two. So, don’t falter, Magister,” Nicholas said with a smile.
“I will endeavour to meet your expectations, Archmage,” Aramus answered with a smile, checking if there was anything on him that was loose before he took off.
“Then let us be off.”
With that, Nicholas took off with a trail of flame from his feet. The reason why the Fiery Step spell was useful for traversing over magma was due to the fire created beneath the feet to use like skating shoes meant for dancing on a rink. This would allow one to step on magma temporarily to use as a platform to leap forward without hurting oneself. Such leaping covered great distance too, so they were good for traveling when required due to emergency.
Aramus flipped a pawn vis into his hand, smirking at the tiny little thing. Drawing power from it, Aramus sent a burst of aurum out through his feet to launch him into the air, high enough from the magma that if the spell should fail, he would have time to do something. He began to follow after Nicholas, keeping an eye on Elizabeth below him.
A minute had passed as the trio flew across the searing hot airs above the magma, and Aramus heard a scream from his flank.
Elizabeth lost her concentration on her spell as she fell toward the magma, and of course the moment she hit it, it’d be her demise.
Aramus tried to move toward her but with the way his spell was set dead straight towards his destination, it was hard to steer right for her.
Luckily, Nicholas caught her as promised and successfully stepped over the magma with his spell before taking off, carrying Elizabeth like Aramus did when he had tried to save her life back in London.
Soon, the group landed on the other side, facing a cave.
Elizabeth repeatedly apologized to the Archmage for betraying his expectations.
“Well, for now let us be proud that we crossed this river,” Nicholas remarked, looking down at the magma behind them.
“Yeah, I’m glad that’s over,” Aramus remarked as he landed next to them, a little drained even with the aid of vis. That spell really wasn’t meant for long distances. “Are you alright?” he asked Elizabeth, looking her over for any injuries.
“I’m alright, yes…” Elizabeth looked down at herself, and felt rather powerless.
“Well, let us move on, shall we?” Nicholas already started walking into the cave, not caring for the tired ones at all.
The three traversed the grounds for some time, and it seemed like Nicholas knew exactly where to go despite there not being any real signs. He was indeed used to this place.
Eventually, they were crossing a staircase made out of what seemed like hard clay, leading themselves upwards.
“Who would’ve thought the Infernal Realms would have stairs…” Elizabeth commented. “Even I haven’t read about them.”
To the side beyond the railing, there was something akin to a large bonfire, and some winged eyeballs flew around it like flies. Pieces of flesh were being dropped from high above to the flame. Each time the slugs of filth made contact with the fire it enlarged momentarily, as if being elevated from the treat, and with each piece of flesh getting devoured; the trio would hear strange ephemeral screeches of demons.
“So uh, do you mind explaining to me what is going on? I know the Infernal Realm is different, but this?” Aramus said, gesturing to the weird ongoings around him. Honestly, those flying eyeballs were giving him the creeps as well.
“They are fallen demons,” Nicholas replied. He appeared perfectly composed to this strange situation. “They’re all like you, trying to win that thing—the Laevateinn. The leftovers are being burned off.”
“So the sword is within that flame?” Aramus asked, his face scrunching up in exasperation. “Well, it’s peculiar that even demons can be burned in hell...”
“Nope… the sword is hiiiigh above,” a different voice whispered into his ear, and Aramus turned, freaking out.
A young girl clad in a black one-piece was floating just beside him while eating an apple. He instantly recognized this person.
“Gah, don’t do that!” Aramus yelled at her as he backed up a little. He looked around for the reaper that always followed her, eyes darting left and right. “So, what brings you here this time?”
The demon known as Sasha still had her skull-faced comrade behind her and was pretty much the same as last time, wearing a dreary and bored expression.
Yet why was it that Aramus felt she was somehow amused?
“Just curious. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed me all this time. I even crossed the river with you,” Sasha said, acting depressed.
“Teacher… you know a demon?!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“...I thought she was a friend,” Nicholas stated, revealing that he had known of her. “She isn’t, or is she?”
“Hmm. That is a difficult question to answer indeed,” Aramus said, rubbing the tip of his chin with a finger. “Well, considering she could have done something very unsavory to me whilst I was flying but chose not to, I’ll leave it at that for now,” he said, grinning at the demon. “Still, say something next time! It’s really creepy when you just show up like that.”
“Well, I suppose if he is not †˜dealing’ with the demon, no harm done there,” Nicholas said, shrugging, watching the interaction between Aramus and the demon.
“B-But…” Elizabeth was about to say something but gave up. “You two are too lax.”
“Hearing that you guys want to challenge Asteria, I wanted to creep up on you so that it’d break your nervousness,” Sasha said with a similar grin. “I hear surprising humans helps them break out of stage fright.”
“Well, there’s that,” Aramus said, a little discomforted that a demon was showing him even a modicum of concern. “So who’s Asteria?”
“Huh? You dunno? Yet you came here for her sword… ?” Sasha asked, taking a bite of her apple. “You must be one of those idiotic humans,” she concluded while munching. “The top floor around here leads to the Constellation Chamber. The room beyond the Seven Gates is where Asteria lives. She beat Ereshkigal and took over the relic. The ancient tradition is that anyone can challenge the owner for the blade, so… yeah, that’s the short story.”
Sasha yawned out of boredom despite telling her story, and gave Nicholas a glance. It seemed like he had known about this all along.
“So the pieces of flesh flying down are…” Aramus muttered even as another piece streaked by. “Demons that are diced by Asteria? Suddenly I don’t feel all that comfortable about this.”
“That’s not even Asteria’s doing, unfortunately,” Nicholas stated in a matter-of-factly tone, bearing the bad news. “They’re all demons that failed a trial of the Seven Gates.”
Aramus’s face fell as he sighed. “Well, let’s just get it over with. I don’t want to dawdle here any longer than I have to if I can eat some American food once this is all over.” Though he had said as much, Aramus looked up to the source of the falling fleshy bits with distaste. “And Sasha, mind telling me where you fit in all this?”
“Fit in all this?” Sasha asked as she floated along with the rest.
“You’re doing this on a whim, aren’t you?” Aramus said, looking at the demon as they climbed the stairs.
“Heh. Why else would a bored demon come to talk to you?” Sasha grinned yet again. It felt rather unnatural when her usual face instilled with boredom gave such ominous smiles.
“Well then, you better get more of those apples to munch while you watch the proceedings. Won’t get in trouble with Asteria?” Grimacing in response to her grin, he had somewhat suspected the answer would be along these lines.
“Well, Asteria can be grumpy, but at the same time she can be nice. I think someone has to come with you out of worry, though. You never know, you might be more helpless than you think. Makes me want to watch over you,” Sasha said with delight. It was at the level of amusement one had when watching ants attempting to carry food too heavy for them.
Something like that.
Maybe.
However, Elizabeth found herself agreeing with a nod. How rare. “Indeed, you can’t help but worry about such people,” she remarked.
Mysteriously, an understanding was reached between a human and a demon.
“I know, right?” Sasha responded, giving a chuckle that sounded rather eerie.
“Well, that’s the charm of the poor,” Nicholas commented. “They do say that stronger people feel proud of protecting the weak.”
“Could you guys please!” Aramus said, throwing his hands up in the air. A little bit more of his scorched shirt fell away, dropping into the bonfire along the side with a sizzle. He had been watching the interaction with a mortified stare, but Nicholas’ comment was the final nail in the coffin. “Though, it’s not to say you’re entirely wrong,” he added in a voice that could barely be heard, quickly looking away afterwards.
The Archmage and Aramus’ scholar laughed while Sasha observed the expressions of the humans most curiously.
The three eventually climbed all the way up to the top of the spiral staircase.
Two hours were spent before they arrived to face a long gate. This gate was at least three times taller than any ordinary grand gate Aramus had ever laid his eyes upon.
“This is it,” Sasha stated, looking up to the emblem of the star in the middle of the door. “Beyond this you will find six other gates.”
“And beyond the Seven Gates is the Constellation Chamber… where Laevateinn is sealed,” Nicholas stated. “Along with Asteria, the Goddess of Stars. Unfortunately, each of us are on our own for these trials.”
“Alright then. Best of luck to everyone!” Aramus said with false cheer. “I don’t suppose you’ll need to go through these as well?” he asked Sasha, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Who knows?” Sasha said most ambiguously, and in the most uncaring manner with a jerk of her shoulders. “There is only one way to know.”
“Please don’t push me in,” Aramus said with a sigh. “Well then, I’ll see you on the other side. Once we make it back, I’ll get everyone something to eat. You as well, if you promise not to make a fuss.” He laughed at Sasha a little before returning his attention to the gate.
“I can’t quite come out of this Realm unless I get some nourishment,” Sasha said nonchalantly. “Unless you want to offer some?”
“Does that involve my soul…?” Aramus said, looking suspiciously at her.
“Letting me have a small bite could do,” Sasha replied, raising a thumb.
“Let’s discuss that later shall we?”
“So he’d consider that…” both Elizabeth and Nicholas whispered at the same time.
Nicholas palmed the gate and with a gentle push and it opened. Steam and wind gushed forth from the sliver of opening that formed, and it felt like forever as the entirety of the gates opened.
Beyond them was nothing but white.
“The trials follow the seven sins. I assume you know them?” Sasha asked Aramus while taking out a new apple.
“I’ll probably lose to gluttony or something…” he said miserably.
Sasha immediately took out an apple from her grim reaper behind her and offered it to him with a smirk. “Want one?”
“Nah. Maybe after the trials or fight when I’m a little more hungry but thanks for the offer,” Aramus said, refusing her offer.
“Tch, boring,” Sasha muttered, biting on that apple too. “Well, on your way you go.” Sasha waved at Aramus with her indifferent face.
When Aramus turned, it seemed like Elizabeth and Nicholas already went ahead, apparently tired of the two’s skit.
“See you in a bit then.” Stepping through the door, he bid her farewell.
The teacher felt something heavy falling on his back. It was soft, however. Turning back with a cringe, he found Elizabeth sitting rather elegantly on his back.
“I-I apologize,” Elizabeth immediately said. She got off and dusted herself.
When Aramus got up, he looked down at his clothes, somewhat revealing his masculine figure, and then back to Elizabeth whose dress hardly looked rustled. How nice magical protection were… he felt jealous.
He then looked around. The environment almost made Aramus think they came deep into the ground of the Earth as there was a ceiling of stone. Beneath the block of rock they stood upon was scorching magma that glowed brightly. There seemed to be only one path to the east, and beyond that there were only rocky walls surrounding them.
“Your objective is the Laevateinn, correct?” Nicholas questioned.
“Yes,” Aramus said, getting up and dusting off some of the scraps of his clothes. Not that he expected much from the Infernal Realm, but it was quite the dreary place.
“Is your breathing alright?” he asked. “Don’t feel suffocating here, do you?”
“I don’t feel particularly bothered by the atmosphere, no.” Aramus shook his head. “Would there be anything else to look out for?”
“Well, you can’t stay in the Infernal Realm for long… you may not have noticed but your body is likely expending stamina to stay healthy in this atmosphere,” Nicholas stated calmly. “Basically, if you stay here long…”
“You will likely perish,” Elizabeth finished the sentence. “There is the saying that humans can only live in the human world and that demons should reside only in the demon world.”
“However, demons and the remnants of this Realm are superior, so they do not necessarily suffer there. Albeit, they do require human life to maintain presence in our world,” Nicholas explained further.
“Then we had best make this quick. I can’t die till Her Majesty gives me the †˜ok,’” Aramus said with a grin.
The three started walking east, guided by Nicholas who seemed to be familiar with the Realm.
They spent some minutes as Nicholas seemed to have made them wander around. They came across some evil entities, but the Archmage sliced through them faster than the naked eye could follow.
“...I can tell where Laevateinn is.” Nicholas looked towards the north as they faced a sea of magma beyond a cave. “It is beyond this sea of magma… and even farther than that.”
“Well that’s problematic,” Aramus said, giving his head a scratch in thought. “Any suggestions on how to get across?”
“I could part the sea but that wouldn’t be an ideal option,” Nicholas said with a sigh. “I could get across with Fiery Steps spell on my own, but I doubt either of you know it?”
“I do,” Elizabeth said, a little nervous. “But I am not very confident about crossing what seems like magma ranging more than five-hundred meters…”
Aramus clicked his tongue in annoyance, frowning at the magma. “Conservation of our mana is important… Are there any alternate paths to the blade?”
“Likely. We’ll have to find them,” Nicholas answered. “Which means we’ll have to traverse this maze,” he elaborated, gesturing towards the cave they just exited from behind.
“Hmm. I could technically fly across with the aid of my spells, but it is not something meant to be used for long distance,” Aramus mused.
“Which spell are we speaking of, specifically?” Nicholas inquired.
“Soaring Winds. Good for short distance but…” he trailed off, looking across the sea. “I’m not sure where this ends.”
“A CreoAurum spell, huh?” Nicholas considered it for a moment. “It’d require more than just concentration. However, with those vis you may power up its output.”
“That is fine,” Aramus said, taking out the pieces of vis from his pants. “They would be expended in a fight against demons or by simply remaining here.”
“Very well, I shall try my best,” Elizabeth said.
“If you’re sure, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. In the case that Miss Cavendish Bentinck falls, I shall retrieve her. I cannot catch two. So, don’t falter, Magister,” Nicholas said with a smile.
“I will endeavour to meet your expectations, Archmage,” Aramus answered with a smile, checking if there was anything on him that was loose before he took off.
“Then let us be off.”
With that, Nicholas took off with a trail of flame from his feet. The reason why the Fiery Step spell was useful for traversing over magma was due to the fire created beneath the feet to use like skating shoes meant for dancing on a rink. This would allow one to step on magma temporarily to use as a platform to leap forward without hurting oneself. Such leaping covered great distance too, so they were good for traveling when required due to emergency.
Aramus flipped a pawn vis into his hand, smirking at the tiny little thing. Drawing power from it, Aramus sent a burst of aurum out through his feet to launch him into the air, high enough from the magma that if the spell should fail, he would have time to do something. He began to follow after Nicholas, keeping an eye on Elizabeth below him.
A minute had passed as the trio flew across the searing hot airs above the magma, and Aramus heard a scream from his flank.
Elizabeth lost her concentration on her spell as she fell toward the magma, and of course the moment she hit it, it’d be her demise.
Aramus tried to move toward her but with the way his spell was set dead straight towards his destination, it was hard to steer right for her.
Luckily, Nicholas caught her as promised and successfully stepped over the magma with his spell before taking off, carrying Elizabeth like Aramus did when he had tried to save her life back in London.
Soon, the group landed on the other side, facing a cave.
Elizabeth repeatedly apologized to the Archmage for betraying his expectations.
“Well, for now let us be proud that we crossed this river,” Nicholas remarked, looking down at the magma behind them.
“Yeah, I’m glad that’s over,” Aramus remarked as he landed next to them, a little drained even with the aid of vis. That spell really wasn’t meant for long distances. “Are you alright?” he asked Elizabeth, looking her over for any injuries.
“I’m alright, yes…” Elizabeth looked down at herself, and felt rather powerless.
“Well, let us move on, shall we?” Nicholas already started walking into the cave, not caring for the tired ones at all.
The three traversed the grounds for some time, and it seemed like Nicholas knew exactly where to go despite there not being any real signs. He was indeed used to this place.
Eventually, they were crossing a staircase made out of what seemed like hard clay, leading themselves upwards.
“Who would’ve thought the Infernal Realms would have stairs…” Elizabeth commented. “Even I haven’t read about them.”
To the side beyond the railing, there was something akin to a large bonfire, and some winged eyeballs flew around it like flies. Pieces of flesh were being dropped from high above to the flame. Each time the slugs of filth made contact with the fire it enlarged momentarily, as if being elevated from the treat, and with each piece of flesh getting devoured; the trio would hear strange ephemeral screeches of demons.
“So uh, do you mind explaining to me what is going on? I know the Infernal Realm is different, but this?” Aramus said, gesturing to the weird ongoings around him. Honestly, those flying eyeballs were giving him the creeps as well.
“They are fallen demons,” Nicholas replied. He appeared perfectly composed to this strange situation. “They’re all like you, trying to win that thing—the Laevateinn. The leftovers are being burned off.”
“So the sword is within that flame?” Aramus asked, his face scrunching up in exasperation. “Well, it’s peculiar that even demons can be burned in hell...”
“Nope… the sword is hiiiigh above,” a different voice whispered into his ear, and Aramus turned, freaking out.
A young girl clad in a black one-piece was floating just beside him while eating an apple. He instantly recognized this person.
“Gah, don’t do that!” Aramus yelled at her as he backed up a little. He looked around for the reaper that always followed her, eyes darting left and right. “So, what brings you here this time?”
The demon known as Sasha still had her skull-faced comrade behind her and was pretty much the same as last time, wearing a dreary and bored expression.
Yet why was it that Aramus felt she was somehow amused?
“Just curious. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed me all this time. I even crossed the river with you,” Sasha said, acting depressed.
“Teacher… you know a demon?!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“...I thought she was a friend,” Nicholas stated, revealing that he had known of her. “She isn’t, or is she?”
“Hmm. That is a difficult question to answer indeed,” Aramus said, rubbing the tip of his chin with a finger. “Well, considering she could have done something very unsavory to me whilst I was flying but chose not to, I’ll leave it at that for now,” he said, grinning at the demon. “Still, say something next time! It’s really creepy when you just show up like that.”
“Well, I suppose if he is not †˜dealing’ with the demon, no harm done there,” Nicholas said, shrugging, watching the interaction between Aramus and the demon.
“B-But…” Elizabeth was about to say something but gave up. “You two are too lax.”
“Hearing that you guys want to challenge Asteria, I wanted to creep up on you so that it’d break your nervousness,” Sasha said with a similar grin. “I hear surprising humans helps them break out of stage fright.”
“Well, there’s that,” Aramus said, a little discomforted that a demon was showing him even a modicum of concern. “So who’s Asteria?”
“Huh? You dunno? Yet you came here for her sword… ?” Sasha asked, taking a bite of her apple. “You must be one of those idiotic humans,” she concluded while munching. “The top floor around here leads to the Constellation Chamber. The room beyond the Seven Gates is where Asteria lives. She beat Ereshkigal and took over the relic. The ancient tradition is that anyone can challenge the owner for the blade, so… yeah, that’s the short story.”
Sasha yawned out of boredom despite telling her story, and gave Nicholas a glance. It seemed like he had known about this all along.
