Aisenfield
March 29, 2024, 02:17:01 am
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
News: Somebody's drunk and I hope it's me!!
 
  Home Help Arcade Gallery Staff List Login Register  

Oblivion's Joy

Pages: 1 ... 14 15 [16] 17   Go Down
  Print  
Author Topic: Oblivion's Joy  (Read 16838 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
Kenta.....
Fallible Human Being
Esteemed Members
Resident
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 786


Emotionally Retarded



Badges: (View All)
Linux User Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Mobile User
« Reply #225 on: June 25, 2012, 10:18:59 pm »

It was a little after eight o' clock when Lloyd Irving came across someone he had been looking for in the common room, sitting slumped upon a cushioned chair.  He approached rapidly, then checked himself and slowed his pace just before making it to the white-haired figure.

"Hey, Neige?" he started.  "It's been a few hours now, and you've had your fun, but I would really, really appreciate it if you took those pictures of me off of Facebook now.  Please.  Someone I know at home is bound to see them soon, and you don't understand, she will never let me live it down."

The white-haired person didn't move.  Lloyd bent down and glanced closer, against his better judgment.  His eyes widened in surprise as he suddenly realized who it really was.  Without the hair bound up in a braided ponytail, he looked so disturbingly like her-

"I'm sorry, Kenta!" Lloyd gasped, raising his voice automatically.  "I thought you were- I mean, I didn't know- forget what I said, alright?"

Kenta looked up at him with empty eyes.  Lloyd took a step back with a lump rising in his throat, suddenly unable to speak.  He had seen this kind of thing before, back when Mithos had still been in power.  The false angels . . . and Colette at one point . . . reproduced in the blank face of a friend he had just barely gotten to know.  Lloyd had once overcome this plague of emotionless with the help of the Eternal Sword, yet it had resurfaced anew in the form of the Mark, and those who had taken it.  The reason Lloyd had lent his twin blades to DHO in the first place, was to keep this void from spreading to any more people.  Yet here was one who had no Mark, whose soul yet lay in a coma.

"Kenta."  Lloyd got down on one knee so that he could be on face level with his companion.  "Hey, come on, now.  I need you to look at me.  Kenta!"

Very slowly, abnormally slow, Kenta's eyes came into focus.  They were the only change upon his face, the rest still stamped expressionless.  It was a conditioned response, nothing more.  Recognition of his name drew him from his stupor, but he had no will to listen to anyone right now, or do anything.

A different voice spoke from across the common room.  "I advise you wait until later this evening to tell him what you want."

Lloyd glanced behind him, at the rocking chair by the threshold were he had rushed in.  It gave not the slightest creak, yet its occupant, a man in a henna-colored duster coat, went back and forth in a rhythmic fashion.  Lloyd recognized him as Kristora's father, the Durai man who healed the injured like a shaman ancient.  Lloyd would have asked anyone, but luckily for him, this person was most ideal to answer.  He stretched out his hands in frustration.  "What's wrong with him?"

"It's nothing abnormal, and nothing incurable," Merlin assured him, not missing a beat in his rocking.  "Kenta is simply a defeatist."

"Oh."  Lloyd relaxed, and glanced back at the unmoving torso in the chair.  To his shame, he felt a hint of disgust for the person he had so quickly become kindred spirits with before.  "But that's . . ."  The minor disgust unraveled into unabashed anger.  "How can he let that affect him, when so much is at stake?  None of us have the luxury of feeling sorry for ourselves at this time!"

"We all have our problems," said Merlin gently, rocking back and forth.  "But the fear of defeat is no longer a demon you face, Lloyd.  You have remarkably strong hope and enthusiasm, from what I have seen.  It is people such as you that draw people like him up from the valley of despair."

"Then why won't he answer me?" asked Lloyd more softly now, looking back at Kenta yet again.

"Because this defeatist mindset was magnified by an extraordinary circumstance," said Merlin, calm as ever.  "Kristora filled me in.  Let me ask you, Lloyd: have you ever fought an enemy who turned out to be more than you could handle?"

"Yeah.  Quite a few times, actually."  Lloyd put a finger to his forehead as he thought it through.  "The Elite from the Underworld . . . my first encounter with Mithos . . . Abbyssion."  He cringed.  "What a nightmare that one was."

"Some of our lesser opponents will be about their level," continued Merlin in an even voice.  Rock, rock.  Rock, rock.  "But at least you and I can wrap our minds around that, difficult as it is.  We cannot do so for Maia."

Lloyd blinked, stunned for a moment.  Merlin went on.  "I believe Kenta may have tried to.  Perhaps he attempted to imagine someone stronger than his first Sensei, stronger even than Arturia.  It was a wise, and yet foolish decision.  It brought him to the rational conclusion that he and his friends would die.  And he reacted."

"I'm sorry, let me make sure I heard correctly . . ."  Lloyd had one eye squeezed tightly shut, a sign that he was deeply distressed.  "They tasked Kenta with destroying Maia?"

"It's more complex than that, of course," said Merlin, never changing his tone, or his rocking pattern.  "But it's the same in the end.  The idea that they could emerge victorious is folly and ignorance.  Yet it must necessarily happen, and they have the means to succeed.  The amount of divine intervention required would eclipse that of David when he faced Goliath.  But oh, hope.  What a stubborn and unyielding emotion."

"Sounds to me like you're suffering from a little defeatism yourself," observed Lloyd, raising an eyebrow at Merlin.

"On the contrary," replied the latter, "I have never been more hopeful in my life.  I like to think that I am a man of great faith."

"But Kenta apparently isn't," pointed Lloyd.

"Not yet.  But he doesn't need that to be revived."  Merlin stopped rocking, and Lloyd could hear footsteps approaching.  "He just needs to be fooled into thinking they can succeed again.  Ah . . . what a callous thing of me to say."

It was then that Dalias and Albireo came in through the opposite corridor, silent as the grave.  Lloyd looked at them, and wondered if they had been this quiet for the whole trip up.  With Albireo not talking, at least, the walk was probably very awkward.

The two newcomers made momentary eye contact with Merlin, and then the latter turned his gaze to Kenta.  It was all the communication they needed.  Dalias crossed his arms and shook his head disapprovingly, eying Kenta.  "If this is how he is now, what can we expect of him when we're fighting?  What could have we expected, anyway?"

Albireo said nothing, but hunched down before Kenta until they held eye contact.  It continued for about a minute, before Lloyd's curiosity overwhelmed him again.  He glanced at Merlin, who was watching the staring contest as if it were the final few seconds of a high-stakes horse race.

"Merlin?  What are they doing?"

"I asked them to come," the older man replied.  "The irate one is the squad leader.  The silent one is the anchor and powerhouse."

Lloyd checked to make sure he was seeing properly; Merlin's mouth hadn't moved.

"It's telepathy, Lloyd.  Right now, the less attention we draw to ourselves, the better."

Lloyd got the hint, and said nothing else.  Merlin kept him in the loop.  "On the night that Lucian's Castle fell, there was a tremendous surge of battle energies on the training grounds.  The auras did everything from making people faint, to disorienting their focus, to increasing the fighting spirit of lesser warriors.  Albireo is giving Kenta a concentration of his own energy."

Lloyd wondered why.

"I mentioned earlier that Kenta's defeatism could be overcome by a powerful hope of winning.  Albireo and Dalias are bearing their true strength to him right now, through their auras.  They are assuring him that the job will get done, if they are on the team.  Normally, one only witnesses such transparency as a privilege, but it was a solution to the diagnosis in this case."

Life returned to Kenta's eyes.  Albireo stood upright, and Kenta looked him full in the face, features now blazing with determination.  Snapping to attention, he gave a crisp bow, and Albireo nodded.  Dalias merely turned around, and the two left as quietly as they had come.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better about things," said Merlin, with warmth in his voice.  "Are you ready to back Neige up?"

"I am nothing," said Kenta, looking their way and smiling fiercely.  "But I am part of an incredible team.  I will do my best to fulfill our purpose, if only as a distraction to the enemy."

"That's the spirit!" said Lloyd, grinning.  Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted: "But what about Maia?"  Then again, before he could kick himself, Kenta answered.  "Yes, she is a major threat.  Antichrist is a major threat.  But cringing from either is not the appropriate response.  For as long as we have free will, I choose to do what I can without letting fear oppress me."

"Heh . . . heh, heh, heh, heh . . ."  Lloyd allowed himself to laugh, and sighed.  "After hearing you talk like that, I actually wish I could go with you."  He turned to leave, but glanced back at Merlin, sadly.  "Well, you were right.  It worked."

***

No, the Durais will not taking part in the mission.
Report Spam   Logged

Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.
Kenji
Admincat
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 21238


Harem Master


WWW
Badges: (View All)
Nineth year Anniversary Search Eighth year Anniversary Seventh year Anniversary 20000 Posts
« Reply #226 on: July 08, 2012, 10:25:34 pm »

Social Studies

"Looks like we'll be fighting again soon, huh?" Kenji asked, stopping with Maxima under an old white tree. After the briefing on the mission at hand, the ronin had asked his charge - and now ally - to accompany him to the gardens. In truth, he had been relieved when she agreed, though wondered at the time whether it was a genuine response, or acting out of obligation for her current status. Regardless of that, here they now were.

"Are you worried?" Maxima questioned in return, sitting down under the tree. She rested her back against the trunk, subtlely wiggling around for a moment to help get comfortable.

Kenji shook his head, resting his hands on his hips as he took a moment to stretch before his response. "Not at all, but perhaps I should be..." He paused, turning and glancing down at the raven-haired swordswoman, leaning against the tree trunk. "What about you?"

"I am," she began, finally settling in. "I'll be fighting against my ex-comrades, people whom I know and respect. I am more aware of their abilities than any of you. It's a legit cause for concern."

The Dawnblade sighed, stepping away from the aged tree long enough to slide down and sit next to Maxima, planting his back gently against it afterward. "I don't doubt your former comrades are powerful. If your abilities are any indication, theirs mean we'll have a significant chance of seeing casualties on our side..." He let silence prevail for a moment as he pondered the fight to come. The battle with Maxima at Luminarium was a challenge in itself, as was surviving against the possessed Lucian. To combat Monad's other brightest, strongest, and most skilled would easily be his greatest fight yet; it made him wonder how others, like the Daitan swordsman, felt about it. Beginning to change gears, Kenji smiled to himself. "I'll worry about it when the time comes to deploy. For now, I brought you here to talk about lighter topics instead."

Maxima blinked, turning to look at him with wider, curious eyes. "Oh?"

"Well, you asked me to spend more time with you, which is why I brought you here, but I'd also like to get to know you better." He paused for a moment, remembering something from a previous conversation that made him smile, containing his amusement. "Besides, the last time I tried to learn more about you, that chat ended with your measurements."

He laughed, mostly to conceal his own surprise and embarrassment from that moment in time, to which Maxima merely smiled at him, her cheeks reddening, very likely at the thought of her brazen move from before. Her tone seemed more subdued, even shy as she formed a response. "Well, excuse me for my social ineptness, Kenji." That makes two of us, thought the ronin. He was yet amazed they could come this far in casual conversation without an error on his part. Regardless, Maxima sat upright, facing him, prompting Kenji to do the same out of politeness. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

Kenji cocked his head as he mulled over the question for a moment, his gaze not leaving Maxima. "For starters, what kind of things do you like?"

The card swordswoman looked away for a moment, taking her turn to think on it. "I'm... Not very interesting. I'm quite obsessed with improving myself." She turned back to meet his eyes again as she continued. "Other than that, I'm into romance novels, since I'm quite... Lacking in that department." Scratching her cheek in embarrassment, her head tipped back slightly, looking at the cherry blossoms above. "I can do a bit of cooking as a hobby, but that's about it. I'm not very talented outside of fighting."

For a moment, it looked like Kenji was dumbstruck by something. He was, truthfully, because it finally hit him exactly how similar the two of them were. Lack of social aptitude, fixed on self-improvement, frequent reader, the whole nine yards. His only following reaction was to laugh. He was in equal parts relieved and pleased; it would make their time together that much easier, even if neither of them were great at talking to the other.

After a while, Kenji calmed down from his bout of revelry and met Maxima's gaze once more, her curious eyes appraising him before he started to explain. "It sounds like we're not all that different. Kind of a relief, huh?" Her response was to smile awkwardly, partly out of shame of her own social incompetence. He continued, "To start with, I've been a bit of a training nut since I was young, partly because of necessity, and partly out of a personal desire to grow stronger. This morning is a good example." Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Kenji offered his charge a smile. "When I'm not training, though, I'm usually reading something, typically a romance novel or something related to biology, but I'm open to anything I come across. I've been fond of books for as long as I can remember."

Maxima's smile became less awkward and more genuine, giggling to herself, possibly out of amusement for her own thoughts. "Looks like we're disturbingly similar... 'Birds of the same feather', I guess?"

The Dawnblade chuckled, "I'd say so." He took another moment to process the similarities. It was a sincere relief, really, that he had found someone who seemed so much like him. Unlike him, though, Maxima had goals, and seemed to know her purpose in life. That was a defining difference between the two of them, one he decided to keep to himself for the moment. Maintaining the light-hearted mood, he continued with an afterthought. "I used to spend so much time in libraries, it would drive my sister insane."

"You have a sister?" Maxima asked, her curiosity renewed.

"Marie. We were close, that's for sure." Kenji rested his head against the trunk, reminiscing as he spoke.

"She was an energetic, happy-go-lucky girl. I don't think there was a single person she met who didn't like her, but she chose to stay closest to me." He paused to chuckle, a pleasant if amusing memory gracing his mind. "Our mother once made the joke that we would get married."

"That sounds lovely," the raven-haired woman commented, as if trying to envision this girl being described to her. "I wish I had a sibling."

"They're fun, that's for sure." Kenji fell quiet again, closing his eyes. Another calm moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. "She should be twenty-two years old now, all grown up... I hope she's doing well," Kenji confided, mumbling the last part under his breath, as if ashamed of why he had to hope, and not know. Whether because she didn't pick it up, or wasn't willing to pry, Maxima made no comment on his hushed statement. After a few seconds, he brought his head back up off the bark and turned to face her again. "So, what about you? Any family at home?"

Maxima needed little time to think over her response, picking up after he stopped to listen. "Just my father. My mother passed away while giving birth to me. He's a very strict man, so it's safe to say I've never gotten close to him at all." Kenji wasn't necessarily surprised, but it did give him more insight on her father. Still, he was compelled to ask a potentially obvious question.

"Did your father ever talk about your mother?" He opened.

Maxima gave him a quizzical look. "Whatever for?"

"Sentiment, maybe?"

"Someone like him? No," she concluded.

There was little else to say on the subject, and letting it linger in the air like this would only make things awkward. Kenji had to ask something, or better yet, get her talking instead. "Was there anything you wanted to ask me? I'm an open book."

Maxima hesitated, "Um... Well..." She seemed to know exactly what she wanted to ask, but was uncertain as to if she should. It only made the ronin all the more curious, giving her an appraising look not very different from the one he received previously. "Perhaps it's a little late for me to ask this, considering my earlier brashness, but you're not... Attached, are you?"

"A-attached? W-well, no," came the shaky response. It wasn't out of dishonesty, as Kenji truly was a single man. He had been caught off-guard once again by this beautiful lady's bold, if hesitant, demeanor.

"I see. Maybe we can try going out after this is over." Without the slightest bit of hesitation, though some restrained shyness, Maxima made her suggestion. Though the Dawnblade was less surprised now by this, it still made him wonder.

Particularly about where this could lead, if they survived.

"You know, I may take you up on that," came his response with a gentle smile.
Report Spam   Logged

Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #227 on: July 18, 2012, 06:51:57 am »

Let’s get this thing started.


Beginning of the End, Part 1

It was almost midnight when the assault team arrived in Istanbul, while the secondary party neared the power station housing the back-up generators. Despite the pitch darkness of the cloudless sky, the streets were brightly lit with countless rows of lamp posts. There was something off, in both locations. They were too empty, devoid of life. The stench of death was already thick in the air, before even stepping foot into their destinations. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu was rising in the hearts of those who had experienced the hell in Luminarium, for the horrid smell was all too reminiscent. Lei could feel his stomach wrenching from the odor. An undercurrent of anger was boiling within him. The desecration of the dead that Louis condoned disgusted him. All the more reason to take Monad down.

The head assassin brought his hand to his ear, pressing down on the wireless earpiece. He wanted to have a line of communications with the secondary party to be updated on the situation on their side. And it was no different from his, according to Dalias. Nevertheless, there was to be no change in the plan. An assault is an assault. The undead present would be an enemy nonetheless were they still alive, and they would be taken down the same. Moreover, the dead lack intelligence, acting upon the orders of the commanding necromancer. They pose a lesser threat than living foes in terms of cunning and wisdom. That thought perturbed Lei further. Louis ought to know such a fundamental fact, which could only mean that he wanted them to reach him. It was some sort of trap, and Lei was not sure if he should spring it, but it was too late not to.

“Aozaki in position,” crackled the earpiece. It was Touko, who was notably miffed about having to pair up with her much despised sister. The rest of the assault team reported their readiness following her, until it was up to Lei to give the call to begin the offensive. He inhaled deeply, pushing down the anxiety threatening to paralyze him, and gripped the hilt of his blade tightly in his hand.  This was it, the final showdown. “This is Lei. All units, attack.”

An explosion of blinding azure went off from the north the instant after his order was given, and it was easily identifiable as Miss Blue’s energy beam, for her renown in destruction was like no other. It was a decent distraction, although likely useless against Alastor. There were two tiny specks of moving figures as well, clashing and scaling up the HQ swiftly, no doubt one being the half-devil and the other being Ramirez. Only those two could reach such incredible speeds. The Earth Sentinel entered the main entrance with Shiki and Alphard in the lead, one touting a well-polished katana and the other with an enormous broadsword. As he had expected, the garden was infested with the undead, and the imposing figure of Alastor Caelum floated in the air, right above the entrance into the headquarters building. The old Sentinel furrowed his brows, sizing his opponents quietly, while the zombies begun their march.

“Leave this to me!” exclaimed Alphard, her ebony hair fluttering wildly behind her as the blunt end of her blade burst into concentrated flames like a jet propeller. With a stomp, she shot towards the crowd at an incredible velocity, cleaving through the meat wall in a single, clean swing. Shiki began her assault, vanishing from her spot and to the elder Caelum instantaneously, slamming her sword down on him with the ferocity of a tiger. Lei released his limiter during their battle, his electrical form tearing through any obstacle in his path as he made a beeline for the generator within the building. This was the time to put his faith in his friends.

*

“Oh, Aozaki. It’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?” A blond German in his twenties, ostensibly dressed in a crimson caped suit, much like a magician’s outfit, stood before the elevator door of the rear entrance, his arms spread wide to welcome the Aozakis. He had a half-crazed grin on his face, a bad attempt at hiding anticipation. It was clear how much he wanted to face off against the two magi of Color titles, perhaps to prove himself superior. A direct descendent of the famous Agrippa of the Renaissance era, Cornelius Alba was not lacking in magical talents, but he was surpassed by the Puppetmaster in Runology while they studied together years ago, resulting in an inferiority complex and an obsession with her. “I’ve been looking forward so MUCH to fight you!”

“That’s nice,” replied Touko unenthusiastically, smiling wryly at the red-clad mage.

“THAT’s the look! That condescending face of yours…!” growled Cornelius, gritting his teeth furiously and veins popping up on his face. “I’ve had it with that cocky attitude of yours! You’ve always been looking down on me! Hahah…! No more…! I’ll show you!”

Aoko snorted in derision, not at the enemy, but at her sister. “You’ve got some real fine friends, huh? But I suppose it’s fitting, considering you.”

