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The Chaotic Mind of Kendo
Forum-Index → Fanmades → Fanfictions → The Chaotic Mind of Kendo
Posted: Fri, 21/04/2023 12:21 (1 Year ago)
TW: Mild Swearing
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It’s… empty.
It’s so dark.
The sun was shining, so brightly, just a few moments ago.
Where did everyone go?
They were celebrating, just a moment ago.
Everything had been so happy, for once.
He shifted slightly in his shined shoes, his cyan hair pushed back by his right hand. His left hand tugged at the collar of his clean, ironed white shirt.
He could have sworn he was laughing with Emma, just a few moments ago.
What just happened?
“...Em? Is this a… prank or something...?”
He’s startled by his own voice. It comes out raspy, broken, like he hadn’t spoken in years.
He coughed into his hand, violently.
His body doesn’t feel quite right.
“Em? C’mon, this isn’t funny.”
The details were starting to come back. He glanced around. Trees. A lake. He knew this place. His hometown’s park, where he’d invited his friends over, after graduating, to take a long, worthwhile break.
What had happened?
Then, it hit him. A simple way to figure out what happened.
His phone.
He stumbled forward, rummaging through his pockets clumsily, before fishing his phone out, and taking a deep, calming breath. He turned it on.
A sinking feeling in his gut.
[2:01 AM]
[March 21th, 2027]
…that wasn’t right.
No, no. That was all wrong.
It was supposed to be June 14th, 2022. He and his friends had just graduated from college, taking a break, from the recommendation of one of Artemis’ childhood friends to this place, as a way to cool off.
“Shit.”
He curses, quietly, typing in the password to his phone. It opened easily, teh screen giving way to a simple phone, the wallpaper adorned with a picture of a group of, around 11, people. His best friends.
“Shit. Shit. No. No. Please, no.”
He tapped on the screen of the phone, his rust-red eyes scanning the screen of the phone. His thin fingers types a date into the search engine, rapidly. The first result that came up was from something called [Deusnet].
[June 14th, 2022, The Day of Disappearance]
[Written by Dr. Lilith Cohen, June 14th, 2022, 2026]
“...Lillith?”
He knew that name, far too well. One of his best friends, Lilith. That picture looked just like her, if a few years older.
She was a Doctor, now? What the hell?
His eyes skimmed through the page, scanning the text.
[...as someone who lost a friend on that day, as well, I can say one thing. While this event may have been the leadup to supernatural powers in our community, this lead to the loss of a fourth of all life on earth, of every species. No one in their right mind would think that this event was good…]
He couldn't stand reading anymore. He closed the tab, before going to his contacts.
He scrolled through it furiously, until he reached one person’s number, saved by the simple nickname [Em].
He took a deep breath in, before pressing the dial button.
Suddenly, he heard something cut through the deathly silence.
A voice.
“...Ar… Artemis?”
He turned, pressing disconnect on the call. He knew that voice. But…
“That tone doesn’t suit you. Didn’t we agree that you’d stop crying?”
He turned, smiling.
A fairly short girl stood in front of him, standing about a foot shorter than him, a few feet away, wearing nothing but plain pajamas, sandals pulled on halfway, her rose-pink hair wild and messy, as if she’d just woken up.
She was tearing up, her hands pulled to her chest.
“... Artemis…”
“Smile a bit, yeah?”
It’s so dark.
The sun was shining, so brightly, just a few moments ago.
Where did everyone go?
They were celebrating, just a moment ago.
Everything had been so happy, for once.
He shifted slightly in his shined shoes, his cyan hair pushed back by his right hand. His left hand tugged at the collar of his clean, ironed white shirt.
He could have sworn he was laughing with Emma, just a few moments ago.
What just happened?
“...Em? Is this a… prank or something...?”
He’s startled by his own voice. It comes out raspy, broken, like he hadn’t spoken in years.
He coughed into his hand, violently.
His body doesn’t feel quite right.
“Em? C’mon, this isn’t funny.”
The details were starting to come back. He glanced around. Trees. A lake. He knew this place. His hometown’s park, where he’d invited his friends over, after graduating, to take a long, worthwhile break.
What had happened?
Then, it hit him. A simple way to figure out what happened.
His phone.
He stumbled forward, rummaging through his pockets clumsily, before fishing his phone out, and taking a deep, calming breath. He turned it on.
A sinking feeling in his gut.
[2:01 AM]
[March 21th, 2027]
…that wasn’t right.
No, no. That was all wrong.
It was supposed to be June 14th, 2022. He and his friends had just graduated from college, taking a break, from the recommendation of one of Artemis’ childhood friends to this place, as a way to cool off.
“Shit.”
He curses, quietly, typing in the password to his phone. It opened easily, teh screen giving way to a simple phone, the wallpaper adorned with a picture of a group of, around 11, people. His best friends.
“Shit. Shit. No. No. Please, no.”
He tapped on the screen of the phone, his rust-red eyes scanning the screen of the phone. His thin fingers types a date into the search engine, rapidly. The first result that came up was from something called [Deusnet].
[June 14th, 2022, The Day of Disappearance]
[Written by Dr. Lilith Cohen, June 14th, 2022, 2026]
“...Lillith?”
He knew that name, far too well. One of his best friends, Lilith. That picture looked just like her, if a few years older.
She was a Doctor, now? What the hell?
His eyes skimmed through the page, scanning the text.
[...as someone who lost a friend on that day, as well, I can say one thing. While this event may have been the leadup to supernatural powers in our community, this lead to the loss of a fourth of all life on earth, of every species. No one in their right mind would think that this event was good…]
He couldn't stand reading anymore. He closed the tab, before going to his contacts.
He scrolled through it furiously, until he reached one person’s number, saved by the simple nickname [Em].
He took a deep breath in, before pressing the dial button.
Suddenly, he heard something cut through the deathly silence.
A voice.
“...Ar… Artemis?”
He turned, pressing disconnect on the call. He knew that voice. But…
“That tone doesn’t suit you. Didn’t we agree that you’d stop crying?”
He turned, smiling.
A fairly short girl stood in front of him, standing about a foot shorter than him, a few feet away, wearing nothing but plain pajamas, sandals pulled on halfway, her rose-pink hair wild and messy, as if she’d just woken up.
She was tearing up, her hands pulled to her chest.
“... Artemis…”
“Smile a bit, yeah?”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Mon, 24/04/2023 09:16 (1 Year ago)
TW:Mild Swearing
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's still April 12th, 2023, but now it’s 11:59 PM.
“Holy shit. What the hell is going on?”
Artemis stumbled, as a flash of light dropped him and the girl into a platform, floating on the abyss.
“Shut the hell up, human.”
The pink-haired girl glared at him. What was her name?
‘Hey, that’s pretty rude, uh, erm-on-god.”
Ermenblad glared at him, her loose, relaxed posture stiffening.
“...insolent human. I let you off the hook because God chose you, but it looks like you’re just some uneducated brat, huh?”
“Brat? Rude! If anything, you’re the brat! Have you seen yourse-”
Wait… was she always that short? And… Did her hair get shorter, as well? It was like her physical age decreased.
She narrowed her eyes
“What the hell’s so special about you, huh?”
The pink-haired girl pushed Artemis back, scowling.
“Why did God choose you? Why did he ship me off to someone like you?”
Artemis sidestepped the punch she swung at him, weaving out of the way.
“I hate you! I don’t deserve this! I’ve been waiting for hundreds of years!”
Another swing.
Artemis ducked under her fist, grabbing her arms, pulling on it. She stumbled, her arms pinwheeling wildly,, her eyes wide open.
But then…
“Why are you fighting on my beautiful platform, platform?”
The two of them whipped around, as Ermenblad straightened herself.
The scene was ridiculous. A rabbit was walking down a staircase, sipping from a cup of tea.
What kind of ridiculous situation was this? First, God himself, then a rabbit in a two-piece suit.
The girl glared at the rabbit.
“Oh. It’s you, old geezer.”
The rabbit laughed cheerfully, clapping.
“Ermenblad, you haven’t changed a bit, a bit! But… who’s this? No normal being could enter the Tutorial’s platform this early, early!”
Ermenblad rolled her eyes.
“Oh, that guy, next to me? He’s just a moronic human that God chose, for some reason.”