“So the pieces of flesh flying down are…” Aramus muttered even as another piece streaked by. “Demons that are diced by Asteria? Suddenly I don’t feel all that comfortable about this.”
“That’s not even Asteria’s doing, unfortunately,” Nicholas stated in a matter-of-factly tone, bearing the bad news. “They’re all demons that failed a trial of the Seven Gates.”
Aramus’s face fell as he sighed. “Well, let’s just get it over with. I don’t want to dawdle here any longer than I have to if I can eat some American food once this is all over.” Though he had said as much, Aramus looked up to the source of the falling fleshy bits with distaste. “And Sasha, mind telling me where you fit in all this?”
“Fit in all this?” Sasha asked as she floated along with the rest.
“You’re doing this on a whim, aren’t you?” Aramus said, looking at the demon as they climbed the stairs.
“Heh. Why else would a bored demon come to talk to you?” Sasha grinned yet again. It felt rather unnatural when her usual face instilled with boredom gave such ominous smiles.
“Well then, you better get more of those apples to munch while you watch the proceedings. Won’t get in trouble with Asteria?” Grimacing in response to her grin, he had somewhat suspected the answer would be along these lines.
“Well, Asteria can be grumpy, but at the same time she can be nice. I think someone has to come with you out of worry, though. You never know, you might be more helpless than you think. Makes me want to watch over you,” Sasha said with delight. It was at the level of amusement one had when watching ants attempting to carry food too heavy for them.
Something like that.
Maybe.
However, Elizabeth found herself agreeing with a nod. How rare. “Indeed, you can’t help but worry about such people,” she remarked.
Mysteriously, an understanding was reached between a human and a demon.
“I know, right?” Sasha responded, giving a chuckle that sounded rather eerie.
“Well, that’s the charm of the poor,” Nicholas commented. “They do say that stronger people feel proud of protecting the weak.”
“Could you guys please!” Aramus said, throwing his hands up in the air. A little bit more of his scorched shirt fell away, dropping into the bonfire along the side with a sizzle. He had been watching the interaction with a mortified stare, but Nicholas’ comment was the final nail in the coffin. “Though, it’s not to say you’re entirely wrong,” he added in a voice that could barely be heard, quickly looking away afterwards.
The Archmage and Aramus’ scholar laughed while Sasha observed the expressions of the humans most curiously.
The three eventually climbed all the way up to the top of the spiral staircase.
Two hours were spent before they arrived to face a long gate. This gate was at least three times taller than any ordinary grand gate Aramus had ever laid his eyes upon.
“This is it,” Sasha stated, looking up to the emblem of the star in the middle of the door. “Beyond this you will find six other gates.”
“And beyond the Seven Gates is the Constellation Chamber… where Laevateinn is sealed,” Nicholas stated. “Along with Asteria, the Goddess of Stars. Unfortunately, each of us are on our own for these trials.”
“Alright then. Best of luck to everyone!” Aramus said with false cheer. “I don’t suppose you’ll need to go through these as well?” he asked Sasha, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Who knows?” Sasha said most ambiguously, and in the most uncaring manner with a jerk of her shoulders. “There is only one way to know.”
“Please don’t push me in,” Aramus said with a sigh. “Well then, I’ll see you on the other side. Once we make it back, I’ll get everyone something to eat. You as well, if you promise not to make a fuss.” He laughed at Sasha a little before returning his attention to the gate.
“I can’t quite come out of this Realm unless I get some nourishment,” Sasha said nonchalantly. “Unless you want to offer some?”
“Does that involve my soul…?” Aramus said, looking suspiciously at her.
“Letting me have a small bite could do,” Sasha replied, raising a thumb.
“Let’s discuss that later shall we?”
“So he’d consider that…” both Elizabeth and Nicholas whispered at the same time.
Nicholas palmed the gate and with a gentle push and it opened. Steam and wind gushed forth from the sliver of opening that formed, and it felt like forever as the entirety of the gates opened.
Beyond them was nothing but white.
“The trials follow the seven sins. I assume you know them?” Sasha asked Aramus while taking out a new apple.
“I’ll probably lose to gluttony or something…” he said miserably.
Sasha immediately took out an apple from her grim reaper behind her and offered it to him with a smirk. “Want one?”
“Nah. Maybe after the trials or fight when I’m a little more hungry but thanks for the offer,” Aramus said, refusing her offer.
“Tch, boring,” Sasha muttered, biting on that apple too. “Well, on your way you go.” Sasha waved at Aramus with her indifferent face.
When Aramus turned, it seemed like Elizabeth and Nicholas already went ahead, apparently tired of the two’s skit.
“See you in a bit then.” Stepping through the door, he bid her farewell.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
When Aramus stepped beyond the light of the gate, there was silence.
There was silence, and then a change of temperature. It felt rather cold compared to the heated environment he had been in. How strange. Was he even still in hell anymore?
Then there were voices.
“You left us †˜ehind, traitor,” a voice of a child echoed. It felt nostalgic to him. Very nostalgic, in fact.
Aramus couldn’t quite place the voice, did he have a student this young? He looked around, waiting for something to reveal itself. They did say that it was a trial but which one of the seven was it?
“Who are you? Show yourself!”
“Who… †˜re we?” Numerous voices of children echoed.
The white and empty space showed blackness, and in said blackness were shapes of urchins, vaguely recognizable.
“We don’t even know,” they said. The numerous voices laughed, ironically.
The floor started to burn with fire, and Aramus’ feet were already swathed in flames. Albeit they weren’t climbing up beyond his feet.
“You guys,” his voice was a whisper as realization slowly dawned on him. They had been his comrades once, a pack of street rats that came together to survive.
Aramus leapt backwards, for a blade cut through where he was standing.
It was Elizabeth, she was shrouded in scarlet flames with her relic sword in hand. A pair of demonic eyes shined and her expression was unlike anything he had seen before—true rage. Her dress was different, clearly, she was wearing something he saw her wear in the Queen’s Meeting.
“You, my mother, and all those aristocrats… laughing behind my back, looking down at me—no matter how hard I work and toil—I will burn you all away,” she roared.
Her sword dripped with fire and she sliced the air towards Aramus—spears of crimson spewed forth towards him.
“Elizabeth!” He barely gasped out as the blade grazed him, eliciting a small hiss of pain as it opened a wound in his flank. Aramus checked the wound, his hand coming away with blood. “Get ahold of yourself!”
“All of you see me as an enemy—a dirty, tainted girl—amongst the aristocracy for working with The Society, don’t you?!” Elizabeth cried, her eyes letting out tears of blood.
Her body was burning, quite literally. Her skin and flesh were devoured every moment. Even then, she blindly swung her relic blade at her teacher.
Her rage had clouded her once deft swordplay and Aramus weaved between the blows without harm.
“Elizabeth, it’s me,” he said to no avail, clicking his tongue as a slash nearly bisected him. “If I can just knock her out…” he muttered as he got up from his roll, sending a small ball of wind towards her midsection with Paimon’s fan as she charged at him.
The ball of wind was like a gentle breeze meant to simply knock the air right out of Elizabeth. It caressed the flames instead of her body, however. The flames burned and shone brilliantly as if oil was poured over the poor girl.
Elizabeth’s voice shrilled and she wailed louder as her body burned ever faster. Her hands dislodged due to the wrists being spurned, unable to carry the heavy sword. Elizabeth desperately looked down at her arms cut off, only now realizing that she couldn’t do any harm anymore.
The flames intensified, even though they weren’t supposed to, and Elizabeth started to melt down unnaturally as if she was made out of steel.
Aramus could see the burning and boiling puddle of blood, flesh, and bones resulting from the flames rendering her existence from this plane.
“Why… why! I tried so hard… mommy…” With those murmured words, Elizabeth vanished—no, died, leaving only said puddle behind.
Aramus froze, Paimon’s fan clattering to the fiery ground as he looked upon the result of his actions. His heart ached in his chest, mouth moving, but no sound came out at the realization that his prized pupil had been slain by his hand. Falling to his knees as strength left him, Aramus pounded his fist into the floor as the bottled up emotions of the past years came spilling forth.
His eyes burned with tears as he squeezed them shut, trying to block out the images that seemed to replay itself through his mind.
“Damn it, damn it!”
His fists were now smoking, a result of him punching the flaming ground in frustration and despair. He had come here to redeem himself, but how could he accept redemption even if he walked out with the relic sword after what he had just done this? How would he face the Duchess, Her Majesty or anyone else that knew him as Magister?
“Why does it always end like this!?” he howled, raw emotion in his voice.
“Because she was weak.”
Aramus looked up with his teary face, finding William John Frederick Powlett, wearing an evil grin before he stomped on the ground there Elizabeth’s remains were.
His smile twisted further as he looked down at both him and his student’s burned blood.
“The Society is strong. She couldn’t fit in among us. Straddling the fence on both sides—she couldn’t reach a decision. Ahahaha!! How pathetic!” Powlett held his forehead. “She should’ve obviously come over to our side, but she took too long. This is what happens to the weak, make sure you remember it.”
“You dare to run your filthy mouth, Powlett!?” Aramus snarled, his eyes ablaze as the despicable man before him trod on the memory of his student. “You—” Grabbing the fan off the ground, he sent a gale flying towards the object of his anger. The flaming ground burned brighter and stronger as the wind rushed, a violent orange typhoon.
“Next, we’ll cut the Quee-” Powlett tried to speak, but was cut and burned by the wind and flames.
Breathing ragged breaths, Aramus once more let his limbs go slack. He dragged himself over to where Elizabeth once was, kneeling down in sorrow. The blaze of anger hadn’t abated but the feelings of regret weighed more heavily in his heart. He strove to become strong; to be useful for the Queen; and to defeat The Society. Now it was an empty feeling, Aramus was drained of energy as he clenched his fists.
Powlett had only been one of them, the numerous members of The Society. Another would no doubt take his place given time. Duchess Margaret's words had hit home, the implications of being weak and deluded that he could do something had been correct. Why had he become strong? Was it to destroy what he perceived as evil? A simple desire for more power? Somewhere along the way, he had deluded himself into thinking that was the goal, the idea.
“What’s the point of growing strong if I cannot protect what is important to me…” Aramus murmured breathlessly.
As his wrath subsided and entered the state of mental exhaustion so did the flames extinguish. When he looked up from his sorry state, he found the same white space—where no remains of Elizabeth lasted—except that there was a door before him.
Aramus picked himself up as the gates opened. He could only move forward.
There was silence, and then a change of temperature. It felt rather cold compared to the heated environment he had been in. How strange. Was he even still in hell anymore?
Then there were voices.
“You left us †˜ehind, traitor,” a voice of a child echoed. It felt nostalgic to him. Very nostalgic, in fact.
Aramus couldn’t quite place the voice, did he have a student this young? He looked around, waiting for something to reveal itself. They did say that it was a trial but which one of the seven was it?
“Who are you? Show yourself!”
“Who… †˜re we?” Numerous voices of children echoed.
The white and empty space showed blackness, and in said blackness were shapes of urchins, vaguely recognizable.
“We don’t even know,” they said. The numerous voices laughed, ironically.
The floor started to burn with fire, and Aramus’ feet were already swathed in flames. Albeit they weren’t climbing up beyond his feet.
“You guys,” his voice was a whisper as realization slowly dawned on him. They had been his comrades once, a pack of street rats that came together to survive.
Aramus leapt backwards, for a blade cut through where he was standing.
It was Elizabeth, she was shrouded in scarlet flames with her relic sword in hand. A pair of demonic eyes shined and her expression was unlike anything he had seen before—true rage. Her dress was different, clearly, she was wearing something he saw her wear in the Queen’s Meeting.
“You, my mother, and all those aristocrats… laughing behind my back, looking down at me—no matter how hard I work and toil—I will burn you all away,” she roared.
Her sword dripped with fire and she sliced the air towards Aramus—spears of crimson spewed forth towards him.
“Elizabeth!” He barely gasped out as the blade grazed him, eliciting a small hiss of pain as it opened a wound in his flank. Aramus checked the wound, his hand coming away with blood. “Get ahold of yourself!”
“All of you see me as an enemy—a dirty, tainted girl—amongst the aristocracy for working with The Society, don’t you?!” Elizabeth cried, her eyes letting out tears of blood.
Her body was burning, quite literally. Her skin and flesh were devoured every moment. Even then, she blindly swung her relic blade at her teacher.
Her rage had clouded her once deft swordplay and Aramus weaved between the blows without harm.
“Elizabeth, it’s me,” he said to no avail, clicking his tongue as a slash nearly bisected him. “If I can just knock her out…” he muttered as he got up from his roll, sending a small ball of wind towards her midsection with Paimon’s fan as she charged at him.
The ball of wind was like a gentle breeze meant to simply knock the air right out of Elizabeth. It caressed the flames instead of her body, however. The flames burned and shone brilliantly as if oil was poured over the poor girl.
Elizabeth’s voice shrilled and she wailed louder as her body burned ever faster. Her hands dislodged due to the wrists being spurned, unable to carry the heavy sword. Elizabeth desperately looked down at her arms cut off, only now realizing that she couldn’t do any harm anymore.
The flames intensified, even though they weren’t supposed to, and Elizabeth started to melt down unnaturally as if she was made out of steel.
Aramus could see the burning and boiling puddle of blood, flesh, and bones resulting from the flames rendering her existence from this plane.
“Why… why! I tried so hard… mommy…” With those murmured words, Elizabeth vanished—no, died, leaving only said puddle behind.
Aramus froze, Paimon’s fan clattering to the fiery ground as he looked upon the result of his actions. His heart ached in his chest, mouth moving, but no sound came out at the realization that his prized pupil had been slain by his hand. Falling to his knees as strength left him, Aramus pounded his fist into the floor as the bottled up emotions of the past years came spilling forth.
His eyes burned with tears as he squeezed them shut, trying to block out the images that seemed to replay itself through his mind.
“Damn it, damn it!”
His fists were now smoking, a result of him punching the flaming ground in frustration and despair. He had come here to redeem himself, but how could he accept redemption even if he walked out with the relic sword after what he had just done this? How would he face the Duchess, Her Majesty or anyone else that knew him as Magister?
“Why does it always end like this!?” he howled, raw emotion in his voice.
“Because she was weak.”
Aramus looked up with his teary face, finding William John Frederick Powlett, wearing an evil grin before he stomped on the ground there Elizabeth’s remains were.
His smile twisted further as he looked down at both him and his student’s burned blood.
“The Society is strong. She couldn’t fit in among us. Straddling the fence on both sides—she couldn’t reach a decision. Ahahaha!! How pathetic!” Powlett held his forehead. “She should’ve obviously come over to our side, but she took too long. This is what happens to the weak, make sure you remember it.”
“You dare to run your filthy mouth, Powlett!?” Aramus snarled, his eyes ablaze as the despicable man before him trod on the memory of his student. “You—” Grabbing the fan off the ground, he sent a gale flying towards the object of his anger. The flaming ground burned brighter and stronger as the wind rushed, a violent orange typhoon.
“Next, we’ll cut the Quee-” Powlett tried to speak, but was cut and burned by the wind and flames.
Breathing ragged breaths, Aramus once more let his limbs go slack. He dragged himself over to where Elizabeth once was, kneeling down in sorrow. The blaze of anger hadn’t abated but the feelings of regret weighed more heavily in his heart. He strove to become strong; to be useful for the Queen; and to defeat The Society. Now it was an empty feeling, Aramus was drained of energy as he clenched his fists.
Powlett had only been one of them, the numerous members of The Society. Another would no doubt take his place given time. Duchess Margaret's words had hit home, the implications of being weak and deluded that he could do something had been correct. Why had he become strong? Was it to destroy what he perceived as evil? A simple desire for more power? Somewhere along the way, he had deluded himself into thinking that was the goal, the idea.
“What’s the point of growing strong if I cannot protect what is important to me…” Aramus murmured breathlessly.
As his wrath subsided and entered the state of mental exhaustion so did the flames extinguish. When he looked up from his sorry state, he found the same white space—where no remains of Elizabeth lasted—except that there was a door before him.
Aramus picked himself up as the gates opened. He could only move forward.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Another white space.
Another place he found empty.
Was it really empty, however?
None of the wounds he received remained. None of the burns from the previous room scorched him. He was recovered, or was the previous trial simply an illusion?
Somehow, he was also mentally recovered. In fact, he felt better than ever, to the point that it felt rather vexing.
Suddenly, Aramus was holding a medal.
He looked around. Everyone cheered for him. It felt strange, and he was nervous.
The Royal Queen of Britain had just awarded him for becoming a Magister with a smile. It was an honor. He felt proud of himself. His peers were clapping for his ascension in rank.
However, the faces of his so-called peers were dark and grim—as if their true faces were being shown.
The thoughts of the aristocrats echoed.
“Lame.”
“Why him…”
“Damned commoner scum.”
“Why, why! How could a commoner surpass me…?!”
And so on, he heard the frustrations of the high born individuals. He felt the sneers and hatred of his fellow scholars. Everyone hated him.
He heard the voice of the Queen—her thought.
“To think I handed something so precious to such a dirty pair of hands. Oh dear, I must immediately cleanse my hands at the earliest convenience.”
“Y-Your Majesty!” Aramus exclaimed, dumbstruck by what she had thought. Perhaps he had misheard. One such as her couldn’t have possibly have said something like that. It was probably him, yes, his mistake. Even so, it felt as though a stake of hot iron was thrust into his heart, searing his entire being. The shame he felt when being addressed as such by her...
He blinked, and he was at the Queen’s Meeting. Facing these stares again.
He was talking to his teacher. His master. His mentor.
The man who had made him what he was today as a warrior.
“Tch, what wasted efforts,” his teacher grumbled. These were also thoughts even though they were toasting to his growth. “He didn’t even become half as strong as I envisioned. What the heck am I gonna do like this? Magister? So what?! My protege isn’t even worth a thing like this! So this is as far as a commoner goes. I should’ve found a way to train a noble instead.”
“Master!” The man he thought dead, possibly come back from the grave. Were these the thoughts he had held all along? Aramus would never know, and it troubled him. That for a good portion of his life, the man he took as his father figure would think like that. It was a different kind of pain from the one he felt with Her Majesty, a lot more personal. Even after all the effort he had put in, would it never be enough? An issue of his commoner blood? An unchangeable fact? Those answers would never come.
His master turned, making an excuse politely. He exited the hall soon and then punched the wall when he was out of sight. Cursing his fate, and cursing his lack of reputation.
“Because I wasn’t popular with the scholars, that I ended up with this?!” he spoke to himself.
