Cinia Pacifica Posts

Yeah.

There's always that one girl who loves to get critically damaged along the way. I only have to beat the boss one more damn time.

W3-5 fails.

Miserable. Really bad day for being a teitoku.

'Sup?

Gives about a gloomy feeling.

Awesome news.

He sure loves to be repetitive.

@Luin: Yo.



I was not referring to activity.

This place is as uneventful as usual.

Person who'd PM me for no reason from time to time.

Once upon a time existed warriors possessing powers that could manipulate time.

They were said to all walk their paths—for most part—solitarily. This was true, yet untrue. People were, and are, careless. They pick words without prior notice, and spread them—not knowing in full about who they speak of. Truly, the communities of human beings were, for the most part, uninformed about these beings. Even the few magicians—wielders of power beyond comprehension, was as uninformed as most men who inhabited the world.

Their powers—in reality—were beyond compare with the practitioners of magecraft. Their powers—in reality—reigned supremacy even over nature itself.

Why? One may soon learn…

This is the tale of the third meeting between four of twelve of the Descendants of Time.







It was a place beyond dreams, imaginations, and wonders. Pretty lightings shined like no Engine lights could, vehicles flew across the sky and levitated over the roads like no carriages or toll gurney could. People moved over pavements without having to walk like no ordinary people could.

Were the lights really that pretty? Absolutely.

Were they flying? Oh, no, the pavements themselves were moving!

Were the vehicles in the sky really flying? Half true, one would only need to peer intently to notice that there were transparent road set across the sky. Vehicles were definitely levitating, however.

The detective found himself in a foreign world where he was not only clueless on the language, culture, the race, but also the very structures and level of development itself. As a detective he was disappointed in himself for not having known—or better yet, heard—of the true extents of the development of Japan thriving in the twenty-third century.

It was as if he had stepped into a village and found out that it had no steam technology—or any kind of technology, at that—except that it was completely the opposite here. Perhaps beyond just opposite.

The man tried to remind himself what he was doing before coming here. He found himself a strange mirror in the middle of nowhere as he wandered the cobblestone pavements of London. Obviously, he had nothing better to do today. No work, no client, no pay. It was a lax and uneventful morning, until he found that mirror—that mysterious portal—the entrance to paradise itself.

“Oh my, looks like we have a lost lamb in the experimental site here,” an unfamiliar gentleman said, he spoke in English like any British gentleperson would.

His hair was black and it shined with the clear blue sky of the futuristic country. Black stars circled it, and a white spiky wheel spun eternally behind the back of this strange man. A white cloak floated behind his head, strangely enough. What’s worse was that it didn’t seemed like the cloak would ever truly be donned.

“Have you come through my portal, lost one?”

The visitor was at a loss for words for a moment. The man that spoke to him was as strange and bizarre, or even more so, than the place he was in. It was probably not worth trying to make sense of things here. Not yet at least. Exchanging information would be the quickest way to understanding the situation he was in.

“I do not know where I am or how I came to be here. I could not tell you if I came through a portal you made, but if you are suggesting it, then I suppose you have an idea how I might have come to be here? Last I remember, I was staring at a mirror.”

“Yes, it seems like you have entered one of my portals indeed,” the odd man said, somehow sounding pleased rather than upset, or confused. “It must be fate—to have you here, Sherlock Holmes. Will you not watch as the grand experiment takes place?”

This man had all of the momentum in the conversation, and given his current predicament, he had to follow along. “I have not told you my name. How do you know me? What is this… grand experiment you speak of?”

“Information flows to me like water does in a lake in a waterfall,” the man replied, closing his eyes deeply with a smile, soon turning his back on the detective and staring into the futuristic city. “How do you think this country became this way? A country of the twenty-third century—obviously should not be here in this world don’t you think?”

The man before him was suggesting that he had hand in what he now confirmed to be the futuristic Japan. Not only that, he implied that he was the cause. It was a massive improbability, but at the same time, the man did not seem like he was lying. “So you mentioned a grand experiment. You’ve yet to explain that part.”

“That is the reason I have asked… I have had two experiments here. Well, one, but I am about to perform the other,” he answered. “First had changed this country. Second should… well, hopefully it’d be the reversal,” the man answered, unsure if it would work out himself.

“You intend to bring back old Japan? If your words have weight then I would be glad to watch. As it stands, Japan’s power is a little bit more than a threat to the rest of the world. What do you plan to do?”

“That will not be happening,” a different voice spoke out, one more monotone than imaginable.

The current location was, in reality, over a tall building, and this other blonde woman appeared at the corner of the roof-top out of nowhere. Sherlock wondered just how exactly she got up there on the railing, when he hadn’t seen her a single moment ago. It was as if she was a ghost. Magic was a scary thing, he felt.

“And here comes our trouble-maker,” said the strange man with a sigh. “You will not be getting in my way… not this time.”

Sherlock didn’t know what was going on, but it was in his best interests, in multiple ways, to just sit by and observe. Hopefully he could learn a thing or two about these people.

“I do not have the time for you… perhaps I’ll let my cute little pet take care of you this time,” as he said so, a portal opened from above and just beside him, and in came a platinum-hair lady—falling and bumping hard into the concrete floor.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed in pain as it seemed totally unexpected to her, she attempted to protest, “I told you not to bring me out like that… in fact, I thought I said that I refuse—”

“You do as I say… otherwise,” the seemingly kind man’s tone had completely changed to a more menacing one. “it won’t go so well for you.” White glowing chains appeared around the her neck, and the next moment, she was found struggling on the floor—suffocating.

“S-Stop…” the poor woman pulled a word out of her fresh-pink lips desperately, but the cold-hearted man did not listen.

Moments had passed before the chains vanished, and she was released from her misery, but she knew well enough that it’d happen again if she wouldn’t behave herself for the times to come. Picking herself back up, she stood straight, albeit grasping her neck instead to make sure it was fine.

“Alright…” the young lady finally uttered. “I am sorry, but it seems that I must stop you from getting to my… Master,” she told the blonde adversary in the corner of her sight.

“Good, Mary. You’re so obedient. I like that part about you.”

From Sherlock’s observation, he saw several strange things, but there was one thing he found very much more mysterious. It was her right eye. A bright gold eye, apparently seeming to be like a cat’s eye, or perhaps something else. Her other eye was an ordinary blue, much like her dress, albeit it was deeper.

However, things were only meant to get stranger. As they say—truth was stranger than fiction.

A black hollow hole appeared in place of Mary’s golden eye, as she squirmed in apparent pain—her hands rushed to where her eye previously belonged, as if trying to hide it from others’ view out of shame. A hilt pulled itself out, and her hands grasped it, drawing out a deep black blade, before the hole closed. Her eye was there again, gold in all its glory. Mary held it in her right hand, giving it a swung in the air. It was sharp, remarkably even so, as it sliced the air with a preciseness Sherlock did not expect. Moreover, the swing was done so fast it felt as though she wasn’t human anymore.

“Why not pick a side, Sherlock Holmes? Would it not be better for your home country if you join our side in the fight?” the man asked, counting the many advantages for Sherlock.

“Given my two options, I would have to side with you, sir. You are equipped with a lady that could likely cut me down. Besides, if you plan to revert back Japan, then all the better.”

“I thank you,” the man said, vanishing in thin air afterwards.

“So be it… regardless of the opposing number—I, Geneva, shall protect my country from harm,” she said, her eyes giving off a glow of blue.

Mary held up her blade as she fortified in response to these words.

Protect her country? Does she mean that futuristic Japan is run by her?

Sherlock had plenty of questions, but now was not the time. He didn’t know how strong this blonde woman was, but he was in futuristic Japan, he would probably die if he was not willing to fight back. He closed his eyes, entered a stance, and with a deep breath he concentrated and felt a surge of energy within him. He didn’t use it often as he didn’t quite know of its origins or full capabilities, so the feeling of power felt incredibly fresh. He slowly opened his eyes—both holding the symbols of a certain Zodiac—and soon with an explosive noise electricity came forth from him, and climbed up to the already-cloudy skies; forming three orbs of lightning. He didn’t know what was coming, but he put up his arms in preparation to fight.

Stormy clouds begun to form, and before he noticed, the entire area was painted black-and-white. Everything felt lifeless, vehicles within his vision had certainly stopped moving, and for some moments he was confused as he took in the very unsettling scene before him.

Time had definitely stopped. Sherlock could hardly believe it.

He was unaffected and could move freely. His orbs seemed to be floating naturally as well, but everything else was simply frozen. Much like his powers, he didn’t understand, but perhaps he didn’t need to. His top priority right now was taking out the blonde woman, though sadly, it seemed that the two people around him were also unaffected.

“Are you the next Capricorn?” The woman named Mary asked, taking steps before she stood beside Sherlock with her blade at bay. Lightning shrouded the man, but it wasn’t anything that would hurt her from this distance.

“I do not know what you are talking about, nor do I know where these powers came from.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” was all Mary stated with a smile, then faced their adversary of the day.

“I can hear… the voices of your hearts,” Geneva said, apparently not caring for the small exchange between the two before her. “A man who seeks… a murderer. A lady who seeks… salvation. A pity that you both are… misguided,” she stated, her voice resounded grandly, and was distinctive compared to her monotone manner of speech.

Sherlock’s eyes widened for a moment and he swore that he almost lost vision. Did he accidentally use his power? Or did her words simply trigger that much of a response? Just what did she know? Rather, what did any of these people know? He did not fancy her saying he was misguided though, and a certain fury erupted within him. Once again he channeled an unknown power inside of him, and upon his desire, he became shrouded in a whirling typhoon of black lightning. Mary would have to fend for herself as he lunged at the blonde woman in his new form.

A blade materialized in Geneva’s hand as the two clashed. The steel sword was put against the man clad in black lightning. Sparks and shockwaves spread in all eight directions as they vied for supremacy. Mary could feel the cracks. The cracks that ran down to not just the floor she stood on, but the entire building. It was impressive how their opponent could withstand the force of thunder like this.

Another explosive noise occurred, and the two were gone from view.

Mary leapt upwards facing the sky, knowing that the structure was done for, and observed as her body was beginning to be pulled downwards by gravity. From there, she witnessed the black bulge of thunder following Geneva from one highrise building to another—the two were locked in a cat and mouse chase of sorts. Each time Sherlock stopped; he crashed and decimated a building—tall and expensive premises, likely—she wondered how much Japan would have lost by now if the time wasn’t stopped.

Whenever Sherlock would manage to hit her, she’d block with the blade, and whenever he couldn’t, it’d turn out that Geneva was a step ahead.

This process repeated until Sherlock found himself panting from a tiredness that caught up to him in no time, yet Geneva was simply standing before him; taciturn, expressionless and silent.

“I hear the voice of your heart… lonely, dark, and forever searching… you collect information and use them… eventually repeating a cycle to find but one killer. Never succeeding…”

Sherlock looked at the woman and glared. She was expressionless, but he could tell from her choice of words that she looked down on him.

“Maybe you are right. Maybe I am repeating a cycle to find a killer, but I will tell you what you do not know. That is I am going to find that killer, and I am going to find the truth. And anyone who stands in my way, I will strike down. Right now, that is you.”

He had only done it once before, and the effects it had on him were far stronger than his previous power. However, he was in no mood to think about the repercussions, Sherlock wanted the woman gone. With a burning fury in his eyes, and a powerful stomp forward, the sky above grew darker and its clouds stretched even further than before. Thunders roared, and lightnings furiously danced in the clouds as if answering his anger. He raised his left arm towards the skies and looked down at the woman. “Let us see if you can look down on me any longer.”

He swung his arm down, and at his command, bolts of blinding lightning came crashing from the skies and onto the woman. The collection of lightning—a result of his collective anger—seemed to have blasted upon the woman and a cloud of dust soon arose from the site. The buildings burned down and collapsed as the thunders in the sky growled and fell. Explosions sounded and they were ear-piercing, even to the caster of the catastrophe himself.

Sherlock himself leapt away to a different building—sped up with his dark lightning.

However, what he saw next left his mouth agape.

A large spherical object rose from the depths of the smokes that drifted out of the ruins of the building his attack had destroyed. An impossibility indeed, and he could hardly believe his eyes. Just what could survive such an attack, rather, just what was that?

The golden sphere stopped above Sherlock and his building as if to mock him—looking down at him. In the center of the monstrosity was his apparent enemy—she who addressed herself as Geneva.

A voice echoed from it—all the way to Sherlock.

“I hear the voice of your heart… you are… angry, insulted, and still searching… for a way out of the cycle.” Geneva smiled, perhaps for the very first time in a long time. It was sarcastic, almost. She had her sword face him, and spiritual energy began to concentrate at a rapid rate in one point—the point of the direction at which Sherlock stood.

“What are you doing here? Her stardust is lethal!” Mary exclaimed from behind Sherlock, appearing as suddenly as she had disappeared earlier. “Run!”

However, she was too late.

The woman who apparently ran Japan was done with her preparations.

Two beams—each blindingly bright—launched off from the sphere, they intertwined as they travelled towards Sherlock. Unfortunately for him, he was blind and he couldn’t tell where he needed to go. As soon as he saw the sphere, his vision was clouded and darkened that every moment.

All Sherlock could hear were something akin to mumbling from behind, and something brimming, and hot—was what he could make out. He could instinctively tell that it was something bright, yet it definitely wasn’t electricity. He simply didn’t know where he needed to go, so he chose to jump up. That way, he could avoid the attack for the time being.

That was not meant to be, however.







Moments had passed, and Sherlock woke up, his bed felt particularly warm and nice, inside a certain abandoned building, or so it seemed.

“You alright now?” Mary asked.

Sherlock heard a voice that he could barely make out. His body was in pain, but even worse was his sight. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry, but each time he blinked it got a little better, he could see the glint of an all-too-noticeable golden iris looking down at him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“I cannot say that I am okay with full confidence, but I do know that I should probably be gone from this world by now. What happened?”

Indeed, it was her lap he found himself resting upon.

“You got hit, you do not remember?”

Back when the twin beams departed from the golden sphere of Geneva, Sherlock remembered having jumped to avoid whatever that was approaching him. What he couldn’t realise was that the beams changed direction and followed him up to the sky, and injured him greatly.

“Ah… I do recall that. It happened rather fast, that even I know it is hard to put things together. Even so, how am I alive? Getting hit was the last thing I remember. It is unlikely to think that she would stop her assault.”

“You do not know what you have really become, d you?”

“I have no reason to lie. I am in a disadvantageous position and I can gain the most from sharing the truth. I have no idea what you are implying that I have become.”

“Well, we do not have much time as the Pope himself is fighting Geneva. He told me that he would stall her till you awake,” Mary stated before beginning a short summary, “Basically, you are one of the Descendants of Time prophesied to appear in this world. You are believed to possess unnatural strength, vitality and greater natural immunities from the Zodiac that picked you… and gain strong powers—Commandments—that are of supernatural nature rather than magical. You also become immortal in the process.

“Your body has not aged for quite some time, I assume? That is likely the reason why.”

“As much as I would like to ask if you were joking, it is more believable that you are telling the truth at this point. It is indeed true that my body has not aged, or at least not that I can tell, but immortality? Now, that is a rather hard concept to take in. You mentioned these Zo—wait, these questions can wait. We have urgent matters to attend, correct? I know not what to do; I trust you have plans for me to follow? I am willing to listen.”

“To be honest, Geneva is peerless when it comes to her tactics, and most attacks are somehow warded off half the time,” Mary answered, voicing her main concerns. “The Pope only asked us to †˜stall’ for that reason. We must work together for it to happen. So here is what I think we should do… I shall distract her as the bait. You would be performing the surprise attacks from afar. Sounds simple, but they do say that simple is best. Plausible to you so far?”

“We’re up against a being with force that I’ve never seen or even heard of in all the years I have lived. I have no other ideas, so yours will have to do. My ranged weaponry is limited to my orbs and the other power I cast, though. Anything more than that I cannot guarantee.”

“What about that… black thing? It seemed fast enough,” Mary suggested.

“From what I understand, the black lightning only encompasses the area immediately around me. Like a bubble. Sometimes, the size varies, but I have not been able to use it in a ranged fashion before.”

“If it is fast enough, I’d reckon it can work as an instant surprise attack, no?”

“Perhaps. I should mention that I suffer from temporary blindness as I cannot see while inside the black lightning, so if we plan to use it, then you will need to watch yourself. If you are fine with that, then so am I.”

“Then, while I engage her with my sword… I shall simply jump off backwards; you may be able to use it before she pursues me… that may be a better idea since she would likely be more occupied with me.

“So be it. Let’s move before the… Pope gets killed.”

Now that he thought about it, the Pope being here felt as unreal as everything else, but that discussion needed to wait.

“I wish he got killed, but I doubt it,” Mary smiled wryly as she waited for Sherlock to get off her lap before they could move out.

As Sherlock slowly got up, rubbing his eyes with one hand, he said a short bow.

“You have my gratitude. Regardless of the situation and your orders, you have saved me, or at the very least, you have let me rest. Let us go; I will be sure to return the favor one day.”