“Arthur did that, that? Well, he’s always been enigmatic, so don’t take it to heart, heart. I assume he’s your new master, master?”
“Gah! Don’t remind me!”
The two seemed to be having a lovely conversation.
Artemis sighed. He hadn’t had time to check his status window.
“Status!”
Instantly, a screen appeared in front of him.
[ARTEMIS WRIGHTs Stats]
[Name -> Artemis Wright]
[Gender -> Male, He/Him]
[Race -> Chosen Human]
[Age -> 18]
[Talent Limit -> G]
[Strength-> 7(D) Dexterity-> 14(A-) Health-> 7(D) Intelligence-> 18(S) Wisdom ->14(A-)
Luck -> 57(S+)]
[Class]
[Ego Contractor] + [Night Scholar]
[Dual Epic -> High Unique]
[Desperation]
[You. You’re not special, or anything… Read More?]
[[Luck] stat is formed]
[Chessboard [G]] [Active]
[Lowest]
[The world is your chessboard…Read More?]
[Mind’s Eye [G] [Passive]
[See others' status and thoughts.]
[Void Step [G]]
[Lowest]
[Darkness is a medium in which to pass through… Read More?]
[Ego Summon [G]]
[Lowest]
[Summon your contracted Ego Weapon… Read More?]
[Combat Technique -> Wright-Style Dagger Arts [G]]
[High Understanding]
[originally a form of switchblade street-fighting… Read more?]
Artemis nodded. Everything looked just about right. The stats looked comparable to his physical state, and everything looked normal… except for the last skill.
“...Dagger Arts, huh? I haven’t touched a blade in years, what do you mean [High Understanding]?!”
Suddenly, the girl appeared next to him, an excited glint in her eyes.
“Dagger arts?! Did you say dagger arts?! Woah! I guess you aren’t so useless after all, human!”
He jumped back slightly. A dangerous glint was in the girl’s eyes, her tone peppy and cheerful.
“What kind of fighting style is it? What’s it called? How does it work?”
Her attitude was completely different from earlier, almost dizzyingly so.
“Woah, woah, woah, calm down!”
Artemis pushed her back slightly. She frowned, pouting.
“Fine. I guess I didn’t really introduce myself, Human. I’m Ermenblad.”
“Erm-en-blad… sounds German.”
She nods aggressively.
“Yep~! I’m German! Don’t sound like it, though, riiiight~?”
“Erm… En… Blad… Bit of a mouthful.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“I mean… I guess so? Hm… you can call me Ermen, or something if you’d like…”
He shook his head.
“Nah, that sounds bad. Do you want like, a human name or something?”
Her eyes lit up. Artemis took a step back. Something about this felt off.
“A… human name?! That’s awesome! Yeah, I’d love that!”
“O…kay then… how about…”
Ermenblad was bouncing up and down, like a child would. He eyed her.
“Ermenblad… ermen… erm… em..? How does ‘Emma’ sound?”
She jumped up into the air, smiling.
“Yeah! That sounds great! Alright then! My name is ‘Emma’ from now on, then!”
She grabbed onto his arm cheerfully, beaming up at him.
“...’s no problem,” he muttered, quietly, pulling away.
Artemis jumped slightly, looking away, his face flushed red. She seemed to realize what she’d done, pulling away.
“H-hey! D-don’t just…”
She trailed off, looking away, muttering darkly. What was with this girl?
She beamed. The rabbit behind her clapped, suddenly, as a whooshing sound rang out.
“Another early one, one? How amusing, amusing!”
Artemis and Emma turned in unison, as a brown-haired man walked out of a glowing, fizzling portal.
He strolled into the platform, smiling politely.
Blue eyes. Brown hair. A thin, tall frame. Stunningly handsome. Coming into a platform floating on an abyss through the fizzling blue portal.
Oh, no. Artemis knew exactly who this was, and what was going on here.
This was the [Tutorial Lobby], wasn’t it? It had to be. That was Perceval Clarke, the main character of [T0WER], the webcomic, entering the [Lobby] early, right after regressing to the past.
And that Rabbit… it had to be.
The key to Perceval’s success in the tower, the [God of Luck], Ralak.
Artemis gulped, as he dropped his arms.
Nothing good came out of being affiliated with Perceval.
Suddenly, a screen popped up in front of Artemis.
[Activating [Mind’s Eye [G] [Passive]]
[...]
[Character Information]
[PERCEVAL CLARKE]
[Name -> Perceval Tristan Clarke]
[Gender -> Male, He/Him]
[Race -> Regression Human]
[Age -> 20]
[Strength-> 20(S+) Dexterity-> 20(S+) Health-> 20(S+) Intelligence-> 10(C) Wisdom ->10(C) Aura -> 10(A)]
[Class]
[Regression Warrior]
[UNRANKABLE]
“...holy shit.”
Immediately, the attention was turned on him, as he cursed audibly. Perceval turned from Ralak, to him.
That look on the main protagonist’s face… like a kid who found a new toy.
That was never good.
“Who are you?”
That one question left a sinking feeling in Artemis’ gut.
Of course, being around a regressor had its’ perks, such as knowing the optimal route through everything, but that wasn’t important to him. He had read the webtoon, after all! He knew everything!
Artemis took a step back, smiling nervously. He didn’t want to get involved with Perceval. All of his companions inevitably ended up dead. Artemis very much wanted to live. Emma glanced over at Artemis, her arms still crossed.
“Hm? Human, who is this… other human?”
“How should I know, Emma? You think all humans know each other?”
That was a blatant lie. He knew exactly who this was.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense, I mean, I don’t know all the Ego Weapons, after a-”
Suddenly, Perceval jumped forward, grabbing Emma by the shoulder, a wild look in his eye. That greedy glint in his eyes. Artemis knew it all too well. It was the same look that he got whenever he found a new toy to play with.
“Did you just say Ego Weapon?”
Emma jumped back, slapping his hand away, before taking a step back.
“Hey, what the hell? What the fuck do you think you’re doing, human?”
Perceval looked down at his hand for a moment, regret flashing through his eyes for a moment, before looking back up with a wide smile.
“First of all, I’m Perceval Clarke, nice to meet you!”
He extended a hand for Emma to shake, like some sort of sleazy salesman, with that fake-ass smile. Right. This was the kind of person Perceval was. Right after regressing, he was nothing but a greedy, power-grubbing bastard, who wanted nothing but to get every bit of power for himself, under the guise of a polite, friendly man.
Emma hesitantly took his hand, after which Perceval smiled, with those perfect pearly whites. Annoyingly handsome.
“I- I’m… Ermenblad. But you can call me Emma…?”
“Emma! Perfect!”
He clapped, excitedly.
“And… who is this?”
Suddenly, his smile was gone for a split moment, as Perceval glanced over at Artemis, a disapproving frown on his face.
“Ah, that’s Ar-”
Artemis put a hand over her mouth, smiling broadly.
“Artemis Wright. A pleasure, Sir Perce-.”
A fake smile came across his face once more, after scanning Artemis from head to toe. Ignoring Artemis, he brushed past him, reaching out to grab the shoulders of Emma. Emma jumped slightly.
“Hey, how about you make a contract with me, Emma?”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Thu, 27/04/2023 21:57 (1 Year ago)
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"Wakey wakey, Princess! The day waits
for no man! Or woman, for that matter!"
The beautiful pink-haired girl's eyes flickered open, staring up at the blue-haired boy standing over her. A wide grin was across his face, dressed in a prim and proper royal guardsman's outfit. In his hands were a bell and a small mallet.
"Mmh… Lemme sleep a bit moreee…."
She pulled her blanket tighter around herself, complaining.
Suddenly, she jolted up, at the loud sound of a bell being struck with a mallet
"W- wha-"
Artemis laughed, setting the bell on her bedside table.
"I did ask you to wake up, no?"
She sighed, brushing her rose-colored hair out of her eyes, pouting.
"You're so mean…"
He clapped.
"Nope! I'm Artemis Wright! I've been your personal guard for five years, remember?"
"Shut up, you sonova…"
Emma glared daggers at his back, as she pulled herself out of bed, yawning. He laughed lightly.
"That isn't very princess-y language, Lady Roshfeld."
"That's not very knightly behavior, Sir Wright."