“You’re no better, woman. You attract just as much crazy,” snapped Touko, gesturing for KOS-MOS to move forward to protect her. “Take Saphiel, for example.”

“Yeah? You have Shiki working in your agency,” retorted Aoko, crossing her arms. “Who’s the crazier one now?”

“HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME!? Such impudence…! I’m going to DESTROY you insolent fools!” Cornelius stepped away from the elevator door, and as it opened, the Aozakis widened their eyes in surprise. It was a gynoid, a replica of KOS-MOS in extreme likeness, in a different color scheme. Touko spit her cigarette on the floor and extinguished it with the tip of her shoe, glaring at the copy. Considering how big the project for KOS-MOS was, and that it involved the E.S. Corps, it should not have been a surprise that the blueprints were known to Monad in one way or another. And the Puppetmaster was not happy about it. “T-elos, destroy them! Tear them from limb to LIMB!”

The Blue Magus cracked her knuckles, grinning excitedly from ear to ear. “I can’t wait.”

*

Aspetta un minuto (Wait a minute)! What’s going on here!?” Lorenzo swerved away from an incoming beast the size of a grizzly bear, jamming his hidden blade into the throat of an undead the moment he rose to his feet and slicing the neck apart from the torso before spinning around to face the monster. His movements were swift and graceful, befitting of his title as the grandmaster of the Italian Assassins. Nevertheless, he was having second thoughts about being in a fight against this thing. It was a gigantic creature with stripped yellow fur like that of a tiger, but it had the body of a raccoon dog and the head of a monkey, in addition to a snake for a tail. It seemed to be some strange type of chimera, but Sirius knew better, being a part of the Holy Church in charge of demon extermination. He immediately identified it as a Nue, a monster in the Japanese mythology, first mentioned in the Tale of the Heike in 1153. “What’s this meaning of this!?”

However, that was not the only monster inhabiting the grounds. There was an enormous spider, Tsuchigumo, with a hideous face of a demon, its size comparable to that of a tank, a green horse, Kelpie, that lacked half its body, with mane drenched as though it had just surfaced from water, an unkempt, red-skinned Balinese witch spirit, Rangda, with nails as long as her forearm, and a small youthful girl with dead pale skin, Moh Shuvuu, whose flowing violet hair seemed to also function as wings. Then there was Q. And Raidou Kuzunoha. He was their foe. There was no explanation from him, not a single word from his lips. The devil summoner had betrayed them.

*

Chains whipped across the battlefield speedily, tearing the undead into minced meat. Rider recalled her weapons to her arms, backing away to allow Shanoa to take center stage. Black wings protruded from the tattoos on her back, pushing her forward into the battle. Making use of her momentum, she pulled a lance out of her arm in one smooth motion, driving the front end through an entire row of zombies relentlessly, spraying pools of blood and organs across the ground.

Clank!

Shanoa paused, looking up at whatever that halted her. “…A woman?”

Hysterical laughter came from the end of her lance, a laugh that sent chills down the Executor’s spine. It was a white-haired woman, dressed half in black and half in white, with a bat-like wing on the former side and an angelic wing on the other. Her body seemed stitched together, although not immediately visible or obvious. She seemed human enough, but her mental state was undeniably deranged. Could she be some kind of biological weapon? A superior form of an undead? Whatever the case, it seemed wise for Shanoa to retreat from her, and she did so with a flap of her ebony wings, landing beside the blindfolded assassin. “What the hell is she?”

“She’s a Nephilim, a class of fallen angel. She’s the one responsible for the undead,” replied the sultry assassin, pulling back from their new enemy. Bringing her hand up to her face, she tore the magenta visor off, revealing a set of pink irises beneath. A pair of eyes as beautiful as crystals, an abnormality no human should possess. The Mystic Eyes of Petrification. It was utterly clear what her true identity was, and that her name was but a title. “Shanoa, for your own safety, please stand back.”

*

The screeching of metal was painfully piercing to the ears, and Spica, whose senses were sharper than that of a human, shrieked angrily at the mute Antares, who had suited into a giant set of vermillion armor, the Maximillian. He stood firm against a six-legged monstrosity of a weapon with a titanic shield by its side, and a massive sword floating on the other. It was the Immortal, the machine Lei had warned them about, and he was spot-on. Leona Tyler was nearby as well, facing off against the Felinefolk and Alkaid.

Antares hardly gave any form of acknowledgement to Spica, for he was focused solely in the duel of the titans. With four arms and blades, he had an advantage of numbers against the mech, but the latter had strength that he did not, and a defense that was nigh impregnable. He needed to outmaneuver it. Alkaid dived down from the sky, weaving through the limbs of the Immortal, materializing swords and wedging them into the gaps in the monster’s joints, immobilizing it before she slipped out and charged towards Leona, who was preoccupied with the Felinefolk of the same class.

The Monad brawler dodge rolled away from the incoming Featherfolk, leaping back to her feet in the next instant to defend herself against Spica. At that very moment, Antares stomped forth, shaking the earth as he charged like a bull, sending the Immortal crashing into the ground.

“Ha! Take that!” exclaimed Alkaid triumphantly at Leona, who was gritting her teeth in fury, still under the assault from the relentless Felinefolk. The Immortal’s Centaurion Blade soared at breakneck speed past them, taking Antares down to the floor with an impactful din. The redhead stared at her fallen comrade in disbelief, before being knocked down herself with Spica’s body. “Woah!”

Leona pulled herself to her feet, wiping the blood from her lips angrily. “Don’t get cocky, bitch!”

*

“It is an honor to engage in combat with you, Sir Pantarei.”

“Hm. Likewise, Regulus. I have always wanted to meet the wielder of the Galantine,” replied the ivory-haired man monotonously, his face cold and emotionless. He had a slender, seemingly frail frame, but beneath that deceiving exterior was one of the world’s strongest swordsman. Like Maxima, he hailed from Greece, but he was trained under the best of the best. Beside him, a German black knight, with hair like flowing fire, stood stoically, a long sword by his side. He was Asch von Fabre, known to his foes as Asch the Bloody. Between the both of them, they had brought down more assassins than Lei could keep count. They were both incredibly capable warriors, but one hated mankind while the other lacked a sense of humanity. Drawing the Dein Nomos from his belt, Duke faced his adversaries, his blood red eyes studying his enemies. “The wielder of the Excalibur, as well.”

Arturia did not respond, gripping the Sword of Promised Victory tighter, till her knuckles whitened beneath her gauntlets.

“Enough of the pleasantries, Duke,” growled Asch, readying his blade. “That woman is the vessel of Atma. Don’t let your guard down.”

Duke’s attention shifted towards Alina. “Asch von Fabre, let this be clear to you. I have slain more than just monsters and humans. She will be no different. Do not get in my way.”

*

Second Force

Fifty miles away from the headquarters of Istanbul, the secondary force had arrived at the Constantinopoli Power Station. Corpses lay scattered and smoking across the tiled floor, torn and blasted with steel and bullets. Dalias sheathed his bloodied Vorpal Blade into his jacket casually, stepping over the dead without a hint of pressure. Anastasia had stationed herself atop a nearby building, primed to snipe and provide cover fire for her allies, while Aya Brea was asked to stand guard outside, for she had the greatest advantage over the undead. Albireo took the lead beside the balding Wonderland assassin, while Neige, Kenta and Saphiel followed behind them silently, nerves creeping up to them at the thought of facing off against the invincible True Vampire. The Head Executor was another immortal, but how strong can a human really be?

Neige cast a glance at Kenta worriedly, but to her surprise, he was fired up with determination. He seemed ready to take down anything in his way. What overcame him? He seemed so insecure before. She would have asked him about it if she was not feeling so nervous about the whole thing. After all, she was the one who had to end Maia’s life. To do what only the Wizard Marshall had done so many years ago that it could have been just a myth. “I could sure use some of his confidence right now…”

“Scared?” asked Dalias, glancing over at the Ice Witch.

“Shut up,” barked Neige snappily, avoiding eye contact. She knew that he could see through her bravado, but she wanted to keep up with appearances. Fake it till you make it, as the saying goes. If she lied to herself enough, maybe she will start to believe it.

“I apologize. It was insensitive of me,” replied the assassin smoothly, though the albino was unconvinced of his sincerity. “Rest assured; Albireo and I will keep you three safe.”

Albireo did not join their conversation, swiftly taking out any remaining undead that blocked his path to the engine room with quick swipes of his spear. It was an uneventful journey that would have been more threatening had their enemies been alive and armed, but Neige would rather not complain about it. It was in their favor, although what waited at the end was definitely not. The lack of action was worsening her anxiety. Everything was going too effortlessly. Then again, if the guard was an infallible creature, one would likely not place more regard for defense.

Eventually, they reached the last room. Dalias opened the door slowly.

“Welcome.”

Neige clenched her teeth, trying her best not to show fear, but her legs were trembling. She grasped the Jewel Sword tighter as her palms started to sweat, afraid that she might drop her one and only way to eliminate the True Vampire. Saphiel summoned a magic circle around them immediately before the conversation could continue, adding status buffs and invulnerabilities against debilitations to themselves. Maia snickered at the Featherfolk’s attempt to protect the party, hopping off the towering generator and onto the floor harmlessly. Her arm was still missing from Shiki’s attack, Neige noted. Not that she would get much weaker, however.

Maia smirked. “You are my enemies? I must say, I’m a little disappointed.”

The Head Executor brandished his spear, entering his battle stance without a word. The rest of the group followed suit, ready to fight her.

“Tsk tsk, don’t be in such a hurry to die, children. I have a present for the little bird,” spoke the vampire, snapping her fingers. “Xion, show yourself.”

“X-Xion?” stammered Saphiel, eyes widening. “Y-you can’t possibly m-mean…”

A blur of black and white plummeted down into the middle of the party, sending an outward shockwave that separated the warriors from each other. As Saphiel recovered from the impact, she looked up at the new attacker in bewilderment. The Featherfolk wanted to gasp, but her voice failed her. She was so dumbstruck that she did not know how to react. It was another Featherfolk, with one wing of ebony and the other of ivory, dressed in a simple shirt and jeans. He wielded no weapons, but he wore two rings, a ruby in one and a sapphire in the other, both glowing with a light of their own, perhaps some kind of a power source for him. More importantly, he had a mechanized crown attached to his head, and it was no mere décor. Saphiel recognized it in her studies, as did Neige. It was a Slave Crown, an equipment to control the wearer’s mind. In that single moment, Saphiel understood what was going on, and her shock turned to fury. “You enslaved my brother…!”

“What are you going to do about that, little bird? Kill me?” Maia laughed, basking in the schadenfreude. “I suggest you try to save your brother instead!”

“Uwaaaargh!!!” Shockwaves of magic exploded from the mind-controlled Featherfolk, who was writhing in pain from resisting the device. It pained Saphiel to see her brother in such agony, yet in one corner of her heart, she was delighted. One of her kin was still alive, and she wanted to save him.

“Xion! Don’t give up! Hang in there!” yelled Saphiel, flying over to him. “I’ll save you, I promise!”

“Saphiel, do what you must,” spoke Albireo. “The rest of us will handle Maia.”

“Handle me? Ha! You’re hilarious, Executor.”

The spearman smirked. “He who laughs last.”



Visit http://megamitensei.wikia.com/wiki/Megami_Tensei_Wiki for images of the demons in Raidou’s possession.

Cornelius Alba:


T-elos:


Nebilim:




The Immortal: http://finalfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Immortal_%28Final_Fantasy_XIII%29

Duke:



Asch:



Xion:

Report Spam   Logged

Kenji
Admincat
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 21238


Harem Master


WWW
Badges: (View All)
Nineth year Anniversary Search Eighth year Anniversary Seventh year Anniversary 20000 Posts
« Reply #228 on: July 21, 2012, 07:40:26 pm »

Enjoy my impressively long post. I had fun with this fight post, not only typing out the lore, but the combat itself.

--------------------------

The betrayal of the Devil Summoner didn’t faze Kenji much. What concerned him more were the demons he’d brought to the field. Though potentially not as knowledgeable as Sirius, he’d done enough reading to recognize the lot of them, save for Q, who he only identified by her single-lettered name from reading reports.

First was Lorenzo’s immediate adversary, the legendary Nue. Despite its mismatched body and parts, it possessed immense might. Fabled to bring about misfortune and illness with its arrival, the demon’s appearance in the Tale of the Heike seemed to do it little justice in the flesh; its muscles practically bulged with every movement as it attempted to crush the aged assassin. Next was Tsuchigumo, literally called ‘earth spider’. Though they were supposedly a mythological creature based off a certain clan from the past ages of Japan, this one was very real, as was the blast of webbing it shot toward the Dawnblade, who incinerated it with a burst of flames.

As the counterspell turned out successful, a gust of wind blew out the lingering fire. The gale was the product of Moh Shuvuu, the end result of a Buryatian folktale. The story told of a young girl who died before she could know what love felt like, and had a habit of luring men to isolated areas before killing them in an avian body. However, she clearly took on a feminine form here as she attempted to assail Kenji with a fresh squall, only for it to be deflected by a Barrier. She refused to let up, this time deploying a wind blast primed with power. Kenji wisely leapt away, quickly finding himself faced with the next demon of the lot.

Rangda, the ‘demon queen of the Ieyaks’ in Balinese lore. Said to eat children and lead an army of witches against the forces of good, she wielded an array of hexes as any fabled witch might. Kenji knew as he saw her eyes, sunken in her mask-like face, light up with energy that one of those hexes was about to activate, likely on him. He primed a spell in his palm and unleashed it as the witch’s eyes flashed again. For a moment, he felt his strength wane, but return as his Dispel spell successfully fired. Seeing the failure of her hex, Rangda shrieked with rage and detonated a great ball of fire that threw Kenji from his feet, and into the air.

Though he managed to recover and land in a kneel, Kenji now found himself faced with the charging Kelpie. A pale green, half-bodied horse demon from Celtic lore, this was perhaps the one he was least familiar with; all he knew was that the creature apparently would trick children into climbing atop it to ride, then make its watery flesh adhesive and drag them into the depths. Kenji was about to put this to the test as he let sing a quartet of ethereal blades, the magic swords flying through the air and impaling themselves in the Kelpie’s flesh… To no visible effect. They were certainly stuck, something that Kenji thought to use to his advantage; all four swords detonated simultaineously in bursts of raw energy, staggering the demon and stopping its momentum short.

The ronin quickly stood up by this point and opted to dash into his own charge, hitting it with twin Thundaga Shots that collided with its face and electrified its wet form, prompting a pained neigh from the Kelpie. It was not down however, and quickly reformed from the earlier damage dealt by the exploding magic swords, ready to move again. A curious thing happened, however; its form appeared to solidify, no more appearing as a liquid mass, but something bound together. In his peripheral vision, Kenji could see Sirius holding a glowing paper talisman, and quickly withdrawing another as his attention appeared to turn toward something yet unseen. As Kenji turned his attention back to the altered Kelpie, Maxima lunged in front of him with clear initiative, darting toward the equine seabeast with her sword raised.

Having effectively been tagged out, Kenji opted to turn his attention back to the remaining demons, as well as his allies. Sirius appeared to now be in a ‘magic duel’ of sorts with the demon queen, Rangda; his experience with magic allowed the Dawnblade to discern that while Rangda attempted to use more flames and hexes, Sirius countered masterfully with talismans of water and anti-curses, whatever charm he’d used to turn Kelpie solid still brimming with power. Maxima, of course, had taken over the fight with the Kelpie, with the monstrous Tsuchigumo approaching to join the melee. Lorenzo continued evading and striking out at the Nue. Q, curiously enough, had yet to leave Raidou’s side, as if waiting for an order, or simply the opportunity to join in. All that remained was Moh Shuvuu, the avian ghost hovering toward the unoccupied Kenji as he spotted her.

A greenish cone of energy, powered by wind magic, greeted Kenji as he ran to meet Moh Shuvuu, the Japanese quickly darting off to one side and then past it, continuing onward. His adversary launched another spell, creating a small but formidable cyclone in Kenji’s path. Improvising, he hurled a fireball into the twister, the wind sucking it up and turning it into a flaming tempest. This was anticipated by the Dawnblade, and hoped for; he followed through with a high-pressured spray of water from his palm into the created tempest, dousing his own flames and effectively cancelling out all three spells. His hand now free again, he snatched up an ether syringe from his jacket and stuck it into his chest mid-run, injecting himself with fresh energy.

At the same time as he pressed down, Kenji leapt at Moh Shuvuu and brought the Yawarakai-Te to bear, slicing a neat gash into the avian girl’s red dress, and flesh. As she howled with pain uncharacteristic of someone who took a surface wound, it became clear what her weakness was. Kenji released the syringe, letting it fall out of his chest and to the ground as he followed into a series of two-handed swings, lining Moh Shuvuu’s form with quick cuts that elicited more pained yells. An uppercut slash sent her onto her back, laying on the ground in agony. Kenji held his conceptual weapon in one hand again, reaching with his other into his jacket and drawing his Desert Eagle. As the Buryat attempted to sit up, she found the gun’s barrel pressed to her forehead, Kenji unceremoniously putting a shot between her eyes. With one last howl in her death throes, Moh Shuvuu’s form fizzled away like a banished ghost; Kenji knew better than to think she was dead, as the Devil Summoner’s beasts did not die, only returning to him.

His victory was cut short as he glanced up, spotting Q darting at him with impressive speed from across the grounds. Kenji brought the Deagle up to squeeze off another round, Q opening her mouth and chomping down on the air before her. The bullet never made its mark, vanishing in a concentrated, local wave of void energy. “So that’s her ability,” thought the Dawnblade, “her bite sends anything in front of her into a void, rendering it nonexistent.” She quickly finished closing the distance, opening her mouth right before Kenji and his outstretched gun-wielding hand. He had little time to react, letting go of the Desert Eagle and lunging back. He made it just in time, though his firearm didn’t, vanishing into nothingness before Q’s closing maw. Perhaps it was for the best. He only wielded the gun as a back-up, but it typically wasn’t necessary most of the time; usually, his magic or sword did the trick.

Kenji landed further away from Q, and felt someone else behind him. He didn’t need to look, recognizing Maxima’s aura, and the familiar feel of her back against his as they stood in a classic ‘back-to-back’. To Kenji’s front was the void eater, Q; to Maxima’s was the earth spider, Tsuchigumo. Her blade dripped with not blood, but water; judging from it and the very new lack of a certain Celtic horse’s presence, Kenji could only assume she managed to execute Kelpie before Sirius’s talisman expired. Speaking of the Burial Agency magus, Kenji spied Rangda further off from him, meaning their duel must have broken. He couldn’t spot Lorenzo or the Nue, but he could hear the Japanese chimera’s fists fracturing the earth further off, suggesting their fight was still ongoing. The Dawnblade glanced over his shoulder roughly at the same time as the card swordswoman, meeting her gaze.

“Trade?” He offered.

“Alright,” came her response.

Both warriors turned and dashed past one another, flourishing their blades as they tagged off once more in an effort to keep the demons on their toes…
Report Spam   Logged

Kenta.....
Fallible Human Being
Esteemed Members
Resident
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 786


Emotionally Retarded



Badges: (View All)
Linux User Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Mobile User
« Reply #229 on: July 22, 2012, 02:37:09 am »

Interlude; The Time Before

***

How must it feel, for those next in line on death row to receive a notice that they may suddenly be let off?  Is there relief in the hope of living on?  Is there disappointment in the anticlimactic conclusion after years of waiting?  Or is there distrust in the possible turn of events?