A sword dug out from his heart in the next moment, and Aramus’ mentor turned to find Powlett’s smirking face.
“That doesn’t give you an excuse to experiment with the devils to learn forbidden arts, teacher,” the Duke said in a sardonic tone. Several men walked up from the corners of the darkness and took hold of Aramus’ teacher’s corpse, cleaning the floor of the spilled blood and walking away.
The Duke turned to where Aramus was, enjoying his food in bliss in an attempt to avoid the gazes of the nobles.
“Sucks to be born as a commoner, huh?”
The former student of the mentor saw all of this as a vision.
Aramus looked miserably at his hands under the table, already forming into fists. That his mentor would be murdered so blatantly by The Society whilst he had been too busy hiding his own face beneath food, was this how he had repaid his master? Aramus bit his lip till it was sore, grinding his teeth. Petty, naive, a fool. Blinding himself to avoid the painful gazes was nothing better than cowardly. Would it always end as the commoners word against the nobles, an insurmountable wall that cannot be surpassed?
The world they lived in was always so far away with their balls, fine dining and what not. He? Run away into self imposed exile. A fine specimen of commoner filth.
The final vision then showed. It was like one of those theatres in London. He always wanted to see one as a child. When Aramus looked down at himself, he was in the form of a child. An innocent child, seemingly. However, his mind of his former self was intact.
Instead of actors and actresses or the stage, there was a television, large and wide. This reminded him of the Japanese cinema halls.
Wasn’t this an English theatre?
It wasn’t. Before he knew it—Japanese technology renovated the hall.
The display began to play.
It showed his origin.
It showed who he was—whose child he was.
It showed who was responsible for his past.
For some reason he was already crying. He didn’t know why. Perhaps he didn’t wanted to know.
His vision was blurry when the video was being played.
In an empty and dirty alley was a woman with silver hair, weeping. On her bosom the woman held an infant covered in white cloth. The infant was crying noisily.
She seemed rather young, just barely passable as an adult. Her figure was nostalgic but Aramus couldn’t put a finger to it.
Had he met her before? He couldn’t tell. Probably not.
“D...Don’t leave me! Your child—he is right here. Would you really leave us both?!” the lady cried out, and even the voice was familiar, yet his hearing was somehow uneven too. Like someone put cotton in his ears to disallow most sound from entering.
“Don’t leave me…”
The man clad in a black robe walked out of the alley and disappeared into the crowd of people.
It seemed to be morning. The sky was cloudy. It was likely London.
A chain pulled her from behind.
A jet black chain encircled her neck and she was but a slave to the man behind her. A person Aramus had never seen before—enshrouded in darkness—pulled his mother away as she outstretched her arm toward the infant.
Alone, the infant continued to cry on the dirty ground with only a dirty torn book on the ground beside him.
So these were his parents? The family that he had never known, split apart. It was not that his parents were killed and despite what he was shown, a small kernel of hope sprung forth amidst the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he would be able to meet both of them if he looked hard enough.
He clung to it like a thirsting man would to water, a new desire apart from his duty to the Queen. “Someday, I will see them again.”
With this thought voiced, the scenes vanished. One after the other, the empty seats and the television sunk into the floor and before he knew it—he was standing in his adult form, facing the next door with the emblem of a star.
Another place he found empty.
Was it really empty, however?
None of the wounds he received remained. None of the burns from the previous room scorched him. He was recovered, or was the previous trial simply an illusion?
Somehow, he was also mentally recovered. In fact, he felt better than ever, to the point that it felt rather vexing.
Suddenly, Aramus was holding a medal.
He looked around. Everyone cheered for him. It felt strange, and he was nervous.
The Royal Queen of Britain had just awarded him for becoming a Magister with a smile. It was an honor. He felt proud of himself. His peers were clapping for his ascension in rank.
However, the faces of his so-called peers were dark and grim—as if their true faces were being shown.
The thoughts of the aristocrats echoed.
“Lame.”
“Why him…”
“Damned commoner scum.”
“Why, why! How could a commoner surpass me…?!”
And so on, he heard the frustrations of the high born individuals. He felt the sneers and hatred of his fellow scholars. Everyone hated him.
He heard the voice of the Queen—her thought.
“To think I handed something so precious to such a dirty pair of hands. Oh dear, I must immediately cleanse my hands at the earliest convenience.”
“Y-Your Majesty!” Aramus exclaimed, dumbstruck by what she had thought. Perhaps he had misheard. One such as her couldn’t have possibly have said something like that. It was probably him, yes, his mistake. Even so, it felt as though a stake of hot iron was thrust into his heart, searing his entire being. The shame he felt when being addressed as such by her...
He blinked, and he was at the Queen’s Meeting. Facing these stares again.
He was talking to his teacher. His master. His mentor.
The man who had made him what he was today as a warrior.
“Tch, what wasted efforts,” his teacher grumbled. These were also thoughts even though they were toasting to his growth. “He didn’t even become half as strong as I envisioned. What the heck am I gonna do like this? Magister? So what?! My protege isn’t even worth a thing like this! So this is as far as a commoner goes. I should’ve found a way to train a noble instead.”
“Master!” The man he thought dead, possibly come back from the grave. Were these the thoughts he had held all along? Aramus would never know, and it troubled him. That for a good portion of his life, the man he took as his father figure would think like that. It was a different kind of pain from the one he felt with Her Majesty, a lot more personal. Even after all the effort he had put in, would it never be enough? An issue of his commoner blood? An unchangeable fact? Those answers would never come.
His master turned, making an excuse politely. He exited the hall soon and then punched the wall when he was out of sight. Cursing his fate, and cursing his lack of reputation.
“Because I wasn’t popular with the scholars, that I ended up with this?!” he spoke to himself.
A sword dug out from his heart in the next moment, and Aramus’ mentor turned to find Powlett’s smirking face.
“That doesn’t give you an excuse to experiment with the devils to learn forbidden arts, teacher,” the Duke said in a sardonic tone. Several men walked up from the corners of the darkness and took hold of Aramus’ teacher’s corpse, cleaning the floor of the spilled blood and walking away.
The Duke turned to where Aramus was, enjoying his food in bliss in an attempt to avoid the gazes of the nobles.
“Sucks to be born as a commoner, huh?”
The former student of the mentor saw all of this as a vision.
Aramus looked miserably at his hands under the table, already forming into fists. That his mentor would be murdered so blatantly by The Society whilst he had been too busy hiding his own face beneath food, was this how he had repaid his master? Aramus bit his lip till it was sore, grinding his teeth. Petty, naive, a fool. Blinding himself to avoid the painful gazes was nothing better than cowardly. Would it always end as the commoners word against the nobles, an insurmountable wall that cannot be surpassed?
The world they lived in was always so far away with their balls, fine dining and what not. He? Run away into self imposed exile. A fine specimen of commoner filth.
The final vision then showed. It was like one of those theatres in London. He always wanted to see one as a child. When Aramus looked down at himself, he was in the form of a child. An innocent child, seemingly. However, his mind of his former self was intact.
Instead of actors and actresses or the stage, there was a television, large and wide. This reminded him of the Japanese cinema halls.
Wasn’t this an English theatre?
It wasn’t. Before he knew it—Japanese technology renovated the hall.
The display began to play.
It showed his origin.
It showed who he was—whose child he was.
It showed who was responsible for his past.
For some reason he was already crying. He didn’t know why. Perhaps he didn’t wanted to know.
His vision was blurry when the video was being played.
In an empty and dirty alley was a woman with silver hair, weeping. On her bosom the woman held an infant covered in white cloth. The infant was crying noisily.
She seemed rather young, just barely passable as an adult. Her figure was nostalgic but Aramus couldn’t put a finger to it.
Had he met her before? He couldn’t tell. Probably not.
“D...Don’t leave me! Your child—he is right here. Would you really leave us both?!” the lady cried out, and even the voice was familiar, yet his hearing was somehow uneven too. Like someone put cotton in his ears to disallow most sound from entering.
“Don’t leave me…”
The man clad in a black robe walked out of the alley and disappeared into the crowd of people.
It seemed to be morning. The sky was cloudy. It was likely London.
A chain pulled her from behind.
A jet black chain encircled her neck and she was but a slave to the man behind her. A person Aramus had never seen before—enshrouded in darkness—pulled his mother away as she outstretched her arm toward the infant.
Alone, the infant continued to cry on the dirty ground with only a dirty torn book on the ground beside him.
So these were his parents? The family that he had never known, split apart. It was not that his parents were killed and despite what he was shown, a small kernel of hope sprung forth amidst the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he would be able to meet both of them if he looked hard enough.
He clung to it like a thirsting man would to water, a new desire apart from his duty to the Queen. “Someday, I will see them again.”
With this thought voiced, the scenes vanished. One after the other, the empty seats and the television sunk into the floor and before he knew it—he was standing in his adult form, facing the next door with the emblem of a star.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
As Aramus stepped beyond the next door, the demon behind him sighed. Sasha had been watching all along while munching on apples.
On the next level of white space was obviously nothingness. However, there was one person standing unlike the last time.
It was Takeru.
Takeru was perfectly dressed as a butler.
“What would you like?” he asked. He didn’t remember coming here with Takeru, so perhaps this was an illusion conjured for his so-called trial.
“Your suit,” Aramus answered flatly as he gave Takeru a once over. “Give me your clothes.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
From behind him—however ridiculous it seemed to Aramus—Takeru took out a wooden case, and opened it before Aramus to reveal a set of clothes. Fashionable and durable, and apparently better. The coat wasn’t handed to Aramus. Instead, Takeru put it on for him.
“Oh!” Aramus exclaimed, the plush material light and airy, contrary to his expectations. He twisted and turned in his new outfit, satisfied with how it looked on him.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?” As Takeru asked, he handed a cup of hot tea to his apparent master.
“Uh, I don’t really know what’s going on. Why are you serving me?” Aramus asked even as he looked around for anything that might give him a clue. The world changed to a garden before he knew it. There was a mansion behind him, and it was simply a peaceful place. There was no breeze, but there was no exceptional heat or cold either.
A tranquil world. Perhaps even ideal.
He could see Almond running around the gardens a little far from him.
“Whatever would you mean, my Lord? I have always been your faithful servant,” Takeru the butler replied, a little dumbfounded and confused from the question.
“My servant?” Aramus asked dubiously, taking a small step away from Takeru. “Lord? Wait, why did you address me like that?”
Takeru blinked his eyes once, then twice. “Well, that is of course because you are an aristocrat—a being of noble descent,” he explained in a matter of factly tone. “And I am but a man of humble birth, and you so happened to hire me when I was in dire need of work.”
Aramus blinked in confusion, pointing at himself. “A noble? What kind of nonsense are you talking about, I’m the poorest of the poor.”
“Pardon my usage of words, but that is nonsense, my Lord. You are a noble, a Duke, an important man. Whatever’s gone wrong with your memories?”
Looking at Takeru like he had a few screws loose—perhaps he did—Aramus opened his mouth to say something but paused. He felt tired, like they had had this conversation multiple times before. “Whatever then. Let’s take a rest, I’m bushed.”
“I shall prepare the necessities to deal with the fatigue, then,” Takeru immediately said, noting distress from viewing the complexion of his master, and walked away with hurried steps.
Before he could decide to go back to the manor or explore his vast land, someone called out to him.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
He heard, and turned, finding little Sophie running up to him.
“Look! I drew this!” Sophie showed a portrait. Hand-drawn and clumsily made, it was a picture of him, with Sophie herself, Almond—traversing through what seemed like sunflowers?—and Takeru standing afar with a very straight and upright stance like a servant prepared for anything.
Aramus smiled down at his “daughter” a little dumbstruck by the situation. Still, that didn’t prevent him from praising her efforts. “That’s nice Sophie. Our little… family?” he said hesitantly, not exactly sure what to call the four of them.
“That’s right!” she exclaimed in joy from the praise. “It’s too bad I don’t have a mommy to draw… but we’ll be fine, right?”
“We don’t have a mommy…” Aramus whispered under his breath. That meant he was a young father of two!? A shocking revelation! “Yep, we’ll be fine. Just the four of us,” he said earnestly, tousling her hair gently. He would do everything within his means to protect the both of them.
“Mhm.” Sophie smiled, feeling a little spoiled from being patted. “I considered adding Aunt Farris, but since she can be a little mean, I didn’t.”
Aramus couldn't prevent his expression from turning into a slight grimace as he processed what she just said. “Is she coming back later today?” he asked since the person in question wasn’t around.
“She said that she will be visiting us today and attend lunch with us. Had you forgotten, Daddy?”
“Your father can be forgetful sometimes, haha,” he said with a light chuckle. So Claudia was coming over then.
The pair of father and daughter soon walked back to the manor.
Inside was as glamorous as he had wanted it to be somewhere deep inside his heart. The vivid red carpets adorned the floors, and it was simply extravagant-looking at the intricate details across the walls and the many portraits of Her Majesty decorating the walls.
Almond returned at some point, and he was a handsome child. He seemed a little older than when Aramus had last seen him and he seemed like someone who was going to inherit whatever business Aramus had running.
“Oh, Father, I see you are back from business,” Almond said, apparently before Aramus came to; he had been out for business? “I studied, so don’t panic about my future now,” he said with a sigh.
Had they had a dispute about his lack of studies? Aramus couldn’t tell.
“Perhaps I was worrying too much,” Aramus said back, letting out a small “humph”. “You’ve excelled in everything I’ve assigned to you so far.” If memory served, but he didn’t need to add that.
“That’s right, I am great,” Almond said with a carefree gesture of running his hand across his blonde hair with a haughty and smug smile. “I shall excel in anything and everything, just you watch, Father.”
This, Aramus could not remember the old Almond doing, especially the smug smile.
“I will, just don’t let too much of it go to your head. Needlessly flaunting our successes only brings more trouble than it’s worth. Sometimes it is better to achieve things quietly.”
“But confidence is what makes a man!” Almond argued back, but seemed to let it go. “Well, whatever you say.”
“It is good to be confident, Almond. Just don’t rub it in other people’s faces,” he said honestly, speaking from his own experience. “Still, I trust your judgement.”
Before their conversation could continue, the sweet scent of bakery and cream caught his nose. Aramus instinctively turned to find Takeru holding a tray full of colorful cupcakes.
Each with different flavors.
“My Lord, I apologize for the wait but your favorite cupcakes are ready,” Takeru said, offering the cupcakes.
“Oh boy,” Aramus said as he forgot himself for a moment, striding over to his †˜servant.’ “What do we have today?”
“Blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, cherry, salted caramel, and lastly, cream cheese. I hope they are to your liking, my Lord.”
“Oh, hand me the salted caramel,” Almond requested.
“Blueberry for me!” Sophie exclaimed.
Takeru gave them their desired cupcakes. It seemed like they loved cupcakes as much as Aramus for some reason?
“Takeru, take whichever one suits your fancy as well,” Aramus commented, watching his †˜kids.’ Seeing them enjoy something simply warmed his heart. He never thought that a feeling like this would come his way.
“Then I shall gratefully accept the vanilla.” Takeru gave a nod and took out the vanilla cupcake as he had stated.
“Good, good,” Aramus said, grabbing a random one off the tray to chew on. “If anyone wants more, please help yourselves.”
“No, that’s fine,” Almond responded.
“We’re used to seeing you eat all of them,” Sophie added after his son with a chuckle.
In a dramatic way the door opened, and in the middle of the open sight was Claudia, wearing a fancy dress as would befit an aristocrat. Her facial features were dressed with excess makeup making her appear rather eerie.
“Bonjour, dear brother,” Claudia greeted, giving a respectable curtsy the real one would never be able to replicate.
So this was what Claudia would be like if she hadn’t turned? Or was this the Claudia of his ideals? Still, he frowned a bit at her greeting. “Don’t be so cold Claudia, you don’t have to curtsy to me. Also, don’t teach the kids any weird things.”
“Oh, but this is appropriate for a lady, it is not?” Claudia said with raised eyebrows, still smiling, as if they had been through this countless times before.
Aramus sighed. This facet of her seemed unchanged, the endless teasing. Ah how he had sorely missed it, or not. “Don’t learn any bad habits from your aunt, kids. Remember, this is England. We use English for a reason,” Aramus whispered to his two “offsprings.”
Claudia seemed to be frowning while Aramus instructed the children. Of course, Almond and Sophie were nodding with agreement.
With all said and done, they went on to have long conversations about various things. Aramus came to learn that Claudia was running some kind of a business related to fashion, but he didn’t delve deep into the subject. He came to learn that she was soon to be married to a Marquis, who was likely a respectable gentleman, and that she was going to go far away due to that.
They soon had lunch and Takeru only seemed to serve his children’s favorites. Almond apparently prefered Chinese while Sophie seemed to like Italian cuisines. It was strange seeing so many different kinds of dishes lined across the long table. Claudia was served all kinds of seafood.
Aramus didn’t know if that was in-line with reality or not.
Probably not.
After lunch, Claudia left and his children dispersed to deal with †˜other activities’ for the day. Whatever that meant was something he wasn’t sure of
“Do we have anything on the itinerary today, Takeru?” Aramus asked after lunch, curious as to what was to happen now.
“Nothing in particular, my Lord. We have completed all work-related matters for the day. At night, you’ll have to attend a meeting with some clients, however,” Takeru answered.
“So I have free time then?” Aramus said, looking as if Takeru had told him he had struck the lottery grand prize. “ME? Free time!?”
“...Well, yes. You are usually free around this time of the day, my Lord,” Takeru curtly answered, bewildered.
“O-Ok. If you say so,” Aramus said, slipping back to how he referred to Takeru as his senior. “I’m going to take a bath, my body feels strangely heavy.” Aramus turned to go but then he realized this wasn’t his home, even if they did say it was his. “Uh, would you mind drawing a bath for me?” he asked, turning back to Takeru.
“As you wish, my Lord.” Takeru accepted the request with a bow.
After some time, Aramus was guided to his bath. The open-air bath was wide and long; the steamy air pulled all of his tension out as he enjoyed the warm water. Apparently this was how where he’d take baths every day.
Soon after, he decided to take a nap in his own room. Now that he was all clean from the sweat from work and the apparent tiresome day, it was time to rest his mind and body. With such a thought, he went to the large and extravagant bed.
He didn’t take much time to note how his room was, but it was decorated in every way he’d imagined with all the high-quality furniture and designs.
After some time it felt like he fell asleep.
He didn’t know how much time had elapsed since, but he heard something strange. Something like a howl far away.