“You are welcome. For now, we are in this together, after all,” Mary said, despite sounding so casual, she seemed somewhat nervous.

Sherlock wondered why her cheeks appeared pink for but a moment.







Sherlock saw the same man again. He was as bizarre as he had seemed since the first time he saw him; revolving black stars above the head, a flaming white wheel; and a cloak that seemed to be more silver than white behind the head. Purely, a strange individual. Was he like him—a Descendant of Time—like Mary was saying some time ago?

He saw the woman he fought earlier on the other side. There was nothing exceptionally odd about her other than her words themselves—monotone, emotionless, and perhaps even robotic. This time, her eyes were closed, but she faced the Pope without relent, regardless.

Sherlock soon realized what was taking place. It wouldn’t be an understatement to call it the battle of the century.

Before him was a contest of strength—an otherworldly strength. Rocks and debris revolved around the duo of abomination. A vortex of energy set the pair apart from the timeless world—making it a moment of awe.

I can only wonder if such a shoddy plan will work on this titan. My power my be supernatural in origin, but the difference in caliber at least several folds Sherlock had no options if he wanted to live; he would need to make the plan work if he wanted to survive.

Geneva gave away a hue of dark blue, while the Pope blazed with his stars. Beams comprised of pure energy lashed out from both sides before they collided with an ear-splitting noise; they were indeed locked in a contest of strength. Neither seemed to be ready to yield and reveal the victor to the eyes of the two spectators.

Something charged in like a bullet. In fact, it seemed like a round ball of stone—a unique one, any onlooker would think. It broke just as it closed in on the monotone lady—or rather, flexed open her arms and legs—revealing her black blade, and having it run past the flesh of her back. Breaking through the strong currents of air around the two must’ve taken pure courage and endurance, but it worked in their favor.

Their adversary fell and the attacker used her figure as a stepping stone to land over a structure that lost its color to the stopped time. The Pope smiled and floated over to her—apparently having the ability of flight.

“Wonderful. It was about time you would come back, where is our precious helper of this Grand Experiment?”

“I know not myself,” Mary replied, shaking her head. “He will attack when a better opportunity is met. I will distract her. That is my job, right, Pope?”

“Indeed, I shall be on my way, then,” he replied, his voice full of his usual arrogance—despite the sarcasm—soon landing onto the floor before walking into a portal. Mary idly questioned why he decided to walk instead of fly into it, but that was a minor factor for Mary now.

“Now then…” Mary thoughtlessly said, peeking down to the blackness below her. It was really dark below with the world’s colours gone.

Abruptly, a figure blitzed out from the bottom. The speed was as unreal—to the eyes of Sherlock—as ever as Geneva landed over the building that Mary was already upon with her blade forged ahead of her. A single strike, and cracks ran as far as a few stories from the top—making Mary gasp as she leapt instinctively. However, Geneva was merciless, and used the collapsing rocks of the structure—many of the large particles that departed for the road in the ground below—as ledges to jump and hack at Mary.

The blades of the two collided with a loud clank audible to even the detective.

He glanced from one direction to another—finding flashes of steel almost every moment in varying spots as their weapons clashed with hardly a pause. It was unbelievable to him how fast they were leaping and jumping across this large view of a city he had.

Then there was the moment he was waiting for—the moment of truth, if one may want to dramatise the moment that way—as he found Mary leaping backwards to dodge a horizontal slash from Geneva, who calculated the exact spot Mary would land on, and seemed to be spearheading towards it.

Without a moment of hesitation, Capricorn leapt, simultaneously engulfing himself in a torrent of black lightning while propelling himself straight to where he knew Geneva would land. Whether or not Mary would be caught was out of his control now as that he lost vision and could only feel the force of his own acceleration pulling him at speeds he did not even think possible.

Geneva faced the black bulge of lightning making way for her, but that was it. She could feel it coming, but couldn’t take any action to prevent the eventual collision; it was too late. Before her blade could connect with Mary’s figure—Sherlock blitzed in and pushed her into the next structure. She could feel the pillars and boundaries of concrete parting ways as she was dragged beyond the building, and onto the next, and the one after that.

In total, the attack bashed her past three structures from her previous location. A bloody red wound was open around her stomach, and she didn’t even bother to look down at herself as she pulled herself up; a few meters away from Sherlock in a wreckage full of shocking residues now.

As Sherlock looked down at her, he noticed that there wasn’t so much blood. Instead, there was more steel and metallic scraps that fell out. She tried flexing her arm to see if it was still operational, and sighed in relief, seeming to find it useful still.

Despite the situation he was in, he said aloud, “Is that… metal?” Of the many things, Sherlock found strange up until this point, the one thing he did not expect was for the woman that was trying to slaughter him was some kind of machine.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins and interrupted his thoughts. He was reminded why he was here, and with whatever strength he had left he lunged at the woman trying to grapple her neck. Unlike his previous attack, he was no longer charged with lightning, nor did he have the time to gather his power. He would have to try and overpower her with his strength and position alone.

Sherlock’s hands grasped the neck of the woman and pressed her; taking her off the dirty and ransacked floor.

“You will… regret this… the voice of your heart gives away… that you are smart. However… I believe that you are easily misgui-” she gasped, Sherlock pressed onto her neck with more pressure and force, than before, disallowing her from ending her sentence that was spoken out painstakingly.

With his right hand still tightly gripped onto her, he used his left hand to lift her right eyelid. It was glowing blue, and he could see very small text and numbers going up and down. A small portion of it reflected himself on the pupil. The iris faced up slightly, but moved down to peer at him after a moment.

“Good lord…” Sherlock muttered.

He let go of the eyelid, and his grip of his right hand loosen on her neck. He slammed his left fist down on one of her arms in an attempt to render it useless. Afterwards, he transitioned into a lock with his left elbow, lightly pushing on her throat and his right hand was used to immobilize the other arm. It was a simple lock, but one that could easily kill.

“I know you are conscious. Answer me before the other woman arrives. What is that man’s plan? And why are you trying to stop him?” He looked down at her with a glare. The most important thing was no longer his survival. What he needed was information.

He could see Geneva’s mouth open, but it stopped, and her head edged upwards as if a shock went through her body. A grotesque noise was heard, Sherlock took a moment to look down; there was an arm that gave away steam immense heat—a bloody arm with traces of electricity. The splattered red crimson burned over his skin as they latched onto him as soon as the arm came out from Geneva’s chest.

Sherlock halted his breathing and froze in a momentary shock.

“Well, aren’t you curious?” a familiar voice uttered, Sherlock noticed that it was the Pope, and wanted to take a step back instinctively, feeling a killer’s intent from his voice. However, he could feel from just his voice that he was grinning wide; this man clearly enjoyed the act of killing.

Geneva cringed and focused; gathering her spiritual energy. Her apparent mechanical body giving away an orange glow, with radiating sparkling stars form in close proximity. Soon, the same old orange sphere formed—decomposing the structure they were in further before Mary could arrive.







Sherlock woke up to what seemed like absolute darkness. The last thing he remembered was falling off the building he crushed Geneva to, then attempting to question her, but the Pope interfered somehow, after which Geneva used her powers, and from what he had gathered; both him and the Pope were pushed away forcefully.

So, what was this darkness?

Sherlock took a step, and it felt vastly different from where he was. There was nothing but blackness no matter where he looked—up, down, left, right, even behind. He took another step, and wondered if he was inside a building somehow, but then, why did the floor feel like this?

Another step.

Sherlock crouched to touch it to get a feel of the familiar solidity and structure.

After a moment of inspection with a single rub—the word came to him—he realised that it was steel. A floor of steel. It didn’t sound like a road nor a random room. Perhaps a part of a steam factory in London? This made him wonder if futuristic Japan did the same even in the different age and time they lived in.

Where the hell am I? Where’s everyone else? More importantly, I need to find Geneva. She has the answers.

The room was surprisingly spacious. Sherlock walked around, and couldn’t quite find a structure to touch or feel aside from the floor below. As his vision was adjusting gradually with the new place; the area begun to take shape from his perspective with every passing seconds.

Black walls, gray statues of monsters he’d only see in nightmares, and the previously noted silver floor—all riddled with ornate designs with a certain pattern he had felt from his touch of the floor earlier. When he rubbed his leather shoe-covered foot with the floor, he felt a sensation other than just steel, he felt the inscriptions that seemed to be etched over the floor, likely also made from steel. However, when he peeked down, he simply couldn’t read any of it as they were of the same colour. He was no history master so he wouldn’t know any old language enough to understand them from a rub or two.

He turned to what lied behind—he needed to properly examine this place for an exit—and found a dark and tall gate. His eyes were drawn to it the moment he found it. How could he have missed the exit all this time? Whoever tossed me in here would have a lot of electricity surging through them by the time I’d be done with them, he thought. Now all he’d have to do was go past it to find his way back to the building where Geneva was wounded.

The gate parted ways—slightly, with a barely audible creak—and opened—as if to answer his decision to go past it—revealing a deep crimson beyond it. It seemed like no sunset sky he’d have known, much less a sky at all. However, he took in a stench of rotten death, and a chilling cold air like never before, yet it looked hot. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it seemed rather dangerous.

His inquisitive nature of curiosity as a detective fought against his instinct for danger, and the latter eventually won.

Having reached the conclusion, he decided to take a step back.

Or so he wished.

Sherlock came to a realisation that his body was not listening to him, at all. His body was frozen still. For moments, he pondered what gave rise to the paralysis, perhaps something was in the air? A poison gas? That wouldn’t be good, despite being immortal according to Mary. Things were only getting worse.

It was as if his body responded to his last thought, and begun to move on its own—ironically—towards the black gate. The slit of the opening from the gate seemed to be getting closer and closer, and his eyes facing it without following the direction of his mental command made it much less comfortable for the poor man. He felt like a live puppet—his legs and feet moving in an abnormal manner as they bended and took steps—making way to what seemed like his worst nightmare.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Entering the portal and following his curiosity would be an absolute mistake—according to his instincts—and it’d teach him a lesson to remember for a long time to come. He wondered what kind of a gas it might’ve been if it was also controlling him. It’d be more than just a mere poison gas, not that he confirmed that there was any gas here. He couldn’t smell anything strange in particular until he took in the disgusting stench of death. Something might’ve been injected in him while he was unconscious for an unknown amount of time? The possibilities were wide, and the thought only served to make his soul shudder in fear more and more. Yes, fear. Sherlock felt fear for the first time in many years. He was immortal, and had overcame the fear on a subconscious level, but now it made its return rather remarkably.

Click, clack, click, clack.

He desperately tried to regain control of his body; his mind screamed at the living flesh that seemed to be not his own anymore. It was a moment beyond unbelievable, as he approached an apparent doom—the door to death. That red slit which brought light to the room was mistakably anything but salvation. Sherlock called upon the powers that lied deep within him over and over again, and it failed to respond. He treated it as his last resort, but if even that refused to lend him a hand, how could he possibly free himself from the bounds that stole command over his body? His shoes undoubtedly took slow and steady steps.

He looked left, then right, was there nothing that could help him, somehow? Wasn’t there anything that would work as a keyhole—something that would trigger the moment he’d look into it—to break this wretched curse?

Click, clack, click, clack.

The echoing noise from the foot tapping against the steel floor was a proof he had heard over and over again—the scarlet vertical line in the middle of the gate reached ever closer—reminding him that time was ever ticking without mercy.

His hand lifted against his will—reaching out for the gate, an even more chilling air hung adrift before it; he could feel it. If it was one thing that worked, it’d be his pair of eyeballs. The look in his face was wrought with fear and terror. A kind of terror that made breathing difficult, thinking harder, and living—borderline impossibility.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Just like that, he started to reminisce his life—as if he was on the verge of death, all his memories flushed into his mind within a single second. Such an experience was new to the man.

Sherlock Holmes—the King of Detectives—closed his eyes, giving in to the fear, and resigned himself to his past soon enough. He looked back to the days of his life as a Londoner. Everyday was tiresome; running about the corners of the streets and alleys with an empty stomach, and having to settle with low quality food as dinner brought by his parents—being a part of the poverty-stricken people. Working as a local tailor felt almost pointless when he wasn’t even paid; it was frustrating to say the least. His thirst for knowledge was what kept him going.

His visits to the library was what brightened up his days. Every pain and suffering seemed far little compared to it. Olivia’s smile was like the sun to him; her kindness was something he could never forget. Having learned how to read; knowledge flowed into him like river—he learned so much more than ever—he could even act like aristocrats as he picked up their ways, and all of it was thanks of her. It wouldn’t be an understatement to claim that she was the one who truly raised him. Stray children were no longer a match for him, as he had grown in time, so did his sense of logic and his style of fighting. Even if it was brawling—the development of his mind complimented to that of his body overall.

When Olivia one day died, he questioned why she had chosen to leave him.

Why? Why? Why?! He questioned over and over, logic was replaced with insanity, and he could only wonder how he’d live out the rest of his life without that shining—smiling—sun. How could she…? That was when it hit him. It wasn’t her choice. It was the choice of the culprit. Exactly—it was the murderer—he thought. It was then that his resolve was beginning to take shape—after a long time of grieving, and moments of disbelief—the detective was soon born.

Click, clack, click, clack.

He picked himself up, along with his will, his eyes burning for vengeance, and his hands aching to grab a knife and go at it with the apparent heartless murderer. He would have him arrested by the constables, like any proper gentleman would. Wouldn’t Olivia want that? Wouldn’t she be happy that way? Wouldn’t her soul rest in peace—at last—knowing that her killer was gone and put behind the bars forever? And yet, why? Why was it so damn hard to find this killer?

That’s right.

He found the killer. Bailing out from the Scotland Yard’s prison from what little fortune his dead parents saved—that day, after two years, had finally came—when he tracked him down at long last; it was a glorious moment of his life. He informed the constables and had him swiftly arrested. After this, he felt liberated from the chains of vengeance; a more relaxed life began to come back to him. However, that opportunity was taken away by the suspicious behaviour of the killer in the prison cell; his words contradicted, and the truth was never given away. His senses and logic were too good for him. He knew better than to believe the lies of the man in the cell.

Click, clack, click, clack.

He thirsted for knowledge—all kinds of knowledge—and wanted to find the truth behind Olivia’s death. Countless years had passed, he gained political powers; using blackmail materials and knowledge as his weapons. All the connections were under his palms, or so he believed. Until the day he met the man wielding unnatural abilities known as magic, and the Magic World; things have changed. He once again realized how little his presence was, in reality.

Then, many strange events followed, and he gained a mysterious power—his one and only companion throughout the miseries and mysteries of his life. He cracked so many cases, but never his first. An obsession grew within him.

Sherlock questioned himself—could he really go through this gate, when he hadn’t even finished what he swore to end with his own two hands? After all these years, he hadn’t given up even now, he could feel the unrest of Olivia’s soul somewhere out there.

Indeed, he had to stop his hand from reaching out to this monstrosity somehow, or else, it’d be too late.

What happened next was what he would call a miracle for the times to come.

He saw light.

Yes, light.

Bright, white, pure and illuminating light. Had an angel decided to visit him, and save him from the clutches of hell? Was he forgiven for whatever sins he had committed, for having such a noble goal of wanting to find a killer and bring him to justice? Was that supposed to be considered noble? Wasn’t that his personal justice?

The light approached from behind, and soon that light pulled him. Indeed, the warmth was placed over his shoulder, and he was turned around against his will. Beyond the light lied someone unexpected, and someone he felt was truly pure. A beauty he hadn’t the time to consider. It almost reminded him of Olivia, for some reason.

However, that warmth left his shoulder, and touched his cheek? A strange feeling—he thought. Why did it hurt? Was she burning hot—like the sun?

Of course not!

Sherlock realised that he was in a daze.

Geneva had just slapped him. He shook his face, as if to get his emotional side out of the way, and looked more intently at the woman before him—she was indeed glowing with a mysterious light. Now that he thought about, he could move again!

Sherlock quickly transitioned from shock to pain as his body and mind had taken more than just a beating.

“I hear the voice of your heart… your heart weeps with sorrow and grief, eternally. You are not done with the world, are you?”

The fact that Sherlock could move brought him temporary relief, but he was more immediately concerned with the woman who was overlooking him. Despite the light shrouding her, he could see a clear red spot on her stomach—a product of his attack—another on her chest, and her body was a mess as a whole, there was a trail of blood running down from her mouth, and she generally appeared to be tired herself.

“What the hell, what are you—no… where are we?” he asked the woman in an angry, but pained voice. He was frantically looking for answers to thousands of questions, but he needed to ask them carefully and efficiently, or at least to the best of his abilities given his circumstances.

“Gates of Tartarus,” Geneva answered. “You were the sacrifice required for his experiment.”

As Geneva said so, the gate opened wide and stretched forth—the scent of death filled the room and the crimson light painted over them both. Red tentacles slithered out from within the gas and mist that poured out. This made Sherlock shudder, a bad vibe running through him.

“I hear… roars born from hunger. Fight for your life, Capricorn.”

The tentacles moved without a warning, faster than anything imaginable, Geneva cut them with her sword, faster than even the predators, apparently. Despite her injuries, she could still fight with finesse and grace.