Unable decide how to feel, Kenta did what he was becoming increasingly good at: distracting himself.  As of two hours prior to leaving, he now had a full head count on the group he would accompany, but there were few names he recognized.  Who were the mission's other occupants?  The DHO hideout was a large place; surely there would be a greater force storming the gates of Hell than just the obscure few names he'd caught.  So he went to all the familiar people he came across.  First up: his bunk-mate.

"Nope.  I'm not coming."  Corey glanced away from the three cement blocks he'd stacked in midair, but they didn't fall.  "I'm in Gamma, the 'standby' team.  If suspicion is true that Louis controls all people branded by the Mark, and he uses masses of them to wreak havoc, or act as hostages, or whatever, I report to the nearest teleportation area to help curb a crisis."

No Corey.  Next up: the Durais.

"We won't be going near any fighting," Kristora answered apologetically, eyes downcast.  "Daddy and I are here to heal anyone who can be pulled back off the battlefield.  Medics are in short supply, so . . . we can't have any of us dying amidst the fighting."

No Kristora or Merlin either.  But surely Lloyd would be coming . . .

"Yes and no," said Lloyd, who was lying on the floor while staring at the ceiling.  "I'm part of the Second Wave That Won't Be.  In short, if you guys aren't successful, well . . ."  He grimaced.  "Your task falls to people like me.  Can't have too many members in the party at once, you know?  You'll get in each others' way.  But if the first attack doesn't work, they're pretty sure I won't stand a chance."  Lloyd gritted his teeth, wearing a sour expression.  "It's not fair.  Why must we always struggle for our lives?"

At this point, the silence before the storm was deafening.  Kenta gave up on talking over it, and retreated to the hallway outside his bunk to warm up.  It was there that Valtor found him, doing push-ups.  Kenta felt a sudden increase of weight on his back, and he glanced up at the intruder.  Valtor crossed his arms.  "Don't quit.  You can bear this, easy."

"It'd be easier if you took those bricks out of your pockets."

"Har, har.  But seriously, I could stand on Leonn's back, and he was still able to do fifty push-ups while still in his armor."

"Really-?"  So, Leonn had become legitimately tougher, too.  Kenta hadn't taken him seriously enough.  But Valtor didn't need to know that.  "So, why were you making Leonn's training harder?"

"I'd come to say goodbye."

Kenta stopped midway.  Did that mean- "Leonn's going to Istanbul?"

"All of the Weretanks are going."  Valtor got up, but Kenta didn't notice the change of pressure.  The Weretanks were supposed to be the weakest division of the DHO.  Even with their armor, any one of them could be sublimated in a moment by a redirected killer spell.  Kenta was back on his feet so fast that he didn't remember doing it.  "WHY are they going?" he demanded.  "What could they possibly hope to accomplish?"

"They're doing what they've been training to do all along," Valtor explained, in a calm voice that unnerved Kenta.  "They'll be punching holes in the walls and dragging down the gates.  They're building-killers."

Kenta stopped and thought for a moment.  Oh . . . so that's why they aren't armed for combat.  That's why they can take loads of bullet fire, and keep coming.  But-

"The least of the main assault party is perfectly capable of blowing a hole through any structural barrier," Kenta fumed, heating up.  Charged, but not giving off electricity.  "They play such a small role, so why endanger themselves at all?"

"Naturally, all the big important people will have their hands full."  Valtor stared at Kenta, hands in his pockets.  "You know, for a little person who only wants to do what he can to help, I expected you to empathize the most in this matter."

"But Leonn's my friend and roommate!  You saw how worried I was for him back at the castle!"  Kenta's eyes flared at Valtor.  "I can't believe you knew he was going to his death, and all you did was say goodbye!  I thought you were a better person than that!"

Kenta was almost to the door when Valtor's words stopped him a second time.

"I didn't know if he was going anywhere.  I went to say goodbye to him, because I'm bound for Istanbul too."

Suddenly, Kenta couldn't move.  He wanted to, but his body had become a wax figure.  " . . . What?"

"I had a feeling you would take it like this," came Valtor's sighing voice from behind.  "I accepted the invitation from Ragnarok.  We'll be blessing every square inch of ground on the road to Hell.  We can't fight the demons directly, but we can sure make it more difficult for them to support the bad guys."

No words would come.  It didn't matter.  Kenta would not win this argument, no matter how badly he wanted to.  Valtor and Leonn were doing precisely what he himself was doing.  Wishing to partake in a battle for the souls of men, they had all willingly placed their lives on the line.  All were loathe to see the others die.  But each knew that it was not their place to argue, once the others had made a commitment.  Any surface-level attempts to talk each other out of battle would only bring out feelings of bitter hypocrisy.  Once Kenta accepted this, his only other regret was that he had not seen it coming: the day where they would all go out to fight.  Of course they would.  They wouldn't be here if they weren't going to.

Kenta felt an arm around his shoulder.  Valtor was comforting him.  He could think about how much he'd miss this, if he never saw Valtor again . . . or he could just savor the moment.  He chose the latter.

After a period of silence, he spoke his heart.

"I sure am going to worry about you on the field, bro."  You don't know what you've got, 'til it's gone.

"Then turn it into your motivation."  Valtor slapped Kenta's shoulder affectionately.  "We've all got our tasks to do out there, but getting through them will be nothing but a pain.  So I propose that you set up a reward for survival.  The sooner you make it through the affair, the sooner you can check to see how I'm doing.  I'll do the same on my end, and I'll tell Leonn, too."

Kenta forced a smile.  "So the name of the game is now patience."

"Until we run into things that keep us busy, yes.  Meanwhile, we're all together in spirit."  Valtor smiled, and shook Kenta's shoulders, as if to invigorate his spirit.  "Now, no more moping!  Antichrist is the enemy; we're on God's side.  Start acting like you're on the winning team!"

***

*Back to the present*

Seeing Maia properly for the first time had less of an effect on Kenta than he thought it would.  He had been briefed by everyone willing to talk to him about her.  Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound . . . or just cheat, and teleport past them.  And don't get anyone started on those regenerative powers.  Yes indeed, Maia was a super-entity who could probably level the whole continent, given enough time.  Kenta would not disrespect the advice of his allies by underestimating her.

And yet he could not be impressed by her.  Maia was not dressed in any elaborate clothing, nor was she remarkable in size or other appearance.  Furthermore, she spoke condescendingly to her opponents, as if it mattered what was said if she just planned to kill them all anyway.  It struck him as petty.  And if this dialogue all boiled down to boredom, if it was merely about keeping herself entertained after millennia of existence, that was even more pathetic.  Such a personality isn't meant to possess a body of such extraordinary capability, he decided in his mind, as Saphiel went one way, and Albireo turned the other, taking combat stance against Maia.  It's perverse.  I don't care how fearful an aura she projects at this point.  To run the Jewel Sword through her heart will be the best service we can render her.

Suddenly, and without warning, Maia's gaze was removed from Albireo, and upon him.  Immediately, his senses were flooded with her killing intent.  The sheer intensity of it astonished him, but it did not throw him off balance.  He had been told about force; he had now felt force.  Quelling a subconscious desire to tremble, he held out his hand, to show her the Aura Stone in his open palm.  For some reason, he had her attention, and that was probably unheard-of for someone of his ignoble stature.  He would not waste this chance.

"A gift from my brother," he said, looking at the Aura Stone, instead of the True Vampire just meters away.  "A few weeks ago, his friend was all ready to use this thing against a Caterchipillar.  Can you believe that?  He was going to waste it on an oversized worm, which ended up being splattered all over the grill of my van a second later.  Well, who am I to judge him?  He chose to use it on a monster insect.  But I choose to use it against you."

Maia's voice was pure ice.  "Since when does a speck of sand presume to talk back to the earth?" she asked, the Reaper carrying her words.  If she knew telepathy as well, Kenta was not surprised.  But he clutched the Aura Stone tighter, and warmth flooded his body.  "Many a capable warrior has died on the battlefield because of dust in his eye, rather than the worst natural disasters upon the earth."

His entire body glowed with a golden light, and he felt as though he weighed nothing at all.  So, this was Aura.  He felt no stronger, but it was as if he were in perfect sync with his body, knowing every limitation, and also the true potential that he normally had to dig for.  Maia was probably still faster than him, but he could time himself when to move, now.  If Dalias and Albireo did their part right, he would have his opening to at least accomplish their other objective: he would shatter that generator to bits.  And that, he dared hope, would be a sufficient distraction in Maia's mind.
Report Spam   Logged

Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.
Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #230 on: July 26, 2012, 11:04:07 am »

Beginning of the End, Part 2

A broadsword is typically known for its significant weight and size, forged to crush its foes under the hulking mass. Hence, wielders of said weapon were understandably slow, since it took effort just to carry it around. However, Alphard was anything but sluggish. The blunt end of her colossal weapon had built-in jet propellers, fueled by her own prana, the same technology used in Lei’s high frequency blade. With properly timed bursts, she could use the momentum to her advantage to evade and attack at incredible speeds, allowing the Executor to hold her own against Alastor’s numerous swords, including the zweihander that he personally held.

Ryougi Shiki, on the other hand, was taking the defensive on the magic front, destroying any spells that Alastor threw at them, or simply avoiding them by teleporting away. Her crystal glowed warmly on her chest, giving her a consistent flow of physical boost to improve her performance. She was not trying to stall for time in the least, actively moving to the next opportunity to strike and kill. If she could take the Ex-Sentinel down, that would be one less threat to worry about. Not that it was an easy task, however. Alastor’s teleporting ability was more efficient than her method, rendering him nigh impossible to be hit. Even if he did get struck, his body of steel could tank most damage that did not include a precise stab in his point of origin. Her Mystic Eyes could tell her where to attack, but being able to do so was another matter altogether.

Growing frustrated, Shiki grabbed Alphard from behind and flung her at Alastor, astonishing both the Executor and the Ex-Sentinel. Alphard took a split second to recover from it, blasting forward at the elder Caelum aggressively. Shiki took this moment to cut the distance between herself and her enemy, appearing right behind him stealthily, her knife-hand sweeping swiftly towards his jugular.

“Hmph, you are naïve, woman,” bellowed Alastor’s voice, which came from a distance away. Shiki looked up, knowing that she had missed her mark yet again. He had teleported away from her, as expected. What an annoying ability to have for an opponent. “I have known the Ryougis before you were born. Your attacks are laughably predictable.”

The Fire Sentinel scowled, sheathing her knife for her sword. “I’ll make you eat your words.”

Alastor raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Shiki shut her eyes, lulling herself into a trance-like state with her mind alone. Unsure what she was about to do, Alphard decided to step away, keeping herself busy with the undead instead. When the Godslayer lifted her eyelids, her irises had a glazed look to them, as though she was in a daze, but she seemed calm, at peace amidst the fiery battle. Alastor remained on guard, knowing full well that she had hypnotized herself into a separate person. It was the specialty of the Ryougi clan. Shiki crouched down slightly, and she hunched forward into a slouch, her legs tensing up in preparation to pounce. It was the look of a tiger before a hunt.

As soon as she exhaled, she sprinted forward in a burst of inhuman speed, taking the Ex-Sentinel by surprise. He quickly acted to stop her, firing magic missiles and flying swords at her as rapidly as he could, though none of them managed to even disturb her flowing robes as she sliced through them without as much as a glance to see the lines of death. Her allied Executor steered clear away from her, afraid that she would not distinguish friend from foe. When Shiki closed the gap between her and Alastor, she brought her katana down with one hand, her free hand reaching into her kimono. Expectedly, he teleported away again, but this time, she flung the knife out at an empty spot, where Alastor appeared in the next instant. The blade sunk into his chest, but the steel did not go in deep, unable to penetrate his tough muscles.

“What…!?” The aged Caelum took a step back in shock, staring at the knife in disbelief. How she predicted where he would move to was beyond him, and it showed on his face. Shiki did not let up, however, having already teleported away from her position, grabbing the chance to strike while he was still dumbstruck. His reaction time was excellent, as expected from the best Sentinel of his time, for he spun around and defended himself on pure instinct alone while his mind was recovering. The Godslayer was fast, tearing through his prized broadsword with a single slash of her katana and incising a clean, long wound across his body at the same time.

Alastor grunted in pain, quickly teleporting further away from her in an attempt to retreat, blood spilling from his wound as he frantically healed himself. Again, Shiki was already upon him before he could close much of his injury, hammering away at his magical and steel defenses relentlessly. The Ex-Sentinel repelled her away with a magical gale at the next opening he could find, his swords whistling through the air towards her. The blades would have sliced off her limbs had she not struggled in mid-air, instead pinning her against the wall of the headquarters. Furrowing his brows in concentration, he sent one last sword aimed at her heart, hoping to eliminate the greatest threat against him.

A blinding flash of light deflected the weapon, followed by a sudden explosion from within the building. Alphard smiled in relief, taking care not to look directly at the scintillating figure. Lei had succeeded, and he had returned to the fight. Shiki had freed herself by tearing away her robes brusquely till she got out of the trap after her consciousness came back to her. All the lights in the headquarters were extinguished simultaneously, and the only light source now came from the moon. Lei held his breath. Everything was in the secondary team’s hands now.

The lights came back on.

*

The battle of the two gynoids wrought heavy collateral damage, mostly of zombies that unwittingly got close to them, or just happened to be in the vicinity. Thousands of bullets that failed to make their mark, and giant chunks of earth and torn lampposts that missed their targets were scattered everywhere. Despite their svelte, beautiful appearances, the fact that they were weapons was not lost on the magi, who took measures to stay away from the duo. A fight between Puppetmasters was unlike that of a typical wizard duel. The mages themselves do not act. Or rather, they were not allowed to. The pride of an accomplished Puppetmaster was in his or her work, and it was with their work that they prove their superiority over others. Thus, most Puppetmasters tend to be rather weak in a battle, relying on their familiars and creations instead.

“Oi, can’t I butt in?” asked Aoko grumpily, her arms crossed and her right foot tapping the floor impatiently. “This is boring.”

“Shut up, you brute,” replied Touko, lighting up a stick of cigarette in her mouth. “This is a gentleman’s sport.”

She scoffed mockingly, shaking her head. “Gentleman my ass. You guys just don’t like dirtying your delicate hands. Heh, pussies.”

Touko shot her a death glare. “Don’t bring your unrefined tendencies into a Puppetmaster’s duel, you barbarian.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP!” came Cornelius’ voice, though neither sister acknowledged his presence at all. KOS-MOS pushed T-elos’ forearm away as the latter fired her handgun on automatic, at the same time sliding one foot between the brown gynoid’s legs to close in on her and thrusting her free sword-arm into her foe’s stomach. Nevertheless, T-elos was just as nimble, sidestepping away from the attack such that the blade simply scrapped past her abdomen harmlessly, flicking her wrist to aim and fire at KOS-MOS with swift finesse. The blue robot deflected the bullet with her sword-arm without batting an eyelid, materializing a Gatling gun into her other hand and releasing a focused barrage upon T-elos while skillfully controlling the recoil. Her programming was perfect, but so was the enemy. T-elos dashed faster than the line of fire could keep up with, and she leapt back towards KOS-MOS in the last moment, protruding a blade out from her gauntlet.

Everything went dark, and the only light came from Touko’s cigarette.

*

Alkaid had all but run out of Black Keys, with one final hilt remaining to summon into a sword. She had spent the rest disabling the Immortal for that brief period to allow Antares to deal a hopefully crushing blow to the colossal mech, but it was apparently insufficient. The exterior was far too sturdy to be broken by a collision. The Featherfolk retreated from the battle, staying afloat in the air to spectate, waiting for the chance to strike with her last Black Key. Spica was still busy exchanging punches and kicks with Leona, both of them evenly matched in martial prowess, whereas Antares was taking out the Centaurion Blade before returning his attention back to the recovering Immortal.

The Felinefolk weaved away from the pummeling rampage of Leona’s fists, throwing a punch right into an opening she spotted at the very next moment, staggering the soldier a couple of steps back. Spica moved to advance, and then stopped abruptly, noticing a shift in the wind. A yellow beast charged right past them wildly, and would have trampled over her had she not halted. She gave the creature a hard stare, discerning what it was. A Nue. In this sort of place? “Whuh?”

“Watch out! That’s an enemy!” yelled Lorenzo, hurrying over to them while cautiously watching the giants battle. “Raidou’s betrayed us!”

“What!?” exclaimed Alkaid from above, catching the Italian’s attention. “Why? How? When?!”

“Hell if I know!” shouted the assassin back, pointing at the direction where he came from. “We might need a bit of help over there!”

The red Featherfolk bit her lip, trying to think in the heat of combat. Then, she turned over to the mute, barking out, “Hey, Antares! Knock the mech over to that side!”

The armored titan nodded, picking up the remnant of the Centaurion Blade and hurling it at the Immortal, which defended itself with its tower shield. Antares began his charge, slamming himself into the enormous machine, throwing both of them towards the Dawnblade’s battlefield. Sirius, Kenji and Maxima were quick enough to get out of the way of the two crashing goliaths, but Rangda was not, crushed under the massive bulk and dissipating back to the devil summoner’s possession. Nue roared like a lion, rushing towards Lorenzo once again. The assassin broke into a sprint immediately, running towards the building and skidding to a standstill before the wall. Casting one final glance back at the electrical demon, he made a desperate gamble,dodge rolling to the side right before it reached him. The massive creature stumbled backwards after a painful collision, looking dazed from the concussion. Whipping out a gun, Lorenzo fired off at Nue’s skull till his chambers were empty, and it faded away. Only Q was left.

The Immortal had returned to its feet, and another Centaurion Blade had taken the place of the previous one. The sword whistled through the air like a deadly missile, and then it tore across the floor, narrowly missing Spica and Alkaid by a hair. Raidou finally stepped into the fight, a towering beam sword shooting out of his hand like an extended arm. Q darted over to Sirius, destroying any talismans that he tried to utilize with mere bites. Stumped by the mysterious demon, Sirius raised a wall of paper to obstruct her, though it was rendered useless with a single crunch. Behind the barrier however, was only smoke. Q looked around puzzlingly, wondering where he had gone.

“Dear, oh dear. That girl is pretty troublesome,” sighed Sirius, walking out from the bushes behind Kenji. “She can destroy anything I throw at her.”

“Argh!” Maxima yelped in agony as she collapsed, a knife stuck deep into her back. Her former comrade was standing behind her, breathing heavily with anger. It was a literal backstab. “L-Leona…”

The brunette spat at her, clearly furious, “You traitorous bitch! You deserve this! This is what you get for doing the same to us!”

“I… didn’t know…” mumbled Maxima weakly, trying to look up at Leona, though it was too painful for her to move.

“Maxima!” Kenji was horrified, but his mind still worked frantically, making a beeline for the brunette swordswoman, firing his magic swords at Leona simultaneously. He needed to remove the threat first before checking on Maxima. A wall of talismans protruded out of the ground behind Leona, forcing her from retreating. Sirius smirked. The moment she touched the enchanted paper, she was stunned. The Dawnblade swiftly ran his sword through the colonel’s heart, twisted it, and slipped it out in a second, then dashed over to Maxima without giving a second look to see if his enemy was dead.

And the darkness consumed them.

*

Alina proved a lot more of an opponent than her enemies had expected, and it surprised Arturia as well. The redhead’s class as a Dragoon became very much apparent in the battle, vaulting and leaping about with incredible agility, and her skills with her crimson spear was not to be reckoned with, either. Her usual smiling visage was absent, instead wearing the face of a level-headed warrior. There was nothing fierce about her appearance at all, but her intensity kept Duke and Asch on their toes. The Luminarium knight leapt into the fight as she caught an opening, squaring off against the wielder of the Dein Nomos with Regulus, allowing Alina to go one-on-one with the German.