Groggy and barely able to think straight, Aramus opened his eyes reluctantly as if wanting to sleep more and ignore whatever might’ve been happening. His view of the ceiling was obscured for some reason.
It was dark.
By the time he noticed the gravity of the situation, it was too late, for Claudia was already sucking his blood from his neck! Her hair was long, wavy, and perhaps uncombed. It shrouded his vision but he somehow figured it out from her figure that was latched over his blankets. She didn’t seem to bother to take the blanket out of the way and proceeded to find his neck. How uncouth.
“What are you doing Claudia?” he yelled, flailing about under his blanket to get her away from her. Shooting away immediately, he flung, crawled back a few paces once he was free from the clutches of both her and his blanket. That said, why did his bed have to be so big?
“Having my lunch,” Claudia answered tersely. “Real lunch,” she affectionately added with a twisted smile.
To Aramus she appeared to be some form of a demon now, an evil presence. It was starting to tickle his memory of who Claudia really was.
“No bonjour this time?” Aramus said in jest, reaching around for Paimon’s fan. Where had he put the damned relic?
More importantly, while he was searching for the fan, it seemed like his room was on fire. The portraits of Her Majesty were already gone and turned to ash. Some of the walls were broken now that he looked around, and Claudia was approaching him. The situation turned dire before he knew it.
He could hear Almond and Sophie crying somewhere far away.
“Oh, screw this,” Aramus moaned, tossing the blanket over Claudia such that it caught on her tiara and ran out of the room. He had better things to deal with, like saving his kids.
“You bastard of a brother!” Aramus heard faintly as he ran across the burning corridors.
“You’re a big girl! You can take care of yourself, I think,” he yelled back, not stopping.
He couldn’t really tell where the rooms of his children were as he traversed the manor. It was too big for his own good now. When he reached the main halls—the center of the mansion—he found both Almond and Sophie huddled together with Takeru standing behind them.
Were they waiting for him?
It seemed like some rubble had fallen and blocked the path to the main door exit.
“Hurry, we have to get out of here,” he said as he rushed to them, hugging the crying children. “Takeru, are there any other exits we can use to get out of here?”
The children hugged their so-called father back. As he pondered about why Takeru wasn’t replying, he looked upon his children to find them smiling.
He grimaced, feeling a prickling pain from his chest.
Looking down, Aramus found circular forms of scarlet enlarging at a slow pace; Almond and Sophie both stabbed him with knives.
Their tears were fake, their loving words were fake—everything was fake.
Takeru shot out some forks and knives that pinned Aramus to the floor in an instant.
“It’s a checkmate, my Lord.”
“It was nice playing with you, Daddy.”
“Well, Father, you were most amusing.”
The three looked down at him with distorted smiles as if to reveal that he had been played most successfully.
To Aramus, they appeared similar to Claudia now. Speaking of Claudia, he looked up and found her walking up to him with the same expression.
“It’s a little early, but it’s dinner time, brother.”
Their laughters resounded across the burning halls that made his head hurt.
“So you got to them first,” Aramus said, piecing things together. “How long have you kept this farce going?”
Aramus received no answers. Instead, everyone started stabbing him mercilessly, Claudia included, who seemed to be using knives of similar fashion. Moments later everyone seemed to be slicing out his meat, and were greedily consuming it.
It was a grotesque and painful sight.
They’re like hyenas, Aramus thought, even as his body was consumed piecemeal by his “family.” This whole day had been a farce, like he had suspected at the beginning. Him, a noble. He had wild dreams of that happening when he was young, but those times were long past. Even as he began to lose feeling in his limbs and body—only feeling the sharp stabs of liquid fire when his flesh was torn—Aramus could only curse himself for being complacent about it.
Lulled into a sense of security by familiar faces, he had been betrayed by the very same. He had been screaming ever since the ordeal began, but it had annoyed one of them and his throat was torn out. Now it hurt to breathe and even as his eyes began to slowly close shut amidst the pain, both physical and emotional. He still felt that it had been strangely fulfilling to see them smiling happily today.
Aramus heard something like a strong and loud thump. When he opened his eyes, it seemed like someone was throwing stones from the rubble at the people torturing him.
There was a woman. Her form was ephemeral and hardly visible but she seemed to be desperately trying to help.
She finally picked up a large boulder from somewhere and with unbelievable strength, and tossed it directly on Claudia’s head. Blood leaked down from Claudia’s hair and she yelled out in pain.
If he could, Aramus would’ve grinned like an idiot.
The woman vanished and her hands seemed to have risen up from below the floor, catching Aramus and soon, he was picked up. Before he knew it, he was being carried out of the manor with a piggyback ride, however inappropriate the entire situation sounded.
As soon as Aramus was carried out of the mansion after the woman burst out of a window with him—Aramus suddenly fell as the form of his savior vanished.
Looking up, it was all white and empty again.
He was back to reality, his body intact and perhaps he had finally accepted this greedy facet of himself.
“That girl felt familiar,” he thought out loud before putting a hand to his throat. It was whole again, but his fingers pressed and prodded to make sure. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, feeling all over his body.
This time, Takeru was no longer there, and it was depressing to find out that he was back to wearing the tattered clothes from Harrods.
It felt like he had woken up from a nightmare, but he felt more tired than ever; the sleep he had back in that illusory mansion did no good for him.
On the next level of white space was obviously nothingness. However, there was one person standing unlike the last time.
It was Takeru.
Takeru was perfectly dressed as a butler.
“What would you like?” he asked. He didn’t remember coming here with Takeru, so perhaps this was an illusion conjured for his so-called trial.
“Your suit,” Aramus answered flatly as he gave Takeru a once over. “Give me your clothes.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
From behind him—however ridiculous it seemed to Aramus—Takeru took out a wooden case, and opened it before Aramus to reveal a set of clothes. Fashionable and durable, and apparently better. The coat wasn’t handed to Aramus. Instead, Takeru put it on for him.
“Oh!” Aramus exclaimed, the plush material light and airy, contrary to his expectations. He twisted and turned in his new outfit, satisfied with how it looked on him.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?” As Takeru asked, he handed a cup of hot tea to his apparent master.
“Uh, I don’t really know what’s going on. Why are you serving me?” Aramus asked even as he looked around for anything that might give him a clue. The world changed to a garden before he knew it. There was a mansion behind him, and it was simply a peaceful place. There was no breeze, but there was no exceptional heat or cold either.
A tranquil world. Perhaps even ideal.
He could see Almond running around the gardens a little far from him.
“Whatever would you mean, my Lord? I have always been your faithful servant,” Takeru the butler replied, a little dumbfounded and confused from the question.
“My servant?” Aramus asked dubiously, taking a small step away from Takeru. “Lord? Wait, why did you address me like that?”
Takeru blinked his eyes once, then twice. “Well, that is of course because you are an aristocrat—a being of noble descent,” he explained in a matter of factly tone. “And I am but a man of humble birth, and you so happened to hire me when I was in dire need of work.”
Aramus blinked in confusion, pointing at himself. “A noble? What kind of nonsense are you talking about, I’m the poorest of the poor.”
“Pardon my usage of words, but that is nonsense, my Lord. You are a noble, a Duke, an important man. Whatever’s gone wrong with your memories?”
Looking at Takeru like he had a few screws loose—perhaps he did—Aramus opened his mouth to say something but paused. He felt tired, like they had had this conversation multiple times before. “Whatever then. Let’s take a rest, I’m bushed.”
“I shall prepare the necessities to deal with the fatigue, then,” Takeru immediately said, noting distress from viewing the complexion of his master, and walked away with hurried steps.
Before he could decide to go back to the manor or explore his vast land, someone called out to him.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
He heard, and turned, finding little Sophie running up to him.
“Look! I drew this!” Sophie showed a portrait. Hand-drawn and clumsily made, it was a picture of him, with Sophie herself, Almond—traversing through what seemed like sunflowers?—and Takeru standing afar with a very straight and upright stance like a servant prepared for anything.
Aramus smiled down at his “daughter” a little dumbstruck by the situation. Still, that didn’t prevent him from praising her efforts. “That’s nice Sophie. Our little… family?” he said hesitantly, not exactly sure what to call the four of them.
“That’s right!” she exclaimed in joy from the praise. “It’s too bad I don’t have a mommy to draw… but we’ll be fine, right?”
“We don’t have a mommy…” Aramus whispered under his breath. That meant he was a young father of two!? A shocking revelation! “Yep, we’ll be fine. Just the four of us,” he said earnestly, tousling her hair gently. He would do everything within his means to protect the both of them.
“Mhm.” Sophie smiled, feeling a little spoiled from being patted. “I considered adding Aunt Farris, but since she can be a little mean, I didn’t.”
Aramus couldn't prevent his expression from turning into a slight grimace as he processed what she just said. “Is she coming back later today?” he asked since the person in question wasn’t around.
“She said that she will be visiting us today and attend lunch with us. Had you forgotten, Daddy?”
“Your father can be forgetful sometimes, haha,” he said with a light chuckle. So Claudia was coming over then.
The pair of father and daughter soon walked back to the manor.
Inside was as glamorous as he had wanted it to be somewhere deep inside his heart. The vivid red carpets adorned the floors, and it was simply extravagant-looking at the intricate details across the walls and the many portraits of Her Majesty decorating the walls.
Almond returned at some point, and he was a handsome child. He seemed a little older than when Aramus had last seen him and he seemed like someone who was going to inherit whatever business Aramus had running.
“Oh, Father, I see you are back from business,” Almond said, apparently before Aramus came to; he had been out for business? “I studied, so don’t panic about my future now,” he said with a sigh.
Had they had a dispute about his lack of studies? Aramus couldn’t tell.
“Perhaps I was worrying too much,” Aramus said back, letting out a small “humph”. “You’ve excelled in everything I’ve assigned to you so far.” If memory served, but he didn’t need to add that.
“That’s right, I am great,” Almond said with a carefree gesture of running his hand across his blonde hair with a haughty and smug smile. “I shall excel in anything and everything, just you watch, Father.”
This, Aramus could not remember the old Almond doing, especially the smug smile.
“I will, just don’t let too much of it go to your head. Needlessly flaunting our successes only brings more trouble than it’s worth. Sometimes it is better to achieve things quietly.”
“But confidence is what makes a man!” Almond argued back, but seemed to let it go. “Well, whatever you say.”
“It is good to be confident, Almond. Just don’t rub it in other people’s faces,” he said honestly, speaking from his own experience. “Still, I trust your judgement.”
Before their conversation could continue, the sweet scent of bakery and cream caught his nose. Aramus instinctively turned to find Takeru holding a tray full of colorful cupcakes.
Each with different flavors.
“My Lord, I apologize for the wait but your favorite cupcakes are ready,” Takeru said, offering the cupcakes.
“Oh boy,” Aramus said as he forgot himself for a moment, striding over to his †˜servant.’ “What do we have today?”
“Blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, cherry, salted caramel, and lastly, cream cheese. I hope they are to your liking, my Lord.”
“Oh, hand me the salted caramel,” Almond requested.
“Blueberry for me!” Sophie exclaimed.
Takeru gave them their desired cupcakes. It seemed like they loved cupcakes as much as Aramus for some reason?
“Takeru, take whichever one suits your fancy as well,” Aramus commented, watching his †˜kids.’ Seeing them enjoy something simply warmed his heart. He never thought that a feeling like this would come his way.
“Then I shall gratefully accept the vanilla.” Takeru gave a nod and took out the vanilla cupcake as he had stated.
“Good, good,” Aramus said, grabbing a random one off the tray to chew on. “If anyone wants more, please help yourselves.”
“No, that’s fine,” Almond responded.
“We’re used to seeing you eat all of them,” Sophie added after his son with a chuckle.
In a dramatic way the door opened, and in the middle of the open sight was Claudia, wearing a fancy dress as would befit an aristocrat. Her facial features were dressed with excess makeup making her appear rather eerie.
“Bonjour, dear brother,” Claudia greeted, giving a respectable curtsy the real one would never be able to replicate.
So this was what Claudia would be like if she hadn’t turned? Or was this the Claudia of his ideals? Still, he frowned a bit at her greeting. “Don’t be so cold Claudia, you don’t have to curtsy to me. Also, don’t teach the kids any weird things.”
“Oh, but this is appropriate for a lady, it is not?” Claudia said with raised eyebrows, still smiling, as if they had been through this countless times before.
Aramus sighed. This facet of her seemed unchanged, the endless teasing. Ah how he had sorely missed it, or not. “Don’t learn any bad habits from your aunt, kids. Remember, this is England. We use English for a reason,” Aramus whispered to his two “offsprings.”
Claudia seemed to be frowning while Aramus instructed the children. Of course, Almond and Sophie were nodding with agreement.
With all said and done, they went on to have long conversations about various things. Aramus came to learn that Claudia was running some kind of a business related to fashion, but he didn’t delve deep into the subject. He came to learn that she was soon to be married to a Marquis, who was likely a respectable gentleman, and that she was going to go far away due to that.
They soon had lunch and Takeru only seemed to serve his children’s favorites. Almond apparently prefered Chinese while Sophie seemed to like Italian cuisines. It was strange seeing so many different kinds of dishes lined across the long table. Claudia was served all kinds of seafood.
Aramus didn’t know if that was in-line with reality or not.
Probably not.
After lunch, Claudia left and his children dispersed to deal with †˜other activities’ for the day. Whatever that meant was something he wasn’t sure of
“Do we have anything on the itinerary today, Takeru?” Aramus asked after lunch, curious as to what was to happen now.
“Nothing in particular, my Lord. We have completed all work-related matters for the day. At night, you’ll have to attend a meeting with some clients, however,” Takeru answered.
“So I have free time then?” Aramus said, looking as if Takeru had told him he had struck the lottery grand prize. “ME? Free time!?”
“...Well, yes. You are usually free around this time of the day, my Lord,” Takeru curtly answered, bewildered.
“O-Ok. If you say so,” Aramus said, slipping back to how he referred to Takeru as his senior. “I’m going to take a bath, my body feels strangely heavy.” Aramus turned to go but then he realized this wasn’t his home, even if they did say it was his. “Uh, would you mind drawing a bath for me?” he asked, turning back to Takeru.
“As you wish, my Lord.” Takeru accepted the request with a bow.
After some time, Aramus was guided to his bath. The open-air bath was wide and long; the steamy air pulled all of his tension out as he enjoyed the warm water. Apparently this was how where he’d take baths every day.
Soon after, he decided to take a nap in his own room. Now that he was all clean from the sweat from work and the apparent tiresome day, it was time to rest his mind and body. With such a thought, he went to the large and extravagant bed.
He didn’t take much time to note how his room was, but it was decorated in every way he’d imagined with all the high-quality furniture and designs.
After some time it felt like he fell asleep.
He didn’t know how much time had elapsed since, but he heard something strange. Something like a howl far away.
Groggy and barely able to think straight, Aramus opened his eyes reluctantly as if wanting to sleep more and ignore whatever might’ve been happening. His view of the ceiling was obscured for some reason.
It was dark.
By the time he noticed the gravity of the situation, it was too late, for Claudia was already sucking his blood from his neck! Her hair was long, wavy, and perhaps uncombed. It shrouded his vision but he somehow figured it out from her figure that was latched over his blankets. She didn’t seem to bother to take the blanket out of the way and proceeded to find his neck. How uncouth.
“What are you doing Claudia?” he yelled, flailing about under his blanket to get her away from her. Shooting away immediately, he flung, crawled back a few paces once he was free from the clutches of both her and his blanket. That said, why did his bed have to be so big?
“Having my lunch,” Claudia answered tersely. “Real lunch,” she affectionately added with a twisted smile.
To Aramus she appeared to be some form of a demon now, an evil presence. It was starting to tickle his memory of who Claudia really was.
“No bonjour this time?” Aramus said in jest, reaching around for Paimon’s fan. Where had he put the damned relic?
More importantly, while he was searching for the fan, it seemed like his room was on fire. The portraits of Her Majesty were already gone and turned to ash. Some of the walls were broken now that he looked around, and Claudia was approaching him. The situation turned dire before he knew it.
He could hear Almond and Sophie crying somewhere far away.
“Oh, screw this,” Aramus moaned, tossing the blanket over Claudia such that it caught on her tiara and ran out of the room. He had better things to deal with, like saving his kids.
“You bastard of a brother!” Aramus heard faintly as he ran across the burning corridors.
“You’re a big girl! You can take care of yourself, I think,” he yelled back, not stopping.
He couldn’t really tell where the rooms of his children were as he traversed the manor. It was too big for his own good now. When he reached the main halls—the center of the mansion—he found both Almond and Sophie huddled together with Takeru standing behind them.
Were they waiting for him?
It seemed like some rubble had fallen and blocked the path to the main door exit.
“Hurry, we have to get out of here,” he said as he rushed to them, hugging the crying children. “Takeru, are there any other exits we can use to get out of here?”
The children hugged their so-called father back. As he pondered about why Takeru wasn’t replying, he looked upon his children to find them smiling.
He grimaced, feeling a prickling pain from his chest.
Looking down, Aramus found circular forms of scarlet enlarging at a slow pace; Almond and Sophie both stabbed him with knives.
Their tears were fake, their loving words were fake—everything was fake.
Takeru shot out some forks and knives that pinned Aramus to the floor in an instant.
“It’s a checkmate, my Lord.”
“It was nice playing with you, Daddy.”
“Well, Father, you were most amusing.”
The three looked down at him with distorted smiles as if to reveal that he had been played most successfully.
To Aramus, they appeared similar to Claudia now. Speaking of Claudia, he looked up and found her walking up to him with the same expression.
“It’s a little early, but it’s dinner time, brother.”
Their laughters resounded across the burning halls that made his head hurt.
“So you got to them first,” Aramus said, piecing things together. “How long have you kept this farce going?”
Aramus received no answers. Instead, everyone started stabbing him mercilessly, Claudia included, who seemed to be using knives of similar fashion. Moments later everyone seemed to be slicing out his meat, and were greedily consuming it.
It was a grotesque and painful sight.
They’re like hyenas, Aramus thought, even as his body was consumed piecemeal by his “family.” This whole day had been a farce, like he had suspected at the beginning. Him, a noble. He had wild dreams of that happening when he was young, but those times were long past. Even as he began to lose feeling in his limbs and body—only feeling the sharp stabs of liquid fire when his flesh was torn—Aramus could only curse himself for being complacent about it.