There they went again, Emma's retorts sharp and pointed, Artemis' teasing light-hearted and fun.
This was how every morning started.
------------------------------------
It's late in the morning, when Emma wakes up. She blinks once, twice. Where is she? Where is the smiling face of her handsome guard, bidding her a good morning? Where are the silken sheets?
As she looks around, she spots the paintings hung up on the walls. Artemis' paintings.
Right.
She wasn't in the castle anymore. The castle had been destroyed 100 years ago.
A sense of utter loneliness comes over her, for a moment, as she pulls herself out of bed, towards the mirror.
She's as beautiful as ever. Her 100 year battle with the Dragon Lord left no scars.
At least, not visible ones.
She could hear the distant clattering of pans and the rushing of water.
"Emma, come downstairs! Breakfast is ready!"
His voice, his beautiful voice… but not with the light-hearted teasing of the past. He was completely different, a hundred years later.
She walked down the stairs, into the kitchen.
This is how every morning starts.
-----------------------------------
"I'll say this again, Artemis, for a spear-obsessed brute, you know how to use a brush."
She watched from beside him, as he skillfully painted on the blank canvas, a mess of pink and beige lines.
He smiled, devilishly, looking at her.
"Not the only thing I know how t-"
He coughed, as Emma elbowed him in the stomach. She tried to look as annoyed as possible. It wasn't working.
"Oh, shut up, you."
She sighed, smiling softly. And then, she put on her best annoyed expression, glaring at him.
"You lovable moron… Get back to painting, yeah?
He gave a mock salute, grinning like a fool. She loved the way he smiled.
"Yes Ma'am!"
He nodded, turning back to his painting.
That was his favorite pastime.
-----------------------------------
She stared up blankly at the portrait on the wall opposite to her bed.
It was of her.
She'd mentioned a portrait of herself, drawn and painted by him, so Artemis had decided to draw her a new one, as the previous one was burnt along aith Roshfeld Castle.
It was perfect.
But… it didn't seem quite right. The way it was stylized was not that of the Past's Artemis' sharp, rough strokes. The way he'd painted it flowed much more beautifully, fitting together far better.
Yet… it just didn't feel like him.
The Artemis she knew was bold, playful, simple-minded yet sophisticated, somehow. He was loud, brash, and loved getting on her nerves. He knew his place in her heart and didn't hesitate to use it against her. And yet, he was the most loyal person she had ever seen, even to the end.
This… new Artemis was so much more… uptight. He was quiet, serious, and never smiled. That was what she missed the most. Not his jokes, not the teasing, though she would be lying if she said she didn't miss those bits of him, no, she missed his smile the most. She missed the way his rust-red eyes glimmered in the light of the sun, in amusement.
Where had her wonderful knight gone?
-----------------------------------
"I swear to Tyv, I can't leave you alone for one second…"
Artemis huffed and puffed, as he burst through the doors of the Laboratory. Emma smiled.
"Awh, is my little knight all tuckered out just from that~?"
He sighed, waving his hand, doubled over.
"Excuse me, princess, but you're not the one lugging around a 6 foot spear… haaah…"
Emma giggled, watching the blue-haired knight drop to the ground, crossing his legs. His cyan hair fell across his eyes, as he sighed.
"Hehe~! Don't get too mad, Arty~ It's only fair, with how much you've been teasing me, rig-"
"Break it up, you two. This is a place of science, not… whatever the hell this is."
A tall, golden-blonde haired man stepped out from behind a giant machine. He pulled off the welding mask, setting the blowtorch on a table.
Kendo Satou, academic extrordinaire, proficient in everything from engineering to biology to architectural design.
Emma jumped back, grinning sheepishly. Artemis sighed.
"Kendo, help me out here…"
Kendo shook his head.
"No can do, old friend. Your princess over here made a completely valid application to be my apprentice."
"Coulda just rejected it…"
"How could I reject the wishes of a hardworking, knowledge-seeking woman in this day and age? It's a rarity, you know?"
Kendo laughed, putting a hand on his waist, a smile on his cold features. Artemis huffed, looking away, as Emma patted the guardsman on the head.
"Thanks a lot, dear old friend."
-----------------------------------
"Ah, Emma. You've returned. How was the trip?"
He was an old man. There was no denying that. His once-beautiful golden-brown locks were now fading to gray, wrinkles forming on his face. It was clear he'd lived a difficult life.
"Hey, Kendo! Good to see you! Like always I brought, uh, some ingredients for a meal!"
Emma grinned, as she set a basket on the table. Kendo nodded, smiling.
"Ah, reliable as ever. This is why you're my favorite student."
Emma laughed, wrapping an arm around the old man's shoulders, though it was difficult as she was a foot shorter than him.
"Anything for my old friend, right?"
The scientist nodded.
"Of course… speaking of old friends…"
He trailed off, glancing around.
Emma's smile faded, nodding.
"He said he had something to do."
Kendo nodded slowly.
"That guy…"
-----------------------------------
"Get out of the way! Artillery, fire!"
Screaming.
Blood rained from the sky, as Princess Emma Roshfeld-Brown watched her subjects get blown to pieces under the destructive power of the Guardians.
"No…"
She stood, frozen in place, in the middle of the garden, watching her beautiful home get burnt to the ground.
And then…
"Princess! Get down!"
Artemis. She turned slightly, only to see him tackle her to the ground, just a second before a blue lazer blasted through the air where her head had been moments earlier.
"Princess, this is no time to be spacing out! The champions are dead! We need to go for the Demon Lord right now, before he gets any stronger!"
His voice, full of an urgency she'd never seen before. His hands, shaking in a way she'd never seen. His eyes wild, panicked.
"Get up! We need to go, now! Your grandfather is delaying the Demon Lord's ascencion for as long as possible, but he won't hold out for much longer!"
It was a blur. She could hear him yelling, as he pulled her along. She could hear screaming. She could feel the crimson blood falling onto her jacket.
All the while, Her Knight pulled her along, through the castle.
Finally, the throne room. She snapped out of her daze, as Artemis prepared his golwing lance.
The scene inside was horrific.
A wispy demon, formed of black mist and blood, atood over the fallen body of her grandfather, the great king Arthur Roshfeld. The Demon Lord turned to the two. A sinister smile came over his face, and suddenly…
A dagger embedded itself in Artemis' hand, which had been outstretched to stop the dagger from hitting her.
"Artemis!"
He hissed in pain.
"I'm fine, Princess."
The Demon Lord laughed.
"Artemisss… Artemisss… Your ssskillsss haven't russsted, through reincarnation…"
Artemis pulled the dagger out of his hand. Emma was frozen in place.
The demon king took a step forward. Another dagger came flying at Emma. Artemis blocked it with his arm.
"Why are you protecting the girl, Artemisss…? Usssually you would come in and decapitate me…."
His laugh was evil, sending a chill down Emma's spine. Artemis was bleeding, from the two stab wounds, but grasped his lance tightly, with his other hand.
The Demon Lord smiled.
"Oh…. Have you developed feelingsss for the reincarnation of Tyv, this time….?"
"Shut up."
Suddenly, Artemis rushed forward, his lance raised.
The fight was a blur. At some point, Emma had started chanting a prayer. How could she not? Her beloved knight was fighting with his lifd on the line, so she must help as well.
"Tyv above, heed my prayer…."
And then…
"Princess! Watch o-"
Suddenly, he was in front of her. Blood spilled onto the floor.
"...Artemis…?"
-----------------------------------
It was dark.
So dark.
So cold.
How long had Emma been in this lonely place, holding the Demon Lord back?
A year? 2? 5? 10?
She didn't know. There was no way to tell time.
It was always dark.
She missed him.
She missed his smile.
She missed the light.
She missed going on picnics with him and her other friends, having a good time.
She missed her world.
But she had to hold out.
She had to hold out until her knight came back for her.
He would come back for her… right?
No. This was no time to be questioning Artemis.
Artemis always came back.
But the sneaking little voice in her head was telling her otherwise.
But she continued to hold out, against the all-encompassing mist and fog of the Lord of the Demons.
And then, one day, she finally saw it, a crack of light.
He had awoken.
And now, she just had to wait.
From the crack of light, she watched him progress, watched him adventure for her sake.
And when time finally came, and the demon lord was defeated…
She witnessed the full glory of an actual day once more. Floating down from the sky, she kept her eyes closed.