“Tch! What are you!?” growled Asch frustratingly, deflecting the incessant pummeling from Alina’s spear that was already beginning to crack his body armor. He was physically powerful, but he was not fast enough to keep up with her. The Dragoon slammed the blunt end into the ground, releasing a blast of wind that swept them both up high into the air, rendering the black-clad knight vulnerable to attacks. She continued the relentless hammering in mid-air, swinging the shaft down heavily at the end of the combo, flinging Asch down to the floor. He landed on his feet, then to his knees, forced down by the pressure of her strike, and then fell on all fours, momentarily paralyzed from the inertia. Then Alina came down hard on him with the spear pointed downwards, aiming to kill, or at least maim. However, Asch recovered quickly, rolling away and jumping back to his feet in the nick of time.

Swerving away from a sundering blow, Regulus spun around to slash at Duke, who summoned phantom blades to shield himself. The latter released a barrage of electricity at the Executor, keeping him away while Arturia took over, swinging the Caliburn at him. The albino sidestepped adroitly, the Dein Nomos hovering on the other side of the Sword of Promised Victory, taking the blond knight by surprise. He could control his sword telekinetically. Duke’s rubicund irises intimidated Arturia, for the hatred of humanity was evident in them. The Dein Nomos pointed itself at her, and like some sort of heat-seeking missile, launched itself at her. She was too slow to evade, but the Crystal and her armor protected her for the most part, throwing her off her feet with a bloody gash on her side. Regulus quickly stepped in, releasing a blazing wave of fire at the white-haired swordsman.

“Why do you support Monad, Duke?” asked the Executor, engaging in a deadlock with the legendary sword. “You are better than this.”

“Support is a wrong choice of words,” replied Duke coolly, not taking the opportunity to attack, but to talk. “I do not condone Monad’s actions, but it is their goal that happens to coincide with mine. The world’s rebirth shall take place and with it, I shall return the world to its natural state. Humans are a plague, a virus. Despite having knowledge of history, despite many sacrifices, humans commit the same mistakes, and they will again. If that happens, their hearts will grow wild, and the future will be even more painful. They are the apostles of destruction, greater than even the Horsemen. I made a vow to my friend; that I will protect this world, and I shall.”

“Even if the future is painful...!” Arturia rose to her feet, bearing the pain of her wound as she healed it with the Avalon. “Even if we are hurt or stopped, we can still walk again as long as we don’t give up!”

“He who is afraid to make mistakes will never discover anything,” added Regulus, repelling the Dein Nomos back to Duke. “If we work together, we can change. Not all humans are as you think they are, Duke.”

“Perhaps that is sufficient for those connected to one another. However, there will always be some who cannot accept a difficult future. You all surely understand that.”

“It will be difficult, but that is reality,” replied Arturia. “Humans will adapt. Even if it takes years, they’ll change eventually.”

Duke shook his head. “What will humans do once Monad is destroyed? They will return to their old selves, waging war against each other for land, for resources. They are selfish creatures.”

“I believe that they will change.”

“I see we are at contradiction. You believe that humanity can be saved, but I do not.”

“So be it, then.”

*

Second Force

This was it. Their one and only shot. The lucidity that Kenta was granted from the Aura Stone was the droplet of water that tipped the scale in their favor. He could see what he could do, and what he could not. He could slow down his perception of time, let it unspool before his eyes like a ball of wool, and analyze for an opening to step into. Maia was faster than anything else he had gone up against, but like many people who took their gifts for granted, she was overconfident. ‘Pride goeth before the fall’, as the saying goes. He just needed to time himself right. Everything else was up to Albireo and Dalias.

The Head Executor had certainly lived up to his name. He was extremely deft with his spear, deflecting Maia’s blows with the graceful dexterity of a master. In terms of skill, he had a score over the True Vampire, but he was physically weaker. Nevertheless, whatever damage he took from her, he regenerated. The stories about him were true, after all. Maia shot him a dirty look, as though he was an imposter of her kind, but he returned no response, maintaining the visage of a stone cold killer. Meanwhile, Dalias seemed to be scheming, one hand searching for something in his dimensional coat, staying carefully out of the battle between the two immortals. Kenta glanced over at the balding assassin, who smirked smugly back at him, pulling out a mirror and slipping it close to the generator, mouthing to him, “Your escape plan.” Then he placed another, just right beside him. Kenta understood the plan. Rush in and destroy the power source, and then get out of the way via the mirror with Dalias’ aid before Maia moves in to kill him. Simple enough.

Above them, Saphiel was trying to wrestle the crown out of her brother’s head, warring against him with intensive magic. He lacked the mental capacity to use any spells, but his fists were enchanted by the glowing rings, and he could punch through the spells that she shot at him. “Xion! Please! Fight the control! It’s me, your sister! I’m Saphiel! Saphy!”

“Sa… phiel…?” uttered Xion, his movements slowing down. “Sis… ter…?”

The crown crackled with electricity, punishing the Featherfolk’s resistance. Xion screamed in fury, thrashing himself against the walls and support beams wildly in an attempt to numb the pain, albeit causing more harm to himself than the device. Saphiel gasped in horror, flying to him and hugging him tightly to hold him down. It was a foolish move on her part, considering his strength, but she wasn’t thinking logically while so obsessed with saving her brother. Xion broke free almost effortlessly, pushing her violently into the wall as he jumped back to his feet. Saphiel let out a cry as she landed painfully, momentarily dazed from the impact. The black-haired Featherfolk lunged at her madly, but he was met with a bastion of ice springing out of the ground in the blink of an eye. Neige was holding her wand out at him, protecting her friend from further harm. “Saphiel! Stop trying to talk him into submission! That’s not how the crown works! Destroy that thing!”

“O-okay…!”

Now. Maia had been momentarily distracted by the fight happening above. He had to make the move now. Now! Kenta was gone from his spot. The True Vampire’s attention shifted, now completely on the speeding swordsman. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She tore away from her duel with Albireo, who quickly thrust his spear in her direction, sinking it through from her back and out of her chest. She was not stopped so easily, however, still advancing towards Kenta, whose eyes were solely on the generator ahead. Her talon-like hand swooped down on him, a lethal strike. He was not going to make it, thought Neige, who had just realized what had happened on their level. She felt her heart skip a beat.

The sounds of shattering mirror echoed and resonated throughout the engine room, followed by a powerful explosion that threw Maia and Albireo off. Neige dropped to the ground to avoid the flying wreckage, waiting till the noise and the rubble had settled down before getting back up. The lights were out, but the blast had torn a hole through the roof, letting moonshine pour into the room. The Ice Witch looked around, worried about her friends. Saphiel and Xion were blanketed under some light debris, the latter out cold with the crown broken and askew. The blue-haired Featherfolk was panting, her wings greyed from dust and blood trickling down the side of her head, but otherwise alive. Kenta and Dalias were at the other end of the room, standing on top of a piece of now-fragmented mirror. Albireo was standing before Maia, pinning the latter against the wall with his spear in her spine.

“Miss Blanc.” Albireo’s voice was calm, concise. Solemn. Neige straightened up instantly, holding the Jewel Sword close to her chest. “I need you to listen to me, and follow my orders without question.”

“Y-yes.” The Ice Witch gulped. “I’m listening.”

He did not turn his back on the True Vampire, out of pure cautiousness. “Use the Jewel Sword, and destroy both Maia and me.”

“What!?” exclaimed Saphiel, clasping her mouth afterwards to keep quiet.

“I understand,” replied Neige grimly, with shadows in her eyes. She held the Jewel Sword up, like she would with a wand. The Head Executor had talked to her before this mission in private, regarding this scenario. He knew it would come down to this. He had planned for this to happen. He was sorry that she would be burdened with his death, especially since she was but a stranger to him, and he never wished for the trauma of murder to be placed on another, but it had to be done. He was tired of living, and he was afraid that he would become another like Maia. Immortality was a curse to him, and he wanted it gone, before it warped his mind, much like what it had done to the True Vampire. Neige agreed to help him, and for that, he swore to keep both Kenta and Saphiel safe to the best of his abilities. He had kept his end of the deal, and it was time for her to keep hers. She would tell Saphiel and Kenta about this later, she decided, should they ask, but now was the time to act.

The Jewel Sword illuminated with an eerie glow unlike any other, as Neige channeled a steady flow of prana into the kaleidoscope-like weapon. It behaved like a wand. Accumulate the prana into the tip, which in this case was the crystal, until it was brimming with power. And then release it in a single burst.

“Goodbye.”

“NOOO!!!”  Maia’s desperate death wail was drowned away as a blinding stream of light, much like Arturia’s Excalibur, exploded from the Jewel Sword and right at Albireo and Maia. He had to look away from the intense beam which obliterated everything in its path. Everything. Steel, flesh and bone, nothing was spared, reduced to mere atoms. Even the ones said to be undying could not stand against the unprecedented might of the Jewel Sword, and by the end of it, neither of them were left. Neige, who had been holding her breath throughout the attack, finally exhaled, falling to her knees with a numbed mind, unable to process what she had just done, the power that she had just unleashed.

“Is it… is it over?” asked Saphiel timidly, dragging her brother out of the mess with some magical aid.

“Not quite,” replied Dalias, walking over to investigate the result of the deathlight. It left a gaping hole in the wall of the building, and a lengthy trench that trailed for a mile or so out of it. “Our work is done, but we have to rendezvous with the main party. They seem to have some technical difficulties.”

“What about the other people stationed outside?” asked Neige, referring to Anastasia and Aya.

“They’re our clean-up crew,” answered the assassin as he pulled out another mirror from his coat and laid it upon the floor. “Without further ado, let’s go.”

*

Lei felt a weight lift from his shoulders as the lights flickered off again. They did it. The Weretanks were coming in from the outer perimeter, but he would rather keep them from harm. Victory seemed so close that he could just reach out and grab it. He could taste it. It was different from his previous mission here, with Ilya. Raising one hand at the HQ building, he focused on his forte, his electromagnetic ability. He sensed the infrastructure of the skyscraper, locating every support beam in it, and connected with them. Every molecule, every atom in those pillars was in his control. All he needed to do was pull.

The building groaned as it started twisting unnaturally, as though something was trying to pull it down from the inside. He needed to minimize the collateral damage as much as possible, taking his comrades into consideration. Caving it in would be the best option. With another mental yank, the entire structure trembled, and then it collapsed inwards from the top. Shiki and Alphard moved to keep Alastor busy while the destruction happened, but the Ex-Sentinel already knew he was powerless to stop Lei, scowling in disappointment as he teleported away from the battle.

Alas, the Monad HQ was down. The Assassins have won. Lei looked around at the garden, which now stood unobstructed by the building. He could see the Aozaki team, very much unscathed. KOS-MOS was standing over a fallen gynoid, and Miss Blue had a foot on top of an unconscious Cornelius. Touko was smoking, as usual, avoiding eye contact with her sister. Kenji’s group was mixed up with Antare’s, but they seemed to have neutralized their threat, with one casualty. Ramirez and Vergil were nowhere to be seen, much to his curiosity. Over at Rider’s side, the enemies had all turned into stone, and her visor was back on her face. Finally, he saw Alina, whose party had ceased battle with Duke and Asch.

“Well done, brave warriors.” Lei heard applause from the massive pile of rubble. He looked up. There was only one possible man who survived something like that.

“Louis,” spoke the Earth Sentinel, making sure not to look him directly in the eyes, the mistake that Lucian made. “You lost.”

“I’m afraid not, Master Lee,” replied the immaculately-dressed man, smiling serenely. He seemed a little too pleased about the current situation. “I had faith that you would succeed here, but thanks to you, my plan has finally come to fruition. My duty is done here.”

“What…?” uttered Shiki, puzzled. “What duty?”

“I am tasked with the Conception, that is, the world’s rebirth,” answered Louis, pointing at the sky with a finger. “By God.”

“Bullshit,” spat the Fire Sentinel, pointing her sword at him. “God’s your nemesis.”

“Actually, I am very much his Left Hand, so to speak,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets on his pants. “I am the Tempter, the one who enlightens and seduces Men. I am here to test Men’s will. How can one gain perception, to know what good is, without evil? How can one perceive beauty without the concept of ugliness? I am the yin to His yang, metaphorically, the other end of the scale. Without me, one cannot truly appreciate the Great Will. Am I not right?”

“Don’t believe his lies,” warned Shiki, her Mystic Eyes glaring at the Antichrist. “Let’s kill him right now, before he starts twisting our minds with his words.”

“Why does He wish for the Conception, then?” asked Lei, gesturing for Shiki to wait, which she begrudgingly did.

“Mankind has grown stagnant. It is time to return everything to the Root, and begin anew. God believes in the goodness of Men, having given you the gift the free will and chose not to interfere, but in every cycle, I have time and again proved Him wrong by showing Him the darkness in Men’s hearts. When humans have become too corrupted by my hands, I reset Our experiment, and begin anew to show Him the error of his ways.”

Lei shook his head in disapproval. “Now I truly know that you sit upon a throne of lies, Louis Cypher. I will end you here. Mankind shall be free from your deceit.”

“Incorrect. I am the one who shall bring an end to this,” came the reply. Louis summoned a mirror from the earth beside him, the triumph on his face unwavering. A sense of dread welled up in the Earth Sentinel. The Antichrist smiled sinisterly. “Ah, yes. I can read you like a book, Lei. You know what is happening, don’t you? It’s almost poetic, how your failure comes full circle back here, in Istanbul yet again.”

“No…” mumbled the assassin, wide-eyed in shock. “NO!”

Dalias stepped out of the mirror, with Saphiel, Neige, Xion and Kenta, his face expressionless. All the Sentinels had gathered, and their crystals resonated with each other, glowing brighter with each pulse of light. Lei finally realized what the trap was, and it was too late. What a fool he was, he thought, thinking that he could outsmart the Prince of Darkness. He should never have decided to trust Dalias again after what happened five years ago. He should have killed him right there, at the cemetery weeks ago. It was too late, and he had failed everyone again.

“What… what’s going on…?” asked Saphiel in a quivering voice, frightened by Lei’s horrified look. She looked over, and saw Louis Cypher, and then at her own crystal. “What…?”

A magic circle formed, encompassing the entire garden. It was the final seal, and it dissolved away. The sky turned a terrifying shade of vermillion, as though it had been washed over with blood, and the clouds darkened, rumbling ominously with thunder. Louis bowed curtsey to his guests, fading away from his feet up. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Conception. We may never meet again, but I wish you success in carving a path of your own in the brave new world. Farewell.”

The last thing Lei saw was an all-consuming whiteness.




Rebirth

The sky was painted a tangerine hue, an air of laziness and stagnancy drifting past the deserted city of Istanbul. There was not a single soul around, save for a man in black, lying lifelessly on the top of the shambles where the Monad headquarters had once been. A sword stood beside him, reflecting the blazing flames of the sun upon its silver sheen. Lei stirred slowly from his slumber, groaning pitifully as he tried to move, his body seemingly drained of all strength. He remained there for a while, waiting, his mind getting back into gear. He could hardly remember what happened, only that he saw nothing but white. Then Louis’ smug visage came to his mind, and memories started flooding back to him, as well as a heavy sense of despair. They lost. Just when they were so close to victory, Louis turned the tables on them. Dalias. He betrayed them all. Why? Lei could not understand. Even Alina, who could read people so frighteningly well, did not see through the Mirror Man’s ploy. Then again, she always believed in the goodness of everyone’s hearts. He felt his stomach wrenching in disgust at himself. Once again, he failed everyone. He let everyone down. He should just rot here and die. It should be his punishment.

“Oi, how long are you going to lie there, Master?”

An unfamiliar voice. Low, gruff, and full of masculinity. Lei could sense power emanating from the man, so much so that he felt energy returning to himself, and he got up to his feet, taking a look at the person who called him Master. The Earth Sentinel had to do a double take, surprised by the size of that man. He was at least two meters in height, his physique intimidatingly overbearing, yet his features were noble, with a dash of wildness to them. His attire was medieval, clad in a leather body armor that failed to cover his muscular arms, and over his body was a magnificent red and gold fur cape, giving a regal appearance to the otherwise barbaric-looking person. “You are…?”

“I am the Maharaorajah, King Iskandar!” boomed the man’s voice, astonishing Lei again. He bent down to inspect the assassin curiously. “You are Lee Shun Xiong, yes?”

“Y-yes,” stammered the Chinese, completely confused. “You’re the Macedonian king? Alexander the Great? And why are you calling me Master?”

“Mm, that I am.” Iskandar nodded approvingly, apparently proud of his title. He took a sit casually opposite of Lei, yet still managed to look gigantic. “It’s because you are my Master that I am calling you Master. How hard is that to get into your head?”

Lei was bewildered. “You’re my Heroic Spirit familiar?”

The king rubbed his bearded chin. “Hm, I suppose you can put it that way. I’m basically your guide and guardian in this new world.”

This new world, was what Iskandar said. Lei decided to look around his surroundings. Everything seemed the same as the world he once knew, but there was no one around at all. “Where is everyone?”

“Hmm…” Iskandar crossed his arms, eyes shut in deep thought. Then he looked up at his Master. “This might be hard to swallow, but most of humanity has been wiped out.”

“What!?” exclaimed the Earth Sentinel, shocked.

The Macedonian king held his hand up to ask Lei to hold. “Not everyone is dead. People with a strong will to live would have survived the Conception. I know you have friends, and friends of the Earth Sentinel should be pretty strong themselves, hm? They are probably alive somewhere, with a Heroic Spirit protecting them from harm.”

Another thought came to him. “Everyone has a Heroic Spirit?”

“Well, not everyone,” answered Iskandar, shrugging. “Only those with a better chance.”

“Better chance at what?”

He pointed at the sky. “The Tower of Babylon. When the Pieces of Eden are gathered at the Tower of Babylon, the World King shall be able to forge the world he wishes to replace this one.”

A second chance. He could right all the wrongs and redeem himself. He could make things right. “…Can it bring the dead back to life?”

Iskandar grinned widely at him. “Of course.”

“Then the Tower shall be my goal,” replied Lei, staring resolutely at his familiar. “Will you help me, King Iskandar?”

“Mm, I shall,” answered the Heroic Spirit, smiling broadly. “But know this, Master. You are aiming to become king, and there can only be one great king to rule this world. You and I will inevitably become enemies at the end.”

“When that time comes, it will be my honor to face you in combat.”

*

A wave of dizziness and drowsiness washed over Kenta when he regained consciousness. He did not want to open his eyes, overcame with weariness. It felt like he was dragged back from the brink of death. His back felt much colder than his front for some odd reason, but he felt too tired to bother about it. It was comfortable, anyway. Then, whatever that was on top of him shifted slightly, as though it was alive. An alarm set off on his head, albeit a very dull one, prodding him just enough to investigate, as lethargic as he felt. He could be food for an animal, yet the sense of urgency just was not there. There was something familiar about it that did not perturb him. It felt gentle, soft. Mustering whatever energy that was not sapped away from fatigue, he opened his eyes.

White. The ceiling had a slight bluish hue to it, but it was mostly white. It transitioned smoothly into walls, and then the ground. Kenta realized he was in a cave. …When did he end up in a cave? The last thing he remembered was stepping through the mirror with Dalias. Then he looked down. Neige was lying on top of him, her eyes closed in slumber, her back rising and falling gently with each breath, her snowy hair somewhat disheveled. They were sandwiched between two capes, and pieces of clothing, keeping them warm in the frigidity. A fire was crackling nearby, an alternate source of heat. Another realization dawned on him. Neither of them was clothed, considering their outfits were used to cover them. He was starting to become acutely aware of their skinship, of the warmth that the Ice Witch was providing for him, and it was not doing much good for his control.