Lulled into a sense of security by familiar faces, he had been betrayed by the very same. He had been screaming ever since the ordeal began, but it had annoyed one of them and his throat was torn out. Now it hurt to breathe and even as his eyes began to slowly close shut amidst the pain, both physical and emotional. He still felt that it had been strangely fulfilling to see them smiling happily today.
Aramus heard something like a strong and loud thump. When he opened his eyes, it seemed like someone was throwing stones from the rubble at the people torturing him.
There was a woman. Her form was ephemeral and hardly visible but she seemed to be desperately trying to help.
She finally picked up a large boulder from somewhere and with unbelievable strength, and tossed it directly on Claudia’s head. Blood leaked down from Claudia’s hair and she yelled out in pain.
If he could, Aramus would’ve grinned like an idiot.
The woman vanished and her hands seemed to have risen up from below the floor, catching Aramus and soon, he was picked up. Before he knew it, he was being carried out of the manor with a piggyback ride, however inappropriate the entire situation sounded.
As soon as Aramus was carried out of the mansion after the woman burst out of a window with him—Aramus suddenly fell as the form of his savior vanished.
Looking up, it was all white and empty again.
He was back to reality, his body intact and perhaps he had finally accepted this greedy facet of himself.
“That girl felt familiar,” he thought out loud before putting a hand to his throat. It was whole again, but his fingers pressed and prodded to make sure. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, feeling all over his body.
This time, Takeru was no longer there, and it was depressing to find out that he was back to wearing the tattered clothes from Harrods.
It felt like he had woken up from a nightmare, but he felt more tired than ever; the sleep he had back in that illusory mansion did no good for him.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Facing the gate inscribed with the star emblem, he moved on.
This time, there was no empty space. Aramus was already sitting before a table.
The ones that joined him were Elizabeth, Caroline, Christopher, and Frederica.
The table was full of exceptional sweets and all kinds of cuisine he’d ever want.
Sasha seemed to be the chef, donning an apron and serving quite a lot of food, and he wasn’t even sure how long it’d take to consume everything.
“So, I take it this is where we carry on our duel?” he said to Caroline. He was confused but that wouldn’t stop him. Even if the food wasn’t real, the flavors sure were. Also, he was strangely pleased by Sasha in the apron. He felt she looked quite fetching.
“Of course, but can you keep up?” Caroline asked. “Once you start, you cannot stop.”
Aramus was almost ready to begin but her second line perturbed him, causing him to pause and look at her. “What do you mean, can’t stop?”
“We must continue till the serving stops. You cannot stop eating till the end,” Caroline curtly answered in a matter-of-factly tone. “That is the rule.”
“Oh, if that’s what you meant then I guess that’s ok. I hope they have enough to go along for all of us,” Aramus said hopefully.
“We probably do, teacher,” Elizabeth said, propping herself up with a fork and spoon.
“Then let us begin,” Aramus announced, pumping a fist in the air.
“Indian food, banzai!” Christopher yelled.
“It’s time for my bakery!” Frederica called out.
Sasha poured forth—or so it seemed—all her efforts into bringing all of such food to the table, carrying numerous plates.
The dining began and everyone seemed to be eating almost as vigorously as Aramus himself. Even Caroline hardly cared about her manners.
Aramus looked at Elizabeth and her cheeks were stained with some of the sauce from some exotic dish she was having. It was surreal seeing Elizabeth like this.
There was something wrong here. Sure the food was delicious, but it shouldn’t be enough for Elizabeth to eat the way she was. Forgetting all about etiquette as a young noble lady, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that even his own meagre level of etiquette was higher than the current young lady before him.
“Uh, Elizabeth, shouldn’t you take it a little slower?” he said even as the girl in question swallowed food while barely chewing anything.
Elizabeth looked up to Aramus, her mouth holding up what seemed like a fish. “What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked with a muffled voice. “Why should I do that?”
“Weren’t you always telling me about… minding my manners?” Aramus said, pulling back slightly as she seemed to swallow the fish even as she spoke. It was pretty unnerving.
“Manners? What manners?” Caroline said from the other side, slurping on her pasta.
“And you! Don’t slurp!” Aramus said, momentarily forgetting himself as he told her off. “Aren’t you supposed to be chiding her as well!?”
“Slurping feels so great, though,” Caroline remarked, ignoring the part about chiding.
Christopher was holding the chicken drumsticks on his hand and tearing apart the meat in a rather brutish manner. He looked like someone who hadn’t eaten for a few days. “You do know that we have a time limit, right?!”
“That’s right, we ought to hurry,” Frederica added, her fork dug into multiple pancakes drizzled with honey before she put most of it straight into her mouth.
“We can always eat another time, you don’t have to eat to this extent,” Aramus said, getting up from the table. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This was grating on him, how they were all so different, losing themselves in their desire to eat. Had he looked like this to the others? He sincerely hoped not, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut that told him it was true.
He started to hear a tick-tock noise and looked up. There was a clock floating in the air, and the time was indeed ticking by. Was this what Christopher was referring to?
“If you stop now it’d be too late,” Sasha said with a grin from the corner.
Now the rest he was concerned about—more like outright frightened by their sudden ravenous appetites—but Sasha? Best heed what she had to say for the time being at least. He went back to eating, all the while watching the rest of them out of the corners of his eyes. The spread before him was delectable and yet he didn’t seem to get as much enjoyment from it as usual.
In only about thirty minutes, the time was up.
“None of you guys finished in time. Tsk tsk tsk,” Sasha said with pity, shaking her head in feigned distress. “It’s time for the punishment for leaving unfinished food on the table.”
Aramus’ belly started to enlarge. His clothes around his abdomen tore apart as it was already five times the usual size. Forget pregnancy, it was akin to having many balloons packed inside him.
It didn’t take long for the limit to be reached and his stomach finally burst open, all the food rushing out. Combined together, it seemed like a large projectile flying across the table mixed with his own blood and entrails.
He wasn’t the only one who suffered this punishment. Moments later everyone’s enlarged bellies burst too, and it was a horrible yet comical sight unfolding before him as the table and floor all around them were splattered with food, entrails and blood.
Aramus wasn’t even sure how to comprehend the situation. He simply stared at the sight before him, with his companions’ heads all dropping to the table with a loud thud against the plates, dead. That said, everything on the plates were now stones and mud and all kinds of dirty… things. He couldn’t even tell what some of those strange objects were. They weren’t really served food at all.
Only he was alive and he hardly felt anything from below him.
“See? I warned you.” Sasha laughed as she watched all of this take place.
“This isn’t even on the level of pigs anymore,” Aramus managed, the overwhelming pain from having his stomach ripped open nearly making him pass out. “I—ahhh, need to watch what I eat next time.” He wanted to curl up but with his body the way it was, whatever remained of his innards would just spill out.
“Did you realize how bad your gluttony actually is?”
“Is this what I ate? All of it?” he hissed in agony, looking at what had erupted from his stomach alongside it.
“Everything, yes,” Sasha answered. Except all the food Aramus ate looked like black rubble of some sort. He could hardly distinguish anything from the messy table as the contents were now mixed with the insides and rubbish that burst out from the bellies of his fellow eaters.
“Guess I better—ugh—cut back on my intake.” Even though it wasn’t food anymore, the sheer amount of what he had eaten was astounding. Where had he put all of that anyway?
“Oh, no. Don’t be so modest now. Here, have some of my favorites.”
From above rained an endless amount of apples. Some of them hurt his head as they bumped against him. Some moments later, it seemed like apples were only falling on him. The torrent of apples became rapid and fast and to Sasha, it was like watching a pillar of apple forming upon Aramus.
Aramus tried to get out of all the apples that restricted his movements, but he collapsed and drowned instead. All he remembered was darkness until he fell upon solid floor and found the next gate open before him.
Again his body was restored and his stomach was found intact. It seemed like every time he’d come back to reality, his state of mind would be somewhat restored as well. Otherwise it’d usually ride along with the situation presented to him.
He was only in the middle of the ordeal from what it seemed, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to go on, but he walked forward regardless.
This time, there was no empty space. Aramus was already sitting before a table.
The ones that joined him were Elizabeth, Caroline, Christopher, and Frederica.
The table was full of exceptional sweets and all kinds of cuisine he’d ever want.
Sasha seemed to be the chef, donning an apron and serving quite a lot of food, and he wasn’t even sure how long it’d take to consume everything.
“So, I take it this is where we carry on our duel?” he said to Caroline. He was confused but that wouldn’t stop him. Even if the food wasn’t real, the flavors sure were. Also, he was strangely pleased by Sasha in the apron. He felt she looked quite fetching.
“Of course, but can you keep up?” Caroline asked. “Once you start, you cannot stop.”
Aramus was almost ready to begin but her second line perturbed him, causing him to pause and look at her. “What do you mean, can’t stop?”
“We must continue till the serving stops. You cannot stop eating till the end,” Caroline curtly answered in a matter-of-factly tone. “That is the rule.”
“Oh, if that’s what you meant then I guess that’s ok. I hope they have enough to go along for all of us,” Aramus said hopefully.
“We probably do, teacher,” Elizabeth said, propping herself up with a fork and spoon.
“Then let us begin,” Aramus announced, pumping a fist in the air.
“Indian food, banzai!” Christopher yelled.
“It’s time for my bakery!” Frederica called out.
Sasha poured forth—or so it seemed—all her efforts into bringing all of such food to the table, carrying numerous plates.
The dining began and everyone seemed to be eating almost as vigorously as Aramus himself. Even Caroline hardly cared about her manners.
Aramus looked at Elizabeth and her cheeks were stained with some of the sauce from some exotic dish she was having. It was surreal seeing Elizabeth like this.
There was something wrong here. Sure the food was delicious, but it shouldn’t be enough for Elizabeth to eat the way she was. Forgetting all about etiquette as a young noble lady, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that even his own meagre level of etiquette was higher than the current young lady before him.
“Uh, Elizabeth, shouldn’t you take it a little slower?” he said even as the girl in question swallowed food while barely chewing anything.
Elizabeth looked up to Aramus, her mouth holding up what seemed like a fish. “What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked with a muffled voice. “Why should I do that?”
“Weren’t you always telling me about… minding my manners?” Aramus said, pulling back slightly as she seemed to swallow the fish even as she spoke. It was pretty unnerving.
“Manners? What manners?” Caroline said from the other side, slurping on her pasta.
“And you! Don’t slurp!” Aramus said, momentarily forgetting himself as he told her off. “Aren’t you supposed to be chiding her as well!?”
“Slurping feels so great, though,” Caroline remarked, ignoring the part about chiding.
Christopher was holding the chicken drumsticks on his hand and tearing apart the meat in a rather brutish manner. He looked like someone who hadn’t eaten for a few days. “You do know that we have a time limit, right?!”
“That’s right, we ought to hurry,” Frederica added, her fork dug into multiple pancakes drizzled with honey before she put most of it straight into her mouth.
“We can always eat another time, you don’t have to eat to this extent,” Aramus said, getting up from the table. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This was grating on him, how they were all so different, losing themselves in their desire to eat. Had he looked like this to the others? He sincerely hoped not, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut that told him it was true.
He started to hear a tick-tock noise and looked up. There was a clock floating in the air, and the time was indeed ticking by. Was this what Christopher was referring to?
“If you stop now it’d be too late,” Sasha said with a grin from the corner.
Now the rest he was concerned about—more like outright frightened by their sudden ravenous appetites—but Sasha? Best heed what she had to say for the time being at least. He went back to eating, all the while watching the rest of them out of the corners of his eyes. The spread before him was delectable and yet he didn’t seem to get as much enjoyment from it as usual.
In only about thirty minutes, the time was up.
“None of you guys finished in time. Tsk tsk tsk,” Sasha said with pity, shaking her head in feigned distress. “It’s time for the punishment for leaving unfinished food on the table.”
Aramus’ belly started to enlarge. His clothes around his abdomen tore apart as it was already five times the usual size. Forget pregnancy, it was akin to having many balloons packed inside him.
It didn’t take long for the limit to be reached and his stomach finally burst open, all the food rushing out. Combined together, it seemed like a large projectile flying across the table mixed with his own blood and entrails.
He wasn’t the only one who suffered this punishment. Moments later everyone’s enlarged bellies burst too, and it was a horrible yet comical sight unfolding before him as the table and floor all around them were splattered with food, entrails and blood.
Aramus wasn’t even sure how to comprehend the situation. He simply stared at the sight before him, with his companions’ heads all dropping to the table with a loud thud against the plates, dead. That said, everything on the plates were now stones and mud and all kinds of dirty… things. He couldn’t even tell what some of those strange objects were. They weren’t really served food at all.
Only he was alive and he hardly felt anything from below him.
“See? I warned you.” Sasha laughed as she watched all of this take place.
“This isn’t even on the level of pigs anymore,” Aramus managed, the overwhelming pain from having his stomach ripped open nearly making him pass out. “I—ahhh, need to watch what I eat next time.” He wanted to curl up but with his body the way it was, whatever remained of his innards would just spill out.
“Did you realize how bad your gluttony actually is?”
“Is this what I ate? All of it?” he hissed in agony, looking at what had erupted from his stomach alongside it.
“Everything, yes,” Sasha answered. Except all the food Aramus ate looked like black rubble of some sort. He could hardly distinguish anything from the messy table as the contents were now mixed with the insides and rubbish that burst out from the bellies of his fellow eaters.
“Guess I better—ugh—cut back on my intake.” Even though it wasn’t food anymore, the sheer amount of what he had eaten was astounding. Where had he put all of that anyway?
“Oh, no. Don’t be so modest now. Here, have some of my favorites.”
From above rained an endless amount of apples. Some of them hurt his head as they bumped against him. Some moments later, it seemed like apples were only falling on him. The torrent of apples became rapid and fast and to Sasha, it was like watching a pillar of apple forming upon Aramus.
Aramus tried to get out of all the apples that restricted his movements, but he collapsed and drowned instead. All he remembered was darkness until he fell upon solid floor and found the next gate open before him.
Again his body was restored and his stomach was found intact. It seemed like every time he’d come back to reality, his state of mind would be somewhat restored as well. Otherwise it’d usually ride along with the situation presented to him.
He was only in the middle of the ordeal from what it seemed, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to go on, but he walked forward regardless.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Immediately upon entry, he didn’t find any whiteness but was greeted with coldness instead.
There was a strong blizzard going on, and he was standing on snow. With hardly any clothes to cover him, it was freezing and his body was already starting to be covered with snow.
He seemed to be over some kind of a slope, and below the hill he spotted what seemed like a small cottage.
“S-Screw this,” Aramus murmured, his teeth chattering in the cold. Immediately heading down towards the cottage, he stumbled slightly as the freezing winds battered him to and fro. Opening the door, hot air rushed out from within, and he took refuge inside immediately, closing the door behind him.
Inside there was a fireplace, a bed, a table, and a sofa. In the corner, there appeared to be what seemed like a small place to prepare food? Either way, he felt safe here, and more importantly, better.
Sitting on the sofa with a dumbstruck look was a friend he had recently made—Mary Shelley.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, crawling closer to the fireplace. The warmth called to him and Aramus huddled next to it, rubbing his hands together to generate more heat.
“I should be the one saying that,” Mary tersely responded. “Where did you come from? I thought I was alone out here.”
“Beats me. It was cold, I saw a house. No questions asked.” Some of the feeling was returning to his limbs and Aramus relaxed a little more. It only showed how fearsome the blizzard was to affect him so much in such a short time.
Mary chuckled. “Feel free to stay here as long as you want. It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop any time soon.”
“If it ever does,” Aramus replied. “Do you happen to have something warm to drink?”
Mary started walking over to the corner. “I have some tea,” she said in a cheerful tone. “So, how are things going?”
“What do you mean?” Aramus said, looking up at her with curiosity from where he sat.
From a container Mary poured tea into a cup. She didn’t prepare any tea for herself for reasons unknown before she handed the Magister the hot beverage.
“What else would I mean?”
Aramus sipped the hot tea, letting out a content sigh as warmth began to work through his body. Nothing like a good cup of tea to make everything better. “You have to be clear about what you want, Mary. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“I only asked a normal question,” Mary said with a tilted head, bewildered. “I do not think there is any demand other than curiosity, and nor do I think I was speaking of a particular subject.”
Aramus looked just as bewildered but shrugged after that, deciding that talking more about it would only bring up more problems. “Well, cold? Confused? I don’t know how or why I’m here to be honest.”
“You don’t know why you’re here?” Mary repeated the words she heard with raised eyebrows. How could that be possible? “You’re saying that you suddenly found yourself in this mountainous area out of the blue?”
“Look into my eyes if you have to, I don’t particularly mind,” Aramus said, draining his cup. Now that he had done so, the cabin seemed so much more comfortable.
“I don’t really need to; I trust you,” Mary curtly answered, smiling for some reason as she took the cup from his hand. “You must be tired, why don’t you rest?”
“Great idea. You sure you don’t mind me bunking here for some time?” Aramus questioned, feeling a little bad that he was intruding on Mary’s abode.
“No problem,” Mary assured. “Feel free to sleep on the bed. I’ll keep a watch out for the blizzard.”
“Naw, I’ll take the sofa. Wouldn’t feel right sleeping in your bed,” Aramus said, heading over to find out how comfortable that sofa was. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could sleep if Mary’s scent was all over the bed. It would’ve given him strange ideas.
“It’s a single chair, though,” Mary said, giggling. “I do not think you can sleep on it no matter how you argue.”
“You underestimate me, child. I have slept in far worse places than this,” Aramus exaggerated, planting his rear in said chair. It wasn’t too bad when one compared it the horrendous living conditions he was exposed to as a child. “Not too bad.”
“Child? Even though I am older than you by two centuries?” Mary questioned, laughing yet again. “Children should sleep soundly in bed, so get going or else I’m going to forcefully place you there; don’t underestimate an adult, now.”
“Here I thought you’d prefer that to something else…” Aramus commented but still stubbornly sat on his throne, refusing to budge. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just take a short nap and maybe five more…”
“Alright, feel free to do that.”
It seemed as though Mary had conceded, but her smile looked rather cold and evil and Aramus could imagine unfathomable anger coursing through her mind. Who knew, women were mysterious creatures and sometimes hard to get. Shrugging, he closed his eyes to get some rest.
It didn’t even take five minutes before Mary began to hear the soft noises from snoring that occurred due to a sleeping Aramus.
Despite not looking like it, Mary possessed quite the arm strength as she carted Aramus over to her bed in his sleep. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even notice being carried. She then covered him with a blanket and sat down on the chair that was somewhat warmed by the man previously.