"Artemis… you came back… for me."
Her voice was choked up, teary. But when she opened her eyes, she saw something terrifying.
That look in his eyes.
He didn't recognize her, at least, not well.
This was not her Artemis.
The beautiful pink-haired girl's eyes flickered open, staring up at the blue-haired boy standing over her. A wide grin was across his face, dressed in a prim and proper royal guardsman's outfit. In his hands were a bell and a small mallet.
"Mmh… Lemme sleep a bit moreee…."
She pulled her blanket tighter around herself, complaining.
Suddenly, she jolted up, at the loud sound of a bell being struck with a mallet
"W- wha-"
Artemis laughed, setting the bell on her bedside table.
"I did ask you to wake up, no?"
She sighed, brushing her rose-colored hair out of her eyes, pouting.
"You're so mean…"
He clapped.
"Nope! I'm Artemis Wright! I've been your personal guard for five years, remember?"
"Shut up, you sonova…"
Emma glared daggers at his back, as she pulled herself out of bed, yawning. He laughed lightly.
"That isn't very princess-y language, Lady Roshfeld."
"That's not very knightly behavior, Sir Wright."
There they went again, Emma's retorts sharp and pointed, Artemis' teasing light-hearted and fun.
This was how every morning started.
------------------------------------
It's late in the morning, when Emma wakes up. She blinks once, twice. Where is she? Where is the smiling face of her handsome guard, bidding her a good morning? Where are the silken sheets?
As she looks around, she spots the paintings hung up on the walls. Artemis' paintings.
Right.
She wasn't in the castle anymore. The castle had been destroyed 100 years ago.
A sense of utter loneliness comes over her, for a moment, as she pulls herself out of bed, towards the mirror.
She's as beautiful as ever. Her 100 year battle with the Dragon Lord left no scars.
At least, not visible ones.
She could hear the distant clattering of pans and the rushing of water.
"Emma, come downstairs! Breakfast is ready!"
His voice, his beautiful voice… but not with the light-hearted teasing of the past. He was completely different, a hundred years later.
She walked down the stairs, into the kitchen.
This is how every morning starts.
-----------------------------------
"I'll say this again, Artemis, for a spear-obsessed brute, you know how to use a brush."
She watched from beside him, as he skillfully painted on the blank canvas, a mess of pink and beige lines.
He smiled, devilishly, looking at her.
"Not the only thing I know how t-"
He coughed, as Emma elbowed him in the stomach. She tried to look as annoyed as possible. It wasn't working.
"Oh, shut up, you."
She sighed, smiling softly. And then, she put on her best annoyed expression, glaring at him.
"You lovable moron… Get back to painting, yeah?
He gave a mock salute, grinning like a fool. She loved the way he smiled.
"Yes Ma'am!"
He nodded, turning back to his painting.
That was his favorite pastime.
-----------------------------------
She stared up blankly at the portrait on the wall opposite to her bed.
It was of her.
She'd mentioned a portrait of herself, drawn and painted by him, so Artemis had decided to draw her a new one, as the previous one was burnt along aith Roshfeld Castle.
It was perfect.
But… it didn't seem quite right. The way it was stylized was not that of the Past's Artemis' sharp, rough strokes. The way he'd painted it flowed much more beautifully, fitting together far better.
Yet… it just didn't feel like him.
The Artemis she knew was bold, playful, simple-minded yet sophisticated, somehow. He was loud, brash, and loved getting on her nerves. He knew his place in her heart and didn't hesitate to use it against her. And yet, he was the most loyal person she had ever seen, even to the end.
This… new Artemis was so much more… uptight. He was quiet, serious, and never smiled. That was what she missed the most. Not his jokes, not the teasing, though she would be lying if she said she didn't miss those bits of him, no, she missed his smile the most. She missed the way his rust-red eyes glimmered in the light of the sun, in amusement.
Where had her wonderful knight gone?
-----------------------------------
"I swear to Tyv, I can't leave you alone for one second…"
Artemis huffed and puffed, as he burst through the doors of the Laboratory. Emma smiled.
"Awh, is my little knight all tuckered out just from that~?"
He sighed, waving his hand, doubled over.
"Excuse me, princess, but you're not the one lugging around a 6 foot spear… haaah…"
Emma giggled, watching the blue-haired knight drop to the ground, crossing his legs. His cyan hair fell across his eyes, as he sighed.
"Hehe~! Don't get too mad, Arty~ It's only fair, with how much you've been teasing me, rig-"
"Break it up, you two. This is a place of science, not… whatever the hell this is."
A tall, golden-blonde haired man stepped out from behind a giant machine. He pulled off the welding mask, setting the blowtorch on a table.
Kendo Satou, academic extrordinaire, proficient in everything from engineering to biology to architectural design.
Emma jumped back, grinning sheepishly. Artemis sighed.
"Kendo, help me out here…"
Kendo shook his head.
"No can do, old friend. Your princess over here made a completely valid application to be my apprentice."
"Coulda just rejected it…"
"How could I reject the wishes of a hardworking, knowledge-seeking woman in this day and age? It's a rarity, you know?"
Kendo laughed, putting a hand on his waist, a smile on his cold features. Artemis huffed, looking away, as Emma patted the guardsman on the head.
"Thanks a lot, dear old friend."
-----------------------------------
"Ah, Emma. You've returned. How was the trip?"
He was an old man. There was no denying that. His once-beautiful golden-brown locks were now fading to gray, wrinkles forming on his face. It was clear he'd lived a difficult life.
"Hey, Kendo! Good to see you! Like always I brought, uh, some ingredients for a meal!"
Emma grinned, as she set a basket on the table. Kendo nodded, smiling.
"Ah, reliable as ever. This is why you're my favorite student."
Emma laughed, wrapping an arm around the old man's shoulders, though it was difficult as she was a foot shorter than him.
"Anything for my old friend, right?"
The scientist nodded.
"Of course… speaking of old friends…"
He trailed off, glancing around.
Emma's smile faded, nodding.
"He said he had something to do."
Kendo nodded slowly.
"That guy…"
-----------------------------------
"Get out of the way! Artillery, fire!"
Screaming.
Blood rained from the sky, as Princess Emma Roshfeld-Brown watched her subjects get blown to pieces under the destructive power of the Guardians.
"No…"
She stood, frozen in place, in the middle of the garden, watching her beautiful home get burnt to the ground.
And then…
"Princess! Get down!"
Artemis. She turned slightly, only to see him tackle her to the ground, just a second before a blue lazer blasted through the air where her head had been moments earlier.
"Princess, this is no time to be spacing out! The champions are dead! We need to go for the Demon Lord right now, before he gets any stronger!"
His voice, full of an urgency she'd never seen before. His hands, shaking in a way she'd never seen. His eyes wild, panicked.
"Get up! We need to go, now! Your grandfather is delaying the Demon Lord's ascencion for as long as possible, but he won't hold out for much longer!"
It was a blur. She could hear him yelling, as he pulled her along. She could hear screaming. She could feel the crimson blood falling onto her jacket.
All the while, Her Knight pulled her along, through the castle.
Finally, the throne room. She snapped out of her daze, as Artemis prepared his golwing lance.
The scene inside was horrific.
A wispy demon, formed of black mist and blood, atood over the fallen body of her grandfather, the great king Arthur Roshfeld. The Demon Lord turned to the two. A sinister smile came over his face, and suddenly…
A dagger embedded itself in Artemis' hand, which had been outstretched to stop the dagger from hitting her.
"Artemis!"
He hissed in pain.
"I'm fine, Princess."
The Demon Lord laughed.
"Artemisss… Artemisss… Your ssskillsss haven't russsted, through reincarnation…"
Artemis pulled the dagger out of his hand. Emma was frozen in place.
The demon king took a step forward. Another dagger came flying at Emma. Artemis blocked it with his arm.
"Why are you protecting the girl, Artemisss…? Usssually you would come in and decapitate me…."
His laugh was evil, sending a chill down Emma's spine. Artemis was bleeding, from the two stab wounds, but grasped his lance tightly, with his other hand.
The Demon Lord smiled.
"Oh…. Have you developed feelingsss for the reincarnation of Tyv, this time….?"
"Shut up."
Suddenly, Artemis rushed forward, his lance raised.