“Nnh…” Neige’s eyes flitted open, her crimson irises moving up to meet Kenta’s. She seemed a little dazed, as though she had not fully awakened yet. Kenta’s static probably disturbed her from her sleep, he figured. “Hey...”

“W-what happened? Why are we like this?” asked Kenta, gaze averted from her.

“Oh… this?” muttered the albino hoarsely, looking down at herself. She barely had any hint of embarrassment, or perhaps that part of her was still asleep. “I did everything in my power to keep you alive… I’m not sure why we ended up here, but… well… I made the best of the situation. I tried my best to keep you warm…”

“I-I see…” said the swordsman hesitantly. Neige was conscious before he was, and probably saved his life while he was still out cold. That might explain her fatigue, he thought. “…Thanks.”

The Ice Witch simply nodded, and then nodded off to sleep again.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Kenta looked towards the entrance of the ice cave, curious. It was a blond knight, but it was not Arturia, despite similar facial features. She looked younger than the Luminarium knight, but their heights were comparable. She wore a metal headdress that shielded her forehead and nose, and the rest of her body was mostly covered with silver armor that stopped by her thighs, flowing into a long dark indigo skirt. She had a lengthy braided ponytail that went all the way down to her bum, further distinguishing her from the wielder of the Excalibur.

“How are you feeling?”

“Really tired.”

She smiled, nodding understandingly. “Go to sleep, then. I’ll stand guard for you. Saphiel will return soon from her scouting.”

Her words were extremely compelling, considering his fatigue, but he needed to satisfy his curiosity. “Who… are you?”

“Jeanne d’Arc. I will explain more after you rest.”



Right now, it’s survival mode in the wild for you guys, so it’s more conversation time. Also, phew! This is pretty darn long.

Iskandar:
http://images.wikia.com/typemoon/images/0/08/ZeroRider.jpg
http://images.wikia.com/typemoon/images/4/49/Rider.jpg

Jeanne: http://imgur.com/a/CoUqw

Jeanne’s personality could be said to be similar to Arturia in battle, taciturn and cold, but her true nature is more of a plain and quiet sixteen year-old. For the record, Jeanne is Saphiel's Heroic Spirit.
Report Spam   Logged

Kenta.....
Fallible Human Being
Esteemed Members
Resident
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 786


Emotionally Retarded



Badges: (View All)
Linux User Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Mobile User
« Reply #231 on: July 29, 2012, 02:13:03 am »

Ho-ly ballz, dude.  I can’t remember the last time you wrote this much.  But funnily enough, I seem to recall that there was, in fact, a last time.

***

Mourning

That feeling was back.  It was the utter exhaustion Kenta had felt after waking from his failed planeswalking experience, half dead from self-electrocution.  It was the weakness of the soul, so disconnected to the body that the weight of the flesh couldn’t even be held completely up.  To call it a “feeling” cheapened its true effect.  It was an out-of-body experience, in which he was still chained painfully to consciousness.

Kenta woke again, his whole body throbbing.  Mind on auto-pilot, he dressed quietly, consciously knowing not to wake Neige.  When he was finished, the chill of the surrounding atmosphere finally set in, and he moved automatically to the fire.  A silhouetted form of a woman sat before it, her back to him.  What was her name . . . Jeanne.  A French name.  It rang somewhat of a bell, and for some reason, Kenta thought of burning at the stake as he gazed into the fire.  What an unpleasant thought.

“You shouldn’t be up and about yet.”  Jeanne spoke without looking at him.  Figuring it might be modesty, Kenta walked around the fire and sat cross-legged on the opposite side, wordlessly allowing Jeanne to see that he was clothed again.  “I’m numb,” Kenta answered practically, holding up his hands.  “But I can move all right.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected.  Those without a will to live don’t exist anymore.  Of course you can move.”

“Quite frankly, I’m getting used to living on the boundary of death-”  The words were still exiting Kenta’s mouth when he grasped the weight of Jeanne’s utterance.  “Wait.  What?”

There was silence, then a sigh of remorse from Jeanne’s direction.  “I won’t hold out on you,” she said, offering him something thick and rectangular.  A worn-out book.  “For those who can teleport long-distance, their day has come.  A few of your people returned to Istanbul to scout for anything left after the battle.  Apparently, someone remembered you.”

“So we’re not in Istanbul anymore.”  Of course we’re not.  You don’t find ice caves in a desert.  “But what you said just now- about people not existing anymore!”

“Page eight hundred fifty-three,” said Jeanne in a thick voice.  Kenta detected a restraint to cry from her.  Swallowing painfully, he opened the book to the very back.  The page was covered with highlighter marks and reader notes, apparently to-self.  With a jolt, Kenta recognized the handwriting, and a second later, the Bible from which he was reading.  One particular verse stood out, being circled several times, and noted in large letters “FIND OUT WHEN THIS IS.”

Revelation 9:15 “And the four angels who had been kept ready for this very hour and day and month and year were released to kill a third of mankind.”

Heart hammering, biting down hard on his lower lip, Kenta pointed at the verse and gave Jeanne an inquisitive look.  She gave an affirmative nod, eyes downcast.

“Dear God.”  Feeling the first jolts of electrical shock combine with his panic, Kenta cast his eyes around the ice cave desperately.  “Where’s Valtor?  This is his Bible!  He must have taken it with him for exorcism . . . it had to have been right next to him!”

“Front page, on the inside,” Jeanne uttered softly, one tear trickling down her cheek.  Kenta flipped it open, trying to keep his breathing regular.  On the blank page was a note . . . to him.

Dear Kenta,

If you’re actually reading this on your own initiative, it probably means I’m either deceased, or raised to glory.  Either way, please don’t let your heart be troubled.  I now have the greatest happiness I could possibly know, in the arms of my Maker, Redeemer, and Friend.  I sincerely hope I’ve been killed rather than raptured, because if you’re reading this in the latter scenario, it means you didn’t come with me.  But that also means it’s not too late for you!  I know you’ve been kept alive by more than luck, and I know that you’re aware of it, too.  You are not a waste, brother!  He created you as well, and He LOVES you.  In parting, let me make one last plea to you, to accept the beckoning of Jesus and let Him have sovereignty in your heart.  In this epic of human life, you will finally know that you have worth, that you are treasured, and that you need never fear anything again.  There will be hard times to come, but we have already won the victory.  You will find what you need to see in the Gospel of John.

I wish you only the best.  May we embrace again on the other side.

With love,
-Valtor


Kenta read the note a second time, and then a third, taking it in anew each time.  His face was now wet, and his eyes kept blurring with moisture, but the electrical field was gone.  He felt arms wrap around him, and then Jeanne’s sympathetic voice was in his ear.  “I’m so sorry.”

Words failed him.  He simply wept into her shoulder, freely, trembling like a leaf. 

Sometime later, much later, Kenta awoke again, this time to a more numerous company.  The fire was a bit larger than before, and Jeanne had resumed her position opposite to him, somber, yet serene.  Around Kenta’s shoulder was a wing, and to his right, Saphiel.  Neige lay against her, tucked in her other wing.  At Kenta’s stirring, the others looked, and then averted their eyes.  He turned his own gaze elsewhere, and they shared a mutual moment of silence for the departed.  Kenta did not know how long it lasted, but after a while, he realized that they were probably waiting for him to say something.  He swallowed, gathered himself, and gave it his best shot.

“Saphiel?”

“Yes?”  She looked at him with tender eyes, but hurt showed behind them.  Kenta had to swallow again.  “Did . . . did you find your brother?”

Her features fell.  “No . . . but I haven’t given up.  The world may have gotten bigger, but he’s out there somewhere.  I’m sure of it.”

“It’s a strange thing,” said Jeanne, looking out the mouth of the cave.  “With less than half the planet’s population remaining, can we really perceive the world as bigger?  Or smaller?”

Kenta thought of Valtor’s Bible, and his throat stiffened.  He waited for it to pass, then spoke.  “So . . . is it true that most of humanity has been wiped out?  I thought that verse you referenced me to said it would only be a third.”  He winced inwardly at the callous way it sounded.  In essence, he had flippantly referred to the deaths of 2.3 billion people.

“It was a third,” Jeanne replied, “but Antichrist was aiming for more than that, via the Conception.  Becoming the ultimate murderer in the name of God is blasphemy of the highest order by itself, but he also wanted to make a lie of the scriptures.”  She smiled humorlessly.  “So the Rapture took place, just at the proper moment.  With another thirty-something percent gone, Louis was ‘cheated’ out of nearly half his intended victims.  Good and evil are not equals.  The devil may do only what is ordained by the Lord.”

Now Valtor and Jeanne had both brought up the Rapture.  Kenta had heard about it in the past.  Whether pre-tribulation, middle, or post-trib, Body of Christ was unanimous on its meaning.  It was the moment in the Last Days when Jesus would raise anyone out of the world, living or dead, who had a relationship with Him.  Anyone left behind would suffer under the wrath of Satan, while judgment from heaven poured down upon those who continued to willingly practice evil.  It was not a time of God’s forsaking though, as certain parties from Heaven would continue to visit the earth with guidance and warnings- such as angels.  At that point, those who repented would be spared divine retribution, but the bad guys would attack them rabidly until the Lord himself returned in His “Second Coming.”  Then all evil would be forcibly put down, and there would be a thousand years of real peace.  What happened after that . . . Kenta couldn’t recall, for the moment.

“Antichrist has twisted this world into his sadistic social experiment,” Jeanne was saying, who seemed to know more about what was going on than any of them.  “It’s the temptation of Eden all over again.  Last time, his promise was ‘eat this fruit, and you will have knowledge and be like God.’  This time, it’s ‘gather the fragments of Eden into Babylon, and you will be able to make the world in your image . . . and be like God.’  It is literally the oldest trick in the book.”

“If it’s that easy to spot, why does he use it again?” asked Neige.

“Because it worked the first time.  And virtually all the people who know better are gone, now.”  Jeanne’s eyes narrowed in righteous anger.  “But let there be no mistake.  The promise of Babylon is a lie.  Before this is all over, there will be no more Babylon.  Every book that mentions Antichrist, whether Daniel or Revelation, never fails to bring up Babylon’s utter destruction.”

***

There was more talk of enormous things, but Kenta found that he couldn’t concentrate after a while.  It was too much to take in at once.  When Saphiel finally suggested they disperse, he retreated far enough into the cave that the darkness almost completely consumed him.  The chill was intense, but he had to be alone for just a short while.  In his mind, he mourned for Valtor.  In emotional torment, he mourned for his parents, whom he had been unable to contact for all those days he’d spent in the Hideout.  He mourned for Corey, his companion, and Leonn, who just might have been one of Louis’s billions of murder victims.  He had never even gotten to say goodbye to any of them.  Deep in his heart, he’d wanted to believe that he would never have to.

You don’t know what you’ve got, ‘til it’s gone.

“Jesus,” he whimpered softly, “if I called, would you still hear me?  If I asked, would you listen?”

You are not a waste.

“Kenta?”

Neige’s voice.  Kenta turned around.  She had approached quietly, as if uncertain of whether she really wanted to disturb him.  He faced her fully, submitting his attention.  The dark made her expression unreadable, but her voice was much more gentle than he had ever heard before.

“We were wondering where you had gone.  Aren’t you cold back here?”

It was cold.  It was frigid.  “Yes.”

Neige’s body shivered.  “Even I’m cold.”

Kenta remembered.  He had been kept alive, kept warm enough to avoid freezing, because of Neige’s efforts.  And up until now, he had been insensitive of that.  He took a step towards her, slumping his stature in shame.  “I got up and just left you, earlier.  I went to the fire, while you slept in the cold.  I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s . . .”  Neige stepped back, and waved her hand rapidly.  “It’s all right.  I’m fine.  I’m used to the cold, remember?”

“Even so, it was careless of me.”  Kenta’s shoulders felt heavy with humiliation, and he dropped down into a half-kneeling, half-sitting position.  “Neige, why did you save me?  I’m grateful you did it, but . . . sometimes, I wish you hadn’t.”

He felt a chilly hand take his own.  Neige stood over him, offering to pull him up.  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, in a stern voice that carried no actual anger.  “Haven’t I seen you mourning for your loved ones?  Of course I don’t want you to die.  How do you think I would feel if you did?”

The question caught Kenta off guard, and as he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, he wondered at it.  They had been partners for a while, in a military setting.  But since when had they become actual friends?  Because there was no doubt about it, now.  As he allowed himself to be pulled by the hand back to the fire, Kenta suddenly saw a true friend in Neige for the first time: someone who personally had a stake in his well-being, who came after him when he went missing.  He had given little to nothing back.  Putting his past failure behind him, Kenta resolved to do better for her, and for all of them.
Report Spam   Logged

Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.
Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #232 on: July 30, 2012, 07:30:33 am »

Um, I had a stroke of inspiration? Nah, just kidding. I’ve been planning that for months.


New Old World

“Lei!”

Alina awoke with a jolt, cold sweat rolling down her neck, her eyes darting frantically around to look for her beloved. Confusion set in soon after, as she realized that she was no longer in Istanbul, but in the Colosseum of Rome. The sun was shining warmly down into the arena, forcing her to avert her gaze from the sky. What happened to the battle? It seemed like they were winning, but then Dalias betrayed them. The redhead held her head as a wave of faintness overcame her, but she quickly shook it away and took to her feet. She was puzzled by Dalias. She could see into his heart, and knew that he genuinely wanted to help Lei and the Assassins. He rooted for the Earth Sentinel, yet this happened. Perhaps, in some corner of his heart, he wished for the world to be reborn.

“How’re you feeling?” Rider walked out from the exit, cradling several cans of food in her arms.

The redhead managed a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good to hear,” replied the purple-haired assassin, returning the smile. She laid the canned food upon the floor and took a seat, gesturing for Alina to do the same, which she did. “We ended up here together after the Conception. Alphard, too, but she’s out gathering supplies as well. Maybe we can get some water to go with these.”

Alina nodded quietly, having already guessed that much. Those words were not what she wanted to hear, however. “…What about Lei?”

Rider shook her head. “I do not know where he is.”

“Oh…” The Dragoon was crestfallen. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

“Yes,” said Rider, carving the lid of a can open with her iron nail. “This is known as the Vortex World. You can say that it’s the underside of the real world. This is where mythical beings reside. Heroic Spirits, demons, fairies, elementals, angels, gods, entities from various mythos and legends reside here. This is the manifestation of the unconscious will of Men. The Conception had turned the world inside out, and the majority of the human race has been eliminated. Only those of strong will survive, and even then, most of them will fall prey to the dangers of this violent world. It’s the survival of the fittest.”

The redhead listened silently, taking in the information level-headedly. Most of humanity was gone, but she was certain that her friends would be strong-willed enough to survive the Conception. She decided that finding them ought to be her top priority. More importantly, she wanted to find Lei, and make sure that he was safe. “…Why… didn’t the Counterforce work?”

“It did, in the form of… well, us. Heroic Spirits. Me,” replied the assassin hesitantly. She threw the can lid aside and handed Alina the food, then took another to open. “We keep some people alive to ensure the survival of mankind, such that someone will be able to bring the real world back. I know what you’re going to say, and yes, I am a Heroic Spirit. I am the Gorgon, Medusa, cursed with the Mystic Eyes of Petrification. The reason why I could exist in your world was because I was a part of the previous World King’s party, and was granted life when he made his world.”

Alina blinked. She accepted her fellow assassin’s true identity rather easily, perhaps having worked it out by herself in the past. “What do you mean, the World King?”

Rider nodded. “When the Conception happens, mankind is given the chance to bring the real world back and change it to his or her will. One will have to bring the Pieces of Eden to the Tower of Kagutsuchi, where one shall be tested. The one who succeeds is thus named the World King.”

“Tower of Kagutsuchi… That’s in Japan, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. That ought to be our final stop,” replied the Gorgon. “But first… we should at least try to return to the Assassin Hideout and see if anyone’s still alive there. I’m sure that at least Master Evangeline would have survived.”


Still working some plot points out, and expecting Tyren to post. I'll write something up when he does, and once I figured things out. Also, Rider's info on the Tower is exclusive to her, considering her position.
Report Spam   Logged

Kenji
Admincat
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 21238


Harem Master


WWW
Badges: (View All)
Nineth year Anniversary Search Eighth year Anniversary Seventh year Anniversary 20000 Posts
« Reply #233 on: August 03, 2012, 02:29:29 am »

An Extra Life with Anyone She Wants

"Urgh..." Kenji groaned, sitting up and taking a moment to rub his head with a free hand. He glanced down at himself, verifying that he was in one piece, body, equipment, and all. The Yawarakai-Te remained in his hand, his knife still in its shoulder holster, but he was missing one of the three syringes he'd taken prior to leaving for the mission. He'd expended one during the battle with Raidou at Istanbul, and one still remained in his jacket, miraculously, leaving the last having likely shattered somewhere between the battlefield and... Well, wherever he was now.

Kenji sheathed his Masamune craft, starting to work to find his feet as he surveyed the area he found himself in. From the engineering of the main hall and the aged, sturdy gate, as well as various talismans arrayed around the small complex, he identified it as a Shinto shrine. "Could we be in Japan?" he thought, surprised, but not taken aback. The Conception, in all its apocalyptic glory, had clearly thrown them far. Looking at the gate again, he found a familiar woman sitting up against it, holding her head as if she'd just had a hangover. Aozaki Aoko.

He called out, still finding his balance. "Oi... You alright?"

"Ugh... What... Where am I?" She paused, taking a moment to look around. Her reaction, Kenji unconsciously noted, sounded a lot like his own in his head. "I-is this JAPAN?!"

Without the yelling, anyway.

"Must be... I might even recognize this shrine," the ronin commented, finally regaining his balance. He put his hands on his hips, getting a better look at the landscape.

They were on the top of a mountain, thus he was able to see quite far off in the distance below them. There were plenty of trees lining the land, meaning there was a forest at the base, heavily wooded. Though he couldn't see if a road connected the two, the Dawnblade identified a city to the west, or rather, a somewhat destroyed-looking city. Looking up, he could see nothing but clear blue skies. It was likely morning. Given the operation had started at midnight, they'd been unconscious for some time.

"We've been out for a while," Kenji pointed out, looking back over at Aoko. "It's at least morning." He paused, glancing away again and rubbing his chin in thought. "Now, if I could figure out what city that is..."

His memory finally kicked back in, and he was reminded of Maxima. She'd been deeply wounded during the melee earlier. His brain came to a screeching halt at this realization. Kenji's rational side told him to remain calm and worry about the current situation first, while his impulses demanded to know where Maxima was. In his conflict, he found himself looking around the shrine again for a sign of the card swordswoman, only to find no one else but Aoko.

It was an odd feeling, being so strongly at conflict with his priorities. Kenji normally could discern which route was the right one, but this time, he was unable to pick one or the other. His impulses took over in his indecision. "Where's Maxima?"

"Who?" Aoko asked, still holding her head and recovering.

"We fought her at Luminarium? Joined us afterward?" He responded.

"Oh..." Miss Blue massaged her temples, groaning again. "I have no idea."

The Dawnblade found himself turning and jogging for the shrine's main hall, throwing the door open and peering inside. There were no signs of life, and little of value, save for the offerings at the end of the room. A round mirror on the wall showed him his worried countenance in darkened detail. Kenji's control slipped further, something he only unconsciously realized as he struck the door hard. It bounced against its hinges, and closed shut again right after he pulled his head out.

"Oi, what the hell?" Aoko stood up from the gate finally, dusting herself off as she walked over to him. "What's the matter with you?" She demanded.