Anyway, Aramus slept soundly in peace. He saw no dreams, no visions, no nothing. His mind entered a pure state of peace and quiet.
Later, he opened his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were extremely heavy and he felt like closing them again. How long had it been since he fell asleep like this? It had been too long since he rested so much. Even then, he felt like sleeping more.
He felt no point in staying up. Sleep was important. Sleep was a luxury, and sleep was extremely relaxing.
Not realizing that he had slept for two years straight without waking up, Aramus went back to sleep.
He started seeing strange scenes of a certain brilliant student he had and a fellow he respected. Probably. Aramus, however, took them as mere dreams. Did he even know them?
After sleeping for fifty years Aramus lost sight of reality completely. He’d seldom wake up only to go back to sleep. He didn’t even care about the constitution of his body, and he never felt any sort of health dangers from his body—wasn’t he just fine?
At some point he woke up to find Mary caressing his hair, sitting beside him.
“It’s fine to rest more; it’s still storming outside,” she said, as if she knew what he was going to ask.
“Mmmm…” Aramus murmured, closing his eyelids again. The fact that she was caressing him so openly never crossed his mind.
Aramus then dreamt of all kinds of strange things he thought he’d never see. Stars beyond the skies of Earth, galaxies, the universe—it was very mysterious. He was being pleasantly invited by all kinds of pleasures to rest further. There were visions of fairies and there were strange pictures and portraits of sculptures passing around. These sculptures were created by human hands to commemorate their Gods in the ancient Greek.
Then he saw all kinds of strange writings. Scripts of the ancient times. Languages that were known to be dead these days. Magical writing of the grimoires.
As all these strange things were seen, Aramus’ body in the cottage gave off a blue hue and Mary noted that he was experiencing the state of Twilight. He had overstayed the Infernal Realm and was suffering the consequences.
However, it wasn’t exactly a bad situation if one’s will was strong enough to comprehend what they were viewing.
In this Realm of Knowledge, Aramus viewed all kinds of mysteries and things beyond the existence of the mortal realm. Before long, these prints were etched into his memories and he’d likely never forget them in the future. Despite not completely understanding the meaning of the words, he understood them by heart. Perhaps it was in his nature to endure this long travel in this foreign Realm.
Aramus drifted through his lane of memory and saw all kinds of tragedies he had faced, Elizabeth being burnt and melted among other things. It was a review of most of the peculiar and disgusting experiences he had recently—however far removed from reality—he’d been witness too, and he’d likely never recover from these traumatic events. He may expect situations to grow worse more often in the future.
A thunderous revelation drew him away from all these memories eventually. The crackling noise took his attention as he faced an ancient Celestial Spirit, Thor. Aramus couldn’t quite see anything other than lightning, yet somehow he knew who he was meeting.
“What is your desire?” the being asked.
Aramus contemplated that he was free from the clutches of the trials, if only temporarily. It was as if he had taken a step back, allowing him to put things into perspective. The words of Thor did not manage to evoke a great reaction from him. Rather they pulled forth things which Aramus did not want to lose.
“I wish for the power to protect,” Aramus said. Looking in the direction he felt the lightning surged strongest, a certain feeling told him Thor was there.
“Yet I feel… great fury in you. Tell me, there has to be someone—something—you wish to trample upon badly,” a voice reverberated across the rumbling lightning, and it seemed like the thunder occurred more furiously when Thor spoke.
“My rage, it stems from others trampling over those I consider important. I cannot stand by and watch that happen, they who would callously crush the hopes and dreams of others for their own ends,” Aramus replied, his lips curling in slight distaste. “They have to be stopped by somebody, even if it costs me my life.”
“Very well. Rush forth to the needs of the distressed if it is what your will deems—for that is the way of a hero. I shall grant you the secrets of Divine speed.”
Magical text was seen by Aramus but only briefly.
“I cannot confer the gratitude I feel right now through words, but then again, I imagine you would much rather see it through action,” Aramus said, smiling wryly.
“I am he who once protected mankind. I guide heroes and light their paths to glory. This is but a small feat hardly requiring gratitude.”
Aramus started to fall instead of float in the space he was in. The zigzag-trailed thunders were going far and far out of reach from him.
“Listen well!” Thor’s voice echoed as he fell. “For the armaments of mine own lieth in the Realm you wander!”
Aramus then woke up just after he heard the voices, opening his eyes to face a window beyond which all was dark.
Mary was still caressing his hair, he didn’t even know how long he had slept, but it felt like a very long time. He wasn’t sure how Mary passed all that time, and how long she had been inside this house with him enduring the progress of the heavy blizzard.
“Now, I’m loathe to leave a lovely lady such as yourself but I had best get going,” Aramus said as he rose, feeling a little more refreshed from his nap. A nap that spanned years.
“I see, so you are going to leave me too…?” Mary asked, she didn’t seem depressed nor happy, showing a face of indifference despite the suggestion her words may give. Of course, she had retracted her hand from Aramus as soon as she noted that he was awake.
“Sometimes, we don’t leave because we want to,” Aramus replied to her with a pained smile.
“That is indeed true. I had to go through that before as well,” Mary said, giving a warm smile.
For some reason, Aramus thought that he’d not forget this smile of her’s.
He opened the door and the cold wind rushed inside, striking against his worn-out clothes and Mary’s visage violently.
“Stay safe now,” Mary said, waving to Aramus who was leaving the house.
“Same to you, Mary. Thanks for taking care of me all this time,” Aramus said, struggling to smile through the buffeting wind. “I hope to have another cup of your tea soon.”
“You’re welcome to visit any day for the tea, or to relax.” Mary’s words sounded as though they were echoed from afar.
Aramus waved at her as he walked after noting the words. Mary seemed to be waving at him too as she continued from her previous sentence:
“After all, it’s the job of a woman to take care of her—”
The voice was gone and the rest of the sentence was unheard when Aramus suddenly found a large and tall gate before him.
There was a strong blizzard going on, and he was standing on snow. With hardly any clothes to cover him, it was freezing and his body was already starting to be covered with snow.
He seemed to be over some kind of a slope, and below the hill he spotted what seemed like a small cottage.
“S-Screw this,” Aramus murmured, his teeth chattering in the cold. Immediately heading down towards the cottage, he stumbled slightly as the freezing winds battered him to and fro. Opening the door, hot air rushed out from within, and he took refuge inside immediately, closing the door behind him.
Inside there was a fireplace, a bed, a table, and a sofa. In the corner, there appeared to be what seemed like a small place to prepare food? Either way, he felt safe here, and more importantly, better.
Sitting on the sofa with a dumbstruck look was a friend he had recently made—Mary Shelley.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, crawling closer to the fireplace. The warmth called to him and Aramus huddled next to it, rubbing his hands together to generate more heat.
“I should be the one saying that,” Mary tersely responded. “Where did you come from? I thought I was alone out here.”
“Beats me. It was cold, I saw a house. No questions asked.” Some of the feeling was returning to his limbs and Aramus relaxed a little more. It only showed how fearsome the blizzard was to affect him so much in such a short time.
Mary chuckled. “Feel free to stay here as long as you want. It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop any time soon.”
“If it ever does,” Aramus replied. “Do you happen to have something warm to drink?”
Mary started walking over to the corner. “I have some tea,” she said in a cheerful tone. “So, how are things going?”
“What do you mean?” Aramus said, looking up at her with curiosity from where he sat.
From a container Mary poured tea into a cup. She didn’t prepare any tea for herself for reasons unknown before she handed the Magister the hot beverage.
“What else would I mean?”
Aramus sipped the hot tea, letting out a content sigh as warmth began to work through his body. Nothing like a good cup of tea to make everything better. “You have to be clear about what you want, Mary. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“I only asked a normal question,” Mary said with a tilted head, bewildered. “I do not think there is any demand other than curiosity, and nor do I think I was speaking of a particular subject.”
Aramus looked just as bewildered but shrugged after that, deciding that talking more about it would only bring up more problems. “Well, cold? Confused? I don’t know how or why I’m here to be honest.”
“You don’t know why you’re here?” Mary repeated the words she heard with raised eyebrows. How could that be possible? “You’re saying that you suddenly found yourself in this mountainous area out of the blue?”
“Look into my eyes if you have to, I don’t particularly mind,” Aramus said, draining his cup. Now that he had done so, the cabin seemed so much more comfortable.
“I don’t really need to; I trust you,” Mary curtly answered, smiling for some reason as she took the cup from his hand. “You must be tired, why don’t you rest?”
“Great idea. You sure you don’t mind me bunking here for some time?” Aramus questioned, feeling a little bad that he was intruding on Mary’s abode.
“No problem,” Mary assured. “Feel free to sleep on the bed. I’ll keep a watch out for the blizzard.”
“Naw, I’ll take the sofa. Wouldn’t feel right sleeping in your bed,” Aramus said, heading over to find out how comfortable that sofa was. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could sleep if Mary’s scent was all over the bed. It would’ve given him strange ideas.
“It’s a single chair, though,” Mary said, giggling. “I do not think you can sleep on it no matter how you argue.”
“You underestimate me, child. I have slept in far worse places than this,” Aramus exaggerated, planting his rear in said chair. It wasn’t too bad when one compared it the horrendous living conditions he was exposed to as a child. “Not too bad.”
“Child? Even though I am older than you by two centuries?” Mary questioned, laughing yet again. “Children should sleep soundly in bed, so get going or else I’m going to forcefully place you there; don’t underestimate an adult, now.”
“Here I thought you’d prefer that to something else…” Aramus commented but still stubbornly sat on his throne, refusing to budge. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just take a short nap and maybe five more…”
“Alright, feel free to do that.”
It seemed as though Mary had conceded, but her smile looked rather cold and evil and Aramus could imagine unfathomable anger coursing through her mind. Who knew, women were mysterious creatures and sometimes hard to get. Shrugging, he closed his eyes to get some rest.
It didn’t even take five minutes before Mary began to hear the soft noises from snoring that occurred due to a sleeping Aramus.
Despite not looking like it, Mary possessed quite the arm strength as she carted Aramus over to her bed in his sleep. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even notice being carried. She then covered him with a blanket and sat down on the chair that was somewhat warmed by the man previously.
Anyway, Aramus slept soundly in peace. He saw no dreams, no visions, no nothing. His mind entered a pure state of peace and quiet.
Later, he opened his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were extremely heavy and he felt like closing them again. How long had it been since he fell asleep like this? It had been too long since he rested so much. Even then, he felt like sleeping more.
He felt no point in staying up. Sleep was important. Sleep was a luxury, and sleep was extremely relaxing.
Not realizing that he had slept for two years straight without waking up, Aramus went back to sleep.
He started seeing strange scenes of a certain brilliant student he had and a fellow he respected. Probably. Aramus, however, took them as mere dreams. Did he even know them?
After sleeping for fifty years Aramus lost sight of reality completely. He’d seldom wake up only to go back to sleep. He didn’t even care about the constitution of his body, and he never felt any sort of health dangers from his body—wasn’t he just fine?
At some point he woke up to find Mary caressing his hair, sitting beside him.
“It’s fine to rest more; it’s still storming outside,” she said, as if she knew what he was going to ask.
“Mmmm…” Aramus murmured, closing his eyelids again. The fact that she was caressing him so openly never crossed his mind.
Aramus then dreamt of all kinds of strange things he thought he’d never see. Stars beyond the skies of Earth, galaxies, the universe—it was very mysterious. He was being pleasantly invited by all kinds of pleasures to rest further. There were visions of fairies and there were strange pictures and portraits of sculptures passing around. These sculptures were created by human hands to commemorate their Gods in the ancient Greek.
Then he saw all kinds of strange writings. Scripts of the ancient times. Languages that were known to be dead these days. Magical writing of the grimoires.
As all these strange things were seen, Aramus’ body in the cottage gave off a blue hue and Mary noted that he was experiencing the state of Twilight. He had overstayed the Infernal Realm and was suffering the consequences.
However, it wasn’t exactly a bad situation if one’s will was strong enough to comprehend what they were viewing.
In this Realm of Knowledge, Aramus viewed all kinds of mysteries and things beyond the existence of the mortal realm. Before long, these prints were etched into his memories and he’d likely never forget them in the future. Despite not completely understanding the meaning of the words, he understood them by heart. Perhaps it was in his nature to endure this long travel in this foreign Realm.
Aramus drifted through his lane of memory and saw all kinds of tragedies he had faced, Elizabeth being burnt and melted among other things. It was a review of most of the peculiar and disgusting experiences he had recently—however far removed from reality—he’d been witness too, and he’d likely never recover from these traumatic events. He may expect situations to grow worse more often in the future.
A thunderous revelation drew him away from all these memories eventually. The crackling noise took his attention as he faced an ancient Celestial Spirit, Thor. Aramus couldn’t quite see anything other than lightning, yet somehow he knew who he was meeting.
“What is your desire?” the being asked.
Aramus contemplated that he was free from the clutches of the trials, if only temporarily. It was as if he had taken a step back, allowing him to put things into perspective. The words of Thor did not manage to evoke a great reaction from him. Rather they pulled forth things which Aramus did not want to lose.
“I wish for the power to protect,” Aramus said. Looking in the direction he felt the lightning surged strongest, a certain feeling told him Thor was there.
“Yet I feel… great fury in you. Tell me, there has to be someone—something—you wish to trample upon badly,” a voice reverberated across the rumbling lightning, and it seemed like the thunder occurred more furiously when Thor spoke.
“My rage, it stems from others trampling over those I consider important. I cannot stand by and watch that happen, they who would callously crush the hopes and dreams of others for their own ends,” Aramus replied, his lips curling in slight distaste. “They have to be stopped by somebody, even if it costs me my life.”
“Very well. Rush forth to the needs of the distressed if it is what your will deems—for that is the way of a hero. I shall grant you the secrets of Divine speed.”
Magical text was seen by Aramus but only briefly.
“I cannot confer the gratitude I feel right now through words, but then again, I imagine you would much rather see it through action,” Aramus said, smiling wryly.
“I am he who once protected mankind. I guide heroes and light their paths to glory. This is but a small feat hardly requiring gratitude.”
Aramus started to fall instead of float in the space he was in. The zigzag-trailed thunders were going far and far out of reach from him.
“Listen well!” Thor’s voice echoed as he fell. “For the armaments of mine own lieth in the Realm you wander!”
Aramus then woke up just after he heard the voices, opening his eyes to face a window beyond which all was dark.
Mary was still caressing his hair, he didn’t even know how long he had slept, but it felt like a very long time. He wasn’t sure how Mary passed all that time, and how long she had been inside this house with him enduring the progress of the heavy blizzard.
“Now, I’m loathe to leave a lovely lady such as yourself but I had best get going,” Aramus said as he rose, feeling a little more refreshed from his nap. A nap that spanned years.
“I see, so you are going to leave me too…?” Mary asked, she didn’t seem depressed nor happy, showing a face of indifference despite the suggestion her words may give. Of course, she had retracted her hand from Aramus as soon as she noted that he was awake.
“Sometimes, we don’t leave because we want to,” Aramus replied to her with a pained smile.
“That is indeed true. I had to go through that before as well,” Mary said, giving a warm smile.
For some reason, Aramus thought that he’d not forget this smile of her’s.
He opened the door and the cold wind rushed inside, striking against his worn-out clothes and Mary’s visage violently.
“Stay safe now,” Mary said, waving to Aramus who was leaving the house.
“Same to you, Mary. Thanks for taking care of me all this time,” Aramus said, struggling to smile through the buffeting wind. “I hope to have another cup of your tea soon.”
“You’re welcome to visit any day for the tea, or to relax.” Mary’s words sounded as though they were echoed from afar.
Aramus waved at her as he walked after noting the words. Mary seemed to be waving at him too as she continued from her previous sentence:
“After all, it’s the job of a woman to take care of her—”
The voice was gone and the rest of the sentence was unheard when Aramus suddenly found a large and tall gate before him.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Aramus walked forward resolutely. With Thor’s words strongly implanted in his heart and mind, he faced the next trial to come.
It was strange, the Magister was standing before the door of a person who was very important to him. His words of resolution were already a distant matter after faced with the prospect of meeting Her Majesty.
Indeed, this was the exact same corridor he had traversed when he first visited the Buckingham House to meet the Queen.
Now he was before her room.
“Come in,” a voice he knew all-too-well beckoned inside.
Aramus opened the door, stepping inside with a short “Excuse me.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was here but it was his duty to hear and obey.
The room was as gorgeous as he could last remember. The walls were painted red with decorations adorned with several portraits of various nobles and some of the other Royal family members. The fireplace was lit and there was the table in the center of the room surrounded by chairs like usual. There was baroque furniture aside from the table, and a bed was located in the corner of the room.
The Queen simply stood before the window to the very left and gazed upwards, facing the cloudy sky. This was reminiscent of the time he had first met Her Majesty, and she went up to the window while speaking.
Such memories seemed to be coming to his mind, but somehow it seemed far more distant than he initially assumed and he wasn’t sure when that meeting took place.
“I’m glad that you could make it here today,” the Queen said, her tone a little different from the last time he heard her. Indeed, the voice was a little deeper giving the impression of maturity; her form was that of an adult unlike the blue apparition he met in their previous meeting. However, it wasn’t just maturity that he felt, there was a mixture of warmth that the Queen had never addressed him with before.
“Your Majesty?” Aramus inquired, feeling a little uncertain about the treatment he was receiving now.
Queen turned with a kind of smile he wasn’t acquainted with. Her red dress was far more intoxicating to her visitor than he thought.
“Yes?” With a voice as sweet as honey, she spoke. “What is it?”
Aramus gulped, his eyes widening in surprise. “I-I was wondering why you had called me here, that’s all.” Not knowing where to place his eyes, he let them fall to the floor.
The Queen narrowed her eyes in a seductive manner.
“Oh? Should you not know already?” she asked in a teasing tone. “The invitation was made after consent from both sides were confirmed.”
“Consent? Regarding what?” Her voice sent chills down his spine, though he didn’t get to see the look she sent his way. Aramus was still busy counting the fibers of her carpet to keep his mind off other things. Nasty, perverted things.
“...You’d make me utter it?”
Shy, the Queen averted her gaze from the Magister.
“What do you…” Aramus trailed off, racking his brain as to why she might have called him here. More risque clothing, a different tone from the usual. “A private dinner?” he uttered, looking up from his counting.
“Nothing so stately…”
The Queen started to walk over, and Aramus’ gaze naturally followed up from the floor as if guided by instinct rather than his intellect. He knew better, but he couldn’t resist. His liege casually swept her hand up to his cheek, caressing him.