The fight was a blur. At some point, Emma had started chanting a prayer. How could she not? Her beloved knight was fighting with his lifd on the line, so she must help as well.
"Tyv above, heed my prayer…."
And then…
"Princess! Watch o-"
Suddenly, he was in front of her. Blood spilled onto the floor.
"...Artemis…?"
-----------------------------------
It was dark.
So dark.
So cold.
How long had Emma been in this lonely place, holding the Demon Lord back?
A year? 2? 5? 10?
She didn't know. There was no way to tell time.
It was always dark.
She missed him.
She missed his smile.
She missed the light.
She missed going on picnics with him and her other friends, having a good time.
She missed her world.
But she had to hold out.
She had to hold out until her knight came back for her.
He would come back for her… right?
No. This was no time to be questioning Artemis.
Artemis always came back.
But the sneaking little voice in her head was telling her otherwise.
But she continued to hold out, against the all-encompassing mist and fog of the Lord of the Demons.
And then, one day, she finally saw it, a crack of light.
He had awoken.
And now, she just had to wait.
From the crack of light, she watched him progress, watched him adventure for her sake.
And when time finally came, and the demon lord was defeated…
She witnessed the full glory of an actual day once more. Floating down from the sky, she kept her eyes closed.
"Artemis… you came back… for me."
Her voice was choked up, teary. But when she opened her eyes, she saw something terrifying.
That look in his eyes.
He didn't recognize her, at least, not well.
This was not her Artemis.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sat, 06/05/2023 09:36 (1 Year ago)
TW: Swearing
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“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Artemis. Not
again!”
“What? I just suck at cooking. Plus, Lydia’s the one who mistook soap for oil!”
“Don’t lie, Artemis, ’s aaaaaalllll your fault~!”
“Lydia? Artemis? Emma? Why is my house on FIRE?”
“It’s all their fault!”
“Lydia!”
“It’s Lydia’s fault I swear…”
The raven-haired girl stopped talking. She sighed, as she plopped down onto the snow.
She stared at the snowmen in front of her, each one adorned with wigs and a framed picture of a person embedded in their head.
She let out another sigh, lying down on the ground.
The snow flickered, glitching out of existence, leaving her in an inky void.
The snowmen fell over, the pictures cracking. At that, she jumped up in alarm.
“No, no, no! Not the pictures!”
She dug through the snow, fishing out all three photos.
“Oh no…”
Two of the pictures were ruined, one of an athletic pink-haired girl smiling at the camera, a headband wrapped around her head. The second was of a thin blue-haired boy, a pair of thin glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he scowled at the camera, sipping from a cup of coffee.
“No, no, no!”
She threw her hands up into the air in rage. Something cracked.
“Oh, goddamnit!”
She threw the two pictures to the ground. They glitched out of existence, along with the snow.
She set the final picture down, of a brown-haired man in a lab coat.
“...Guess it’s just you an’ me now.”
She carefully flattened the picture out, her bitter smile turning genuine.
“When’re you coming back, bro?”
It was slightly wet around the edges. She tore off the corners.
“I miss you, Kendo.”
She smiled softly.
"When are people going to stop leaving me?"
“What? I just suck at cooking. Plus, Lydia’s the one who mistook soap for oil!”
“Don’t lie, Artemis, ’s aaaaaalllll your fault~!”
“Lydia? Artemis? Emma? Why is my house on FIRE?”
“It’s all their fault!”
“Lydia!”
“It’s Lydia’s fault I swear…”
The raven-haired girl stopped talking. She sighed, as she plopped down onto the snow.
She stared at the snowmen in front of her, each one adorned with wigs and a framed picture of a person embedded in their head.
She let out another sigh, lying down on the ground.
The snow flickered, glitching out of existence, leaving her in an inky void.
The snowmen fell over, the pictures cracking. At that, she jumped up in alarm.
“No, no, no! Not the pictures!”
She dug through the snow, fishing out all three photos.
“Oh no…”
Two of the pictures were ruined, one of an athletic pink-haired girl smiling at the camera, a headband wrapped around her head. The second was of a thin blue-haired boy, a pair of thin glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he scowled at the camera, sipping from a cup of coffee.
“No, no, no!”
She threw her hands up into the air in rage. Something cracked.
“Oh, goddamnit!”
She threw the two pictures to the ground. They glitched out of existence, along with the snow.
She set the final picture down, of a brown-haired man in a lab coat.
“...Guess it’s just you an’ me now.”
She carefully flattened the picture out, her bitter smile turning genuine.
“When’re you coming back, bro?”
It was slightly wet around the edges. She tore off the corners.
“I miss you, Kendo.”
She smiled softly.
"When are people going to stop leaving me?"
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sat, 06/05/2023 09:52 (1 Year ago)
TW: Swearing
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The door to the dusty tavern swings open.
In comes a lady. Her skin is fair. Her hair, rose-pink. She's dressed like some noble on a hunting trip, if the noble were dressed in varying shades of red, and wore a feathered fedora. She's beautiful, in all regards.
She walks over to the counter, taking a seat.
Scattered laughter.
One whistled, shouting "Lookit the ass on that thing!"
More laughter.
"A beer, bartender."
The bartender jeers at her, as he pours the yellow liquid into a dirty glass.
"What's a missy like youse doin' round here? This ain't no noble's playground, y'hear?"
She takes the glass from him, downing it in a second. She slammed it down onto the table, wiping the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt.
"Kyaah~! That hit the spot!"
The lady grinned, tipping her fedora.
"What was that, old man? You think I'm not tough enough to be here? You think I'm some prissy noble?"
The bartender rolls his eyes, slamming his fist on the table
"Yah. That's why I asked, innit?"
Suddenly, a dagger. One at his throat. The bartender gulped.
She threw a second dagger over his shoulder, at a wanted poster.
[WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE]
[THE LADY IN RED]
[EMMA BROWN]
[300 GOLD]
She laughed, putting away her first dagger.
"Look here, I'm not looking for trouble."
She stood up, adjusting her hat.
"I am but a humble adventurer, looking for her next meal."
She glanced around the room.
"Perhaps you…"
She paused, frowning for a moment. She put a emphasis on the next word.
"...gentlemen could help me with my next score?"
Silence for a few moments. A guardsman passes by the tavern.
A man at a table, scruffy-looking, laughs, as he pulls the wanted poster off the wall.
"Well, missus, the only thing yer findin' 'ere t'night's trouble, capiche?"
She laughed.
"Capiche? Man, you guys are way too cliche."
"You little… listen here, you reckon if we tell the local law that yer here, they'd let us split the reward?"
The ring of a dagger being unsheathed.
The Lady leaned to the side, as a dagger flew past her ear. A rapier was suddenly pressed against the chin of the man behind her.
She clicked her tongue.
"Ooh, boys, you're a feisty bunch, aren'tcha? But… you made your pretty sister here angry."
She grinned, as the sword pressed deeper into the man's throat.
"And you don't like it when I get angry~ Hehe~!"
She scanned the room. It had gone quiet.
"Now~!"
She slammed her open palm down onto the counter.
"Who wants to tell me about any things I can nab?"
The bartender quietly spoke up.
"T-the church fo Tyv r-recently put up a s-statue of the Sword Saint K-kristin D-dahl…?"
The Lady shook her head.
"I do not steal from the church of Tyv. Next."
The man who'd dogwhistled at her spoke up next.
"The orphanage nearby recently got silver candlesticks…? They would look great above your fireplace I'm s-"
"Orphanage? Hard pass. Next?"
Silence for a few moment.
She sighed. The man being held at swordpoint gulped, as he felt the trickle of warm blood down his neck.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!"
She glanced back, a wry smile on her face.
"Go on, big boy~ Tell your pretty sister here what's worth to steal~"
He gulped, his face beet red.
"I-uh- what about… Dark Shadow?"
That name caught her attention. Dark Shadow, the name of a pretty big outlaw around these parts.
"Go on~!"
He swallowed dryly.
"I heard they, uh, got something special. The key to the chamber of God."
Silence.
She sheathed her sword, smiling. She clapped, tilting her head slightly.
"Thanks, boys~! I know exactly what I'm doing today, then~!"
She tilted her fedora, pushing the door open. She gave a bow, with a flourish of her hat.