“For the love of God,” Sherlock said in an annoyed and panicked voice as he scrambled to his feet.

His body ached and screamed at him and he could feel a massive headache forming from the vertigo he just induced onto himself, but adrenaline also began to pump into his blood just as quickly. He closed his eyes and briefly hoped he wouldn’t experience what he had dreamt. He searched deep in himself for the supernatural power he needed now more than ever.

To his brief relief a number of familiar blue orbs appeared and floated above his head. It was the most comfortable use of his powers and one that he felt complimented his fighting ability the most. With a renewed sense of security, Sherlock put his fists up in a defensive position and stood ready to counter anything that came. Perhaps due to his power working, he also felt a resurgence of confidence and his strings of thought felt clearer.

“Gates of Tartarus? What the hell is that? Who are you?”

“I feel no obligation to answer. Find out yourself,” Geneva bluntly declined, portraying an unchanging face.

The tentacles made way for Sherlock, unfortunately his brawling skills were nowhere near fast enough to deflect them; getting himself caught in a matter of moments, but his lightning orbs buzzed them to bits; freeing him every time.

“Shit! Shit! What is this stuff?!” Sherlock thrashed his way through the endless hordes of tentacles that came at him. He made sure to keep his orbs active as that was truthfully the only thing that kept him alive. He looked over to his side to see if Geneva was having as much trouble, but to his dismay, she was not. In fact, it seemed almost trivial for her.

“The Pope... what’s his plan?! Why does he want to sacrifice me? You want me on your side right?” He struggled to talk and he took long pauses and deep breaths as he fended the alien abominations from strangling him.

“Not quite… I care not regarding what you do, either way. Remember the words of the Pope himself—he planned to use you for it.”

Sherlock remembered that Geneva was a machine, or at least part machine, but like anyone that could have a conversation, there were always clues. Sherlock felt a small, familiar inspiration well up inside of himself. Geneva was both indifferent and antagonistic, all the while she no longer attempted to kill him, in fact she woke him up. She told him to fight.

She has to want something. There has to be a reason why I’m here.

“What does it do?

“...Are you mentally retarded? Reverse Japan’s time.”

Sherlock was ticking a bomb alright. Geneva had the mind of a human whether or not her body was a machine. “I see. As much as I would like to keep Japan from dominating the world, I can see why you would be opposed. Then why? If the Pope needs me for his little project, why are you keeping me alive?”

“If the Gate eats you—the experiment succeeds, changing my country with it. Otherwise, I see no reason to shed blood.”

“Well, that makes sense. I guess I should start asking the important questions.” Sherlock paused to smash several tentacles with his hand while lightning rained down from above to stop the ones he couldn’t reach. “How do we stop these damn things?”

“Close your eyes, and then open them.”

As hesitant as Sherlock was, he’d seen stranger things work. He had his own lightning guards to protect him momentarily as well, and so he did as he was told and closed his eyes. Then, he slowly opened them, finding the futuristic city of Japan before him once again. He looked around, and his lightning companions were gone, and so was Geneva from close vicinity. Looking up, he found the same sky he had known some time, and an unfamiliar street; he really did crash down here after that attack from her.

“God damn it!” he screamed out.

She was gone, which meant his potentially greatest source of information was also gone. While relieved he was no longer under attack, he needed more time, much more time before he could get more from Geneva. He breathed a heavy sigh before working through his thoughts once more.

There had to be reasons why she was there. Why were we both there? Why didn’t she tell me to close my eyes earlier? What were the conditions for being able to †˜return’? And why did she not kill me? Avoiding bloodshed or not, you kill the weed by the root, not by the stem. And perhaps more importantly, she asked me, †˜You’re not done with the world, are you?’ He would have to meet her again, but first he had to figure out where to go again. He began walking down the road.

A noise uttered from behind, and Sherlock turned around, hoping to miraculously find Geneva there, but saw Mary instead—who landed from above—walking up to him.

“Are you alright? I did not expect her to perform a counter like that,” she said, inspecting if he was badly hurt. It didn’t quite seem that he was very injured, which was a relief.

“A counterattack? What the hell happened? Where’s Geneva?!”

“You were knocked back from the building when she used her powers,” Mary answered. “We do not know where she went. The Pope seemed angry for some reason.”

“Damn it, I can’t believe she got away.”

On the surface he was cursing the fact that she fled and avoided her death, but on the inside he had both a stronger anger and a large relief brewing inside. She was alive, and what he just experienced was probably not a figment of his imagination. However, she was also not here, which meant he’d lost valuable information on one side of the problem that he was being thrown into. He breathed a heavy sigh.

“So what now? Do you plan to blindly chase her? Even if she’s injured, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still dangerous even to beat us down.”

“No, we are retreating,” Mary answered. “And I am glad for that, since I am not so fond of fighting, she seems strong, anyway.”

“I see…” Sherlock’s voice trailed with a hint of sadness and regret before continuing, “So where are we headed now?”

“We are to be sent back to London,” Mary answered, pointing behind Sherlock. “All we have to do is go through that.”

Sherlock and Mary then walked their way into the portal, while Geneva watched as they left from afar. The color to the world had slowly begun to return—the broken structures repairing themselves—it was a miraculous sight.

Geneva peered back—seeing a shadowy figure of a man—and gazed back to the mirror-like portal, only to find that Sherlock and Mary was now gone. She then peered back to the figure, but there was nothing. She shrugged in an awkward manner, then figured that she’d have to do something about these gaping wounds on her stomach and her chest, and so she too, took leave.

And that was how the tale of a never-known history came to an end.

(And so the story goes on... you'd think that things would get better about now? I wonder. That said, all of those shit after Virgo's final fight were extras. I bet that would be a pain for anyone to read through, heh.)

Act 5: Revolutionary Moment




The gusts ran rampant. The clouds stirred, the rain fell rapidly, and the thunders rumbled violently; there was a tempest. Many of the floating rocks were diminished to mere dusts and particles at the wake of the great King.

An unavoidable stroke of fate—the clash of the rulers—was to take place. The Realm shuddered at the prospect of an unholy revelation of catastrophic powers. Something that nature itself seemed to loathe.

Many armaments of war fought tooth and nail with the ancient conqueror. The ruler of the Realm summoned relic weapons to battle against the strongest adversary he had dared to incite the wrath of.

“A pity you met not an end in the Lunar Temple, Virgo,” the King growled, having grasped his hilt tightly once more, the blade was many times larger than that of his opponent’s twin weapons.

“A pity you forgoed your wisdom for the sake of taking over my Realm—only to lose it today—King Solomon.” Virgo’s blades faced the King’s gigantic and towering steel. The ancient conqueror knew no fear, showing her trademark smug grin. “Fear me well, for I shall judgement thee tonight.”

The shining sword on the right and the sword on the left swirling with winds grew in size exponentially, as spiritual energy merged with the relics. Both swords were longer than her own body soon enough, but the weight didn’t seemed to rise in correspondence.

“The heavens are under my palm and my vicinity of rule. Thus, extend—my blades—I call upon the tools of war and dance to my heart’s content!”

The Commandments of the Descendants of Time were testaments to their powers. It was their proof of authority. It was their legitimacy as hosts of Gods and Goddesses. Thus, each of the twelve Descendants were blessed with these tools of war. Each Descendants possessed varying number of these Commandments, and it took a long time for the hosts of their celestial entities to master these groundbreaking powers. In this case, Virgo had activated her Holy Blade Dance Commandment.

Blessings of the Heaven’s Commandment—that seemed to come like a package with all the Commandments and abilities—were followed by the natural respect and leadership of a certain Realm. The twelve Descendants were all eligible to rule over a particular Realm their God or Goddess were related to. In this case, Virgo was apparently a heir to the Faerie Realm.

It was not surprising that King Solomon hoped for her fall by Queen Victoria’s followers. It was not surprising that King Solomon supported Queen Victoria and closed the Gates of the Fay to stop the ancient priestesses of the Starlight from aiding Ishtar’s host. It was not surprising that Dana—Alexandrina the Great—the ancient ruler, was able to have the priestesses break the seal and activate the Commandment. And it was no surprise that she was here to execute King Solomon for good, seeing as he was arrogant enough to stand in her way.

Virgo intended to leave the King be when she had returned after breaking her seal. This was evident by her action to face the Human World instead of the Faerie Realm, which was comparable to a birthright to a Descendant like her. In fact, Virgo assumed that King Solomon was a respectable King who could keep the world of the Fay running in order if he could manage to steal it from her grasp after she was sealed. All of this had changed with his one decision to support the Royal Queen of Britain.

King Solomon would surely pay the price tonight.

Dana, the ancient conqueror danced with her gleaming blades. She appeared to be the light in the dark. The only source of light in the world where the clouds darkened immensely. Albeit, her long blades were needles akin to the colossal greatsword of the King, yet when the ruler of the Faeries drew an arc against Virgo—a prospective ruler of the Faeries—a part of the steel was carried into the gale. The spirit of the King’s blade cried as a result. Despite the difference in size, the difference in power was much too evident, but the King refused to give up. He possessed a heart of iron will and great pride. The latter was something perhaps the Steel Princess could sympathize with very well.

The two’s weapons of war collided relentlessly, sparks sprinkled all across the skies before they ceased—taken afar by the stormy airs. With each stroke and thrust, the King lost many relics, while the Goddess of ancient Tuatha danced with her only two relics from the legendary settlement of Irish origin.

“Giga Raze!” King Solomon once more arced his sword.

Alexandrina the Great flipped back like a swallow nimbly with grace in response.

The curved wave traced from the edge of the colossal blade and an enormous explosion took place at the designated target. The winds rushed, countless debris were formed, myriads of rock islands were demolished, and neighboring planets floating in the skies of the Faerie Realm were forced to crumble and shatter.

“Praise be given to the titans of yore. Praise be given to the guardians of the Realm. Yet praise be relinquished from the disruptors of tranquility. Through the act of conquer—through act of punishment—through the act of judgement; justice is delivered from the conqueror hitherto!”

Thorns of deep, navy-blue erupted from under the once-wise King. Rifts ripped through the air and tarnished the armory of the steel-adorned ruler. The thorns of Virgo traveled deep, tearing and shattering flesh and bones. From the legs to the shoulders—Solomon’s peerless defense was penetrated with ease. Any ordinary titan would not even be able to move anymore at this point. The King, however, resisted this Commandment, the Colossus Buster of Virgo, and raised his blade high up to the sky.

Dana honestly considered the feat commendable.

“May the wills of the spirits be known!” Solomon sang. His remaining relics were made to become the new lamps in the dark. Radiantly burning, each of the relics shone like that of the stars—the constellations.

“Your hubris knows no bound. Very well—o King, I shall respond in respect to your will.”

Dana glistened with a white light, unlike the navy-blue aura she was cloaked under like usual.

The stars that the King prepared all lunged themselves forth at the same time. Like bright shooting stars they were powerful tools meant to cause genocide. An execution the King intended not to commit with his people. These golden shines of the relics were replaced by a pure white light that brilliantly radiated like the sun.

An year ago, there was a very similar luster that was witnessed by the warriors who fought the ancient conqueror. There was a sphere above the two blades that were crossed atop her blonde hair—the source of the white sunshine. Massive spiritual energy converged together in one tiny spot for this disastrous power to take shape. This concentration of compressed energy was more than enough to completely wipe out an entire continent in the Human World.

Why was it known as the World Buster Commandment? Because it held the potential to destroy a planet in the Faerie Realm. An year ago, when Dana was preparing this World Buster, however, she was supported by the Siren’s Prayers—the ancient priestesses of Ishtar, the Starlight Mages—whom gathered tremendous spiritual power in the body of Ishtar’s host. For an entire year, Virgo held all this spiritual energy in her body. She suffered, undoubtedly, and felt ill while her body took a long time to recuperate.

A single body to hold onto this much power was considered an impossible feat. Any normal human being would turn to dust before the energy would crumble the world surrounding the deformed person, but Dana held it all to herself with determination.

She came up with an idea eventually. There was no better place than to release it on an arrogant King who stole the Realm from her, rather than break an entire continent—or the Earth’s core—in the Human World.

“I leave the rest to you, O Queen of Britain…”







In Italy, there were many islands, and in one of these many islands were three individuals situated. These three investigated the island thoroughly for almost a month. Isola Del Giglio held a comune situationed in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off the coast of Tuscany, and was part of the Province of Grosseto. It was one of the seven that formed the Tuscan Archipelago.

Located in the Mediterranean vegetation, the three found themselves deep within a forest of pine trees. The sky was a bright blue with few clouds scattered, the air was clean and the natural scent of trees were lush to say the least. However, no birds ever sang in the area. Voices of animals were completely unheard of. This was an abnormality often hard to notice. Especially to the new visitors who were strangers to the conditions of the island.

Between the two who stood in the middle could be said to hate the heat to a great extent. Her chest was wrapped with a summer halter, and she wore black shorts across her hips. Some old, worn-out heels seemed to be used. It was not everyday that one would find such a beautiful woman journeying extensively in a forest with such heels. However, those were the least of concerns of the locals who were rather frightened by her pointy ears, calling her an elf. This blonde Faerie was the Calamity Witch.

To the left of the Witch stood a young maiden. A white hat, and a blue one-piece with some frills was what finished off her outfit. It was very girly indeed. Her getup made it apparent that she was out to picnic all the way here. The blonde hair held a perfect shade, something her father seemed to purposely give her for the sake of perfection. A damsel—in apparent distress—needed to be perfectly pretty, otherwise it’d be a waste. Her father was indeed eccentric, and his daughter was labeled to be a perfectionist all the same. This daughter’s name was Titania.

Lastly, the trio was completed by the classy girl who fancied herself a slick jet black swallowtail tuxedo. Her hair was silver—much like her apprentice—with a darker shade, and her expression gave away her cool and collected nature. This was a person who could calmly cut a legendary ancient dragon’s arm and proudly bathe deep in its warm blood and live to boast of it. She was sometimes called the Elegant Savager, but was otherwise known as the Witness DKD.

“So, exactly how do we break this?” the Witness questioned.

“…I do not know.” The picnic girl who was one of the most renowned researcher in the Magic World looked up to their problem at hand with wonder and fear both. “Even my Boundary Diminisher spell cannot undo this abomination.”

“Well, isn’t that a calamity?” the Witch chose to make an ironic statement as if to joke, only to receive glares of her helpers. She shrugged with a nervous look. “Ahem. I am at a loss for words myself. This is the seventh distortion, and there are still no signs of its cause…”

“Even if you say that, my spell has failed—yours have failed—I’m afraid we’re at an impasse,” DKD responded. “And honestly, it’s a pretty big deal. I suspect most of the cracks are from this…”

“Cracks?” Titania questioned.

“Never mind her,” the Witch tersely dismissed, giving a glance to the Witness of her own Organization, the Space Police. The Witness only turned away with a click of her tongue.

An outsider who was not a part of the Space Police Organization would hardly be given an explanation regarding the massive Hour Glass, of which the mysteries were shrouded in a blanket of secrecy. Until everything about it could be learned, the Witch swore to keep most of the information confidential for the sake of the world.

The distortion was a large, violet and black portal-like existence that seemed to be the size of a tower, except it was just as big on the sides, too. There were energy swirling about it and any spells were repelled if attempts to destroy were committed. It seemed to be invisible to the eyes of the mundanes, which was a saving grace for now.

“Is there really no way to get rid of this?” DKD questioned, and the pair of Archmages beside her fell silent. “That does not seem to be the face of cluelessness.”

Titania hesitantly spoke, “You see, we could… but—”

“Well, out with it, Miss Titania. This thing is dangerous, you know?”

“It seems like this is too powerful for magic. As it is connected to the Void Realm. I foresee only two ways…”

“It cannot be. Then, you mean one of those are…”

“Yes,” the Calamity Witch began. “Either a Void Mage, or a Descendant…”

The Witness scoffed. “Tch, both of the options are troublesome.”

“We’ll continue to look for a third way,” Titania stated with a sigh. “If there is one, even.”

“I’ll see about getting to work with the other two, don’t expect much, though,” DKD finally said, realizing why the Calamity Witch had called her all the way out here to witness the distortion.

Mornin'.

Act 4 Review:


Opening their eyes, a familiar set of neon lights on both ends of the black walls were found. It was a dark place with only few such lightings. There was a sea of seats everywhere they looked.

Memories started to come back to the now-former priest. He was not in the stage this time, but a part of the audience seats. This sight reminded him that it was just like the cinema hall he visited with Hare to watch a movie. That was when he realized that he was in one again.

“A movie theatre, what a refreshing change of pace!” Michael sarcastically said, leaning back on his seat as he waited for something to happen. He looked at the seat to his left and saw no one, but to his right a seat away from his was the Magister Aramus Valmark.

Unlike Michael, it was Aramus’s first time in this peculiar movie theatre. He found himself carrying a bucket of popcorn and a drink, something he thought was peculiar but accepted with a shrug. He popped some of the popcorn into his mouth, noting that it was salty. Aramus shook the bucket at Michael, indicating he should take some.