"One of my allies is critically wounded," Kenji began, turning to face Aoko and meet her stare with his serious gaze. "and I have no idea where she is, or if she has the means to stitch herself back up. What do you expect me to do, pray at the shrine?"

"Very funny," came the deadpan response.

"Meanwhile," he continued, missing not a beat, "the Conception threw us all the way to Japan. If we made it here from Istanbul, she could be anywhere on the globe." A tense silence prevailed between the two, Aoko starting to look a little annoyed at the Dawnblade. After a moment, almost as if appraising his impulsive, worried conduct, she broke the silence.

"Is she that weak that she can't fend for herself? She's that Monad swordswoman, right?" Crossing her arms, the Blue Magus waited for a response.

Thinking about it for a moment, Kenji regained some mental stability. Of course Maxima could handle herself. Between the two of them, she was the superior warrior, and likely would have killed him if it wasn't for what help Aoko and Touko provided, or their swift retreat thanks to Evangeline. Yet here he was, fretting over her like a mother worrying about her child.

Frankly, he felt like an idiot.

"Well, yeah. She's one of the military chiefs," he responded finally, not wanting to let the tension bubble more.

"Chief."

Aoko fixed Kenji with a long, hard, incredulous glare. She looked like she was about to lose her patience. The spark on her fuse was running. Hoping to quell whatever bomb was going to go off on him, he opened his mouth, only for the Magus to stop him. "And you don't have ANY trust in her whatsoever that she can't keep herself alive?" Again, he made to speak before her pissed-off yell rung in his ears. "Seriously?!"

The next thing Kenji saw was Aoko quickly becoming smaller, her arm outstretched. He flew down into the temple, down the hall, and slammed into the opposite end, landing under the round mirror from earlier. He felt his spine crack, like he'd stretched it out, but thankfully not break, and his jaw was clicking from the blow. "She moves fast," he noted in his mind, grabbing his jaw and moving it around a bit to make sure it was still in place. From the other end of the temple, he saw Miss Blue walking in after him.

"You know, it really is rude to interrupt people when they're trying to talk... On the other hand, nice punch." Kenji let go of his jaw, hauling himself back to his feet.

"Hmph." Aoko snorted at him in derision.

"I already know Maxima's reliable, and a better warrior. If I made it, I doubt she's far off," he explained, finally able to get his statement off. If he'd been a little faster, maybe he wouldn't have almost lost the use of his jaw.

"That took you long enough, stupid dolt."

Kenji rubbed his jaw again, once more regaining his balance. The Blue Magus certainly lived up to her reputation; he was lucky his head didn't come off with that strike. Of course, he wouldn't be thinking about it if that had been her intent in the first place. Shrugging, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, checking the reception as he continued their conversation. "Since my head's back in check, can I convince you to stop frowning?"

Aoko crossed her arms again, glancing away from the ronin. "I'll stop when I feel like it."

Chuckling under his breath, he closed the phone and stuffed it back in his jacket, muttering about a lack of reception. Without checking to see if Aoko followed, he turned and began to walk off toward the temple entrance. A dozen or less steps in, the Magus stopped him with a curious comment. "By the way, that's an interesting mirror."

"Eh?" Kenji turned to look at the round mirror again. He thought he saw something pink. Now he was curious, too, wondering as he approached and gazed into it. Something pink flashed past in the reflection; he was certain of it this time.

"I thought I saw something," Aoko said.

"We're not alone," Kenji responded.

"Leave my mirror alone!" demanded the girl standing next to the mirror.

"WARGH!" Aoko fell down backwards in surprise.

"Whoa!" Kenji backed off from both the mirror and its apparent owner.

The Felinefolk snatched the mirror up and tucked it away into her clothes. "Hmph."

Now that Kenji's initial shock had a chance to settle down, he could take a moment to examine the Felinefolk girl. She was about a head shorter than him with a fair complexion, bearing golden irises, and vibrant pink hair, bound by a purple-blue bow into two ponytails behind her head. Her blue kimono, if it could be called one, was of indecent design, but at the same time, masterfully tailored and certainly beautiful. It cut off low, giving a generous view of her impressive endowments, was held in place by a black sash and gold cord that turned into an intricate bow in the back, and ended around her waist, only two lengths of cloth covering her rear and most delicate parts. She wore sleeves detached from the kimono in the same design, the black sleeves blooming around her wrists, and completed the ensemble with purple thigh-highs and black platform sandals.

Her exposed cleavage aside, the most striking features of the Felinefolk were, of course, her tall, fuzzy fox ears that stuck out of her head, and her distinctive fluffy tail that began to swish back and forth as she eyed Kenji with curiosity. Despite that, she said nothing, possibly waiting for him to make the first move. Kenji put two and two together in his head; her dress was too indecent for a miko, but she clearly wasn't a random visitor. The only remaining answer was the right one.

"Is this your shrine?"

"Yup!" She answered eagerly, then resumed her appraising gaze. The silence didn't last long. "You're Miyamoto Kenji, right?"

Kenji wasn't expecting her to know his name; even Aoko hadn't used it, or plain didn't know it herself. Blinking, he nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Mikooooo~n!" The Felinefolk bounced up and down, clapping excitedly as if she'd won a lifetime supply of candy. "I found my master!"

Aoko and Kenji were dumbstruck at the sight. She was certainly... Excitable? "Master?" The ronin asked.

She nodded energetically. "Yeah! Master!" She gave a great, beaming, fanged smile as she declared, "I'm your adorable friendly neighborhood sun goddess, Tamamo-no-Mae! Just call me Tamamo! I'm your guide and guardian in this world!"

The next to speak was Aoko, and Kenji didn't need to look at her to tell she was completely taken aback. "Ta-... TAMAMO?!"

Meanwhile, the Dawnblade found himself somewhat amused at the girl's introduction. He recognized the name, too, and knew exactly who they were faced with. "Otherwise known as Amaterasu," he commented with a grin. "This is interesting."

Tamamo pressed her index fingers together, glancing down at the ground with an almost annoyed expression. "Well, I only have one tail left, so my powers are really limited and all, so I'm actually kinda weak right now..." She mumbled incoherently, apparently mulling over her situation. Kenji continued processing the information he was faced with, cocking his head and raising his brow in curiosity.

"Well, if I'm your Master, and you're my guardian, does that make you a Heroic Spirit?"

"Yes!" she yelped as she looked back up at him, once again excited.

"But I didn't perform a summoning ceremony, nor have I come across any catalysts," he reasoned, fairly confused. "How'd you become my Servant? I'm... A little lost, especially what with the apocalypse having just happened."

"Details, schmetails," Tamamo responded, laughing. "You should get rid of your earthly concepts of Servant summoning. This isn't your world anymore. This is the world of spirits. "This is the world," she gestured around the temple in which Kenji and Aoko stood, "where the beliefs and faiths of Men come to life."

Aoko seemed to finally be coming to terms with both the Sun Goddess and her words, standing up from the floor. Kenji stroked his chin in contemplation, considering the situation in its entirety. In his reading, he'd come across the Conception and the Apocalypse enough times to commit it to memory, though he never had thought they could occur in his lifetime, if ever. Louis - or perhaps, better known as Lucifer now - had pulled a fast one over the entire planet and ruined any balance of power in existance. A clever, if dastardly play on his part.

He couldn't lose his head again like he had earlier, but he also couldn't let himself be restricted by logic and rationality. Now more than ever, Kenji needed both facets of his psyche to work in unison.

"I see..." He released his chin, planting his hands on his hips and offering Tamamo a smile. "Well then, I'll be relying on you for a while, Tamamo."

"Of course! I'm delighted to serve you," she squealed in response.

After noting her enthusiasm yet again, Kenji continued to the next order of business; verifying the talents of Amaterasu. "If I had to guess... You're a Caster-class Servant, aren't you?"

"Yeah! I specialize in magic; hexes, curses, they're all my forte!"

"And as a goddess, you must also know some form of divination. Is that right?"

"Yup."

Kenji nodded to himself. "I think this is going to work out nicely. And to think you're cute, too. My luck must be getting better again!" He laughed, making a bright moment for himself to enjoy in this world of darkness.

Aoko, however, didn't share in his faux mirth, an impatient tone polluting her voice. "You seem to forget our situation here, glib tongue."

Returning to a focused mindset, Kenji turned to face Aoko, dropping his hands from his hips. "Hardly. I already know our next move."

The Dawnblade began walking toward the hall entrance again, waving Aoko and Tamamo after him. The three stepped back out into the morning light, and to the railing at the back end of the shrine, overlooking the forest and city below. As they stopped before it, Kenji pointed out toward the ruined town, beginning to detail his train of thought to the redheaded brawler and his new personal goddess. "There is a city to the west of this shrine, through a heavily-wooded forest. It looks destroyed, maybe even desolate, but if we make our way down to it, I believe I can find our location, heading, and likely a way back to the hideout; I'm willing to bet the others, assuming they survived, will be making their way back there as well, so it's our best bet right now." He paused, turning and gesturing to Tamamo. "With Tamamo's magic, finding routes and answers will make this trip faster."

He glanced over at Aoko again, who seemed equal parts surprised and impressed that someone who was fretting over the state of a superior warrior earlier was now presenting their next objective and strategy. Her expression faded back into one of discomfort and fatigue, the Magus holding her head as if to resume nursing a hangover. "Well, alright..."



Tamamo:
http://imgur.com/a/GKrPm

I named the post after her theme in Fate/Extra. Thought it seemed appropriate. To be honest, it sounds right for the scene as well following her appearance.

Report Spam   Logged

Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #234 on: August 07, 2012, 01:26:26 am »

Second Journey

Travelling was a simple matter for the Black Reaper and the Macedonian King. With a slash of his spatha, he ripped the fabric of space apart before him, creating a tear that widened enough for an auric chariot to pass through, pulled along by a pair of mighty bulls in dark red armor. The bulls, which Iskandar called the "Children of Zeus", were originally an offering to Zeus from the king Gordius, but he claimed them by cutting the reigns with his sword. Hence, the chariot itself was thus named the ‘Gordius Wheel’, and its appearance was grand and imposing. Surrounded by crackling electricity, it was larger than that of an average truck, and on each side of the vehicle was a razor sharp sickle, used to demolish his obstacles and foes alike. Rather than touching the ground, the transport rode atop webs of lightning, allowing it to also move through the air. This was, as Iskandar claimed, his primary form of attack, and also the reason of his rank classification as Rider.

“Come on up, Master. We’ll reach your Hideout in a matter of days with my ride,” boasted Iskandar proudly, gesturing with a wave to Lei to board the chariot.

Minutes passed by uneventfully during his ride, both waiting for the other to start a conversation. The Earth Sentinel had questions, many more questions to ask regarding this world, but at the same time, he did not know where to begin. Perhaps he should get to know his Servant personally first before deciding on the rest of his inquiries. “Say, Iskandar.”

The king was resting comfortably at the front, looking back at his Master leisurely. “Hm?”

“Do you prefer if I called you Iskandar, or Alexander?” asked Lei curiously. It wasn’t every day that he got to converse with a historical legend, after all.

The Heroic Spirit grinned widely. “I’m fine either way, really. It’s not a big issue for me.”

“Iskandar it is, then,” concluded the assassin with a nod. “And you don’t have to keep calling me Master. Lei will do.”

The giant man guffawed boomingly. “Lei! Short and simple. I like it.”

Lei finally broke into a weak smile, though he was oblivious to it. There was another curiosity that had been badgering him ever since meeting the Macedonian king. “By the way, do you know of a warrior by the name of Albireo?”

Iskandar raised his brows in interest. “Oh? You know him?”

“Yes. He aided me before the Conception occurred. I heard that he served under you for a while.”

He nodded, though it was more to himself as a form of self-reflection than to agree with what Lei said, remembering his past. “Mm… He was one of the best warriors that I’ve known in my life. He doesn’t talk much, but he does his job better than anyone else. It surprised me that I didn’t see him in the Throne of Heroes when I died. Who’d have thought that he was an immortal? Hah!”

The Earth Sentinel blinked. “You said ‘was’.”

“Yeah, he appeared in my reality marble recently before I met you,” came the nonchalant reply. “He sure surprised me! I didn’t expect him to enter the netherworld!”

“Hold up a minute, Iskandar.” Lei’s heart was pounding with anticipation. “Did you say that he appears in your reality marble? What kind of a reality marble is that?”

The king rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I should’ve explained to you my abilities beforehand. Anyway, my reality marble’s called Ionioi Hetairoi, and it’s my ultimate trump card. My army, men who vowed allegiance to me, and followed me through thick and thin, their wills and their hearts reside within me, and they will materialize within the reality marble. That is the mark of my kingship! For the path of a king is never alone! Within my army are heroes who conquered the land with me, along with my horse, Bucephalus. I can summon only one person from my army out of the reality marble as a messenger, so if you wish to speak to Albireo…”

“Yes, please.” All it took was a snap of fingers from Iskandar’s part, and an apparition formed, becoming corporeal soon after, on the seat beside Lei. There was no mistake that the man that sat by his side was the Head Executor, as deadpan as the Chinese assassin remembered him. Still, seeing him here, it was hard to believe that he was gone. “Albireo?”

The spearman stared at Lei coldly in acknowledgement. “I didn’t expect to see you again this soon.”

“What happened? How did you die?”

Albireo sighed, and regaled him the story of the secondary party objectively. “...and the light from the Jewel Sword was the last thing I saw.”

“I guess there isn’t a point in asking you if the secondary party is safe, then…” mumbled Lei, crestfallen. Still, he now knew that Maia was truly gone, and it relieved him somewhat. He did not want a True Vampire wreaking havoc here. “I was hoping you’d know something about this world.”

 “I don’t. I’ve only just arrived, after all,” said the ghost, shaking his head. He was already beginning to dissipate. “I’ll be taking my leave till you require me again.”

“Even I don’t fully know about this world, Lei,” chimed Iskandar, as Albireo vanished into thin air. “We Heroic Spirits reside in the Throne of Heroes before being summoned here after the Conception, and the information we receive isn’t very complete. I mean, for example, I’m given detailed knowledge of how to ride modern vehicles due to my high Riding rank, but on the other hand, I was informed about the Tower of Babylon very vaguely.”

Lei shrugged. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice but to explore and learn.”

“By the way, you said that your master is in the Hideout?” spoke the king, a moment after the previous subject. “What kind of person is he to train a Crystal Sentinel?”

“She,” corrected the assassin. “And she’s a True Vampire.”

Iskandar stared at Lei with raised eyebrows. His grin returned to his bearded face, as though excited by the thought of meeting Evangeline. “Oh? How interesting.”

*

The party of the French legend emerged from the ice cave when the sun was at its highest and the warmth at its peak, allowing Kenta to move without being encumbered by the frigid environment as much. They were in a forested area carpeted with snow, where every direction looked the same to them. Saphiel had memorized the way out to the nearest civilization after last night’s scouting, so she took the lead with her new Servant by her side. It was odd to have a historical legend call her ‘Master’, to the point that Saphiel had to ask Jeanne to call her by name instead. The French maiden was quiet, but her silence was comforting to the Featherfolk. She could feel the trust that the Heroic Spirit had placed on her, waling so confidently by her side, so much so that she believed in her own abilities to navigate out of this forest.

“So… what’s it like to be burned at the stake?” started Neige out of the blue, breaking the peace that they had for a while. Everyone turned to stare at her, amazed that she had the audacity to ask that question. Jeanne, however, merely smiled with a bit of a cringe, as though she was expecting that question to come up sooner or later. The Ice Witch seemed a little embarrassed, quickly adding on, “S-sorry, that question’s been bugging me since meeting you.”

“Th-that’s alright,” replied Jeanne, giggling out of awkwardness. “I remember it hurting a lot, and I couldn’t open my eyes, because of how hot it was. I couldn’t get out of the intense heat because I was tied, so I was overwhelmed by how helpless I am… It didn’t take long to accept my death.”

“I see…” mumbled the albino quietly, trying futilely to imagine herself being incinerated. “I’m sorry for asking that. It’s really insensitive of me.”

The French girl smiled, shaking her head. “It’s alright.”

“Come to think of it, you’re younger than us, aren’t you?” spoke Saphiel, realization coming to her. “Aren’t you sixteen?”

Jeanne blinked. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” replied the Featherfolk, amused by her own thoughts. “Hey, Kenta, don’t go hitting on her, alright?”

“Oh, please. He’s the last person I’ll expect to hit on a girl,” remarked Neige, chuckling at the end.

Saphiel and Jeanne laughed, leaving Kenta to frown. “Yeah, thanks, girls. That’s really great for my self-esteem.”

“Kenta already has Neige, anyway,” said the Water Sentinel. “Right?”

“Wait, what?” uttered the Ice Witch, surprised. “D-Don’t spew nonsense, Saphiel! I’m just his Handler, that’s all!”

“A Handler who slept naked with him to share body warmth, right,” commented the blue-haired mage. “Awfully intimate for a Handler, huh?”

Neige’s pale face was visibly red. “S-Shut up, jeez! I was just trying to keep him alive!”

The Featherfolk laughed even harder. “Alright, alright. We’re almost there.”

The pine trees soon gave way to an open field, and a man-made road that went around the forest outskirts towards a nearby rural village, which they made their way towards. It seemed somewhat dilapidated, with weed growing over the stone of walls and fungus spreading in the crevices of the pebble floor. There was a sign by entrance of the commune, with the words ‘Domrémy-la-Pucelle’ etched upon the wooden board hanging upon the post. Jeanne’s eyes widened, her finger tracing the carved letters melancholically. Saphiel looked over her shoulder, curious and puzzled. “What is it, Jeanne?”

“This is… my home,” mumbled the saint softly, with a hint of sadness. “Looks like it’s completely deserted now.”

“Let’s go in and take a look?” suggested Kenta.

Neige nodded. “Maybe you can show us your house, Jeanne? We could stay here for a while and find some food to eat.”

Jeanne remained silent for a moment, contemplating. Then she turned to her friends, and smiled. “Okay. Follow me.”


Yup. Still survival mode.
Report Spam   Logged

Kenta.....
Fallible Human Being
Esteemed Members
Resident
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 786


Emotionally Retarded



Badges: (View All)
Linux User Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Mobile User
« Reply #235 on: August 17, 2012, 01:26:10 am »

Re-adjusting

An awkward silence ensued once the party of four entered the house.  Jeanne put a hand to her mouth, astonished.  The other three just stared.

"They . . . turned it into a museum . . ."

The entire inside had been converted.  On the walls hung painting after painting of men clad in armor, led by a young girl with a "glowing" head.  In the center of each room was a glass-encased artifact, with signs underneath explaining its significance in French.  The relics ranged from helmet fragments, to official documents that had gone yellow with age, to a jar that claimed to contain some ashes of the martyr herself.  Everything was roped off, making most of the rooms into narrow hallways with nowhere to sit.

Not exactly a home-sweet-home atmosphere, thought Kenta, as Neige and Saphiel put a consoling hand upon Jeanne's shoulders.  If I ever died a hero and came back, and found my house turned into a tourist attraction, I'd be pretty bummed, too.  At the same time, it's quite flattering.

"Well," Saphiel started, in an attempted cheery voice, "we can straighten it out a bit, can't we?  If you want, we can move a couple of things, and make it feel like a home again."

Jeanne's face was slightly pink.  "They made it a shrine," she said in a small, embarrassed voice, looking modestly at the ground.  "I . . . I don't think they needed to do all this for me.  I only answered when the Lord called me."

"Yeah, all this veneration . . ."  Kenta stared at her.  "I can't even begin to imagine all the admirers you must have.  I'm seeing you in a new light."