“Don’t pretend. You know why you’re here, yes?”
Aramus’ skin burned where she touched him, blood rushing to his cheeks as he tried to cobble together a reply. He failed.
Her Majesty’s other hand lovingly grasped upon his other cheek. She held his head and their gazes met. The Queen’s passionate eyes were beginning to melt his very foundation of reasoning as her head—no, more importantly—her lips began to enclose the distance between them.
Aramus was entranced as she neared him, his eyes glued to her lips as they sought his own. This was the first time she had been so close to him, in his personal space. Her scent made his head go fuzzy and it was all he could do to not get overwhelmed by her.
Finally, Aramus felt a tender contact. The rosy lips pressed against his own and it was soft. The experience was ecstatic and mesmerizing.
At least that’s how it started.
The Queen seemed to have taken the lead as she guided the Magister to her bed. The teacher thought nothing as he was made to walk across the fancy room and over to the extravagant bed.
With him pinned against the bed and the Queen over him on all fours—it was a scene that was completely unbelievable, and he felt that it was a work of imagination.
Queen Victoria pressed against him once again; her lips met his again. This time, her tongue viciously collided against his lips before forcing them open and entering his mouth, seeking his tongue and meeting it. Saliva slipped past the corners of their mouths and there were wet noises. The two were in a world of their own, quite literally.
It felt like an eternity had passed when Victoria’s lips finally parted from Aramus’ as strands of saliva bridged them for a moment. The woman regarded as his liege began to undress; a noise from the fabric was heard as the red exquisite gown fell past her curvaceous figure. Despite her figure appearing to be a porcelain—a perfect work of art, something felt missing.
“You have always been wanting to see me like this… haven’t you?” Victoria whispered, words coming out like fine wine. Her sight was truly bewitching. “Then why not feast your eyes? Look at me more, Sir Valmark.”
Any words that he had wanted to say evaporated as soon as her dress fell, revealing her milky white skin for him to see. His hands ached to touch, basic instincts telling him to do more than just sit there and watch. There was still a part of his mind that wondered what the hell was going on, but it was smaller in comparison.
“Not a single word? How cold.” The Queen’s fingertips affectionately caressed Aramus’ chest before beginning to unbutton his shirt while gazing at his eyes.
He grabbed her hand before it could go any further, yet another portion of his brain lambasted him for stopping her, for laying a hand on the Queen.
“Your Majesty, you know full well that I serve you with every fiber of my being. But this situation is totally unimaginable, I-I just don’t know what to say about it.”Aramus pulled away reluctantly, smiling sadly at his liege. “I do not dislike it, in fact I am rather happy about it. Even so, I do not deem myself worthy of your affections in this manner.” Aramus then wrapped her up in his discarded coat, feeling it was a waste to cover up her beauty.
“I… I couldn’t even tame one commoner,” the Queen said peering down to her palms with disdain, apparently speaking to herself. “What a failure of a Queen I am…”
“You’ve had me since the very beginning,” Aramus comforted her, hugging her figure from behind. “It’s not your failure, Your Majesty. I will return when I better myself as I cannot see me standing next to you in this manner as of now. Until then, please take care of my coat.”
“Filthy low-birth man, you dare to taint my name further?”
The coat that kept the person before Aramus warm burnt away to crisp with a flash and something pinned Aramus to the wall behind the bed.
When Aramus looked down, he found black roots struck against his chest. Looking up, he found a woman whose skin and figure were completely black.
As black as his dark desires, perhaps.
The woman was clearly not the Queen he knew, and she wore a contorted smile for an expression as she eyed the man’s pitifully pained face with delight.
“So you weren’t her!?” Aramus hollered, looking with despair at the ashes of his once-proud coat. “My coat!”
Anger blazed in his eyes, the moments prior to this forgotten as he grabbed onto whatever she was. He tried to peel it off his body with fervor, at being tricked and having his feelings trampled on, that he had to buy a new coat.
Unable to get out, he felt great tension and impatience—not being able to take this miserable existence out who dared to imitate the appearance of his liege. It then dawned on him that he was recently granted a new kind of power. He couldn’t tell why he had forgotten this important detail, but now was not the time to ponder about it.
Immediately, he began to call out on his knowledge gained from Thor. Texts of languages forgotten flashed across his field of vision; he instinctively understood their meaning, yet he was sure that he’d never be able to write them down somewhere for a text book publication.
Words came to mind via an unknown mechanic and he composed the incantations aloud:
“In anger smites the warder of Earth. Forth from their homes all men flee. I shall wield the weight of my hatred—for I am might incarnate! Holy Wrath Spell—Thor’s Might.”
Words he never knew flew past his lips and his body crackled with intense, sparkling thunder. The tendrils holding him against concrete wall burned to mere particles and his body dematerialized before transforming into lightning itself.
He flew to the black woman in an instant, literally through the speed of lightning, before striking at her with his very form.
With a pitiful scream the woman was smitten. Her form burned and soon crumbled to ashes with her being absolutely powerless against his might.
Aramus soon found himself human once again, slightly taken aback by the power he had just used. “Holy shit, that was cool,” he breathed, looking down at his body that still crackled with residual lightning.
Before he knew it, the world was empty and white as he marveled at his impressive new spell. The final gate opened, disallowing him to recount in his mind what he had been through so far.
It was strange, the Magister was standing before the door of a person who was very important to him. His words of resolution were already a distant matter after faced with the prospect of meeting Her Majesty.
Indeed, this was the exact same corridor he had traversed when he first visited the Buckingham House to meet the Queen.
Now he was before her room.
“Come in,” a voice he knew all-too-well beckoned inside.
Aramus opened the door, stepping inside with a short “Excuse me.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was here but it was his duty to hear and obey.
The room was as gorgeous as he could last remember. The walls were painted red with decorations adorned with several portraits of various nobles and some of the other Royal family members. The fireplace was lit and there was the table in the center of the room surrounded by chairs like usual. There was baroque furniture aside from the table, and a bed was located in the corner of the room.
The Queen simply stood before the window to the very left and gazed upwards, facing the cloudy sky. This was reminiscent of the time he had first met Her Majesty, and she went up to the window while speaking.
Such memories seemed to be coming to his mind, but somehow it seemed far more distant than he initially assumed and he wasn’t sure when that meeting took place.
“I’m glad that you could make it here today,” the Queen said, her tone a little different from the last time he heard her. Indeed, the voice was a little deeper giving the impression of maturity; her form was that of an adult unlike the blue apparition he met in their previous meeting. However, it wasn’t just maturity that he felt, there was a mixture of warmth that the Queen had never addressed him with before.
“Your Majesty?” Aramus inquired, feeling a little uncertain about the treatment he was receiving now.
Queen turned with a kind of smile he wasn’t acquainted with. Her red dress was far more intoxicating to her visitor than he thought.
“Yes?” With a voice as sweet as honey, she spoke. “What is it?”
Aramus gulped, his eyes widening in surprise. “I-I was wondering why you had called me here, that’s all.” Not knowing where to place his eyes, he let them fall to the floor.
The Queen narrowed her eyes in a seductive manner.
“Oh? Should you not know already?” she asked in a teasing tone. “The invitation was made after consent from both sides were confirmed.”
“Consent? Regarding what?” Her voice sent chills down his spine, though he didn’t get to see the look she sent his way. Aramus was still busy counting the fibers of her carpet to keep his mind off other things. Nasty, perverted things.
“...You’d make me utter it?”
Shy, the Queen averted her gaze from the Magister.
“What do you…” Aramus trailed off, racking his brain as to why she might have called him here. More risque clothing, a different tone from the usual. “A private dinner?” he uttered, looking up from his counting.
“Nothing so stately…”
The Queen started to walk over, and Aramus’ gaze naturally followed up from the floor as if guided by instinct rather than his intellect. He knew better, but he couldn’t resist. His liege casually swept her hand up to his cheek, caressing him.
“Don’t pretend. You know why you’re here, yes?”
Aramus’ skin burned where she touched him, blood rushing to his cheeks as he tried to cobble together a reply. He failed.
Her Majesty’s other hand lovingly grasped upon his other cheek. She held his head and their gazes met. The Queen’s passionate eyes were beginning to melt his very foundation of reasoning as her head—no, more importantly—her lips began to enclose the distance between them.
Aramus was entranced as she neared him, his eyes glued to her lips as they sought his own. This was the first time she had been so close to him, in his personal space. Her scent made his head go fuzzy and it was all he could do to not get overwhelmed by her.
Finally, Aramus felt a tender contact. The rosy lips pressed against his own and it was soft. The experience was ecstatic and mesmerizing.
At least that’s how it started.
The Queen seemed to have taken the lead as she guided the Magister to her bed. The teacher thought nothing as he was made to walk across the fancy room and over to the extravagant bed.
With him pinned against the bed and the Queen over him on all fours—it was a scene that was completely unbelievable, and he felt that it was a work of imagination.
Queen Victoria pressed against him once again; her lips met his again. This time, her tongue viciously collided against his lips before forcing them open and entering his mouth, seeking his tongue and meeting it. Saliva slipped past the corners of their mouths and there were wet noises. The two were in a world of their own, quite literally.
It felt like an eternity had passed when Victoria’s lips finally parted from Aramus’ as strands of saliva bridged them for a moment. The woman regarded as his liege began to undress; a noise from the fabric was heard as the red exquisite gown fell past her curvaceous figure. Despite her figure appearing to be a porcelain—a perfect work of art, something felt missing.
“You have always been wanting to see me like this… haven’t you?” Victoria whispered, words coming out like fine wine. Her sight was truly bewitching. “Then why not feast your eyes? Look at me more, Sir Valmark.”
Any words that he had wanted to say evaporated as soon as her dress fell, revealing her milky white skin for him to see. His hands ached to touch, basic instincts telling him to do more than just sit there and watch. There was still a part of his mind that wondered what the hell was going on, but it was smaller in comparison.
“Not a single word? How cold.” The Queen’s fingertips affectionately caressed Aramus’ chest before beginning to unbutton his shirt while gazing at his eyes.
He grabbed her hand before it could go any further, yet another portion of his brain lambasted him for stopping her, for laying a hand on the Queen.
“Your Majesty, you know full well that I serve you with every fiber of my being. But this situation is totally unimaginable, I-I just don’t know what to say about it.”Aramus pulled away reluctantly, smiling sadly at his liege. “I do not dislike it, in fact I am rather happy about it. Even so, I do not deem myself worthy of your affections in this manner.” Aramus then wrapped her up in his discarded coat, feeling it was a waste to cover up her beauty.
“I… I couldn’t even tame one commoner,” the Queen said peering down to her palms with disdain, apparently speaking to herself. “What a failure of a Queen I am…”
“You’ve had me since the very beginning,” Aramus comforted her, hugging her figure from behind. “It’s not your failure, Your Majesty. I will return when I better myself as I cannot see me standing next to you in this manner as of now. Until then, please take care of my coat.”
“Filthy low-birth man, you dare to taint my name further?”
The coat that kept the person before Aramus warm burnt away to crisp with a flash and something pinned Aramus to the wall behind the bed.
When Aramus looked down, he found black roots struck against his chest. Looking up, he found a woman whose skin and figure were completely black.
As black as his dark desires, perhaps.
The woman was clearly not the Queen he knew, and she wore a contorted smile for an expression as she eyed the man’s pitifully pained face with delight.
“So you weren’t her!?” Aramus hollered, looking with despair at the ashes of his once-proud coat. “My coat!”
Anger blazed in his eyes, the moments prior to this forgotten as he grabbed onto whatever she was. He tried to peel it off his body with fervor, at being tricked and having his feelings trampled on, that he had to buy a new coat.
Unable to get out, he felt great tension and impatience—not being able to take this miserable existence out who dared to imitate the appearance of his liege. It then dawned on him that he was recently granted a new kind of power. He couldn’t tell why he had forgotten this important detail, but now was not the time to ponder about it.
Immediately, he began to call out on his knowledge gained from Thor. Texts of languages forgotten flashed across his field of vision; he instinctively understood their meaning, yet he was sure that he’d never be able to write them down somewhere for a text book publication.
Words came to mind via an unknown mechanic and he composed the incantations aloud:
“In anger smites the warder of Earth. Forth from their homes all men flee. I shall wield the weight of my hatred—for I am might incarnate! Holy Wrath Spell—Thor’s Might.”
Words he never knew flew past his lips and his body crackled with intense, sparkling thunder. The tendrils holding him against concrete wall burned to mere particles and his body dematerialized before transforming into lightning itself.
He flew to the black woman in an instant, literally through the speed of lightning, before striking at her with his very form.
With a pitiful scream the woman was smitten. Her form burned and soon crumbled to ashes with her being absolutely powerless against his might.
Aramus soon found himself human once again, slightly taken aback by the power he had just used. “Holy shit, that was cool,” he breathed, looking down at his body that still crackled with residual lightning.
Before he knew it, the world was empty and white as he marveled at his impressive new spell. The final gate opened, disallowing him to recount in his mind what he had been through so far.
0
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
As before, he was completely unharmed, and indeed his coat was back, and unfortunately, it wasn’t Takeru’s coat.
In the space where there was no material other than the white floor, Aramus gazed at the white sky. It was completely empty.
Nothing was changing.
He was starting to get impatient as he looked around.
No, wait, he wasn’t standing before a mirror. Then what was this thing right in front of him?
Aramus looked at himself. His own visage portrayed straight before him. Behind said visage was the gate—the exit to the trials.
It wasn’t an effect of a mirror—it dawned to him—it was his doppelganger!
The fake smiled. He held a presence that flaunted confidence and a peerless will as he stood upright.
“Whatever.” Aramus muttered, stepping around his twin towards the exit.
A chop landed straight to the back of his neck and Aramus dropped dead.
Suddenly, his vision shifted and he was in his previous location yet again, as if his action of walking past the fake had never happened. It was a first for him.
“So I have to fight myself, what a pain,” Aramus muttered as he rubbed the area where he had been chopped, a phantom pain lingering.
(BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fwoQh0Jxy8 Shh, don’t watch the game fight itself. lel)
“I am righteous.” The fake ignored the mutterings of his true counterpart. “I am strong. I can protect everyone. I am no blunt blade—I am the best knight suited for Her Majesty!” the doppelganger shouted. “You… you are weak.”
Ticked off, the real Aramus glared at his fake. “Even the best blade cannot cut everything. Besides, it is not up to us to decide how suitable we are until the other party agrees.”
“I will cut the enemy sides. I will protect Ellie. Other party be damned—they’d never speak to me, nor would they express their true judgement.”
Aramus briefly pondered whether this was how he sounded to others. If so, he would probably try to talk less. “Deeds before words. Let’s see how you plan to do it.”
“I was compared to the knights of eld by Her Majesty. I know I can. I believe! Come—my wrath, my envy, my greed, my gluttony, my sloth! Join with me, feelings of my own!”
Black orbs floated into the fake Aramus that came down from above and were absorbed by him. The doppelganger soon grew in size and was now almost thirty meters tall. He laughed heartily at his newfound strength, portraying his joy without restraint.
“That’s how bad I was? Shit,” Aramus cursed, the look of horror on his face more at the vices he had rather than the giant version of himself.
The fake Aramus attempted to step on the real one with his enlarged feet.
The real Aramus attempted to jump away. It’d be a simple task for him—for someone as fast as him. However, he couldn’t. He could hardly jump. His attempt at a jump resulted in him falling flat on the floor instead. His skills were gone, taken by his fake.
As the giant shoe loomed over him, Aramus quickly recited the only incantation that came to mind. The one for Thor’s Might. A loud crunching sound accompanied the crushing arrival of the boot, the fake grinning smugly down at his handiwork. However, a faint crackling sound could be heard and he leaned forward slightly to take a closer look.
A bolt of lightning zipped out from beneath the boot once the giant had leaned in close enough, streaking straight into the fake’s eyes.
“Guuuhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
The doppelganger gruntled hard and loud as thunder blitzed past his eye-socket and brain, and broke past the skull in the back.
Aramus zigzaged and streaked across the empty realm before landing before his fake self and turning back to human to watch his adversary crumble to dust.
However, victory wasn’t easily achieved. The fake Aramus was already recovering; the injury was closing, and it seemed as though time was being reverted for the fake.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Aramus cursed as he ran towards the giant body, trying to gather enough power for another spell. “Blowing his brains out wasn’t enough? What the hell!”
The fake tried kicking again, and Aramus barely stepped back in time. The wind generated from the passing boot sent him off flying like paper.
As he tried to get up, the fake laughed.
“I think myself old. I think myself wise. I can educate anyone—even the Descendants. I always try to advise them, guide them, teach them—with my experiences, I am worthy of their time.”
The fake spoke as if chanting. Electricity gathered around him and with his outstretched hand, a sphere of lightning began to form.
Aramus struggled on the floor, barely sitting up as he peered across the giant visage.
“Please accept me…”
He turned to his right to find a woman. Her skin was black, but her face exuded the feminine allure of older women, and Aramus could see her voluptuous chest exposed as she wore no clothes whatsoever. Her upper torso seemed to have come out of the floor while the lower torso could be seen lying below the floor. Apparently the floor was transparent.
On the hands of the woman—as she spoke—was his beloved relic fan.
“Indeed I shall!” Aramus grinned knowingly, receiving the fan from the woman with gratitude. He could feel some power returning to him as soon as he grasped it, the handle conferring a modicum of his former strength back to him. More importantly, it felt good to have his partner back.
“You have forgotten that we were never truly alone,” Aramus declared, air spiralling around his fan as it flared with energy. “My companion, aid me!” Thrusting the relic at his fake, all the gathered energy was released in a vortex of wind.
The lightning fired its bolt from the fake, and Aramus’ tornado met it with its sharp winds. In but a moment the thunder rolled, coiled and crackled—it revolved with the wind, captured by Paimon’s strength and might. The wind carried on and drilled into the abdomen of the fake Aramus, leaving a hole.
From there a black orb floated out, and it soon entered real Aramus’ chest. He felt some of his emotions and abilities return. He absorbed back his envy. Knowledge of Aquam flowed back and to test it out, he sent a blade of water at the right knee of the giant followed by another composed of wind with his fan. As a combatant, Aramus valued his mobility. Taking that away was always his priority.
A wall of wind blocked the water and wind from the real Aramus. The fake was protected by a barrier of wind—a product of a spell he once used to own himself.