"Until next time~!"
And once she left, silence filled the room.
"I hope we don't have to see her aga-"
A man in a tattered cloak stood up, pushing his azure hair out of his eyes. He put a gloved hand over the other man's mouth.
"Shh… no one wants to hear you squeal, little pig. It would be best if you ruffians kept your mouths shut."
He briskly walked towards the door.
"Oh, dear. Zacharias is far smarter than he looks."
He ripped the wanted poster out of a man's hands, studying it.
"Emma Brown… How interesting."
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sat, 06/05/2023 09:54 (1 Year ago)
TW: Swearing
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Ever since she was young, she was always second. Second child. The second genius of the continent. Even when she moved to the Academy at 14 years of age, she was always second. Second to him, her childhood friend. After graduating, they crossed paths often. And she always lost, by an inch. She reached the second strongest in the continent by 24. After one last tournament, Emma Roshfeld-Brown, the Infernal Blade, finally set down her shortswords and retired to her family home. What she didn't expect, though, was Artemis Wright to retire at the same time.
"Oh, hello, Newburry, my beautiful home!"
Emma stretched lazily, as she stepped off the carriage. Her shortswords clicked together at her side. She wore a simple adventurer's outfit, which contrasted with her beautiful features, her fair skin, and her rosy-pink hair, tied into a high ponytail.
"Kyaah~! It feels good to be home!"
She laughed lightly, as she spun around in a small circle, taking in the fresh summer air.
"Ah, I've missed this place!"
She closed the door of the carriage, taking a few steps toward her home, just up ahead. It was a quaint cottage, passed down in her family for a long, long while. Of course, her family had long since passed but…
It was alright. She was used to being alone, anyways.
She walked down the path, smiling. There was a bounce in her step. She felt better than she ever had, in her 24 years of living, yet… something felt off.
Everything seemed too perfect.
"...Emma?"
She sighed, stopping in her tracks. She turned slowly, a scowl across her face.
"...of course."
There he was. That annoyingly handsome bastard. 6'4, cyan hair, crimson eyes, light skin, thin frame. Annoying.
"Artemis Wright. What brings you here?"
The man smiled, clapping.
"Hey, no need to be like that!"
She rolled her eyes, taking a step back towards her home.
"Yes, there is. There absolutely is."
"Don't be like that."
"I will be like that."
"C'mo-"
Clack. Click.
She slammed the door behind her, locking it.
"...whoo."
She let out a breath.
"...why's he here?"
…………….
She opened the door, slightly. Suddenly, it flew open, Artemis greeting her.
"Caaaaan I talk now?"
She sighed.
"Fine."
He beamed. She could feel her cheeks heating up.
"I-"
"Hurry up."
He stopped, frowning for a moment.
"So I-"
"I said hurry up."
A smirk came over her face, as Artemis glared at her.
It felt so good to piss him off.
"...as I was saying. What a coincidence, my dear friend-"
"-Not your friend-"
"-that we'd both decide to retire at the same time!"
"Was it a coincidenc-"
"-Yep! And now we're back here, in our hometown!"
Artemis beamed. Emma scowled groaning.
"Get out of my face."
"Oh, come on! Aren't we best buds?"
Emma stared at him for a moment.
"Artemis, you've tried to kill me on four separate occasions."
"Water under the bridge! You're not dead, right?"
…she just couldn't win.
"I just can't win against you, can I?"
"Nope!"
She sighed in exasperation.
"...Do you want to come in?"
"Definitely!"
………..
How had she gotten here, sipping coffee with her worst nemesis?
"So, what brought you back home, Em?"
His smile was dazzlingly white. He was like a child.
"First of all, don't call me that. You lost your right."
He deflated for a moment, before perking right back up.
"Okay!"
She rolled her eyes.
"Second of all, I'm retired."
Silence.
She could hear the whistling of the wind across the grass.
"...what a coincidence!"
Not this bullshit.
"As a matter of fact, I happened to have retired as well!"
She narrowed her eyes, poking him in the chest with her index finger.
"Stop bullshitting me."
"...I swear I'm not, Em-"
"I said not to call me that."
She set down her mug, glaring at him. He laughed sheepishly.
"Haha… you look mad. Are you ma-"
"Get out."
"...what?"
"Get the fuck out, Artemis."
"W-wait-"
Click.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Thu, 25/05/2023 02:24 (1 Year ago)
tw-Swearing
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A blue-haired man stood in front of a
grave, within the black-wrought-iron gates of a cemetery.
He wore a black business suit, that looked like it had been slept in more than once, recently.
His azure hair fell in dirty, messy bangs across his eyes.
“Artemis?”
He glanced back.
Oh. It was just Zach.
He kept his dead gaze for another moment, before looking back down at the grave.
“Artemis, you need to go home, man.”
Home.
What did that even mean?
What was his house without her lively energy?
Just an empty place of bitter memories.
“Artemis. C’mon, man. You can’t just stay here.”
Yes, he could.
“Yes, I can.”
His own voice sounded odd to him.
His voice sounded raspy, probably because he hadn’t talked in well over a week.
He felt his shoulder jolt back.
“...Zach… What are you doing?”
He looked up, through his messy, shaggy blue hair.
Zach was glaring at him, with fire-filled eyes, like a mother trying to protect its kids.
“Artemis.”
Artemis stared up at him, unblinking.
The dryly humorous part of his mind noted how tall Zach was, for the first time.
But that thought lasted for a split second before the grief took over once more.
He glanced down at the grave.
“Artemis. Look at me, for fuck’s sake.”
Zach’s hand was under his chin.
“Artemis, look at me!”
Shit.
Artemis flinched, reeling away.
Zach took a step back as well, his eyes wide with concern.
“...Art?”
His breaths were getting heavier.
Artemis glanced down at his hands.
They were shaking.
His voice came out as a strangled whisper.
“Don’t… Don’t… Don’t… touch me.”
What… what was that?
A drop of water?
Was it raining?
He threw his head back, looking up at the sky.
Crystal clear.
It wasn’t raining.
This was the kind of day she would’ve loved.
Ah.
They called it ‘tears’.
He remembered these.
The last time he’d… cried? Was that the word? Was nearly 13 years ago, when he was a child.
Why was he crying over someone?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He was supposed to be cold, uncaring,and emotionless.
But…
She had shown him a side of himself he hadn’t known existed.
Perhaps that was why he was crying now.
Perhaps somewhere, deep within his soul, he missed the nights of cheesy dramas and 70’s music.
He’d been such a fool.
How had he let her go?
…
Love.
That’s what this was.
And he’d been so stupid to let her go.
Another tear dripped down his face.
“...Sorry, Em.”
He wore a black business suit, that looked like it had been slept in more than once, recently.
His azure hair fell in dirty, messy bangs across his eyes.
“Artemis?”
He glanced back.
Oh. It was just Zach.
He kept his dead gaze for another moment, before looking back down at the grave.
“Artemis, you need to go home, man.”
Home.
What did that even mean?
What was his house without her lively energy?
Just an empty place of bitter memories.
“Artemis. C’mon, man. You can’t just stay here.”
Yes, he could.
“Yes, I can.”
His own voice sounded odd to him.
His voice sounded raspy, probably because he hadn’t talked in well over a week.
He felt his shoulder jolt back.
“...Zach… What are you doing?”
He looked up, through his messy, shaggy blue hair.
Zach was glaring at him, with fire-filled eyes, like a mother trying to protect its kids.
“Artemis.”
Artemis stared up at him, unblinking.
The dryly humorous part of his mind noted how tall Zach was, for the first time.
But that thought lasted for a split second before the grief took over once more.
He glanced down at the grave.
“Artemis. Look at me, for fuck’s sake.”
Zach’s hand was under his chin.
“Artemis, look at me!”
Shit.
Artemis flinched, reeling away.
Zach took a step back as well, his eyes wide with concern.
“...Art?”
His breaths were getting heavier.
Artemis glanced down at his hands.
They were shaking.
His voice came out as a strangled whisper.
“Don’t… Don’t… Don’t… touch me.”
What… what was that?
A drop of water?
Was it raining?
He threw his head back, looking up at the sky.
Crystal clear.
It wasn’t raining.
This was the kind of day she would’ve loved.
Ah.
They called it ‘tears’.
He remembered these.