“I’ll pass, that’s probably as old as the shows here. Thanks, though. You might want to finish that soon, our host might arrive soon.”

Michael continued to look around, only to find out that it was as empty as the theatre was when he first experienced this event. He raised his voice when speaking his last sentence, feeling the need to spur whoever their host was to hurry up.

Grimacing, Aramus left the bucket on the empty seat between both of them. “Any idea who our host is?” he asked his half-brother, absently taking a sip from his drink as he looked around the theatre before he realized what he had just done.

“Idea, yes. Proof, none.” Michael adjusted his position and leaned towards the Magister, extending his right hand towards him. “Pleasure to meet you Magister, I am Michael, Mistress Lotus’ butler, her only servant to be honest.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at Michael, but uh, okay.” Aramus gave him a queer look, something between a frown and confusion. “Who’s Lotus?”

“My Mistress.” Michael tilted his head, were handshakes not in the norm anymore?

“I see, so that’s where you disappeared off to without telling any of us? Way to go,” Aramus said with a sigh before turning his attention to the still-outstretched arm. “Why the handshake? We’re closer than that.”

“What are you talking about? I apologize, but—since my accident—I can only recall a few things. Are you perhaps a former employee by the Mistress too?” he asked, retracting his arm. “I don’t think the Mistress would have any need for a Magister, however.”

The Magister palmed his face, wondering how his brother had been reduced to what he appeared to be now.

“Michael, you know… this is one of the few times I’ve heard you address authority properly if not the only time. Tell me what you remember. I think we can start from there.”

“No.” Michael rested his chin on his hands, frustrated at their host’s absence. “What kind of person pulls us into God knows where and then arrives late himself? That’s awfully rude.”

“Who knows, I’m just glad I get a short breather. This seems like an awfully interesting place despite how empty it is. It’s like something’s going to happen.”

Aramus shrugged, perhaps Michael would be in the mood to talk later.

Michael stood up and dusted his clothes.

“Well, I am going to go get some refreshments, and find the men’s room ”

“Wouldn’t the refreshments be just like the popcorn over here!?” Aramus protested.

“Now, now, I think it would be best to relax, son.”

Aramus looked to the very right and saw a reminiscent deep-blue Victorian dress. His mother, Mary Linfield was walking up to him with a warm smile. A kind of loving smile he witnessed recently.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, wondering why she was here of all places.

“It heartens me to know that you remember me.” Mary walked up to them, she took up the box of popcorns from the seat between Michael and Aramus’ and sat down. “Are you doing well?”

“Could be better, but I’m coping… somehow. Were it not for Master Christopher or DKD, things might have been different.”

“I have heard, they seem like nice people. It is too bad that I am not able to thank them.”

“You will eventually. I will come for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“No, son. You should be focusing on your life, I have had my run. I will sleep… wherever I am.”

“But there’s still so many things for me to…” Aramus huffed. “Let’s say I make a detour somewhere in my life and somehow find you again… That could work.”

Mary laughed. “I was only joking, silly. I will be waiting for you; you and your brother both.”

“That kind of joke is in bad taste,” Aramus said. It irritated him a little, but how could he stay like that with her of all people? “And then this guy gets himself lost somewhere. Now I don’t know where he or who that †˜Lotus’ he’s talking about is either.”

“I get that a lot.” Mary blinked her eyes a few times at the statement about Michael, and turned to his seat. “Lost? To Lotus? Again?”

“Again? Does he let himself get carted off so often? Who is Lotus?”

“I saved him once from her. She is a vampire who took a liking to him. She seemed to be prominent at brainwashing him, though.”


“So that explains why he’s acting like an idiot. Do you know where she is? I’d like to find him somehow, but don’t have an idea as to where to begin.”

“Ah, our host has arrived. And what a lovely lady our host—hostess is!” Michael returned, wearing an apron over his clothes. He had a tray with a dome covering what food he had arrived with on his hand, but a sweet fragrance wafted throughout the movie theatre. “It’s a good thing they have a kitchen here. Which is unnatural considering this is a movie theatre. Huh. I brought cakes!”

“Kitchen? Here? Well, thank you.” Mary waved at Michael before turning back to Aramus. “Even if I tell you, you will forget all recollection of coming here… I think. I am sure you will find him again, though, one day.”

“Speaking of which, where are we? Why does this place have that effect on us? Then again, considering that you’re here…” Aramus questioned.

“It is because your mother is the side-tracked woman of the year,” a woman dressed as a knight said, coming from the other side. As a female, it wasn’t really full of visibly steel armors, but a blue uniform of the Church. It was someone Michael once knew in the past, Laura. “The entire point is to review Act 4, you are always like this, Miss Shelley.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Mary chuckled nervously. “I am but a mother, it kind of escaped my mind,” she said, facing away from Laura’s inquisitive gaze.

Michael sat back on his seat.“It’s a good thing I made enough for five. Pleased to meet you two, please call me Michael.” He beamed.

“Pleased to meet you too,” Mary said.

Aramus took a look at the newcomer, wondering how close she had to be to refer to his mother as such. He vaguely remembered her chest being ripped open by a vampire back at the Queen’s meeting.

“I do not believe we’ve met. Magister Aramus Linfield, a pleasure,” he introduced himself with a smile.

“Laura, Commander of Knights from the Church,” Laura’s tone sounded commanding indeed as she tersely introduced herself, taking a seat beside Michael before noting his new appearance. There was nothing to say to him, not when he was like this.

“Scary, right?” Mary whispered to Aramus. “I cannot tell how those two got so close together in the past.”

“You know how he acts around authority. Maybe he secretly longed for it.” Aramus whispered back.

“I-Is this what we call a †˜fetish’? I cannot say that I have seen such a thing much before…”

“I’m not sure if there’s any other explanation for it, but we’ll find out eventually,” Aramus chuckled as he looked at the happy couple. What did he find happy about them, though?

“Mhm. Only time will tell if any of this remains, however.”

“With the way he is now, I’m not sure if anything will get through. I’ll just have to slap some sense into him the next time we meet,” Aramus said with a wave of his hand.

“Mn. I am sure that he will be back soon.” Mary patted Aramus’ head. “Good luck.”

It felt extremely out of place to be patted on the head by her but Aramus relished the affection she was showering on him. He just wished that it didn’t make him look so child-like in front of the others. However, that feeling was not enough for him to protest the treatment.

“Alright, allow me to give you both a belated welcome to the reviewing of Act 4, Michael Kallweit, Aramus Linfield—you two are guests for the recap of the events that took place so far. I am your host for tonight, and my name is Mary Linfield. The Commander of Knights, Laura is the co-host joining for tonight.”


Laura only gave a nod in response.

“Unlike Act 3,” the knight began. “This was very delayed. Almost four months and it seemed like the world was going to end.”

“Our storyteller is very lazy, so I am sure it seemed like that to everyone,” Mary responded with a chuckle. “Ahhh, I knew I was going to get into deep trouble, it was sort of a torture—that long wait.”

“Moving on, Act 4 started with the complete resurrection of Virgo.”

The screen of the theatre before them finally started playing. It displayed Virgo standing atop a magical circle that glowed—giving away a blue hue at her surroundings. The Descendant was participating in the banquet of its final clone’s heart. She was shown making a comment about what loneliness felt like, the final fragment having granted her the last emotion she was missing.

Everyone was shown to be preparing themselves for the events to come shortly after.

“Each of the characters had their own thoughts and burdens,” Mary narrated.

Aramus was shown to have returned from the Infernal Realm with important information. Michael was working with Emilia to have better weapons, and was researching, while secretly worrying about the Archangel. Weiss was already heading out to defeat Duke Powlett. While Svetlana seemed to suffer internally from her demon’s hatred and anger that attempted to dominate her heart and soul. Aleksander was shown to be living with Princess Louise, who arrived in America with the aid of Void spells. Lastly Claudia was shown dancing… the scene was cut off immediately as if it was ignoring her.

It was soon shown how Michael requested Mary to look into his Archangel issue. With a bit of hesitation, the Victorian lady accepted.

“And then, I called upon the Archangel to inquire about his aim.”

In the end, Mary was end up hurt, as the display showed her experiencing a mind-numbing pain. She clutched her temples and cried. Michael held her and begged the angel to stop. The voices of the speakers were heard:

“I-It was my fault!” Mary shrieked. “I’m… I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

“Miss Mary! Please Archangel Uriel, stop this! I’ll do what you ask, just stop causing her pain!”

“Do not face away from the truth, o child of the Linfield! Michael Kallweit, this is a child even Christ cannot save forever. Do you really think I am causing this pain?”

“Then tell me! What’s happening? Why is she being hurt like this? Tell me! What can I do?!”

“That is not for me to decide, but the ruler of the Heaven. The moment of truth is almost at hand… you shall have a glimpse… soon. Decide for yourself then—what must be done.”

That day, Michael didn’t receive the answers he was seeking. He ended up with more questions instead. Resulting him in lashing out against a wall with a punch.

“What did you see in that guy?” Michael asked. “Why is that angel there with him? Is he some high ranking official?”

“What, is your memory busted so bad you can’t recognize yourself?” Aramus snickered.

“I am neither buck-toothed nor freckled.” the butler huffed. Why were people so rude these days?

Mary chuckled nervously at the two.

“After this, the Magic Magister began his journey back to New York,” Laura continued with the narration this time.

The image showed Aramus and Elizabeth struggling against all kinds of problems in an airplane. From loud explosive noises to facing a Representative and ending up facing a Commandment that dyed the sky in yellow hue. Suffice it to say, it was one of the most dangerous situations any would face, but for Aramus this was just another day at work. Duke Powlett was shown battling with Weiss, the Descendant with the symbol of Cancer, before they struck at each other and were both falling off of it, while Judgement Reaper—Weiss’ helper—caught her and took her to safety with his golden cloud.

Aramus ended up having to work the hardest with controlling the air and having the plane land—or rather—crash down on a wheat field on Oregon.

“You seem to have had a tough time,” Mary told Aramus. “Nothing like a good work out, eh?”

“Just another day in my life,” Aramus said with a sigh.

While Aramus was dealing with the crisis in the plane, it seemed like Mary was busy battling with the Blood Countess under the full moon. The two clashed several times in the evening—under them lying the bustling city of New York. Mary seemed to suffer a fatal blow from Countess’ sword before she retreated.

Some of the wound from this fatal blow recovered in time, but it wasn’t enough. She would lose a more important battle due to this in the future.

“Could say the same of you, mother.”

“Wait, you two are related?”

Aramus looked over at his brother, deciding to play the fool. “Of course. Mother and son, why? Does it look strange to you?”

Michael just looked at the Magister strangely. His “mother” looked even younger than he was, and it wasn’t just a praise. “Right,” he looked at the lady knight they were with as if to ask for her support.

Mary gave a shrug. “I suppose members of our family gets into these things everyday, more or less.”

“While all of this was going on, the Princess seemed to have other problems…” Laura continued, ignoring Michael.

The screen shifted to show Aleksander, who seemed to start out by being particular about little details with an attendant of the hotel. He presumed his tea to be favored by Princess Louise, and showed a poor attitude. The Princess herself, however, disagreed to his claims immediately. It was revealed that they were forced to stay in together due to poor circumstances in the hotel room. The bodyguard was shown to be making all kinds of remarks that seemed to make him look like a Prince on similar standings rather than an actual body guard.

Louise calmly began by explaining her agenda for the visit, her patience unwavering at the bodyguard’s rudeness. The Princess intended to deal with the situation concerning Virgo herself. One would think that the Princess held herself in high esteem, for she assumed that her abilities would make a large difference in the battle. Perhaps she was correct in this presumption. Meanwhile, despite having her taste his tea, Aleksander was busy having lecherous thoughts while preparing for another tea, resulting in him causing the boiling water to overflow and make a mess. The Princess didn’t even ask for more. In fact, she didn’t really like it, and was being polite when she said “not bad.”

Aleksander was shown to be tossed aside with magic as a result, Louise finally snapping, only momentarily however.

“You know, this new character did not make a very good first impression,” Laura commented. “I cannot fathom what he was trying to even do.”

“It was a bad idea to ask someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth to serve someone in the first place,” Michael replied.

“He seemed… alright when he introduced himself. Now that I’ve seen his true colors, I must say I’m positively repulsed by him. The gall of him, honestly,” Aramus said with a sneer.

This boiled down to something worse as time passed and Aleksander didn’t make proper apology to the Princess. Instead, he was making convenient excuses to disobey her and forcefully stay with her, despite the member of the Royal household asking for him to leave her alone.

Their voices were soon heard as Louise finally had an idea.

“Tell you what. If you can find me in a game of… yes, a game of hide and seek—I shall allow you to remain. You shall be allotted an hour to search and find me. If you fail, you shall leave me alone for good. If you win, you shall be allowed to continue your promise with my mother.”

“Awfully high stakes for just your forgiveness… Might I suggest an additional boon in the case of my own victory, as well as another rule on how the game is to be played?”

“Are you saying my forgiveness has no value to you?”

“Not at all. It’s a fine boon, and a worthy objective to work towards milady. I simply am concerned over cheapening my own sense of integrity and betraying the trust of the ruler of my country of birth, as well as the place I call home. I would like to request that no magic be used during the game for the purpose of hiding or finding, but it would be allowable in case of personal danger, as well as that you only ignore me sometimes, instead of ignoring me unless I’m asking a direct question or you want something.”

“Casting of magic shall be banned after our little game starts, unless in case of emergency, then. Is that good enough?”

When Louise casted magic to open a gateway to the Void Realm, Aleksander saw this as a violation to the rule he suggested and immediately used the Raven’s Cloak spell when Louise finally announced that her game started, and entered the Void Realm.

Aramus’ sneer only grew more pronounced as he watched the noble violate his own rules.

Michael’s gloved-hand just palmed his face as he sighed.

After the little “game” started, Aleksander searched in the form of a raven, and he spent about twenty minutes before finding an unknown wanderer in the strange Realm.

The mysterious man knew from a glance that the man in the form of a raven was a newcomer to this strange world, immediately advising that he should visit the bar, where Princess Louise would likely be located. The raven was very suspicious, requesting the wanderer to take off his mask and show his face, but the request was politely declined.

Very doubtful, the raven proceeded, and soon reached a signpost with hands pointing to two different directions. The raven chose to ignore the direction of the bar and flew to the right—a path to the unknown. He couldn’t read the text in the signpost for this path but chose to take a risk.

Of course, what Aleksander didn’t come to believe was that the person he met wasn’t necessarily a liar and by the time he realized it, he found himself caught in the lair of a notorious Void Monster. It seemed very hungry to him.

In response, Aleksander—in the form of a raven—chucked a Snickers bar and fed it, but it had no effect. Eventually, the mysterious man came to rescue in the form of a majestic Ent, and freed the exit open for Aleksander to escape.

Michael took out from his pocket and opened a Snickersâ„¢ bar he nabbed from the front desk and took a huge bite while watching all the action happening.

“Wait, wait, wait, that guy was holding onto a chocolate bar all along? Who’d want a melted chocolate bar anyway, ick,” Aramus said sardonically.

The moment Aleksander finally entered the bar, he seemed to be extremely irritated. His pride was wounded that he was unable to deal a single strike to the Void Monster—his relic sword having went straight past the black lumps of the creature when he tried earlier—and to be saved by the stranger he was suspicious of. Needless to say, he found Louise and was full of sarcasm the moment he opened his mouth, his mood apparently “shitty.”

Louise was very disappointed that Alek actually won the game, from what it seemed. Despite the frequent mention of the contract with her mother that Aleksander had, it seemed more like an excuse to pester her, and it was painfully clear to her. Aleksander and Louise’s conversation was thus heard.

“I have no idea what this place is. About as much as I knew going into this was that you were in here somewhere, and I needed to find you in a hurry. It was my mistake not to trust the stranger I met at first… More importantly, where are we? What did I see? Why do you know how to get here? If you can summon magic portals to another dimension… perhaps letting you out of my sight at all is an awful idea… And don’t think that I’ve forgotten how readily you broke the rule against using magic to hide either. I can only protect you if I’m nearby. What if you ran into what I did? You think you could take on one of those things by yourself?”

“Of course I can. Besides, never had I agreed to not using magic before the game began. Did you really think I would play hide and seek in a hotel? Clearly, that is boring. You used a spell yourself, did you not? I would claim that it is rather fair in that regard.”

“When I saw you casting a mystery spell, the first thought was that you were a cheating, manipulative young lady, which surprised me just a little bit, since I actually thought you’d play fair for some reason… The second thought was that there was no way you were going to leave me behind. I’ve come too far to lose that easily, so I did what came naturally. I dove for the portal. The spell was just an extension of that instinctual thought… Do you not want me to protect you for some reason? Is my presence really that onerous that you’d go to such lengths as potentially getting me killed by dropping me into such a hostile place with no forewarning?”

“First, allow me to confirm that I am indeed unfair and manipulative, but it is not your place to judge me, commoner scum. I had no reason to be fair at all when I was forced to deal with your petty kind. I particularly do not enjoy your attitude, and you still dare speak in that tone? Second, I never claimed that I required your measly protection. My mother has nothing to do with this; I myself had not expressly wished for it. So, yes, your presence is more than an annoyance now. You say that you have obligations, but are you sure you heard the right request from my mother?”