"Please don't," Jeanne answered, shaking her hand and head.  "I remain as you first knew me.  You need not look at me any differently now, or ever."

"I found a refrigerator and a microwave!" came Neige's voice from a room over, and Kenta looked to see an open door marked: EMPLOYEE LOUNGE.  "The food in here is-" a noise of revulsion "-spoiled.  No electricity."

"That's not surprising," said Kenta, looking out the door.  "In a world crisis, people will panic and go into survival mode.  You can forget about going back to work.  The only places that will remain functional are those with a deliberate purpose.  Any impractical village like this will be forsaken."  

"Then our enemies will remain in the twenty-first century," murmured Saphiel, looking at another saintly painting of Jeanne surrounded by sword-brandishing angels.  "While the rest of us recede to the first."

"Unless, that is, we can get things operational again," said Neige, appearing again with a few cans of tuna and French onion soup in her arms.  "It's a good incentive to meet up with the others as soon as possible, and make it happen.  Until then, we'll be heating these over old-fashioned fires."

Jeanne put a hand on her hip and tried- and failed- to look stern.  "Hey.  Nothing wrong with old-fashioned."

Kenta didn't hear her.  As soon as Neige appeared with the canned food, his eyes were glued, and he suddenly realized how hungry he was.  It came as no surprise, for his last meal- everyone's last meal- had been over twenty-four hours ago.  Salivation welled up in his mouth, and it was all he could do not to drool.  After all the strife, and all the grieving, the will to live flared up once again.  "Neige," he groaned, reaching out, "do we have to heat it up?  I'm ready to eat it as is, tin can and all."

Seeing Kenta and Saphiel drifting towards her (the latter, who actually was drooling), Neige pulled back with a start, then snapped one finger towards the employee lounge.  "Ah-ah-ah-no!  Back, you savages!  Go to the kitchen and wash your hands first.  Every part of you is filthy, but I won't allow you to eat with germs on your paws!"

The featherfolk and human stared at her in disbelief, then hung their heads.  "Yes, ma'am," they groaned, trudging past the ice mage.

"You like doing this, don't you?" Kenta grumbled quietly, mostly to himself.

" . . . maybe."  She'd heard him.  The reply carried an ever-so-subtle hint of a smirk at the end.

Oh, well.  She found the food, after all.  I guess we needed to have water anyway; I'm parched from all this travel.

Saphiel beat Kenta to the employee kitchen, and twisted the knobs on the faucet.  It made a gurgling sound, but no water came out.  She turned and looked at him, indicating the problem.  Kenta slumped, defeated.  "Of course not.  No electricity, no water.  Now what are we going to do?"

The side door opened, one which led out the back of the house/museum.  Jeanne's face peeked in.  "Now might be a good time to show you the well."  Kenta immediately brightened up, and she smiled.  "I told you there was nothing wrong with old-fashioned."

A minute later, Kenta stood by himself in the middle of the empty town of Domrémy, lowering a bucket down an ancient well.  Jeanne had gone to get more holding vessels for the water, and Saphiel busied herself searching through the cabinets for a manual handheld can-opener.  That left him with the chore of drawing from the deep spring below.  It was a pain to pull more than a gallon of water back up, but what bothered Kenta more than anything was staring down into the darkness of the well.  More than once, he thought he heard the faintest echo of a voice from down beneath, and the repeated sound caused him to tremble slightly.  Although he had remained an agnostic to religion for most of his life, Kenta had always been a firm believer in ghosts.  Furthermore, those still anchored to the world rather than going to Heaven or Hell all had one thing in common: unfinished business.  That meant there was no such thing as a "friendly" ghost.  The idea of spirits trapped in the well disturbed him ever more as the seconds passed, and his imagination began to toy with the thought of pale, water-slicked hands grappling their way up the stones . . .

Shut up, Kenta, shut up . . . just keep pulling, and don't look down there.  Look at something else.  Look at the quaint little village.

Kenta looked up, and nearly let go of the rope in shock.  Standing just a few strides away from him were two older men, motionlessly watching him.  There was nothing unusual about their clothing; indeed, they might have been just a couple of stray passerby on any other occasion.  But in this supposedly abandoned town, in a world where little more than a third of the population even remained, this was discomforting.  Never mind the fact that they were staring him down, while the marks in their foreheads seemed to function as a third eye . . .

The marks.  Kenta recognized them.  On the very first day that things had changed forever, he'd noticed similar markings on his friend Chad's right hand.  At the time, the guy had acted like a soulless robot, merely imitating the happy-go-lucky personality he normally possessed.  Likewise, the Neo-Ammonites whom he'd killed were Marked with the elaborate seal shaped like three twisted 6's.  He had reacted against them with the Songale rather than the Songbreeze, which was the first time instinct had ever caused him to kill other human beings, rather than monsters.  He couldn't explain it, but his instinct had told him that they weren't human anymore.  The Mark had somehow tainted their very souls.

"Kenta," called the man on the left, in a slightly French accent.  Kenta's heart leaped, and he clutched the rope tighter.

"Who are you?" he asked, through a tight throat.  "How do you know my name?"

"Because this person isn't me," replied the man on the right.  "But we know each other, Kenta.  This is Alex speaking."

It took a moment for Kenta to process the information, before it clicked in his mind.  Chad's twin brother, Alex.  He was the person who used to sit with them during lunch at Scientia Academy in Riverdale, but never said much.  He hadn't yet gotten the Mark when Chad did, but apparently now he had it.  And somehow, he was using the Mark to speak through a couple of complete strangers from thousands of miles away.

"How many times did he tell you?" asked Alex, now speaking through both men at the same time.  "How many times did Chad send the text, urging you to take the Mark?  You stopped checking your phone after a while, and we had no contact.  And now he's dead, with his last wish unfulfilled."

The voice carried no emotion, even though Kenta had a feeling that it should have.  Like the other Marked people, Alex did not project feeling, which was unsettling since he was never particularly emotional to begin with.  Kenta felt as though he should not have been able to tell the difference, and yet he could.

"Chad is . . . dead?"

"Yes.  He was weak."  Alex made the statement matter-of-factly.  "There are no more weak people left in this world.  So relatively speaking, weak takes on a new definition.  You'll see what I mean, when you experience the first of the legendary incarnations."

Kenta just looked at the two men, too bewildered to speak.  Once again, the faint echo of a distant voice seemed to issue from the well.  Kenta moved his eyes, and "Alex" watched him.

"Welcome to the world of man's desires.  Welcome to a land of beautiful and terrible creatures, long dreamed up in the imaginations of many, but forbidden to enter reality until now.  We have made our bed, and we shall lie in it."  The two men simultaneously pointed to the Marks on their foreheads.  "The Master always knew that we would one day be given what we want, but how could we recognize our creations without a collective understanding?  Praise be to Him for the Mark.  Those who have the Mark are networked together in a single collective being.  We are the Beast.  We are the King of all beasts we have made.  And this is our world now."

One man held out his hand to Kenta, while the other held out a book.  "Come and be one with the Beast, Kenta.  Right now, you are weak.  As the Beast, you will be strong.  You shall be as omniscient and omnipotent as all of us together, under the Master."

Kenta felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the haunting sound that kept issuing from the well.  He pulled busily on the rope, hoisting the water up, trying to keep an outward calm.  "If I'm so small and pathetic," he asked, "why reach out to me at all?"

"True.  You are nothing remarkable."  The men moved forward one step.  "But the Master gathers all men through former acquaintances.  It is the ultimate form of social networking.  In your case, Alex is your closest link to the network."

"Yeah, well . . ."  Kenta grabbed his bucket of water, which had finally come up, and held it close to him while glaring at the strangers (stranger) before him.  "I don't like the idea of sharing my identity, especially to serve a murderer's purposes.  I like to think that I was created for who I am.  If it's inconvenient for me to remain free, so be it."

"That is a foolish philosophy.  A decision made without even thinking."

Kenta felt a spur of anger.  "It doesn't require a lot of thought," he said, backing away with his bucket.  And before he knew it, the rant was spilling out of his mouth in a flood.  "Look how shallow you are, Alex . . . or Beast.  You don't even value your name anymore!  You only used it to get me talking to you, rather than running or fighting.  Just like you used Chad's name, to make me feel guilty about not taking the Mark.  Meanwhile, he's dead, and all you can do is comment on how worthless he was?  This thing you've become- that all marked people have become- has no interest but in its own agenda.  Is there nothing you won't use as a tool, to get your way?"

Alex's puppets were quiet for a moment.  They lowered their arms, and let the book they were holding drop to the ground.  "Principles," the Beast finally said, "are no longer relevant in this world.  Men have been philosophers for thousands of years, and yet time has proceeded on in supreme indifference.  Like your outdated 'ideals,' they are all dead now, and nothing has changed.  With the Conception comes a new age of enlightenment, one in which practical thinking is the only form of sanity."

Kenta raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, really?  So what about the mythical creatures men have dreamed up?"

"Art.  Hedonistic indulgence.  But not without its uses."  For the first time, the two men suddenly smiled, pulling their faces so tight that they became grotesque in appearance.  "What a fitting way to prove my point.  Ah, but it is not dark out yet.  The imaginations of men do not truly flourish until nightfall.  What will you experience at that time, I wonder?  We are in France, so . . . gargoyles?  Werewolves?  Something of your own creation?"

With that, the men began walking backwards, in sync, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  "The offer stands, if you last the night," the Beast called, while still retreating.  "Those with the Mark remain the masters of this world.  Those without it shall be prey.  It is that simple."

A minute later, Kenta found himself alone once more, at the well.  He glanced sideways at the dark hole, lost his nerve, and hurried back towards Jeanne's house.

Report Spam   Logged

Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.
Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #236 on: August 17, 2012, 09:51:11 am »

Funnily enough, I’ve planned something for the night.


The Mad Monk

The group of four had decided, despite what Kenta regaled to them about what he encountered, that they would stay in Domrémy for at least the night, for the alternate option would be to sleep in the wilderness. Danger would inevitably be present either way, and they would very much rather sleep in beds than on the ground. Much to Neige’s delight, there was enough water left over for a bath, though there was none after the girls were done with it, to Kenta’s chagrin. The Ice Witch compensated with the aid of some ice spells and heat, declaring that she would rather use up her mana to make sure that everyone was clean than sleep with filth. She had Saphiel clean everyone’s clothes (including Jeanne, who initially refused, until the Featherfolk started trying to undress her) with the remaining water and a few weak wind magic. By the end of the day of chores and a small dinner consisting of canned food and wild fruits (which the martyr gathered, being more familiar with the area than the others), everyone was sanitized to the Ice Witch’s standards.

“So… we’re sleeping in the guardhouse beside the muse- er- Jeanne’s home, right?” asked Kenta, wolfing down the tunas. “Are we going to do rounds?”

“Rounds?” uttered Saphiel, blinking in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Sleep in turns to keep watch,” answered the albino, throwing more sticks into the flame.

“There’s no need,” spoke Jeanne, smiling. “I’ll keep watch for the night. Heroic Spirits don’t really need sleep. We sleep to conserve mana.”

The Featherfolk grinned cheerfully. “And I’ve plenty to spare for you!”

“Come to think of it, you don’t really have a limit, do you?” asked Neige pensively, looking up at her friend. “I mean, the academy couldn’t find one in you.”

“Pretty sure I have,” came the reply. “…Though I’ve never really found the bottom before. But thank you, Jeanne. We really appreciate it.”

Night was darker than Saphiel had expected. She was used to the dim-lit streets and corridors of the academy, where even the blackest of nights would be illuminated with the warm glow of the antique lamps. And the cacophony of the insects outside was not helping. The only semblance of her old abode was a tiny candle that she found in the storage room, lit and standing upon her beside drawer. Sighing in exasperation, the restless Featherfolk sat up in her bed, casting a glance over at her friends, who were asleep, or feigning it. She did not want to disturb them for her own selfish reasons, but she wanted company. Jeanne. Satisfied with her own answer, she hopped off the bed and went for the door, shaking off the frigidity of the night with a shudder.

The knob did not budge. Confused, she twisted the lock switch, only to find it already at the unlocked position. Even more baffled now, she tried the door again, only to meet with futility.
   
“Saphiel? What are you doing?” asked Neige sleepily, rubbing her eye as she got up. The Water Sentinel did not respond, instead staring at the door, as though dumbstruck by something. “…Saphiel?”

“W-Wake Kenta up,” whispered the blue-haired magus timidly, stepping away from the door. “Wake him!”

Not questioning her friend any further, the Ice Witch flung her pillow at Kenta as violently as she could, effectively waking him up with a metaphoric jolt. “What the-!?”

Saphiel stumbled backwards, transfixed in horror. Raven black hair crept eerily out of the crevice between the door and the frame, consuming the walls like an infectious disease. There was a sense of evil permeating the air, and it was now that the Featherfolk realized that the chirping of insects outside was no more. She instinctively looked towards the windows, even though there was no way of seeing any bugs in the woods. She screamed with cupped hands, backing up against the wall, and then away from it, suddenly remembering the grotesquely encroaching hair. Countless Matryoshka dolls were plastered against the glass, rattling against the panes fiercely with children’s laughter. Neige and Kenta were fully alert now, shaken awake by the shocking sight. There was no escape.

“We’ve to get out of here!” exclaimed Kenta, picking up the Songale and sending a strike down on the door without a moment’s hesitation. The blade went through, but it jammed halfway in, impossible to withdraw no matter how hard he pulled. The spreading hair climbed onto the weapon, moving steadily towards the swordsman’s hands before Neige hastily yanked Kenta away from it, afraid of the unknown consequences. The Ice Witch fired an icicle at the blockade of hair, but it only delayed the growth. “What now…?”

The door came crashing down abruptly with a blast of white light, and Songale flew away from it and onto the floor. Jeanne stood at the entrance with a short sword and a spear that carried the flag of France, billowing proudly even in the absence of wind.  There was something different about the saint, about the way she carried herself, completely unlike her usual personality. It was Arturia-esque, to say the least. The hair was miraculously gone, as were the wooden dolls. When did they disappear? Jeanne’s air of authority completely vanished the moment she spoke, with her usual tenderness, “Are you alright?”

The Featherfolk merely nodded, disorientated by the supernatural happenings. “Wh-what’s going on?”

Jeanne straightened up. “Malicious sorcery. Someone is releasing malevolent spirits into this place. Those dolls aren’t from France.”

“They’re Russian. Nested dolls. Dolls in a doll,” said Neige, stepping out of the guardhouse. “There’s only one notorious devil summoner who used Matryoshka dolls to keep demons and spirits in the history books in DHO’s database. He was known as the Mad Monk, Grigori Rasputin.”

“Well done, missus.”

Jeanne spun around. It was another nested doll the height of a foot, decorated with the artwork of an unkempt man with messy, curled hair. The saint pointed her spear at the doll, saying, “Are you Rasputin?”

“I am he,” answered a heavily accented voice from the doll. Saphiel almost could not understand him. “What an honor to behold such beautiful women in a humble village like this. And the holy virgin, no less.”

The Heroic Spirit did not lower her guard. “Why are you terrorizing us? This is my home!”

“I see no reason to answer.” The doll’s upper torso fell off with a sharp pop, releasing a cloud of darkness into the starless night sky. “I have not expected the abilities of the holy virgin to be as such. I shall bid you adieu for now, ladies and gentleman.”

As the smoke dissipated, everyone was left with a look of bewilderment. Neige was the first to voice her feelings, “…What the hell?”

“…What did he mean by that?” asked Saphiel, turning to look at her Servant. “Abilities?”

Jeanne smiled shyly. “I’m immune to most kinds of magecraft, save for white magic. His illusions earlier did not work against me.”

“Oooh, that’s going to be pretty handy,” commented the Sentinel. She looked around at her surroundings. The sense of evil was no longer around, and the horrid dins of the insects were back. She heaved a sigh. “Well… let’s get back to sleep.”



Jeanne’s abilities:
Magic Resistance – Blocks all forms of magic save for white magic.
Revelation – A skill that she cannot explain well to others. It’s similar to Instinct, a sixth sense regarding battles, but it encompasses everything related to achieving of a goal instead.
Charisma – Morale of her party is high when she is in battle. Combat abilities are improved for her allies.
Saint – Increases effectiveness of sacraments (Pieces of Eden) and white magic, in addition to enabling Regen status on herself.



God of War

“What the hell…?” Lei was rendered speechless by the unexpected sight. They had spent the entire day speeding across the air from the ruins of the Monad headquarters in Istanbul, eventually arriving at iskandar’s homeland, Macedonia. They were halfway from Rome, where the hideout was, but the king had to recuperate his prana from the intensive riding. Night had already fallen, much to his dismay, for he had hoped to find shelter before the sun set. Neither of them knew what danger lurked in the darkness of the Vortex World. However, his beloved country, or at least this particular city they ended up in, looked nothing close to what either of them expected. “Is this… Ancient China?”

The buildings were undeniably of Eastern architecture. Small houses made of shoots and some of stone occupied the stone-paved earth, the rooftops notably triangular and tiled. It was completely out of place in the European continent. Something else grabbed Lei’s attention; there were spirits residing here, going out their daily activities like a normal human would. Some carried buckets of water about, stalls were being tended to, and there were children running playfully across the streets. None of them were alive, but they might as well be. It was a functioning civilization in an apocalyptic world. Iskandar was rubbing his chin thoughtfully, observing his Master secretly with his peripherals, waiting for his shock to subside. Then he placed a firm hand on the Sentinel’s shoulder, as though to pull him back into reality. “Master.”

“…Let’s find an inn to stay for the night,” spoke Lei, not turning to look at his Servant, who was raising eyebrows at him.

“Heh, I thought you were too stunned to think,” commented Iskandar in amusement. A thought struck him suddenly. “Wait, we don’t have their currency, do we?”

The assassin shrugged nonchalantly, taking the lead to explore. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Winging it, huh?” said the king, grinning cheerfully as he followed behind. “I like your style.”

As they wandered further into the city, they noticed a commotion at the square, where a crowd of spirits gathered to witness something of interest, and it piqued theirs as well. Exchanging agreeing glances, the duo walked towards the spectacle, with Iskandar giving Lei a boost to see from the giant’s height. “Wha-!?”

There was a stage at the center, built from planks of wood overexposed to the sun. Upon it was a man in royal green of significant stature, much like the Macedonian king, with an impressive beard length that reached his waist, and in his right hand a Chinese pole arm (guandao), the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, that was famously wielded by one particular man in history that fitted his description: The God of War, Justice and Righteousness, Lord Guan Yu. On his left were two girls that Lei had known briefly during their short-lived war, the Featherfolk and Felinefolk Executors. Ironically, they were in line to be executed by the legend, apparently for murder of one of the Chinese hero’s compatriots. Their pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears, for the red-faced lord was too fueled with rage to listen, gripping the spear so tightly in his hand that his knuckles whitened. Lei shot his Servant a look. Iskandar reached for his spatha, taking in a deep breath.

“STOP!” bellowed the Macedonian king, flinging his sword right into the ground beside Guan Yu, who seemed barely surprised. Iskandar grinned widely, pushing the commoners gently aside as he made his way towards the stage, Lei walking closely by his side.

“Who’re those two?”

“It’s another human…!”

“He has a Servant…”

“Lei!?” exclaimed a wide-eyed Alkaid, her head and hands trapped between two pieces of wooden boards, awaiting the guillotine that was the guandao. “What are you doing here!?”

Iskandar stopped right before the intimidating lord, hands proudly on his hips. “You’re a pretty big guy, eh?”