The last time he’d… cried? Was that the word? Was nearly 13 years ago, when he was a child.
Why was he crying over someone?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He was supposed to be cold, uncaring,and emotionless.
But…
She had shown him a side of himself he hadn’t known existed.
Perhaps that was why he was crying now.
Perhaps somewhere, deep within his soul, he missed the nights of cheesy dramas and 70’s music.
He’d been such a fool.
How had he let her go?
…
Love.
That’s what this was.
And he’d been so stupid to let her go.
Another tear dripped down his face.
“...Sorry, Em.”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Fri, 26/05/2023 00:56 (1 Year ago)
TW:Swearing
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The message rang out, loud and clear,
in the minds of the 7 Greatest Heroes of human history, as they ran
for their very lives.
The Final Dungeon has been cleared!
“Run for your fucking life! Listen to me, you’ll die if you stop for a single second!”
The screams of the underworlders threatened bloody murder.
“Kill! Kill! Kill the overworlders who destroyed our sanctuary!”
“Damn it! There’s too many of them!”
“They’ll catch us!’
Each was the best in their field, the greatest dream team of metahumans ever to be comprised.
Artemis Wright, the Storm Spear.
Emma Brown, the Blazing Witch.
Zacharias Murphy, the Indomitable Wall.
Ramona Garcia, the Shadow Knife.
Iliya Volkov, the Alchemist of Daybreak.
Kristin Dahl, the Sword Saint.
And finally…
His voice was soft, a far cry from his usual self, as he said two words, capturing the attention of the other 6 heroes.
“You guys.”
Artemis Wright turned, his eyes widening.
“Kendo! What are you doing?”
A tall, brown-haired man had stopped running, his grip tightening on the pistols in his hands.
He glanced back at the person who’d called out to him.
His grin was as bright as day, as cocky as ever.
“Don’t you think this is a great finale to my story, Artemis? Imagine the headlines! ‘The Hero who Saved the World: Kendo Satou!’”
His name was Kendo Satou, the leader of the group.
The man known as the Arcane Gunman, the strongest metahuman in the entire world.
The entire group paused in their running, looking back at Kendo.
Artemis stared into Kendo’s eyes.
“You crazy fucker.”
“Yes, a lot of people have said that to me, Artemis, my good friend.”
Artemis had stopped completely, but the other five were still running.
Kendo’s lopsided smirk was as cocky as ever. He raised his voice, pointing at the group behind him.
“Look here, dimwits! If you guys make it… each one of y’all better write me a really fucking good biography! Capiche?”
“Kendo, no!”
Artemis tried to run towards kendo, to grab him, but someone grabbed his hand, pulling him away.
He glanced back.
“Emma, let go of me!”
The pink-haired mage shook her head.
“I can’t do that, Artemis.”
Wa sthat… guilt in her eyes?
Oh.
He knew exactly what was going on here.
“You planned this.”
Emma kept trying to pull him along.
“Yeah, we did. It’s the only way, Artemis!”
“No, it isn’t! We can all get out togeth-”
“Run, Artemis.”
The shrieks of the legion of underworlders rang out throughout the cavern, as Kendo glanced back.
“Run.”
And then, Artemis was pulled through a glowing portal, watching the back of his best friend fade away as the portal closed.
------------------------------------
Everything was peaceful.
The world was growing at a rapid pace, and everything seemed perfect.
But… that all changed when the Underworld attacked.
Humans, for all millenia, had thought they were the only ones on the world, the sovereigns of the universe.
But that was wrong.
Just under the surface of the earth, another race existed.
The underworlders.
No one, even to this day, understands why they decided to attack.
But on June 18th, 1987, they attacked.
They had powers the likes of which humans had never before seen.
Mystical abilities,ranging from coating weapons in powerful auras or blasting lightning from their fingertips.
By 1990, nearly a quarter of the world had died.
Thanks to the influence of the underworlders, humans developed mystical powers as well.
And then, the humans fought back.
The 7 great heroes were the strongest among them, and in the year 2003, they descended into the final dungeon.
They conquered the dungeon at last, bringing an era of prosperity into the world.
The 7 heroes were hailed as saviors, and given riches and fame far beyond what any human had seen.
But one man never returned.
The only one of the 7 Heroes to die within the final dungeon was Kendo Satou.
The Arcane Gunman.
The Strongest Metahuman in the world.
And the leader of the heroes.
Holidays, museums and statues were created in his name.
And 20 years passed, just like that.
But something strange happened on a seemingly normal Friday, on May 26th, 2023.
Far above the clouds, a portal opened, right above the largest statue of Kendo Satou, built directly where the Final Dungeon’s Portal had been located, and a person dropped out of the sky, screaming bloody murder, a revolver in one hand, a knife in the other.
He crashed directly into the statue wearing armor that were practically relics, with weapons dating 20 years in the past, with long, golden-brown hair and light skin, blue eyes and an absolutely insane grin, stained with blood.
“Hooooly flying fuck. What just happened? Where am I?”
Kendo Satou had returned.
The Final Dungeon has been cleared!
“Run for your fucking life! Listen to me, you’ll die if you stop for a single second!”
The screams of the underworlders threatened bloody murder.
“Kill! Kill! Kill the overworlders who destroyed our sanctuary!”
“Damn it! There’s too many of them!”
“They’ll catch us!’
Each was the best in their field, the greatest dream team of metahumans ever to be comprised.
Artemis Wright, the Storm Spear.
Emma Brown, the Blazing Witch.
Zacharias Murphy, the Indomitable Wall.
Ramona Garcia, the Shadow Knife.
Iliya Volkov, the Alchemist of Daybreak.
Kristin Dahl, the Sword Saint.
And finally…
His voice was soft, a far cry from his usual self, as he said two words, capturing the attention of the other 6 heroes.
“You guys.”
Artemis Wright turned, his eyes widening.
“Kendo! What are you doing?”
A tall, brown-haired man had stopped running, his grip tightening on the pistols in his hands.
He glanced back at the person who’d called out to him.
His grin was as bright as day, as cocky as ever.
“Don’t you think this is a great finale to my story, Artemis? Imagine the headlines! ‘The Hero who Saved the World: Kendo Satou!’”
His name was Kendo Satou, the leader of the group.
The man known as the Arcane Gunman, the strongest metahuman in the entire world.
The entire group paused in their running, looking back at Kendo.
Artemis stared into Kendo’s eyes.
“You crazy fucker.”
“Yes, a lot of people have said that to me, Artemis, my good friend.”
Artemis had stopped completely, but the other five were still running.
Kendo’s lopsided smirk was as cocky as ever. He raised his voice, pointing at the group behind him.
“Look here, dimwits! If you guys make it… each one of y’all better write me a really fucking good biography! Capiche?”
“Kendo, no!”
Artemis tried to run towards kendo, to grab him, but someone grabbed his hand, pulling him away.
He glanced back.
“Emma, let go of me!”
The pink-haired mage shook her head.
“I can’t do that, Artemis.”
Wa sthat… guilt in her eyes?
Oh.
He knew exactly what was going on here.
“You planned this.”
Emma kept trying to pull him along.
“Yeah, we did. It’s the only way, Artemis!”
“No, it isn’t! We can all get out togeth-”
“Run, Artemis.”
The shrieks of the legion of underworlders rang out throughout the cavern, as Kendo glanced back.
“Run.”
And then, Artemis was pulled through a glowing portal, watching the back of his best friend fade away as the portal closed.
------------------------------------
Everything was peaceful.
The world was growing at a rapid pace, and everything seemed perfect.
But… that all changed when the Underworld attacked.
Humans, for all millenia, had thought they were the only ones on the world, the sovereigns of the universe.
But that was wrong.
Just under the surface of the earth, another race existed.
The underworlders.
No one, even to this day, understands why they decided to attack.
But on June 18th, 1987, they attacked.
They had powers the likes of which humans had never before seen.
Mystical abilities,ranging from coating weapons in powerful auras or blasting lightning from their fingertips.
By 1990, nearly a quarter of the world had died.
Thanks to the influence of the underworlders, humans developed mystical powers as well.
And then, the humans fought back.
The 7 great heroes were the strongest among them, and in the year 2003, they descended into the final dungeon.
They conquered the dungeon at last, bringing an era of prosperity into the world.