“I apologize for the inconvenience. I only want to help you be safe, and happy. I’m more than happy to do anything you request of me except for leave your side… I don’t even particularly mind that you’re abusive in nature, since abuse is something that I’m well used to in my life thus far. I am ninety-nine percent sure that I know what your mother asked me for, and I’m here to do exactly that. It is my own personal desire to be of help to you that leads me to be so persistent. I’m sorry if you don’t appreciate it, but I have no intention of stopping. I would’ve loved to have somebody care about me enough to lend a helping hand, and nobody did, so to see you acting as you are now leads me to believe that you’re fitting the stereotype of a spoiled rich girl perfectly! There’s nothing wrong with accepting help once in a while, even if you don’t think there’s much I can do for you... All I want is to be there to help support you, to feel like I’m making a difference.”

“Why yes, I am a spoiled rich person. So? I am not going to become your ideal lady. I have also confirmed with my mother some time ago that you misunderstand your duty. Talk about being dedicated.”

“Might be I’m not a very good Dark Knight then, if I’m mis-performing my duties. Now if you don’t mind, I can’t drink and talk at the same time…” He called for another shot. “I’m tired of apologizing all the time, so I won’t. If you dislike my company that much, then you’re more than welcome to try to kill me, because I’ve no intention of giving up on you just because you spit a little bit of venom at me…” He’d taken the significantly larger glass the bartender slid him, also full of tequila, and guzzled it in just a few large swallows as he felt an intense warmth course through his veins from the stiff drink.

“You do not apologize as much as you say you do. And having reasons to apologize all the time shows how incompetent you are.”

“Oh, well aren’t you just the cheekiest lady I’ve ever met. How original to make fun of my competence. If anything, I think it takes a certain level of competence to make the decisions I’ve made so far... Some of them were pretty shitty, but I got here in the end. I’d be dead if it weren't for Bjornaer, but because I was nice to him instead of being a jackass, he helped me out in my time of need. There’s a powerful lesson there, and one that you might do well to heed. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all that shit. Besides, you’ve no room to complain about my competence after I won your little game despite your bending the rules, so I suggest you lay off before I actually get tired of the charm of your little verbally abusive games…”

“Why do you act like I care about your little issues? Did you even look without seeking help? Well, whatever.”

“Pfft, whatever.”

“Well, to be fair.” Michael took another bite. “This is pretty good. If anything, he should’ve used it as a peace offering to the Princess.”

“I stand by my point that no one likes melted chocolate bars. At least have the decency to offer her a fresh one,” Aramus said with a sip of his drink.

“After all was said and done, Princess Louise stayed true to her words and allowed Aleksander to remain. Albeit, I think she was hoping that he would somehow be lost from her…” Mary narrated.

“She definitely did,” Laura confirmed. “That type of serving is not serving at all.”

It was shown how Mary confirmed in the meeting with the Princess that there were several locations where Virgo’s attack could take place. Apparently some places were to be invaded as distraction, and due to the safety of the civilians, they couldn’t ignore these possibilities. She outlined and marked Jersey City, Brooklyn, and a place close to the Statue of Liberty as possible targets of the Descendant.

Not even the next dawn took place when Virgo did appeared close to the coast facing the Liberty Island. The Heaven Buster Commandment was the first to be seen when Takeru was driving a microbus to the site.

Since the mages were sent to the location for the sake of the Princess, one could claim that it was thanks to the Princess that they could face Virgo at all. Louise took the decision to go to the coast near the Liberty Island and this spurred the Duchess to change the plans.

The screen particularly showed Virgo unleashing her Commandment without much thought and singlehandedly destroyed hundreds of mages. Aramus was shown combating the Descendant while Michael shot bullets at her. Svetlana casted her spells and fought with a dagger that sparkled brilliantly with electricity.

Suddenly, Aramus ended up touching the chest of the Descendant, failing to execute a spell.

“My, my, you are so youthful, son,” Mary said with a laugh, her tone sarcastic yet proud. “Good going, you groped one of the eldest and beautiful woman in history.”

“Well, at least we know where your priorities lie, Magister.” Michael covered his mouth with a hand and chuckled. It was obvious from the fake laugh that he was mocking him.

Aramus glared at the two of them but otherwise said nothing, instead muttering unhappily to himself.

Aramus and Svetlana were soon shown battling with Virgo on the Statue of Liberty, having accepted the Descendant’s invitation. The two were no match for the ancient conqueror who took on their attacks in stride, hardly feeling the intended damage. Aramus soon saw the meteor coming down from the sky due to Svetlana’s spell.

This was the least of his worries, however. When Virgo used the World Buster Commandment shortly, half of South America was destroyed, and it was after Frederica told him, that the Magister was starting to feel the gravity of his mistakes.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Aramus muttered as he mentally prepared himself for what he knew was about to happen.

While all of this was happening, Mary was shown to be battling Judgement Samurai some distance away where the New York city was burning thanks to half of the meteor falling on it. They were the voice of the samurai.

“It is a shame that you’re a wounded opponent. I cannot test my swordsmanship like this. I hope to meet you again when you’re at your full strength.”

“I do not think there will be that next time…” Mary was looking up to the samurai who leapt away gracefully as he escaped the battlefield. Leaving Mary who looked towards the Statue of Liberty. “How could I possibly live through a fight with Virgo with this wound?”

“No wonder Saint did not want to tell me about this affair… It all seems so bleak. I am sorry for mocking you earlier, I can’t possibly fathom what you felt when that happened,” Michael faced Aramus and apologized sincerely.

“I’d appreciate if we didn’t talk about it.” Aramus waved Michael’s apology off with a pained look on his face before turning to Mary. “Why did you battle Claudia alone with that injury? You should have let the two of us join in.”

“Claudia?! You know her? The Mistress’ guest told me she was an old friend of mine.”

“Anything but an old friend. You’ll see,” Aramus said.

Michael just quirked his eyebrows and he leaned back on his chair. He glanced upon the lady knight, Laura and spoke, “So, come here often?”

“Yes, what about it?” Laura replied.

“Does that mean you’re dead too? Doesn’t seem like you’re a visitor like me and the Magister here.” Michael didn’t know why, but it felt natural to him to bug her.

“Mary did called me the co-host. Take what you will of it.”

“Let’s see, Miss Mary is the Magister’s mother and it doesn’t seem like you two knew each other. I have a feeling she called you here for a reason, but so far nothing comes up.” Michael started rubbing his chin. “You’re a lady knight, so you work with the Church… There was a priest with the Magister in the bus—you know him.”

“Get your memories back and string the clues yourself, would you?”

“So he was a mutual friend to us both? No wonder the Magister seemed like he knew me, too!” Michael’s face was filled with glee when he found out he was surrounded with his friends. “You guys should’ve said so from the start!”

“I feel for Laura,” Aramus whispered to Mary. “I definitely wouldn’t want to be reduced to that state, ever.”

“Seeing Laura here is akin to watching a ticking time bomb…” Mary whispered back.

Aramus turned to look at Michael engage the knight in conversation, a smile plastered on the ex-priest’s face as he remained woefully ignorant of their true connection. “I think I would too in her situation.”

Virgo met the Queen briefly after activating the World Buster Commandment in the screen. Victoria appeared in her ephemeral form as a thought projection.

“What you are about to do will spread an excess amount of spiritual energy…”

The Queen sounded very much pained at the sight. Virgo’s voice, on the other hand, was resolute.

“An acceptable risk, considering my situation.”

After this brief exchange, Virgo activated another Commandment which finally brought down a piece of the moon. The beams of spiritual energy were shot to devastate the country and the world shook at the wake of the great force.

The characters were shown to be entering the moon shard shortly. Each of them hearing all kinds of voices.

“That reminds me, everyone seems to hear about someone they care about. Whose voices did you hear?” Mary asked Aramus.

“H-Her Majesty’s…” Aramus said softly, looking very chagrinned.

“Hoho, Her Majesty, of all people…”

Michael stopped bugging Laura to stare at Aramus without uttering a word.

Aramus withered under their combined gazes, his cheeks faintly pink. “It is wrong for me to have done so…?”

“Good choice Magister.” Michael continued to smirk.

“Of course not. It is never wrong to love.” Mary patted Aramus again.

“But will someone like me ever have a chance…” Aramus said as he was consoled by Mary’s patting. “It’s already overstepping my position.”

“Time will tell. If your love happens to be more important than positions, then you have already arrived to your answer.”

Michael cleared his throat, “So… about Claudia. Who is she? If not a friend… an enemy? But the Mistress’ guest; was she lying?”

Before anyone thought to reply, the display continued playing the footages. Michael was shown to be hearing all kinds of voices from the past, until it was enough for his rage to build up to a climax.

Marco was shown to have found him, and they both loathed each other immensely, a battle starting not long after their meeting.

The battle among the two avengers ended with the priest overwhelming the vampire with his new spell, even if it was bad for his heart, Michael kept pushing himself. The vampire who was traumatized by Descendant Aries couldn’t believe that he was falling thanks to an ordinary human. He called out to the Countess in vain as he perished.

Soon, Michael was shown to meet Mary and Aramus before an ancient arena. Mary met Claudia there, and the Michael from the audience saw her at last.

“That priest has a lot of anger inside him,” Michael felt uncomfortable watching the bout, as if he was experiencing deja vu. “It was like he was seeing an enemy beyond the one he is clashing swords with. And that spell… I know how to use it too.” Is it possible that… No. No, that can’t be right.

Mary and Claudia’s fight intensified after a bout involving Charlotte, Mary, and Claudia. The three were apparently close friends before things went south. Mary was panicking from Charlotte’s sudden appearance, while Claudia claimed that she’d own both Mary and Charlotte as her slaves, while Mary only seeked Mary’s companionship, and wanted Claudia gone.

Mary displayed an iron will as she carried the burdens of her body and fought Claudia, demonstrating the power of a veteran Representative, but it was as far as she could go. After Lachesis’ Fang took control of half of Claudia’s mind and released all of her potential that she was unable to utilize thanks to inexperience, Claudia was a match for Mary, and with her injuries it was impossible to turn the tables against her.

The last feat Mary managed against Claudia was breaking her necklace given to her by the Countess, and slicing the tiara in two.

“This was one thing I -had- to do,” Mary claimed. “Storyteller really wanted that tiara gone. Someone had to carry out his will.” She nodded to herself.

“Ten out of ten, would do again.” Aramus nodded his head in agreement too.

“You guys are mean,” Michael said but he himself didn’t notice the large grin on his face.

The Countess appeared to stop Claudia, who was on the verge of battling Marco’s murderer, Michael, after she noted the coat he was wearing. As the spiritually enhanced chain that kept Mary bound broke, her memories returned, and at the same time, Jesus Christ made his appearance.

Aramus threw his popcorn at the screen, booing loudly. “I want a refund.”

Michael bolted up, accidentally toppling the tray with the cakes over. He stared at the screen, his whole body shaking as he felt his body heating up, the unknown anger he had inside him erupting like a volcano. “W-What?”

“Listen to me, Aramus… I am sorry. We… never found the time to decide on your name, and left you behind that day beside the streets… I do not believe that I am forgivable, but I want you to know that you were not an orphan. I had truly failed you, and I still regret many things. Your father yet wanders across the world—he still lives. Your half-sister is there too, somewhere with my surname, Linfield. Michael, please listen carefully, you are his half-brother. Your father is… my Master. Let go of your promise, there is nothing you can do to †˜save’ me from him. This was my fate, and I had accepted it a long time ago, I was only living a delusion as I wanted to be free from my burdens. Mister Bram never knew the whole story.”

Her two sons vowed to take out those who had caused her harm and suffering, but Mary refused to let her sons waste away their futures that way. The two were given their inheritances, a sword and a necklace, to Aramus and Michael, respectively. Her final words were heard:

“Revenge is an utterly petty idea. It will surely lead to your end. Simply know that I love you both, Aramus, Michael, not to mention my daughter.” She then looked at Aramus specifically, “Your father… and my family. Now leave.”

Mary’s body dissolved, under the effects of Jesus Christ’s Commandment, her body lost life and time and was sent away.

Despite suffering the Penance Stare that was strengthened by the Descendant Jesus’ Commandment, Michael, who was barely saved by his mother claimed thus:

“I WILL END YOU, MONSTER!”

Aramus too, gave his word to Jesus, Countess, and Claudia:

“You think you are above us, that you can toy with our lives as you please, that your immortality makes you better than us—you are greatly mistaken. There was a time when you were people like us, with hopes and dreams, with love and pain like our lives… when you were once mortals. We will teach you that no one lives forever. You will both know what it means to fear again.”

The two left, as well as Jesus, whose objective to reclaim Mary was complete.

“And then…” Laura began.

“Claudia babbled some nonsense,” Mary finished for Laura.

“Indeed.”

“Sometimes I wonder what runs through her head,” Aramus said.

“She’d pay for hurting my friend. Just like her boyfriend. And him. All of them will,” Michael spoke, his face not visible to his companions for he was standing in front of them. His fury was very pronounced in his voice, but none of them could see how far gone his eyes were. It seemed that experiencing one million sinners did more to the priest than one would imagine.

“You didn’t answer me earlier but why did you take on Claudia alone, mum?” Aramus said, turning to Mary as his half-brother raged and ranted.

Mary looked down, making a face full of regret.

“It was my responsibility… for how she became. How could I cheat my way out with higher numbers? I had to face her myself.”

“Even so—” Aramus began before he was cut off by Michael, turning a little sour.

“Your responsibility?! Your—our only fault was not killing her the first chance we had! She was a beast that needed to be put do—” he turned around shouting, and then it was then that he saw Laura, awake once more. “L-Laura...”

Laura’s expression looked full of pain when Michael called out to her, she turned away and got up.

“I am sorry, but I think I am leaving for tonight…” She walked away, her form vanishing as she did so.

Michael chased Laura as she walked away and tried to pull her, but failed. He bowed his head and just smiled to himself speaking in almost a whisper, “Of course… Of course… There’s only a single path for me now. Seeing her again…. It’s more than enough.”

He soon felt something pelting him, realizing it was Aramus who was chucking popcorn at him this time. “Screw your head back on properly and think before you do something, stupid. No sense in running around. Now that you seem to be back, do something about this †˜Lotus’ person before she does something to you again.”

“And I’m supposed to know how to do that?” Michael suddenly sounded cheerful, and when he faced his brother once more he was smiling as if nothing happened.

“You’ll figure something out. Laura’s waiting for you so come back in one piece,” Aramus said as he shoved more salty popcorn down this throat.

Michael returned to his seat, “She shouldn’t. It’s nice to see you again, Mary.”

“What? You would not address me as mother?” Mary joked. “Back on topic, Claudia was just another person who was brought into a pile of mess. I think in some way… she was innocent.”

“Bad decisions, the lot of them. She probably knew what she was getting into,” Aramus said. “But that tiara had to go.”

“Even if you say so, I feel like it was her real family that did her in,” Mary stated. “The twisted mindset would otherwise never happen.”

“Mhmm, let’s continue the movie.” Michael didn’t agree with his mother, not one bit. He’d put her down the moment he’d get an opportunity.

The screen continued with the rest of the story. Svetlana was shown to have fought Judgement Summoner, while Princess Louise, along with the Duke, the Duchess, and Aleksander, put an end to Judgement Samurai. Judgement Reaper met his end against Kazimir, Aramus, and Michael. Claudia, George, and Rose, on the other hand, fought with Sagittarius to fulfill their given objective.

Lastly, Svetlana and Lily faced Virgo, resulting in a life-changing occurrence for the Russian magi who lost her best friend Lily forever in but less than a moment.

“In honor of Aleksander… some Snickers please,” Mary asked Michael.

“Luckily for you, I am always prepared.” He took a couple of Snickersâ„¢ bars from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Good, good,” Mary accepted one, and took another, handing it to Aramus.

“It’s not melted right? You wouldn’t stoop that low.” Aramus said as he unwrapped the bar.

“Of course not, silly.” Mary said, unwrapping the bar. “No one can stoop that low.”

“Apparently someone did. The look on the Void Monster’s face said it all,” Aramus muttered.

There was a loud noise of a crunch—the three took a bite from the chocolate at the same time as the picture of the raven, who was in fact Aleksander under his spell, fell due to the Soul Buster Commandment replayed on the screen.

The display continued with the footages once more. Svetlana was out of control, tossing out all she had on Virgo. However, it was not nearly anywhere close to defeating her. Despite this, she caused many tremors on the shard of the moon and it turned out that the power of an Infernal demon was not something trifling to the mages, but that a Descendant was simply at a league of their own. Eventually, Virgo left her to let her mourn Lily’s death.

Aramus, Michael, Kazimir, and their companions faced Judgement Saint and Summoner some time later. A rough battle took place. The odds were clearly against them and they almost died, but at the very end, the Representatives of Virgo allowed them to live. They knew that the mages had potions with them so they only intended to “rough” them up.