Lei stared at his guardian incredulously. Not exactly the best way to start a conversation about stopping the executions. Guan Yu eyed the king for a moment in silence, sizing up the equally large man in front of him. Finally, he spoke, with a deep voice came from somewhere beneath the massive beard, “Identify yourselves.”

“I am King Iskandar of Macedonia, and this is my Master, Lei, the Earth Sentinel,” introduced the Maharaorajah beamingly, gesturing towards Lei. “Would you mind not killing those two? They happen to be friends of his.”

Guan Yu shook his head. “They took a life, and they must pay for it with theirs.”

“Well, that’s problematic…” mumbled Iskandar, rubbing his chin. “What’s going to take to convince you? My Master seems pretty intent on them being alive.”

The Chinese hero combed his beard with his free hand contemplatively. “…A duel.”
Report Spam   Logged

Kenta.....
Fallible Human Being
Esteemed Members
Resident
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 786


Emotionally Retarded



Badges: (View All)
Linux User Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Mobile User
« Reply #237 on: August 26, 2012, 10:09:27 pm »

Sometime after the Nested Dolls incident, Jeanne stood sentinel by the steps of her house museum, eyes calm but alert.  She turned at the creak of the door opening, and Kenta emerged through the threshold, glowing on and off like a firefly.  He glanced down at Jeanne, then looked around the rest of the dark village with a frown.  "This must get very dull, very quickly," he said, sitting on the steps.

Jeanne shrugged.  "It gives me time to think about things.  After the short life I lived, I don't mind having more."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, but . . ."  Kenta waved his hand over Domrémy.  "Doesn't this bother you?  Seeing your hometown as a dark shell of the community it once was?  This is one time in history I think I would rather sleep through."

"Of course it bothers me," said Jeanne sadly, "but I may always remind myself that it won't last.  Once Louis appears in the Temple Mount, and proclaims himself to be God, we will know there are only three and a half more years left."

"Left until what?" asked Kenta, surprised.  "The end?"

"Until the real God returns," she said, smiling.  "The beginning."

"As expected of a Christian saint.  Sounds like something Valtor would say."  Kenta's voice cracked at his brother's name.  He felt his throat grow tight, and he went silent.  Jeanne looked at him with pity, but said nothing.

A minute passed.

"You should try to get some sleep," Jeanne advised gently.  Kenta shook his head.  "That's not going to happen."

"I know it must be hard, after the attack . . ."

"No, that's not it.  I know you'll be there for us."  A small shock of static zapped Kenta.  "It's just that I've, uh, got this problem when I get too nervous."  He filled her in on the static field he'd first acquired when training under Arturia, when she had pried open his mind's psychic potential with intensive hypnosis.  "I'll just have to wait it out," he finished glumly.  "I've only ever known two people who could neutralize it, and neither of them are here now."  Kenta shrugged.  "But we had plenty of rest up in that mountain cave, so I'm not tired anyway."

"Then remain here if you like," said Jeanne graciously.  "We can talk some more, and if you get bored, you may yet fall asleep."

So that was that.  There would be more periods of silence, and then Kenta would bring up subjects at random.

"Jeanne," he said at one point, "you recognized the presence of evil spirits immediately, back there.  I was wondering . . . when I was getting water from the well over there-"  He pointed out into the darkness, in the general direction of the ancient spring- "I heard things.  And I know it wasn't my imagination, because the noises kept repeating.  And the Beast heard them, too."

"You want to know what it was," answered Jeanne.  Kenta nodded.

"Sometimes, a haunted place contains no spirits.  Rather, sometimes the energies linger from the people who used to live in those places, who had an especially traumatic event.  I detect energy from that well, and that's all I detect.  Perhaps some unfortunate child did fall down there, but there is no one present anymore."

Kenta tilted his head, confused.  "So I got scared about nothing?" he said, feeling a little foolish.

"I wouldn't count somebody's heartfelt trauma as nothing," replied Jeanne, "but no harm can come to you from that.  I should warn you, however, that you will be seeing many more people and events from the past than you have before.  The energy of two-thirds of this planet's population is gone.  The earth compensates."

Kenta shuddered.  "Now I know how it feels to be a psychic medium.  How do they put up with it all the time?"

A little later into the morning, before the sun rose, Kenta brought up a different subject.

"The Beast told me that, in spite of every bit of training I've done, I'm still weak, relative to the rest of the present world.  I didn't want to believe him, but that Rasputin monk made it obvious.  I was powerless."  Kenta clenched his teeth in frustration.  "So I've been mulling it over, and there's no other method I can think of, that I haven't tried already.  It's time for me to cheat, and get a GF."

"GF?" asked Jeanne, looking confused.  Kenta glanced at her, then bopped himself on the head.  "Sorry.  I keep forgetting that this is after your time."  He cleared his throat.  "Rasputin was practicing a form of lapidary, where he contained an evil spirit inside of something for his own use.  Saphiel summoned you with magic, which is beyond me.  But if I could get a GF to be my partner . . ."  Kenta was quiet for a moment, then continued.  "GF means 'guardian force.'  They're elemental creatures of legend, and only a few known people in existence have ever acquired them all.  You can summon them at will, but even if you don't, they're supposed to grant you some awesome power boosts."

Kenta shook his head.  "The problem is, they're really rare, really tough, and I believe they'll only join you if you can beat them in battle.  And I don't think there are any in France."  He counted on his fingers.  "Let's see . . . Quezacotl would probably be somewhere in South America, so he's out.  I think Shiva's somewhere in India.  Ifrit, well . . . I'm not even gonna try that one.  Siren's most likely in Greek waters.  The only historical origin of Diablos was from a mystical lamp, so he's probably somewhere in Saudi Arabia . . ."

"It sounds like digging for a poison-tipped needle in a haystack the size of this content," said Jeanne pointedly.

"That's true.  It's only a thought on the afterburners."  Kenta frowned.  "But I know they're out there.  I saw Bahamut with my own eyes!  He burned down the Vatican right in front of me."

Later on, the conversation shifted again.

"Where are we gonna go when the sun rises?" asked Kenta.

"It doesn't matter.  Yuan told us to stay low until further notice."

"Yuan?"

"A DHO volunteer," Jeanne elaborated.  "You wouldn't have seen him, but he was the long-range teleportation specialist who brought you your brother's Bible.  

"Okay."  Kenta looked around.  "But what does he mean, 'further notice'?  Are we that easy to track, that he could find us again?"

"That still troubles me."  Jeanne's face darkened, which was an unnatural look for her.  "How did Yuan find us?  How did Rasputin find us?  It seems as though when we are wanted, we will just as soon be found."

"Then l suggest we get accustomed to fast transport."  Kenta stood up and pointed east, the direction from which the sun would soon rise.  "It's just another back-burner idea, but what if we traveled by bullet trains and airplanes?  That way, we would never get surrounded by more bad guys than we could handle."  After Kenta had stopped to fill Jeanne in on the functions of the trains and planes, she shook her head.  "Kenta, that's a terrible idea.  First, we would have to pay to do it, and nobody can buy or sell without the Mark.  Even with disguises, it would be hopeless.  Secondly, we would be trapped on a high-speed machine with whatever ambush might be set up, if Antichrist's minions really are that informed.  Even if we survived, there would be more firepower waiting at the next station.  Third, we don't even know where to go, but anyplace with working modern technology will have been claimed by the enemy.  Anything I don't recognize is suspect."

"You're right."  Kenta sighed, slapped a hand to his forehead, and let it slide down his face, grumbling incoherently.  "I guess we could travel like vagrants.  Find a functioning freight train route, hop into a box car, and learn how to play the harmonica.  It'd be boring, but how else are we going to avoid walking for the rest of our lives?  Stitch together an air balloon?  Hijack a guy's car?"  Kenta stopped, and thought it over.  "Actually, I'm seriously considering that last option.  Who's going to stop us?"

Wait . . . a car is a symbol of independence.  We might actually be suspected in one.  But so what?  Everyone's already trying to kill us anyway.

"Do you know where we would be going, if we were to try fast travel?" asked Jeanne.

Kenta thought, then looked back at her.  "It will be better if we've gathered some good information by the time we're in contact with the others again," he said, an old feeling of determination rising over him.  "Let's try to find out specifically where this 'Babylon' is.  Once we've at least scoped it out, we can take the next step from there."


***


I've had no ideas for a long time.  I was pretty empty when I wrote this.
Report Spam   Logged

Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.
Kenji
Admincat
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 21238


Harem Master


WWW
Badges: (View All)
Nineth year Anniversary Search Eighth year Anniversary Seventh year Anniversary 20000 Posts
« Reply #238 on: September 03, 2012, 03:38:03 am »

Feudal Splendor

Tamamo, as it turned out, hadn't been exaggerating about 'beliefs and faiths coming to life.'

As they came within a mile of the city's easternmost iron gate, a surprise in itself, the Dawnblade and Miss Blue could tell that something was off about the city. From the mountaintop, and at such a distance, Kenji hadn't been able to see any details, but now that they closed on this unknown settlement, it was clear that it was not entirely of modern construction. A peculiar mesh of Heian and Kamakura period architecture dominated the city, with inklings of Muromachi and Edo construction; it was as if men and women of the four eras had collaborated to create a friendly haven for Feudal Japan refugees. As the three passed through the city, Kenji and Aoko were understandably in awe at what they saw, while Tamamo merely kept smiling, unfazed, snickering to herself on occasion.

Stalls and stores littered the streets; there seemed to be a shop or a merchant for anything imaginable from imperial times. Swordsmiths hammered away at red-hot blades, fresh from the forge, while their counterparts, the armorers, fashioned breastplates from tempered iron. Fishmongers pushed their seafood side by side with sushi chefs, complimenting the noodle stands and sake bars. Magicians, both honest shugenja and clever showmen, wowed passerbys with swirling jets of water and vanishing trinkets. Nothing was out of the question, and everything appeared to profit.

More than that, humans were hardly the only occupants of the flourishing settlement. Kenji witnessed a mighty, jade-skinned oni accepting a kanabo from a well-toned woman with a red horn sprouting from her forehead, decorated with a golden star. At her side was a twin-horned girl with a big bow in her hair, giggling drunkenly as she occasionally consumed what could only be alcohol from a violet gourd on her hip, offering its contents to anyone who happened to cross her vision.

Aoko observed a tengu of the white wolf variety; her short, white hair capped with a tokin hat, furry ears twitching and fluffy tail swishing back and forth, collectively attracted the brawler's attention. She was apparently arguing with her counterpart, a traditional crow tengu with an identical tokin wearing more modern clothing, holding a camera in one hand and a hauchiwa fan in the other as she appeared to defend what the white wolf claimed was 'voyeurism'. Other men and women of varying species, from more tengu and oni, to kitsunes and nezumi, roamed the streets and manned the shops.

The trio spent the majority of the day wandering the streets, sampling the varied cuisine all the while, before walking past a ryokan inn, Kenji coming to a stop as he glanced up to the sky. It was evening at last. Aoko and Tamamo noticed his pause and similarly stopped. "We should turn in for the night," he suggested, eliciting a nod from both women. "Problem is, I've burned up what little cash I had on food." At this notion, he sighed. If only he had access to his bank account, which for all he knew no longer existed.

Aoko groaned, reaching up to massage her temple. "So much for a warm bed..."

Tamamo walked around behind her Master, clapping him on the shoulders and hugging him. The ronin blinked, a questioning 'eh?' leaving his lips. She laughed in response. "See, that's what I'm here for! Lemme see your hand." The sun goddess lowered a hand from Kenji's shoulder and closed it, resting it on his open palm. A couple moments passed before she opened and lifted her hand, a bag of some weight now laying in his palm. Upon further inspection, it jingled; it was obviously currency, conjured by the Caster-class goddess.

"Did you...?" Kenji inquired, earning a nuzzle into the back of his neck from the Felinefolk that sent a surprised shiver up his spine.

"Nyahahaha! We'll be just fine for the night, Master. C'mon, let's go," spoke Tamamo, pushing him by the shoulders toward the ryokan. Both astonished herself and skeptical, but too tired to protest, Aoko followed along.
Report Spam   Logged

Picard
Tamamo-no-Mae
Administrator
I ♥ Aisenfield!
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Male
Posts: 30570


Beyond the Horizon



Badges: (View All)
Tenth year Anniversary Nineth year Anniversary Eighth year Anniversary Level 7 Linux User
« Reply #239 on: September 09, 2012, 12:31:57 am »

Kinda short, but just so you know that I'm still alive over here. I'm just really cooped up with work. Gonna add more when I'm free-r.


Intentions

It was the hottest of the day when the Chinese bladesman begun the duel, one Heroic Spirit against another, in the square of the town. The air was buzzing with excitement. Lei was amongst the crowd, spectating the match. Guan Yu and Iskandar stood within the confines of a drawn circle, unarmed to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. It was to be a simple wrestling match, a test of skill and strength. Whoever stepped out of the ring loses. They were only allowed usage of their arms to attack, not their legs. An elderly folk sat beside a small gong with a stick in his hand, watching his lord through beady eyes partially veiled by his lengthy, unkempt brows. As the red-faced warrior gave him a nod, he struck the metal plate with his weedy hand, signaling the start of the duel.

The two giants charged at each other like raging bulls, slamming their fists against each other in an attempt to force the other out of the ring. It was difficult to see if Guan Yu was putting in much effort, given that his face was already a shade of red. Iskandar was grinning away like a madman, utterly amused and entertained by the duel. Lei could imagine that any other regular soldier would have been intimidated by him in his time; an enormous king, wearing a broad, crazed smile on his face as he tore across the battlefield with his deadly chariot of lightning, having not a shred of fear in his heart, only the will to conquer. Yet, Guan Yu was not in the least frightened by the Macedonian, his thick, ebony brows furrowed in deep concentration, mustering more strength to inch his opponent out. It would have been easy to pull a feint right now, to send the other stumbling out by trickery, but neither were the kind to do such a thing. They were too prideful to back down from a competition of might.

“You’re pretty good…!” growled Iskandar through gritted teeth, veins popping on his skin. Guan Yu did not respond, twisting his face with further effort. The Taoist God of War was a legend of the martial arts, though none of that was displayed here, but his evident power stemmed from it. He was the famous wielder of the hefty guandao, which by itself was the weight of a grown hound, and exercising one in combat, especially in war, was not an easy feat. Nevertheless, it was not due to his incredible physique that the people deified him, but his unwavering sense of brotherhood and righteousness.

Both men roared as they reached into their reserves, throwing whatever they had left into their arms. The crowd was becoming restless, some hopping and shouting encouragement at their lord, obstructing Lei’s view of the match. Suddenly, everyone straightened up and wowed in amazement, and then silence came. Sighing in annoyance, Lei elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, curious about the ending.

Guan Yu had half a foot out of the ring, while Iskandar, by luck or strategic positioning, managed to stay within. The two men stopped, and stepped away from each other, bowing respectfully. The Chinese lord seemed satisfied with the result, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he cast a glance over at the wooden stage, and then back at Iskandar. “You have proven to me the loyalty you show to your comrades, and a firm belief in their innocence. Very well, I shall free them.”

*

“Man, I’ve gotten sunburn from staying under that blazing heat for so long! You sure took your time, geez!”

“Quit whining, Alkaid,” grumbled Spica irritably, rubbing her wrists to soothe the pain. “They saved our lives.”

As the two Executors chatted away at a table in the inn, Guan Yu sat with the Sentinel and his Servant nearby, discussing about the murder. From the Felinefolk’s account, the two had stayed overnight in the inn when they heard a noise in the middle of the night, in the room right next to theirs. When Spica detected the scent of blood, Alkaid decided to investigate, much to the former’s disapproval. When they did, however, they witnessed a corpse sprawled across the floor, bleeding from every orifice on his face. He had suffered from some form of internal injury, for there was a massive contusion on his chest. Further examination from the local physician afterwards revealed it to be punctured lungs from broken ribs, as well as heart failure. When the two tried to escape from the scene of the crime, they were discovered by the town guards and apprehended, and the rest was history.

“Well, at least they were smart enough not to resist on the spot, or they wouldn’t even have lived till now,” commented Iskandar, rubbing his chin in thought. Guan Yu merely nodded. The king guffawed. “Especially when the lord of the town is you!”

The deity smiled humbly at the compliment, combing his beloved beard. He took a sip of wine, and spoke, “Hm… If I am to believe that those two are not the perpetrators, then the culprit must be someone else who still resides here. I do not think that the murderer has fled yet.”

Lei looked up at him. “Why do you think so?”

“The victim possessed one of the Pieces of Eden, the Crystal Skull. The murderer must have taken it. If that is his goal, I hold another Piece, my weapon, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade.”


EDIT 12/9/12
I’ve been feeling so bummed out since yesterday. It’s like a sudden pang of depression. I don’t really know how to pull myself out of it. I’m probably just feeling lonely. Well, that’s enough of me. Writing will alleviate those feels.


Fortuna

By some incredible stroke of fortune, the party of four had found themselves an abandoned van by the wayside as they made their way out of Domrémy, and it was an electrical one at that. Saphiel’s face lit with joy, taking some time out of their traveling schedule to study the vehicle’s mechanisms, at how much electricity she should supply to it for charging. The interior was spacious enough for six, excluding the front seats. There were almost nothing inside, save for some flattened cardboard. Whoever the owner was, had probably evacuated everything before leaving the van here. For what reason, no one knew, but the vehicle was still functional. Kenta inspected the wheels for damage, but found none whatsoever. “Why would someone just dump a perfectly working van here? It’s just weird.”

“The owner probably didn’t have the means to refuel it,” reasoned Neige, examining the interior and folding the cardboard into boxes for future storage uses. “Whatever the case, the Conception most likely took out the driver anyway, so it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

Kenta shrugged nonchalantly. He was more interested in having a conversation than actually discussing about the topic. “I guess you’re right. Still, we’re really lucky. It’s a good thing we let Jeanne take the lead.”

Jeanne simply watched curiously by the side, not having any knowledge to operate the ‘metal creature’, as she called it. “Um… this route just felt like the right one to me. Things usually… work out in my favor.”

“It must be an ability of yours, I think,” replied Saphiel, starting up the van in the front seat. She paused for a while, looking out of the window at her friends quizzically. “Um… anyone here knows how to drive? I’ve never learned how.”

“Flying must’ve been so much more convenient, huh?” commented Neige with a smirk, sitting in the back of the van. “Kenta, can you drive?”

The silver-haired swordsman nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”

“You drive, then,” concluded Saphiel, getting out from the front to join her albino friend. “Jeanne, sit beside Kenta to direct him, okay?”

“Okay.”


Let's see, I wanted to lay down some simple concepts about the post-apoc world. Spirits do still linger around, some malevolent, while some are just living their life as they did as humans. In cities/towns/villages with them, spirits will usually run the place, so electricity, water, and whatever basic necessities can still be available. Demons, fairies, angels, deities, or whatever other magical/supernatural beings don't have to be some kind of lord over the town like how Guan Yu appeared in mine. In fact, they could as easily be a part of keeping a civilization running as any other spirit. It's all a matter of how you use them. I don't really have any restrictions on your usage of any mythological/legendary entity, as long as you try to avoid the head of those pantheons, such as Odin, Zeus, Buddha and such. Also, I do intend to use some of the Valkyries, in the very least. Also, as you may have noticed from my post, even if you happen to be in a certain country, you may end up in a place of an entirely different culture. It adds to the randomness (and so you can make things more convenient for yourself). If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.
Report Spam   Logged

Pages: 1 ... 14 15 [16] 17   Go Up
  Print  
 
Jump to:  

Bookmark this site! | Upgrade This Forum
SMF For Free - Create your own Forum

Powered by SMF | SMF © 2016, Simple Machines
Privacy Policy