“For all tasks and work, Her Majesty should turn to me—her most loyal servant. I will be her sole blade. I will be her hammer of justice. I will shoulder everything. All responsibilities shall be mine.”
Again the fake chanted. The wind gathered and spiraled about before his palm, energy was compressed and was being stored into a spherical ball of wind. This was Aramus’ latest invention…
“Oh no. That’s mine, you don’t get to steal that. I worked hard for it.”
Aramus held the fan out at his fake accusingly, the feathers bristling alongside him. Smirking, he angled the relic slightly and awaited his fake’s attack. The spiraling sphere came down at Aramus as the fake ducked down towards him. The fan of Paimon blocked the wind, however, making the doppelganger stop—no, instead, he was rather stuck at being unable to proceed to demolishing his counterpart.
The wind from the spiraling ball were beginning to be sucked into the fan as it lost its momentum and speed of rotation. Aramus flapped the fan and a wave sent back all the power and wind that the fake had mustered up—crushing the barrier and sending him flying across the air.
Two black orbs floated into Aramus. He gained back his greed and sloth.
“You prattle too much. To think that you would forget our resident Djinn’s abilities,” the real Aramus said as he shook his head, taunting the giant. “How are you going to be the best if you forget about your own weapon?”
“That is Solomon’s, not mine,” the fake said. “I do not deserve it. I did not complete my redemption. You’re the one who indulges a weapon you don’t yet deserve!”
“You say you do not deserve it yet you wish to be the Queen’s pillar of support. Don’t make me laugh. If you aren’t worthy of this, then you definitely aren’t worthy of her,” Aramus scoffed, though his grip tightened on the fan ever so slightly.
“Coming from a man who stole the delivery van of the Queen? You hardly hold the right to run your tongue, either.”
“Hey, at least I’m trying to fix things. You just said you didn’t finish the redemption. Don’t preach.”
“It’s you who preach. Just die and disappear; I will become real.” The fake then pulled his arm up towards the whiteness and a different form of energy started to gather.
“Now this I don’t know. Anyway, I’ll be taking my heart back.”
“Then take this.”
To the left of Aramus was Sasha, holding a single stone as she descended from above.
“That lightning cannot pierce his invisible barrier, but this can.”
“Does this mean I owe you now? It’s not a very good thing having a debt with a demon,” Aramus muttered as he received the stone from her.
Aramus chanted the incantation for Thor’s Might once again, turning into a bolt of lightning as he flung himself towards the fake. His transformation broke the moment he got too close to his fake, but when he outstretched his arm towards the heart, a mysterious shattering noise occurred.
The barrier Sasha referred to must’ve been broken. With this assurance in mind Aramus chanted once again as he fell, turning into lightning and climbing up to his chest in a flash. Driving straight to the fake’s chest, Aramus drilled through his heart.
As Aramus left through the back of the doppelganger, he noticed his counterpart angered from the pain, screeching. He cranked his head to find Aramus flying across the air like a comet as lightning. His bloodshot eyes gave the real Aramus a chill down his spine. That said, he didn’t even know where his spine was as lightning, but it didn’t really matter at the moment.
The fake attempted to turn around by taking a step, but its shoe fell over what seemed like the peel of a banana. The doppelganger comically fell over, and the real Aramus saw an ephemeral spirit giving a salute in his general direction. Aramus returned the salute, snapping to attention.
The swirling energy that was gathering above the fake Aramus was gone and glowing particles started to rise up from the fallen counterfeit. His size shrunk and he looked exactly the same as Aramus with his old robe.
“I had failed… my liege. I… I could not protect…”
As Aramus recovered his original form from the lightning, the fake was long gone. Three black orbs entered him and he was whole in all ways.
“Please tell me if I end up like him,” Aramus said, letting out a breath he had been holding. Turning to Sasha, he held out the stone she had given him. “So, are you the real one or not? Either way, thanks.”
Sasha stood beside the black-skinned woman, who was beside the ephemeral woman. Needless to say, they all stood beside each other before the exit.
“...Of course I’m real,” Sasha replied in a matter-of-factly tone. “Who else do you think would give you a real slinging stone?”
“A what?” Aramus said, dropping the stone into her palm.
“Something David used a long time ago to kill a certain Goliath?”
“Why do you even have something like that?” Aramus countered, looking at the stone and Sasha in a new light.
“I stole it. I mean, I got it. Don’t ask me how,” Sasha said in a hushed tone before turning back to her usual lazy self with a yawn.
Aramus raised both hands in surrender before turning to Paimon and his other resident spirit. He flipped the fan around so that the handle faced the Djinn. “Thanks for always helping me out, I haven’t finished the quest yet so like the †˜fake’ said, here.”
“I shall be waiting for when you’ll be ready to use me again.” Paimon, the dark-skinned woman, bowed as she accepted the fan.
“And now, you,” Aramus muttered whilst looking down at the last of his supporters. “Is it only times like these that I get to see you?” He placed his hands on his hips, adopting a lecturing pose as he spoke to the “troublesome” spirit of his.
The spirit looked down as the so-called teacher took his pose. “Y…Yes, we spirits are invisible in the human world.”
“Even then, I don’t know what you’re doing,” Aramus muttered, placing a hand on his forehead. “Still, it’s good to know that someone is keeping an eye on me. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry… I’m always causing trouble when I try to help,” the woman apologized, bowing like any Japanese would.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, waving her apology off before bowing in return. “I’ll be in your care from now on, please take care of me. Heh, this is a first for us since we never saw each other right?”
“Yes, it is. My name is Binbougami. I will be in your care too.” The woman bowed.
Hearing this name, Aramus realized that he had heard of it before when looking into the Japanese culture. The god of bad luck was actually a goddess? Moreover, now that he looked at her again, her hair was mysteriously tied with a hand fan too.
“Does the extent of your power only affect me? I’ve always wondered about it,” Aramus inquired Binbougami.
“I don’t really know…”
“I guess that’s fine. Does any other spirit trouble you for hanging around someone like me? We are from opposing countries after all.”
“Sometimes… and Her Majesty is scary.”
“I’m sure there’s someone or someplace else that gives you less trouble. I don’t want you getting flak for hanging around me. It’s not right.” Aramus chuckled at how Binbougami had described Her Majesty, acceding the point to her. “Yeah, I imagine she can be sometimes.”
“Well, you should get going,” Binbougami said, ushering to the door behind them.
“Yeah, you’ve spent ninety-eight years within the trials so far,” Sasha said while snickering.
“I wish you luck in your battle,” Paimon said before expressing her anxieties. “Although I don’t know how you’ll fare without my aid…”
“I’ll manage somehow,” Aramus said as he walked past the trio and stepped through the door, waving them off like a child would to his over anxious mother. “Always have.”
In the space where there was no material other than the white floor, Aramus gazed at the white sky. It was completely empty.
Nothing was changing.
He was starting to get impatient as he looked around.
No, wait, he wasn’t standing before a mirror. Then what was this thing right in front of him?
Aramus looked at himself. His own visage portrayed straight before him. Behind said visage was the gate—the exit to the trials.
It wasn’t an effect of a mirror—it dawned to him—it was his doppelganger!
The fake smiled. He held a presence that flaunted confidence and a peerless will as he stood upright.
“Whatever.” Aramus muttered, stepping around his twin towards the exit.
A chop landed straight to the back of his neck and Aramus dropped dead.
Suddenly, his vision shifted and he was in his previous location yet again, as if his action of walking past the fake had never happened. It was a first for him.
“So I have to fight myself, what a pain,” Aramus muttered as he rubbed the area where he had been chopped, a phantom pain lingering.
(BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fwoQh0Jxy8 Shh, don’t watch the game fight itself. lel)
“I am righteous.” The fake ignored the mutterings of his true counterpart. “I am strong. I can protect everyone. I am no blunt blade—I am the best knight suited for Her Majesty!” the doppelganger shouted. “You… you are weak.”
Ticked off, the real Aramus glared at his fake. “Even the best blade cannot cut everything. Besides, it is not up to us to decide how suitable we are until the other party agrees.”
“I will cut the enemy sides. I will protect Ellie. Other party be damned—they’d never speak to me, nor would they express their true judgement.”
Aramus briefly pondered whether this was how he sounded to others. If so, he would probably try to talk less. “Deeds before words. Let’s see how you plan to do it.”
“I was compared to the knights of eld by Her Majesty. I know I can. I believe! Come—my wrath, my envy, my greed, my gluttony, my sloth! Join with me, feelings of my own!”
Black orbs floated into the fake Aramus that came down from above and were absorbed by him. The doppelganger soon grew in size and was now almost thirty meters tall. He laughed heartily at his newfound strength, portraying his joy without restraint.
“That’s how bad I was? Shit,” Aramus cursed, the look of horror on his face more at the vices he had rather than the giant version of himself.
The fake Aramus attempted to step on the real one with his enlarged feet.
The real Aramus attempted to jump away. It’d be a simple task for him—for someone as fast as him. However, he couldn’t. He could hardly jump. His attempt at a jump resulted in him falling flat on the floor instead. His skills were gone, taken by his fake.
As the giant shoe loomed over him, Aramus quickly recited the only incantation that came to mind. The one for Thor’s Might. A loud crunching sound accompanied the crushing arrival of the boot, the fake grinning smugly down at his handiwork. However, a faint crackling sound could be heard and he leaned forward slightly to take a closer look.
A bolt of lightning zipped out from beneath the boot once the giant had leaned in close enough, streaking straight into the fake’s eyes.
“Guuuhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
The doppelganger gruntled hard and loud as thunder blitzed past his eye-socket and brain, and broke past the skull in the back.
Aramus zigzaged and streaked across the empty realm before landing before his fake self and turning back to human to watch his adversary crumble to dust.
However, victory wasn’t easily achieved. The fake Aramus was already recovering; the injury was closing, and it seemed as though time was being reverted for the fake.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Aramus cursed as he ran towards the giant body, trying to gather enough power for another spell. “Blowing his brains out wasn’t enough? What the hell!”
The fake tried kicking again, and Aramus barely stepped back in time. The wind generated from the passing boot sent him off flying like paper.
As he tried to get up, the fake laughed.
“I think myself old. I think myself wise. I can educate anyone—even the Descendants. I always try to advise them, guide them, teach them—with my experiences, I am worthy of their time.”
The fake spoke as if chanting. Electricity gathered around him and with his outstretched hand, a sphere of lightning began to form.
Aramus struggled on the floor, barely sitting up as he peered across the giant visage.
“Please accept me…”
He turned to his right to find a woman. Her skin was black, but her face exuded the feminine allure of older women, and Aramus could see her voluptuous chest exposed as she wore no clothes whatsoever. Her upper torso seemed to have come out of the floor while the lower torso could be seen lying below the floor. Apparently the floor was transparent.
On the hands of the woman—as she spoke—was his beloved relic fan.
“Indeed I shall!” Aramus grinned knowingly, receiving the fan from the woman with gratitude. He could feel some power returning to him as soon as he grasped it, the handle conferring a modicum of his former strength back to him. More importantly, it felt good to have his partner back.
“You have forgotten that we were never truly alone,” Aramus declared, air spiralling around his fan as it flared with energy. “My companion, aid me!” Thrusting the relic at his fake, all the gathered energy was released in a vortex of wind.
The lightning fired its bolt from the fake, and Aramus’ tornado met it with its sharp winds. In but a moment the thunder rolled, coiled and crackled—it revolved with the wind, captured by Paimon’s strength and might. The wind carried on and drilled into the abdomen of the fake Aramus, leaving a hole.
From there a black orb floated out, and it soon entered real Aramus’ chest. He felt some of his emotions and abilities return. He absorbed back his envy. Knowledge of Aquam flowed back and to test it out, he sent a blade of water at the right knee of the giant followed by another composed of wind with his fan. As a combatant, Aramus valued his mobility. Taking that away was always his priority.
A wall of wind blocked the water and wind from the real Aramus. The fake was protected by a barrier of wind—a product of a spell he once used to own himself.
“For all tasks and work, Her Majesty should turn to me—her most loyal servant. I will be her sole blade. I will be her hammer of justice. I will shoulder everything. All responsibilities shall be mine.”
Again the fake chanted. The wind gathered and spiraled about before his palm, energy was compressed and was being stored into a spherical ball of wind. This was Aramus’ latest invention…
“Oh no. That’s mine, you don’t get to steal that. I worked hard for it.”
Aramus held the fan out at his fake accusingly, the feathers bristling alongside him. Smirking, he angled the relic slightly and awaited his fake’s attack. The spiraling sphere came down at Aramus as the fake ducked down towards him. The fan of Paimon blocked the wind, however, making the doppelganger stop—no, instead, he was rather stuck at being unable to proceed to demolishing his counterpart.
The wind from the spiraling ball were beginning to be sucked into the fan as it lost its momentum and speed of rotation. Aramus flapped the fan and a wave sent back all the power and wind that the fake had mustered up—crushing the barrier and sending him flying across the air.
Two black orbs floated into Aramus. He gained back his greed and sloth.
“You prattle too much. To think that you would forget our resident Djinn’s abilities,” the real Aramus said as he shook his head, taunting the giant. “How are you going to be the best if you forget about your own weapon?”
“That is Solomon’s, not mine,” the fake said. “I do not deserve it. I did not complete my redemption. You’re the one who indulges a weapon you don’t yet deserve!”
“You say you do not deserve it yet you wish to be the Queen’s pillar of support. Don’t make me laugh. If you aren’t worthy of this, then you definitely aren’t worthy of her,” Aramus scoffed, though his grip tightened on the fan ever so slightly.
“Coming from a man who stole the delivery van of the Queen? You hardly hold the right to run your tongue, either.”
“Hey, at least I’m trying to fix things. You just said you didn’t finish the redemption. Don’t preach.”
“It’s you who preach. Just die and disappear; I will become real.” The fake then pulled his arm up towards the whiteness and a different form of energy started to gather.
“Now this I don’t know. Anyway, I’ll be taking my heart back.”
“Then take this.”
To the left of Aramus was Sasha, holding a single stone as she descended from above.
“That lightning cannot pierce his invisible barrier, but this can.”
“Does this mean I owe you now? It’s not a very good thing having a debt with a demon,” Aramus muttered as he received the stone from her.
Aramus chanted the incantation for Thor’s Might once again, turning into a bolt of lightning as he flung himself towards the fake. His transformation broke the moment he got too close to his fake, but when he outstretched his arm towards the heart, a mysterious shattering noise occurred.
The barrier Sasha referred to must’ve been broken. With this assurance in mind Aramus chanted once again as he fell, turning into lightning and climbing up to his chest in a flash. Driving straight to the fake’s chest, Aramus drilled through his heart.
As Aramus left through the back of the doppelganger, he noticed his counterpart angered from the pain, screeching. He cranked his head to find Aramus flying across the air like a comet as lightning. His bloodshot eyes gave the real Aramus a chill down his spine. That said, he didn’t even know where his spine was as lightning, but it didn’t really matter at the moment.
The fake attempted to turn around by taking a step, but its shoe fell over what seemed like the peel of a banana. The doppelganger comically fell over, and the real Aramus saw an ephemeral spirit giving a salute in his general direction. Aramus returned the salute, snapping to attention.
The swirling energy that was gathering above the fake Aramus was gone and glowing particles started to rise up from the fallen counterfeit. His size shrunk and he looked exactly the same as Aramus with his old robe.
“I had failed… my liege. I… I could not protect…”
As Aramus recovered his original form from the lightning, the fake was long gone. Three black orbs entered him and he was whole in all ways.
“Please tell me if I end up like him,” Aramus said, letting out a breath he had been holding. Turning to Sasha, he held out the stone she had given him. “So, are you the real one or not? Either way, thanks.”
Sasha stood beside the black-skinned woman, who was beside the ephemeral woman. Needless to say, they all stood beside each other before the exit.
“...Of course I’m real,” Sasha replied in a matter-of-factly tone. “Who else do you think would give you a real slinging stone?”
“A what?” Aramus said, dropping the stone into her palm.
“Something David used a long time ago to kill a certain Goliath?”
“Why do you even have something like that?” Aramus countered, looking at the stone and Sasha in a new light.
“I stole it. I mean, I got it. Don’t ask me how,” Sasha said in a hushed tone before turning back to her usual lazy self with a yawn.
Aramus raised both hands in surrender before turning to Paimon and his other resident spirit. He flipped the fan around so that the handle faced the Djinn. “Thanks for always helping me out, I haven’t finished the quest yet so like the †˜fake’ said, here.”
“I shall be waiting for when you’ll be ready to use me again.” Paimon, the dark-skinned woman, bowed as she accepted the fan.
“And now, you,” Aramus muttered whilst looking down at the last of his supporters. “Is it only times like these that I get to see you?” He placed his hands on his hips, adopting a lecturing pose as he spoke to the “troublesome” spirit of his.
The spirit looked down as the so-called teacher took his pose. “Y…Yes, we spirits are invisible in the human world.”
“Even then, I don’t know what you’re doing,” Aramus muttered, placing a hand on his forehead. “Still, it’s good to know that someone is keeping an eye on me. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry… I’m always causing trouble when I try to help,” the woman apologized, bowing like any Japanese would.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, waving her apology off before bowing in return. “I’ll be in your care from now on, please take care of me. Heh, this is a first for us since we never saw each other right?”
“Yes, it is. My name is Binbougami. I will be in your care too.” The woman bowed.
Hearing this name, Aramus realized that he had heard of it before when looking into the Japanese culture. The god of bad luck was actually a goddess? Moreover, now that he looked at her again, her hair was mysteriously tied with a hand fan too.
“Does the extent of your power only affect me? I’ve always wondered about it,” Aramus inquired Binbougami.
“I don’t really know…”
“I guess that’s fine. Does any other spirit trouble you for hanging around someone like me? We are from opposing countries after all.”
“Sometimes… and Her Majesty is scary.”
“I’m sure there’s someone or someplace else that gives you less trouble. I don’t want you getting flak for hanging around me. It’s not right.” Aramus chuckled at how Binbougami had described Her Majesty, acceding the point to her. “Yeah, I imagine she can be sometimes.”
“Well, you should get going,” Binbougami said, ushering to the door behind them.
“Yeah, you’ve spent ninety-eight years within the trials so far,” Sasha said while snickering.
“I wish you luck in your battle,” Paimon said before expressing her anxieties. “Although I don’t know how you’ll fare without my aid…”
“I’ll manage somehow,” Aramus said as he walked past the trio and stepped through the door, waving them off like a child would to his over anxious mother. “Always have.”