Defeating the berserked Svetlana, and moving onto the entrance of the Lunar Temple, the group was now joined with Princess Louise, the Duke, the Duchess, and Aleksander. After Artemis joined them from under the gate of the Lunar Temple—Duke Powlett’s death was confirmed. Emilia was the last to join them before they went into battle with Virgo. The movie played onwards and showed most of the fight with Virgo.

“In hindsight, we should’ve just collapsed the thing on her. Keep pumping spells from outside, you know? Or maybe we should’ve opened with that rock golem.” Michael still hated golems to this day.

“Should’ve just summoned Arthur from the get go. Who knew?” Aramus said.

“King Arthur? He was lost for some time, and he woke up late too,” Mary replied.

“Seems to me our †˜heroes’ not being what you expected them to be a running theme here. Everything we have done only for her to escape. And now I realize that’s a good thing.” The Executor shrugged.

“How can you even say that after what she’s done?” Aramus said as he lost his temper at Michael.

“How can you live with what you’ve done? If I didn’t quit they might’ve sicced me onto you.”

“That is my lot to bear. Running away doesn’t solve anything,” Aramus said, folding his arms.

“But power does. She has power. Lots of it. If there’s one thing that can change anything here… it’s their power.”

Mary chopped both of their heads before she sighed. “Now, now. I think some calm would do both of you some good. What is done is done.”

Aramus huffed before settling into his seat, grumbling. “Everyone has to remind me that I’ve killed millions of people. Whoops, I conveniently forgot that I’m a mass murderer.”

Michael crossed his arms and huffed, refusing to face the two. “You don’t need to be worried about that soonâ„¢.”

Mary smiled wryly. “You two are such a handful. We are all murderers here it seems.”

“I’ll pray that the next generation doesn’t…” Aramus shook his head as he thought of those to come.

Finally, the battle between Hyperion and Virgo was displayed. A fierce battle took place. The only opportunity to send Virgo to the Infernal Realm was lost and Elizabeth lost her consciousness with the Hell’s Fire dying out. After the loss of the Magister Takeru, the Duke, and Emilia, it was looking bleak, especially because Anna and the Duchess were taken out by the Soul Buster Commandment. Aleksander fell from the curse of the Jewel’s Blight. After Hyperion was defeated, King Arthur appeared, just as Aramus’ Golden Earring’s Supreme spell was unleashed. The King almost defeated Virgo, but she was saved by her Representatives before she made her escape.

The battle had ended and Virgo was thus presumed to be gone for some time. The characters all went their own path. Some went to become stronger, learning the basics for their Lost Forms, while others went into deep studying and searching for the answers they seeked. A young researcher’s journey was just starting, Svetlana had become a Duchess, and had met some misfortune along the way—leading her to Saudi Arabia where she met an Aramus in training. Claudia was seeking to become a greater warrior, one who wouldn’t be like how she used to be. Michael was serving White Lotus after his memories were wiped as a butler.

Meanwhile, Aramus witnessed a fragment of truth, something that allowed all of existence to run in order, and his Queen’s real body.

Where would the paths of these characters lead and what was to come in Act 5?

“I think that is all for tonight,” Mary said. “Thank you for coming, both of you.”

“Thank us when we manage to save you,” Michael replied.

“It was my pleasure.” Aramus said as he hugged Mary.

With a single pull, Mary had the former priest under her arm for a hug, displaying abnormal strength. She held both her sons together.

“As I said, I will be waiting for you two.”

The screen continued for some time, showing the Queen at her knees, facing what seemed to brought despair to her after who knows how many years…

Aramus froze up within the hug as his eyes widened. “Wait! This kind of cliffhanger end sucks, continue the reel! Please!” he pleaded.

As if in response to Aramus’ words, the screen played the moment when Svetlana sat over Aramus to seduce him.

“So this is what you wanted to see…” Mary said with a sigh.

“Wait, mum, no! This isn’t what it looks like! Remember that loli, yeah, that’s her! She just got a new form, that’s all!” Aramus pleaded again in a different tone.

“And so you hang around with… with such a shameful person now that she looks nicer? I admit she looks better than me, but still… so much for the devotion to the Queen.” The mother shook her head.

“Huh, and I thought you had a specific taste for the Queen. Seems like it was just breasts after all,” Michael looked disappointedly at Aramus.

Mary wondered if it was really about breasts. The Queen had larger… I am so jealous, I do not want to think of it.

“I will never forsake Her Majesty!” Aramus said, suddenly fired up but then added in a softer tone. “But… does that mean I’m not allowed to have fun?”

“Uh huh. I’m going to see if Laura’s still somewhere here.” Michael separated from the two. He would never look at his brother the same way again.

“She would turn your heart black. I mean look at this pervert.” There was a remote controller on Mary’s hand for some reason as she pressed a button.

Svetlana was doing something with Nancy. “Something.” Aramus and Michael heard moans and their mouths were agape while Mary sighed and walked away.

“Then again, this is why men are…”

Michael laughed exaggeratedly as he exited the room.

Truth be told, there was a part of Aramus that wanted to stay and watch but he wisely followed after his family. No wonder Nancy was so protective of Svetlana, they were now on “friendlier” terms than just mere master and servant.

“This should be a good space.”

Christopher surveyed the open field in Piazza del Colosseo. Aramus never got to leave Italy after his little venture of surprises with Witness DKD. Christopher himself fled Saudi Arabia along with his assignment when Aramus met his Master in the airport. It was a fateful reunion.

So how was it that the two were in the famous colosseum of Rome now? Aramus went through an entire rollercoaster of fun that was his Master’s antics—a guilty trip while the world’s time was ticking.

In the Flavian Theatre, an ancient structure that they snuck in on, they were supposed to train.

“A good space for what, Master?” Aramus inquired with a tilt of his head. It was a nice sightseeing trip that Christopher had brought him to so far, perhaps he might have something special in mind.

“A good space to let loose some Dragon Fists, lad.” Chris gestured at the open field that was the arena. “It’s time to show you what the other techniques that I plan to teach †˜ya for the rest of the year.”

“Understood, Master.”

Aramus could feel his heart skip a beat. It always happened when Christopher decided to teach him something new about the Lost Form, a part of him that never seemed to get excited at a new discovery or toy, like a child.

“So, I remember teaching you to meditate—the old soothing Mudra—which especially comes in handy when the spiralling energy runs you dry in no time. You meditate from time to time as I had instructed you, yeah?”

“Yes, whenever I feel restless. It helps calm me down, especially when my mind starts drifting to… the aftermath.”

“I guess I taught you the Aether Manipulation to get the heat pumping, and the Fist of the Dragon that is the basic after that, so… guess I know what else to teach. Alright, watch closely.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You have that clone spell thing, right?”

“Yes, I do. Would you like me to summon one?”

“Yeah, we need a dummy for this.”

Aramus did a quick incantation and he was looking at himself not a moment later. “Man, I really did get tanned…”

Christopher curved his fingers while keeping his thumb straight, it was like making something like a drill with his hand, of sorts. With a dash his pointed fist struck at the chest of the Magister’s clone. Aramus could clearly see a cluster of dust breaking out from the back of the clone, the blow surpassing the body with ease. Aramus gripped the spot where Christopher had punched the clone, a phantom pain passing through him.

“This is the Dragon’s Viper Claw. With proper training, you will learn to poison the insides of the target with it.”

His Master crouched down, positioned his fingers again, and with a swoop he plunged his finger on the ground, shattering it. A circle of broken ground formed going up to a few meters.

“That is brutal… How does an action like that poison the opponent?”

“That is the job of your dragon. The heated mana would be lethal to a body that is not used to it.”

“Ah! Right, it would destroy whatever internalized circuits they’ve been using up till now with the introduction of such a potent mix of mana. Is every †˜venom’ different?” Aramus asked as his eyes shone with curiosity.

“Depends on your dragon, but I think the effects are similar. The most difference comes from the Dragon’s Sigil. The best bet is to hit the chest of the target to spread it out nice and good.”

“Ahh…” Aramus said as more ideas floated around in his head. Perhaps that might be another way to utilize this.

“Anyway, this is just the start of the big combo, but you should take the rest of the year just practicing things.”

“Food… light, and life…” Aramus heard in his head somewhere, his dragon was speaking to him.

“Master, how do you communicate with your dragon? Just via the Mudra and meditation?”

“Yeah, mostly anyway. Sometimes you can feel its will with your fists. That one really tells you how it feels. Try practicing the Fist of the Dragon if you really feel lost and need its counsel.”

“I understand. It just spoke to me and uh, it wants food, light and… life?” Aramus said as he scratched his cheek in confusion. “What does it mean by that last one?”

“What kind of noble thoughts do you have in mind, lad?” Chris seemed very saddened by these words.

“Noble, Master?” Aramus asked. He hadn’t really entertained anything apart from that conversation with DKD, Amelia now, about saving the world.

“You must’ve had some crazy big ideals, otherwise your dragon wouldn’t want to be something like a super holy dragon, lad.”

“All I want to do is… to atone for my sins and save people. Give those in trouble the chance they need to get back into the game. The distortions as well, they might spread even further across the globe...”

Christopher crossed his hands, staring at Aramus. “Sounds pretty grand to me. We’re off to what… Australia now?”

“Well, I hadn’t intended it to be this way. If I can police the world for distortions and save a few people on the side, why not?” Aramus said with a shrug.

“Because there is only one seed in the entire world that your dragon wants to eat.”

“I… am not going to look forward to the answer, am I?”

“Ambrosia. Only one man managed to pick one off the trees of the Dominion Realm in the big Mage’s War all those years ago. I don’t know what blood and soul we’ll be paying to get our hands on that treasure.”

Aramus remembered the short trip he had taken to the Dominion Realm courtesy of Her Majesty and how eager the angels were to skewer him. Aramus hoped that they’d forgotten an insignificant human like him by the time he went back.

“Oh well, son. Let’s go. No more sightseeing or… Italian babes or… oh well.”

“It’s okay, Master. I’m sure Australian babes will be just as appealing.”

“We better be hitting the beach. Also lad, don’t be cray like those Victorian kids not showing skin their to each other.”

Aramus looked around like he didn’t know what Christopher was talking about. “Who? Victorian? Me? Naw.”

“What? You tellin’ me that you ain’t from the Victorian and steampunk mix that is London?”

“I believe you have me mistaken for someone else. Why would one go to the beach if not to see skin?” Aramus said with a smug face.

“Good, good. That is exactly the face of a good man. The ladies would love that.”

Aramus browsed through many collection of suits. In this paradise in Venice, he couldn’t believe his eyes as he admired the slick feeling of the suits as he touched one. The shop was large but there seemed to be hardly anyone around.

“Is it going to be one of these?”

“Not these… they’re not even half-good,” DKD said, frowning at the collections, comparing them to her own.

“B-But… They’re so pretty.”

“Compare those to mine. What do you think?”

“Well, they can’t be. Yours is just way better to the point it’s almost a Realm apart.”

“Good that you have eyes for quality. I asked the old man here to tailor something for you…”

“You know my size?” Aramus asked, astonished.

“I can change that myself… hopefully.” DKD looked away in doubt herself. “Maybe.”

DAD smiled at DKD’s demeanor, finding it endearing. “It shouldn’t be an issue.”

They walked up to the next floor where there were even more suits on display. Aramus’ eyes practically sparkled as he went past these works of art. There was an old man behind a desk, going over black clothes and materials used for crafting. He was the tailor, the master of suits apparently.

Aramus admired the way the artisan was inspecting the materials. Unfortunately, the Magister was too poor to have an eye for good quality, but the way the man did spoke of years of experience.

“Welcome.” The old man seemed to not have much to say.

“Is it finished?” DKD inquired.

“Yes.” The artisan took out a suit from behind him and put it on display for them to see. The suit hanging was very similarly designed like that of DKD’s, a swallowtail tuxedo with very exquisite materials at first glance. There were only two differences, the size was larger, and the shawl lapels were silver. It shined under the lights beautifully. He was also shown few of the other parts of the attire he’d get, such as the gloves or the trousers or the vest, etc.

“It’s splendid.” Aramus gingerly reached a hand out to touch the coat, running a hand down its silky material. There was almost no resistance whatsoever and if his was already this good, what of DKD’s?

“You like it I hope?” DKD asked. “This will be yours.”

“Like it? I love it! It’s absolutely wonderful!” Aramus raved, inadvertently raising his voice in the small shop.

“I see, shall we celebrate in the Magica Café?”

“You’ve already done enough for me, DKD. I’d feel bad if there was even more prepared…” Witness DAD said.

“Oh, don’t be shy. This will blow your mind out of the world. Let me tease a bit: ever heard of the Magic Cupcake?”

Aramus’s world slowed to a crawl as he processed what she said. “Magic… Cupcake?” he said slowly, accenting each word heavily.

DKD leaned closer with a sly smile. “You’d love me to feed you that, right?”

Aramus fidgeted a little under her teasing. “Well, yes…”







They proceeded outside the artisan’s shop and walked for an hour, took a boat and crossed through the rivers of the beautiful city that was Venice.

Later, they entered a shop that was apparently the most exemplary cheap food shop the Magister saw. Aramus was rather surprised that such a shop was known as the Magica Café. They sat down across a table. A waiter placed two cups of tea on their table.

“Why of all places is it here?” Aramus asked.

“Finish the tea and you’ll know.”

Aramus downed the contents of the cup, tasting a hint of citrus before setting the empty cup down. He then looked at DKD expectantly. The floor under them disappeared, a dark circular hole forming. They fell with their tables and chairs while Aramus was screaming and DKD was slowly finishing her tea.

When Aramus opened his eyes, he found himself in a lavishly decorated fancy underground café. There were many portraits and pictures of drinks of all kind on the walls. Several of the other tables and chairs seemed to be replaced by thin pillars, apparently connected to the shop above. There were only one other group of people on the corner of the shop, and they were partying loudly, somewhat drunk too.

“Well, that was a wild ride…” Aramus said as he absently lifted the teacup for a sip only to remember that it was already empty.

“This shop’s owner is quite famous. If you’ve heard of Henry, the lone Magister of England who disappeared some years ago. He had been busy running this café here.”

“I’ve heard of him before. Were the rumors surrounding him and a Princess the cause of his disappearance down here?”

“Truth is stranger than fiction they say. Henry himself has an entirely different story to say.”

“I’d love to hear it one day. It’s always fascinating to learn what lies beneath the surface.”

“Come, might as well learn now.”

DKD and Aramus got off their chairs and walked up to the bar. The layout of the café was nothing like a café. However, the color scheme of the bar was nothing like one either. It was too full of white and light-blue that it was hardly making any sense to Aramus.

“Why is this place so peculiar? Is it furnished to Henry’s taste?”

“Apparently… don’t ask me,” DKD whispered.

“Hello, if it isn’t lovely Amelia, what would you like to have today?” Henry inquired, seeing DKD and DAD approach him. This handsome man was dressed in a black suit and was wearing spectacles, of course, Aramus didn’t feel undermined anymore thanks to his new suit.

“Hello, Henry. It’s good to see you kicking after so long. Might I introduce my junior to you today? Henry, meet Aramus Linfield, a fellow Magic Magister. Aramus, meet Henry Jettison, a Magic Magister as well, albeit he no longer works for the Royalty or the Royal Council.”

“Magister Henry Jettison, it is an honour to meet you in person. I am Aramus Linfield as introduced by my senior, I hope we get along,” Aramus said with a bow to his senior Magister.

“Aramus… Linfield? Sounds familiar,” Henry responded.

“He had his name changed recently, apparently. Used to be †˜Valmark’ for a surname,” DKD supplemented.

Henry, then gave a bow to Aramus after resolving the confusion. “Oh, i see. I hope we get along too. I have heard much about you so it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The butler-like dressed man handed Aramus a card. “Please keep this, as this café operates on an invite-only basis.”

Aramus received the card with both hands gratefully. “Thank you very much… though it seems that my bad reputation precedes me, no doubt you would have heard of all my misdeeds amongst the Nobles and Magisters alike.”

“What did you do?” Henry laughed. “Rest assured I do not get much general news here aside from the more stranger gossips.”

“This would be the place you look at when you want inside information on some dangerous Organization,” DKD stated.

Aramus let out a sigh of relief at Henry’s reassurance before nodding at DKD that he understood. “I’d imagine this place gets all kinds of people.”

The laughters roared and DKD gave a nod. “All kinds of people,” she repeated.

“Well, what would you two like to have today?” Henry inquired. “Today’s recommendation is the Magica Honey dipped on a parfait.”

“Ah… Do you happen to have the… Magic Cupcake?” Aramus asked sheepishly.

“Of course. How many would you like to have?”

“Good question,” Aramus said as he looked to DKD for instruction.

“Each one costs a fortune. How about three for today?”


“Then let’s go with that…” Aramus tried not to balk, especially since he didn’t know how much she meant by a “fortune.” Judging from the way his own suit was tailor-made and likely extremely pricey, for her to deem a cupcake expensive would be… probably enough to find his livelihood for a good amount of time.

Witness DKD seemed to give a card to Henry, who accepted it and did the work of processing payments. Aramus was seeing thousands and thousands of Euros being worked, the card was likely very special as well. Albeit Aramus was not privy to the matters of modern technology.

While the two Witnesses were waiting back in their table, DKD seemed to be grinning happily, much more than usual. She made an order that the Magister didn’t really catch.

“Oh yeah, try putting your hand on your mouth as soon as you take a bite of that cupcake.”

“My hand on my mouth… Ok, you know what? I’m not going to ask anymore questions. Let’s just experience it for what it is.”

Henry brought the items on tray. There were three cupcakes on it and one thing. Aramus could not quite make out what it was, there was a straw and the glass looked like one used for a parfait, then why was something like Vim magic floating on it?!

“This is… intriguing. How…?” Aramus made a few strange motions with his hands as he tried to find a way of how one would eat with that Vim around.

“It has a rather ecstatic effect.” DKD was already feeding Aramus the cupcake. “I suppose that is similar to this,” she added.

Opening his mouth, Aramus bit into the cupcake and covered his mouth like DKD had instructed, chewing on the cupcake. For every bite he had, magic seemed to flow out of the dough. This was an experience he had never before. It was as if the dough absorbed magic like sponge when it was being prepared somehow. Aramus started eating the cupcake without fully relishing it slowly after experiencing the first bite. The magic that flowed out almost spilled from overflowing, and his hand helped to not let it leak out past his lips. DKD was warning about this. The magic created a cool sensation in his mouth and it was a taste he could not quite describe, a mixture of sublime sweetness and perhaps minty taste? Whatever the case, after Aramus swallowed it all, he was simply at a daze, as if he had a drug—he was truly at peace, almost forgetting all the sorrows of his life.

He waved a hand at DKD like he was drugged and opened his mouth to speak. To try and tell her how this might have been one of the best things in his life or that DKD was equivalent to a Saint for bringing him here. No, not Judgement Saint. In the end, it seemed the cupcake had overloaded his brain so he settled for just smiling like a dimwit.

When DKD had her own drink, it seemed like the taste had made her this way too, peaceful and dreamy, but she could still talk.

“Ahh, now this is life.”

“Actually, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Aren’t you a poetic Magister?”

“Only in the realm of the Magic Cupcake. I was blind before but now, I see. The truth before me, the Magic Cupcake.”

“There are two more of these truth on that tray… and here you are after just one.”

“I do not think I’d be able of have coherent thought after the second.”

“We can have them packaged, no worries. They are good antidotes for depression. Also helps to clear the mind… for some time.”

“I think these will be the end of me.”

“Surely, the best cupcakes in the world, no?”

“Precisely so.” Aramus said with a smile of bliss, closing his eyes as he let the euphoria take over.

“So… what do you think?” she asked, drinking water from a bottle.

“Absolutely nothing, that’s how much it’s affecting me. I think this Magic Cupcake has spoilt every other cupcake for me. I can’t go back.”

“I mean about that Hour Glass.” DKD made a brooding face as she stared at her empty glass.

Immediately, whatever cloud that Aramus was on evaporated and it sent him plummeting to the earth below. Talk about being dragged back to reality.

“What of it? It distresses me to no end that my Queen is trapped within it whilst I am unable to do anything but stop the heathens who try to widen those cracks. I want to get Her Majesty out.”

“I keep wondering… about the truth.” DKD ate more of the parfait. “The Hour Glass is the strangest thing i ever saw in my life. Three people trapped inside… and for what reason? There are sands already, what are they supposed to do inside?”

“I do not intend to sit around and wait for it to happen. Assuming it is a countdown like it seems, I must ensure that my liege will not suffer any ill effects. Maybe taking away one out of the three might cause a change but for better or worse, I will find a way to do so.” He sighed and steepled his fingers, laying his chin on them. To any onlooker, it would’ve seemed the spirit had gone out of Aramus.

“I had been investigating this for some years now, and I can’t seem to find anything related to it at all. We might have to… ask Her Majesty once more.”

“I will inquire. Perhaps as a Magister, she might be willing to share more… Even though it seems impossible...”

“Unfortunately for you, you’re the scum of the earth now after the Virgo fiasco.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” His voice caught in his throat even as Aramus thought of all that he done thus far. It was bitter and he never knew that one could feel such self-loathing until that event.

“The Royal Council is known to decline such people without a glance.”

“I do not deserve to tread the same ground anymore. I would proceed without letting Her Majesty know if that was possible but… I’m…” Aramus trailed off mid-sentence with a shake of his head. “I’ll ask around. The only issue we have is that the Hour Glass is classified information and that limits our options.”

“We couldn’t risk it. What if someone breaks it? What would we do if time stops and we’re all stuck? We don’t know what changing things might cause.”

“I can’t just leave my liege like that. At least, I would want to know more about the Hour Glass before we come to a decision on what to do about it.”

“It may take the rest of the year, but let’s try when we go to London for our future case. There is still the incident going on about missing people.”

“Will I need a disguise…?” Aramus said glumly.

“I’ll help you.”

“Do as you like. I’m already hated by all, nothing much can top that.”

“We’re both hated people here, DAD.”

Aramus chuckled at the way DKD said it. “I appreciate all you’re doing for me DKD. Master Christopher aside, there aren’t many who would spare me a glance after that. If there’s anything I can ever do, just say it. Your presence… eases the pain.”

DKD just looked down, still brooding.

“I’m not that great of a person. All of this… is just me atoning. We all are. You may have had some memory problems, but it wasn’t intentional. I… I made the gas ignite in an entire city, just to break one damn experiment. I should’ve been killed that day.”

“But you weren’t. Just as I still have my head attached, you’ve been given the same chance I received and are trying to repent. You never know how it feels till you’re the one responsible and sometimes, finding out that way is… extremely unpleasant.”

“I don’t think I deserved the chance. I killed my family and my home, and everyone in it. Now I’m supposed to live the world they could no longer indulge? Sounds like selfish bullshit, but I didn’t have the guts to let it all go to waste and suicide like a coward, I guess. No, that’s not true, I was scared of death—like any other human. It really is unpleasant… but it doesn’t stop me from being inquisitive. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to have heroic ideals too. Aramus, let’s save this world, Your Queen, and the people. It’s partially our job, anyway.”

Under the shell of a cool beauty and a dignified lady was Amelia, a girl who was still young but was forced to grow up—crying nonetheless, just as she was now silently—all alone.

“It will always be our sin to bear. As they say, living is more painful than death. At the end of the day, we are all human with all our flaws and vices. But so long as there is the will to do something about it, we can move forward. So yes Amelia, we will save the world. The world might not realize it, but I think that’s fine. Knowing that we safeguarded the future is solace enough for me.”

“That’s right, recognition and atonement are different after all. It’s all about self-satisfaction, however shallow it is, it’s better than spouting noble ideal crap.”

“Though I’d love to see the look on their faces… Nah, never mind. Just a remnant of the old days. So long as we get the job done, I can rest easy.”

Walking in the Void Realm, the two were covered by darkness, the blue hue coming from a mysterious undiscovered source being their only guidance. She seemed to somehow sent the camel somewhere and Aramus couldn’t exactly follow what she did.

“I suppose this was your first job, any thoughts?”

“If all of them are going to end the same way, I’m going to need to prepare more sets of clothing.” Aramus joked. “Though honestly, it was easier than I thought. Probably because you were there with me, DKD.”

“Well, DAD, while I think you are right, I doubt you need to prepare more clothes.”

“How so, DKD?” Aramus said with a puzzled look.

“I did made a promise the first time you came to the office about your attire, remember?”


“Oh, is the same as the one you’re wearing?” Aramus said, the excitement showing in his eyes.

“Same thing would be a bit boring, but the quality is guaranteed, my uncle in Italy is a great tailor, you see.”

As they walked, the hue around them from the Void started to look red rather than blue, something he never saw before.

“So, why is it turning red?”

“I suppose anyone would notice that by now; I am not taking us out for the cake. Remember this one peculiarity that exists in our given names?”

“Witness? Is this what that entails?”

“What do you think one should †˜witness’ to have that word sticked in?”

“Something really awe-inspiring? Or something equally as gruesome and mind breaking?”

“Mn… maybe, but I feel as though it is something that goes beyond the reach of words. It is also the reason why fixing the distortions became important, and thus the creation of the Organization.”

“I see… Well, only one way to find out.”

Witness DKD took out a key and a large gate seemed to form before them.

“Witness DAD, I want you to promise that this is a secret you shall keep your entire life. Only the members of this Organization, and select few are aware of this existence.”

“Without a doubt, I swear that this knowledge will go with me to my grave.”

Inserting the key into the hole, the gate parted ways and the hue of red grew brighter. The cries of what lied beyond roared and was heard. Aramus shuddered at the sound of it. Walking inside, the two made way into a hallway.

The floor and the walls were full of bloodstains that seemed to eternally bathe them, there were pearls and gems scattered about and he knew not why they were present. It was without a doubt that they were in a house of some kind. It seemed like the blood dropped down from the ceiling continually too and one of them melted a small portion of his thawb.

“Try and be careful of these drops. They are the acids of the guard.”

“The guard?” The Magister gulped at the hissing sound it made as the blood burned a hole right through. He didn’t like this place, it set his senses ablaze with warning signs.

“Every secrets must needs its guardians, otherwise a rat may scurry out alive.”

DKD seemed to be completely casual as she spoke of these scary things. Scary to most, anyway. This seemed like a horror movie set to most, but perhaps to DKD it was more like her back alley.

“That is… true.”

“Be mindful that this is also secret to the Archmages, except for… the Calamity Witch, that damned old man and the Queen.”

“The Queen knows?” Aramus asked with a strange look on his face.

“Let’s just say that very important people has a clue about this. For good reasons. Albeit, we do not know what result we’d get from telling the King of Saudi Arabia, so we refrained.”

“Understood.” Now that he didn’t have to worry about keeping a secret from the Queen, Aramus didn’t feel as bad. Or maybe he would say that once this ordeal was over.

They took a turn to the right and there were several doors and passages that they crossed through. Other than housing whatever secret that would threaten things he had no idea about, there were some peculiar aspects of the house he did not understand either. There were many dolls, accessories, dresses, and other things that a lady, or rather, a young child would want. Even the walls were pink. None of this made sense.

There was a completely red door when they seemed to have finished their little journey. Witness DKD only turned to Witness DAD, giving one nod with a very serious face. Twisting the knob and opening it, the two entered.

(BGM: https://soundcloud.com/gahald-mills/iqlirifgl6ey)

It was a small room—no, a veranda. There was a large glass that seemed to be present instead of it being open-air. These glasses showed something that made Aramus forget to breathe.

This was the origin of the red hue.

There were countless pillars of glistening red running down across the walls. The walls were shining, it was a mountain’s back rather than a wall if anything. He could see blooming cherry blossom trees but they were crimson red—as red as the blood—instead of pink, and were sparkling. There was a lake of an orange hue and he was not sure where it seemed to flow off to, but as far as he could see, it ran past beneath the house they were in. The place was grotesque yet beautiful at the same time.

Of course, the Magister was only looking at the surroundings of the thing. The thing that he was here to witness.

It was unbelievable.

Before the Magic Magister—only about fifty meters away—was one large Hour Glass.

An Hour Glass.

None of it made sense. There was a large structure before him made of mostly glass, with beautifully sparkling sands that seemed to be trickling down from the upper portion to the lower portion. He wasn’t sure if they were ordinary sands, probably not. A pair of gold pillars seemed to support this enormous object and the scarlet pillars seemed to nestle around them, including the Hour Glass itself, as if embracing it—protecting it.

Aramus just stared at it, in a daze by the absurdity of what he had just seen. It seemed straight out of the mind of a madman and yet here he was, gazing at the Hour Glass. Perhaps he was going mad.

“Do you see it?”

“Yes. What is it?”

Witness DKD pointed at the very center of the Hour Glass, a gold core shining. Aramus narrowed his eyes at the light and looked closely as he could.

When he realized what he saw, he fell down to his knees.

Queen Victoria was trapped inside.

“Her Majesty!” Aramus cried, crawling forward to get a closer look. Why was she in there? Was there a way he could get her out? Awfully unlikely given that there were so many other Witnesses but even so, there must be a way.

The Queen was apparently not conscious as she was between the two extremes of the Hour Glass. She was covered by what seemed like an ancient golden set of armory.

“There are two others in there if you look at the two big portions up and down, but they’re hard to make any details out of due to the sands.”

“So once the sands run out, it ends? Her life? Their lives?” Aramus said, whirling on DKD with a stricken look.

Witness DKD shrugged.

“No one knows what would happen. The Queen refuses to answer any questions. However, the only acknowledgement was Her Majesty statementing: †˜my body.’”

Aramus hung his head, wracked by all kinds of thoughts as he tried to find any avenue to help his liege. As a Descendent, she was beyond his ken but any good retainer would think as such, least of all Aramus. Now that he was privy to this, a Witness, there would be no other recourse.

“Her Majesty knew what she was doing, what I was going to see when she sent me here. There must be a reason.”

“By the way, see those small cracks on it? They are apparently caused by the distortions.”

Aramus stared long and hard at the minute cracks marring the Hour Glass, wondering how bad it would get once they started getting larger. He would terminate whoever was toying with the rules, and Her Majesty, with extreme prejudice.

Today, Aramus was dressed in a thawb. In the largest desert that the world had known, this was an attire better suited to the climate. He was seated atop a camel, which was carrying many packages it seemed. He was with a group of other camels, and their riders were all mundanes, but they had their own reasons for going through the seemingly endless expanse of sand dunes.

Witness DKD—his senior in the Space Police Organization—generally his caretaker somehow, and his partner of the mission, was the person who sat behind him, apparently appearing very bored. They would use a portal but according to her, she was reprimanded for using them carelessly, and was supposed to do this mission without using the portals to find the distortion.

Aramus decided he would never get used to how the camel moved with its gait. Being the only way to cross the desert, Aramus begrudging rode the beast of burden but his buttocks and back were beginning to blister. He could feel it. That combined with the thawb and how airy it was in certain areas made him a little grumpy.

“This is boring,” DKD murmured, still moping. “Porting with magic would’ve been so much easier. Don’t you think so too?”

“I concur,” Aramus grunted as the beast below him shifted again in its gait. “Would’ve been faster too. Less time in the blasted sand.”

“Exactly. It had been four days and we cannot eat lavishly out in here, either.”

“I’ve had enough of dates and coffee. Something more substantial would be appreciated…”

“A cake would be more fulfilling about now… last night, I almost saw that the entire desert was made of creams in a dream. That would be nice.”

Aramus wiped away figurative drool, wishing that there was at least something else to eat apart from dates and dry bread. “I wouldn’t want sand in my cake so I’ll save that for when we get back…”

“So, DAD, how much do you know of the current world?”

“The current world, DKD? Like how the countries are all separated by a distortion and the only way to travel between them is via Magic?”

“Only three countries. What we call the modern world happens to be free of this curse. However, that was not what I was talking about. How much have you learned of the situations of the other countries so far?”

“Not much I’m afraid. Even if I had tried to get any recent news, most of it is in Arabic. If we’re talking further than that, just what is handed down to mundanes or those on the lower rung of the Magic World.”

“This is kind of the problem with living in one of the three countries with the unknown distortion.” DKD shrugged. “It’s not a nice world outside, which is ironic.”

“I figured the world outside has its own fair share of problems as well, just hushed up by the various governments.”

“Mostly hushed for the mundanes. Not in the Magic World, however. Have you heard of the Magic Pollution?”

“I have heard of it in passing but not in detail.”

“Some mages trying to make their own societies. They use magic to create harmful gas to drive the mundanes out. There are also the terrorists run by Blood Countess who has been causing problems in many places. They kinda go by the bigger news though.”

“All a load of balderdash if you ask me. Using Magic like that won’t solve their problems.”

DKD turned and looked what lied before the camels. “Do you feel this… darkness? Or rather, bloodlust?”

“I feel the bloodlust but not the darkness. It’s all around us.”

“We have to find it.” DKD smiled. This was the savage smile of a warrior and a sadist.

She leaned down and arched her head down towards the camel, and spoke in a language Aramus could not comprehend. When it came to communication, Witness DKD was unmatched. The camel seemed to give a nod, and the girl placed a hand on the animal, the Magister could see some mana passing through to the creature. Somehow, this felt like bad news to him, but an exciting one at the same time.

The camel jumped. Indeed, it jumped—all the way to the clouds! Aramus found himself screaming from the top of his lungs as the camel took them up to surprising lengths, it landed much farther away than the group they were with, never mind the fact that they were innocent mundanes who traveled with them not knowing who they were. The camel leapt before he got a chance to speak, and it seemed to become a journey with the camel leading them ahead with impossible moves.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG!” Aramus hollered in the middle of one particular high jump, feeling like a flea in a wind storm as he was forced to hold onto the reins for dear life, however much security those thin cords could afford him.

DKD seemed to be enjoying the ride, laughing. “Isn’t this fun?! So much better than a slow ride!”

Wild screaming was the only reply she got from Aramus.







Like this, they spent some hours riding the sandy winds and the dunes, just with a different pace. Eventually, DKD seemed to not be having so much fun anymore, but Aramus could never get used to this.

DKD patted the camel once more and it finally stopped.

“Alright, you can catch your breath now,” his senior finally said.

Aramus wasn’t sure if she was referring to the camel or him but he took deep breaths to calm himself down. It was one thing to fly under your own power but to have a camel leap across the desert like some kind of grasshopper was something he never wanted to experience again.

“The distortion is much closer now. We’ll set off once you’re done resting, DAD.”

“I’m good, I’m good. We can go,” Aramus said after a few more breaths. “I’d like to have a firsthand look at the distortion too.”

“Gotcha.” With a pat, the camel started to move forward instead of jump, it was still not ordinary for a camel to gallop forward like this. “Be on guard. It has to be here somewhere.”

“Alright.” Aramus said, keeping his eyes peeled.

The camel soon stopped. DKD patted it, but it growled and refused to go any further. The sands started shaking and rumbling. The tremors gave the two the confirmation that the source of the bloodlust was very close and real.

With a hiss, a large snake-like creature’s head broke out from the sands and cried again facing them, sending away its breath full of stinking air and spit.

(BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqnHO1L52Ec)

“Well, isn’t this just wonderful,” Aramus said, waving a hand in front of his face as the stinking breath washed over him. A cyclone of wind surrounded them, blowing the stench and sand away before dying down to only encircle Aramus and he took to the air, looking down at DKD and the camel. “I’ll fight from up here.”

With another roar from the overgrown snake, the sky started to turn dark.

Witness DKD looked up, the space of the very sky and the clouds were breaking apart as if the very space was being tarnished.

The distortion, DKD noted. The place started to look like the Void Realm, slowly if anything. As the snake thrashed about, the camel leapt back and DKD jumped from it, placing a leg on Aramus, she propelled herself straight towards the snake with a sword ready in her hand. “And I’ll be fighting there.”

Aramus smiled smugly and followed straight behind her, his relic appearing in hand as he prepared to slash the serpent. Before he swung at it, the beast’s roar sent him back instead, the veil of tornado around him barely keeping him afloat above the sands. Momentarily, a different form of hissing was sent across the desert, this was the wail of pain as DKD’s blade was stabbed against the black skin of the creature. The bloody veins that seemed to be visible all over its body started pulsing with a bright hue of red as response.

When the snake opened its maw and hissed at DKD again, a bolt of lightning streaking into its mouth and sent it reeling back. But that wasn’t the Lightning Bolt spell sent by Aramus, it was the Magister himself cooking the serpent’s insides with Holy Wrath—Thor’s Might. Soon, he bashed against something foreign and he looked up, there were thousands of snakes that started putting themselves into him to stop him.

Aramus lashed out at the snakes as his speed dropped, trying to fry as many of them as possible. Bolts of lightning seared and disintegrated many but there was no end to the number of snakes as they attempted to swarm him. He filled himself with more power, a huge discharge of energy giving him a momentary reprieve and allowed him to move again.

He streaked around the snake, a seemingly endless journey and more snakes seemed to pour out of the fleshy walls, hissing as they fell towards him.

After what seemed like forever inside the fleshy tunnel full of snakes, light seemed to peek inside as DKD cut open the skin of the snake, a circular hole opened, leaking out its blood, fluids, and some of the smaller snakes along with it.

Aramus grinned sadistically up at his senior, his relic sword appearing once more in his hand and he ran off deeper into the snake. The thorns from the sword entangled themselves on his arm, blood and gore spewed everywhere as his slashes ruptured multiple vessels and arteries. The Magister was coated from head to toe in blood and guts, laughing madly as the sword split a large beating organ into cubes, the feathers quivering together with his delight. “More, bleed for me more, you piece of shit!”

Behind him, he saw the snake’s skin tear apart rapidly, opening up more and more of its walls, letting the sunlight come through inside. By the time Aramus was nearing its tail, the snake was butchered completely by the sadistic duo with its entrails bathing under the sandy winds of the Sahara. He came out only to see that the snake was laid out across the sands, its entire body broken in many parts. The broken space of the sky started to return to normal slowly.

Aramus rubbed away the blood dripping into his eyes and smiled at DKD. It was an honest smile, containing more than just simple cheer. He needed to vent out his frustrations and this had been a great opportunity. “How’d you think snake meat would taste?”

DKD gave a big smile in return. “Want to try?”


“Anything other than dates and coffee. Who knows, we might have struck upon a delicacy,” Aramus said.

“But then I fear we would just distort our stomachs. Maybe it is for the best that this dish is laid out for the sands.”

Aramus looked just about ready to cut a small slice for himself but lowered his sword with a sigh. “Guess I’ll settle for regular snake back in the city if they have it. Was this the cause of the distortion?”

“Yes, I imagine someone did some experiments to create this thing and left it here. I wonder what for…”

“Who knows. We just need to find whoever’s responsible and take his head. Time to go back for that cake you wanted?” Aramus asked with a smile.

“I am tired of this desert. Let us be off. I’d sooner bake than take on this relentless heat.” Witness DKD sliced open the rift in the air, her finger giving away a seemingly searing mana.

The two members of the Space Police left. The camel seemed to follow them too for some reason. Beyond the dunes of sand a rogue witch only stared at them as they exited, she seemed to be busy taking notes.

In the border of the country, Claudia was currently being treated by her Master. They were in a small house in the outskirts where Claudia found out that the vampires had shelter to provide her. She didn’t know how she came across them, it was likely a stroke of luck. It felt much better than being found by the police or the hunters, however.

“You lose an eye of all things,” her Master stated, not quite expecting an answer. “This is proof of your ignorance of your surroundings.”

“I apologize, Master,” Claudia said with a grunt. She was sick of having to apologize for her own foul ups.

“I have told you before to forgo your overconfidence. I suppose you were not listening.”

Claudia turned away from her Master, grimace lush in her face. “I… I apologize, Master. I shall be more attentive from here on out.”

“Your eye would take some days to recover, but we cannot afford to waste time. You shall continue your studies of the language. We will teach you a new spell afterwards.”

“Great. Wonderful,” Claudia huffed, standing up. “You know what? I don’t even care about my eye anymore. I’d be happy to get this done sooner than anything.”

Crimson Rafflesia then handed to Claudia the books for the language again.

“How much have you covered so far?”

Flipping one of the books open and scanning over the pages, albeit slowly, Claudia turned back to her Master. “A good majority. I’ve hoped to have finish in an afternoon if it weren’t for that fucking raghead blowing our room up.”

“For now, we shall move over to Iraq in a few days. The country has many more of our comrades and we will likely find a safer place for your training.”

Claudia sighed to herself. “Iraq of all places? I don’t think a battlefield would qualify as a safe place for training.”

“A battlefield?”

“Is Iraq not at war, still?”

“I suppose the conflict still continues, however, we of the Magic World can still find sanctuary from our hunters by hiding here. Who would think that we would hide there?”

“If the enemy were smarter, they would, no doubt,” Claudia replied. “Speaking of, what were they doing here anyway? Aramus and that woman?”

“Aramus? I do not know, but the woman was the Witness DKD, and the one I faced was one of the Archmage.”

“DK...D?” Claudia queried. Her head tilted in question as to who on earth would want a name, or title, or whatever, like that. “Who is that?”

“I suppose you have not heard about the Space Police?”

“Space Police? With a name like that, I think they’re better suited having a children’s TV show.”

“I see that you are ignorant of the many powerful forces outside of the few countries you had traveled to.” Her Master shook her head and sighed. “The Space Police are the few people working to neutralize any and all spatial issues that takes place in the world. Each of its members are at the level of the Dukes and Duchesses of England working under Queen Victoria at least, and they are often hired to pursue criminals. In the Magic World, criminals who are hiding and missing are known as the Rogues. People like us.”

“They didn’t even give us a chance to breathe, either. I’m surprised at how quickly they found us,” Claudia said with a distant look, palming her eye socket. “To be truthful… I’m actually afraid of this DKD, knowing I could’ve died so simply back there.”

“You would do best to avoid fighting such a person until you master your talents and capabilities. The Witnesses are no people you would want to have business with. Hmmm, this makes our situation precarious, the Witnesses knows the Astral Venture Supreme Spell—they can travel to any part of the world by using the Void Realm.”


“Then that means we will have to be extra careful about this. If these Witnesses are as dangerous as you say, then I won’t be in a rush to fight them.”

“We will have to prepare you for some counter measures it seems,” the Master said, taking up her finger. “I will have you learn spells for now and use the words of the language particularly required.”

“Entendu, Master.”

“Take up your index finger, we start now.” Her Master too, did the same. A violet burn was formed at the tip of her finger. “First, listen to the voices of the soul—I have some gathered for this—then mentally ask them to lend their aid. The Undertakers usually have a natural commanding power over them. If they do not hear, ask them vocally. Apply Imaginem mana into your finger and mix a soul’s power into the fingertip, you should achieve a similar result as mine if you do it correctly.”

Nodding, Claudia recalled the first phase of her training back in Russia, where she would sit in front of an ashtray and listen out for voices of the dead. She shut her eye and focused, soon gathering their attention. The Representative mentally asked the souls for assistance as her Master ordered, telling them to perform something simple like, forming a circle around her. She applied mana into her own fingertip. With the spell’s success, the fading black aura from her Mage’s Sigil—something she almost forgot she had—revealed itself.

Claudia’s finger burned similarly to her Master’s, though she appeared not as satisfied as she wished.

Crimson Rafflesia then opened the door of the small room, and gestured one of the vampires to enter the room. The vampire that entered was wearing a black cloak and a mask that seemed to completely cover his face.

“Seeing that you succeeded in casting, Claudia, write the word †˜collect’ with your finger in the air, while aiming at this man here,” her Master commanded.

With a nod, Claudia did as she asked, writing the aforementioned word in the language of the soul through the empty space in front of the Vampire. “Collect,” she said aloud for good measure, gazing upon the violet text in front of her. “So what now–”

The vampire started screaming, his clothes shredding and then his skin and blood ripping itself apart, or rather, it was being ripped apart by the souls. The cracking noises of the bones could be heard before the they started coming out from the body of the vampire. By the time the spell was over, more or less all the bones gathered onto Claudia’s finger as if her finger was the core and the bones were the ground pulled by gravity. The empty corpse of the vampire fell and the blood coated the floor. Crimson Rafflesia didn’t seem to be pleased or displeased and only looked at the mess blankly while Claudia’s finger held the demonstration of the Undertaker’s powers.

“Holy shit…” Claudia said, surprise clear in her voice. She looked at her finger, eye widened, and back down to her own handywork. “Holy shit,” she said again. “Did I just do that?”

“On your first try, yes.”

She almost wanted to laugh, but with all her willpower, she swallowed it down. Stay humble, Claudia. She retained a composed expression, unsure of what to say after this. It felt almost taboo to even celebrate around Rafflesia. “I… well…”

“When you learn more of the language, start practicing with the spell I taught earlier, use it to write simple words so that you are more habituated in time.”

“Y-Yes, Master Crimson.” Claudia nodded. She couldn’t help but glance back to the vampire she had just killed. “So did he have a death wish or something, or was he just that dedicated?” she asked her Master.

“I do not really know, but we couldn’t afford to use a civilian now, otherwise we would blow our cover.”


Claudia shrugged. “Anything to assist me, I suppose.”

“You feel like you’re ready?” Aisha asked, she was in her dancing outfit. “You had been practicing for a month now, but something tells me that you’re nervous.”

“I’m just hoping that I don’t screw up, otherwise wouldn’t I have to wait a year to try for this day again?”

“You would have to, yes. It is crucial to be used to dancing for that reason.”

In the rooftop of the Royal Palace stood the two. Nancy was disallowed from coming, for a reason Judgement Summoner wouldn’t reveal. There was a large magic circle drawn on the floor—a pentagram. Svetlana was at the very center of said pentagram.

“Well, I guess I’m ready. Just let me know when to start,” Svetlana said, taking a deep breath.

Judgement Summoner placed a leg on the corner of the magic circle, fueling it with mana. “You can start dancing.”

The magic circle started glowing, giving away a blue hue. The night sky was clear and starry and Svetlana could see the twinkling stars above her.

Svetlana slowly began moving her arms upwards, raising halfway and she stopped, before beginning to move her shoulders backwards in the form of small circles. As she picked up her pace, she moved her belly. She moved her hips side by side as she began to spin around.

“Start concentrating on your inner light that the Goddess granted. You should feel it closely as long as you don’t borrow any mana from a Realm.”

Svetlana listened as she continued dancing, and began to focus on the light of the Ishtar that she felt before when it was first granted to her. She felt the stars within as her body glowed blue with sparkles. The particles coming up from the shining magic circle and herself appeared like tiny twinkling stars to her. They particles gathered around her body, entering through her skin. The pattern of the stars were recorded by the magic circle, and the inner light of Svetlana was drawing them into herself like magnet so as to decipher the records. The sensitive parts of her body were nudged, and her face blushed red.

Judgement Summoner smirked. “Bear with it.”

“Why didn’t you say this was gonna happen?!” Svetlana said, her body was starting to warm up.

“That wouldn’t be very fun.”

“Idiot Master!”

“Ehehehe! It’ll be like this every night, by the way.”

“What why?! That’s just torture in it’s own way!”

“You liked it though.”

“...”

“You know it’s true.”

“Shut up! It’s only because I’m part succubus now!”

“How rude, but Isn’t that nice?”

“I don’t want to say it aloud!”

“A succubus being shy, really.”

“Just let me finish this in peace!”







In her room now, Svetlana came back with a huff, her body still warm. She found Nancy sitting on a chair, reading books she had brought with her.

“Oh Nancy, you’re still up.”

“Good evening, Mistress. Welcome back. How did the ritual go?”

“I suppose it went okay,” Svetlana said, her face red. “You think we can talk for a bit, Nancy? There’s something I want to confirm.”

“Confirm?” Nancy closed her book to listen intently. “What is it, Mistress?”

“Well, as you know, many things have happened these past two months. I would imagine many of them would be difficult to believe, and as you know I’m no longer human either. You also saw what this training has caused to me… in some of my actions. I was wondering if you’re comfortable in serving me still,” Svetlana said as she twirled her fingers.

“Such a silly thing to ask, Mistress. I would be happy to serve you all the same, regardless of who you are. If only I could fix the shamefulness,” Nancy said, sighing. “But alas, everyone has their own quirks, and I find some of yours endearing, in all honesty. If you would not mind me, I shall keep what I saw confidential and continue to work for you.”

Svetlana smiled. “Thank you, Nancy. There’s one more, though. Ever since I met Ishtar… weird things have been coming to my mind, and all this training now seems like it’s gonna make it worse. My body feels warm even though I don’t feel ill, and I’ve been feeling itchy in a specific spot,” Svetlana said with her face becoming even redder.

“Itchy in a certain spot? Due to the training? Even if you are not ill, I think we need you to see a doctor, Mistress.”

Svetlana walked to where Nancy was her face still red. “It can be taken care of without seeing a doctor. It's just really embarrassing, okay? Normally it’s taken care of by one's lover…”

“...Huh? Mistress, you cannot mean…”

Svetlana simply nodded, her face still bright red.

“I-I shall leave the room for your privacy. Please excuse me, Mistress.” Nancy got up, giving a bow before moving towards the door.

Svetlana at that moment grabbed Nancy’s hand. “The thing is—I don’t want you to leave. I don’t know why, but the thing is, my body is telling me to have you here…”

“Um… you would wish for me to w-watch?” Nancy inquired with a low voice, her cheeks taking on a shade of rosy pink.

Svetlana shook her head. “Y-You might want to leave me after this, but I want you to j-join me…”

“Join… you? B-But I am a woman, Mistress.”

“B-Before I would be saying the same thing, but currently I just don’t care, I just want to have someone with me. I don’t want it to be just anyone, and I just felt like you’re the only one I can turn to right now,” Svetlana said as she looked down shamefully.

Nancy gulped her saliva. “S-So… what would you have me do, Mistress?”

“B-Basically… have sex with me,” Svetlana said her face turning as red as tomato.

“Se—what? M-Mistress… how would women even have an intercourse?!”

Nancy’s breathing was already irregular and her heart’s racing was faster than normal, she never expected Svetlana to speak these words.

Svetlana lifted Nancy up by her chin and proceeded to kissing her passionately. She proceeded to use her tongue as she tried to imitate the way Ishtar kissed her before, but she fell short in terms of skills. Svetlana felt Nancy bite her tongue accidentally too and she winced a bit, but she tried to continue kissing her for a bit longer.

“T-That was too sudden—”

Svetlana moved Nancy away from the sofa and pushed the maid unto her bed and went on top of her on all fours.

“I hope you’re ready for a long night, my cute little Nancy,” Svetlana said, licking her lips and staring at Nancy with lustful eyes.

“I-I understand, Mistress, but would you let me undress at least?” Nancy finally gave up, her barriers of morals finally falling, evident from a rare sigh. She only hoped that her Mistress would go easy on her. The person being Infernal scared her just a little bit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”