The 7 heroes were hailed as saviors, and given riches and fame far beyond what any human had seen.
But one man never returned.
The only one of the 7 Heroes to die within the final dungeon was Kendo Satou.
The Arcane Gunman.
The Strongest Metahuman in the world.
And the leader of the heroes.
Holidays, museums and statues were created in his name.
And 20 years passed, just like that.
But something strange happened on a seemingly normal Friday, on May 26th, 2023.
Far above the clouds, a portal opened, right above the largest statue of Kendo Satou, built directly where the Final Dungeon’s Portal had been located, and a person dropped out of the sky, screaming bloody murder, a revolver in one hand, a knife in the other.
He crashed directly into the statue wearing armor that were practically relics, with weapons dating 20 years in the past, with long, golden-brown hair and light skin, blue eyes and an absolutely insane grin, stained with blood.
“Hooooly flying fuck. What just happened? Where am I?”
Kendo Satou had returned.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Fri, 26/05/2023 09:55 (1 Year ago)
Show
hidden content
I’m sure I died.
Kendo Satou groaned, as he propped himself up against the base of the statue. How long had he been unconscious for? 10 minutes? 20?
He looked up.
…Huh. They got all my good parts.
Even severely wounded, his grin didn’t fade, hundreds of snarky comments running through his overactive brain.
He could hear the hushed whispers of the people around him.
He turned his gaze at the people, his grin wide and cheerful, a stark contrast from the blood coating his armor and face.
He struggled to raise an arm, waving, with a broken laugh.
“Hey there. Fans of mine?”
That elicited a more exciting response.
The whispers turned into talking, and the talking, turned into yelling.
Ugh.
The noise.
It was making him dizzy.
…maybe It wasn’t the noise.
He glanced down at his armor.
Shattered.
His shirt underneath was bleeding.
That wasn’t good.
That set of armor had cost hundreds…
His vision was blurring.
That was because of the blood loss, probably.
He looked back at his supposed ‘fans’ and smiled deliriously.
“I’ll… be taking a nap.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
His name was Artemis Wright, the Storm Spear, turning 46 this year.
He was a retired Hunter, previously #3 in the world, and one of the few SS-Ranked hunters in the world.
Now? He was just trying to be a good dad, and a good coach for the Korean National Team. (He’d moved to Korea a while after Kendo’s supposed ‘death’. Plus, it was where Kendo had lived before the whole dungeon thing, so he’d thought it best to be here.)
But what the fuck was he watching?
20 years.
It had been twenty years since he'd watched his best friend get swallowed up by the only dungeon that hadn’t reopened since the end of the campaign, all those years ago.
And now, he was watching that same best friend fall out of the FUCKING SKY, onto a statue of himself, crack a joke and then faint from blood loss.
He got off the couch, and grabbed his jacket, as he ran out the door, speed-dialing a number.
“Get the car. We’re going to the hospital.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing he saw when he awoke was blue.
Azure-blue hair, belonging to the man leaning over him.
“Kendo?”
Who was this?
Brown coat over a collared white t-shirt and black trousers, messy as if he’d gotten up and came to… wherever this place was, first thing in the morning.
His blue hair was messy, his skin pale, his eyes a bright shade of azure.
Oh, wait.
He started to laugh.
“...Artemis? Damn, you got old.”
Kendo’s laughter seemed to ease Artemis a bit, but at the last bit, he stiffened.
“...kendo…”
kendo‘s laughter died off, looking at the serious expression on Artemis’ face.
“...Yeah? What’s up, man?”
“...Kendo. It’s been… it’s been twenty years.”
That shut him up, real good.
“...What?”
Kendo’s expression was one not worn often by the greatest hero alive, one of shock and confusion.
“Wait, wait, wait. Artemis, what the fuck are you talking about? I was only in the final dungeon for a few hours!”
“Kendo. Look outside.”
And so, he did.
And what the Arcane Gunman saw surprised him.
The world had evolved. Better cars, better buildings, people walked around the streets flipping through some strange rectangular device…
Was this really Korea?
He slowly turned to look back at the azure-haired spearman.
“...Details. Now.”
Kendo Satou groaned, as he propped himself up against the base of the statue. How long had he been unconscious for? 10 minutes? 20?
He looked up.
…Huh. They got all my good parts.
Even severely wounded, his grin didn’t fade, hundreds of snarky comments running through his overactive brain.
He could hear the hushed whispers of the people around him.
He turned his gaze at the people, his grin wide and cheerful, a stark contrast from the blood coating his armor and face.
He struggled to raise an arm, waving, with a broken laugh.
“Hey there. Fans of mine?”
That elicited a more exciting response.
The whispers turned into talking, and the talking, turned into yelling.
Ugh.
The noise.
It was making him dizzy.
…maybe It wasn’t the noise.
He glanced down at his armor.
Shattered.
His shirt underneath was bleeding.
That wasn’t good.
That set of armor had cost hundreds…
His vision was blurring.
That was because of the blood loss, probably.
He looked back at his supposed ‘fans’ and smiled deliriously.
“I’ll… be taking a nap.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
His name was Artemis Wright, the Storm Spear, turning 46 this year.
He was a retired Hunter, previously #3 in the world, and one of the few SS-Ranked hunters in the world.
Now? He was just trying to be a good dad, and a good coach for the Korean National Team. (He’d moved to Korea a while after Kendo’s supposed ‘death’. Plus, it was where Kendo had lived before the whole dungeon thing, so he’d thought it best to be here.)
But what the fuck was he watching?
20 years.
It had been twenty years since he'd watched his best friend get swallowed up by the only dungeon that hadn’t reopened since the end of the campaign, all those years ago.
And now, he was watching that same best friend fall out of the FUCKING SKY, onto a statue of himself, crack a joke and then faint from blood loss.
He got off the couch, and grabbed his jacket, as he ran out the door, speed-dialing a number.
“Get the car. We’re going to the hospital.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing he saw when he awoke was blue.
Azure-blue hair, belonging to the man leaning over him.
“Kendo?”
Who was this?
Brown coat over a collared white t-shirt and black trousers, messy as if he’d gotten up and came to… wherever this place was, first thing in the morning.
His blue hair was messy, his skin pale, his eyes a bright shade of azure.
Oh, wait.
He started to laugh.
“...Artemis? Damn, you got old.”
Kendo’s laughter seemed to ease Artemis a bit, but at the last bit, he stiffened.
“...kendo…”
kendo‘s laughter died off, looking at the serious expression on Artemis’ face.
“...Yeah? What’s up, man?”
“...Kendo. It’s been… it’s been twenty years.”
That shut him up, real good.
“...What?”
Kendo’s expression was one not worn often by the greatest hero alive, one of shock and confusion.
“Wait, wait, wait. Artemis, what the fuck are you talking about? I was only in the final dungeon for a few hours!”
“Kendo. Look outside.”
And so, he did.
And what the Arcane Gunman saw surprised him.
The world had evolved. Better cars, better buildings, people walked around the streets flipping through some strange rectangular device…
Was this really Korea?
He slowly turned to look back at the azure-haired spearman.
“...Details. Now.”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sat, 27/05/2023 12:21 (1 Year ago)
TW-Swearing
Show
hidden content
“...So you’re telling me that it’s
2023.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re telling me that you’re 45, turning 46 this year.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me that you and that pink-haired witch-”
“-My wife-”
“-Live in Korea now?”
“Yep..”
Kendo sighed, leaning back in the shotgun seat of Artemis’ car.
“What the fuck?”
Artemis glanced over at his friend, with pitying eyes.
“I don't know, Kendo. I’m just as confused as you are.”
Kendo looked out the window, into the night sky. It had taken a while for him to be discharged from the hospital, so it seemed it had already been around 8 hours since he’d returned.
“Look, Artemis, do I have anything left? Like, my assets?”
“Donated to that charity for orphans, as you wrote in your will.”
“Fuck. Uh… my house?”
“They turned it into a museum.”
“Shit. My car?”
“Auctioned away.”
“My phone???”
“It’s an exhibit in the museum that used to be your house.”
Kendo slammed his fist down onto the door of the car.
“Goddamn it, if I knew I was going to survive, then I would’ve left some stuff behind…”
Kendo groaned, earning a look of pity from Artemis.
“Well, it’s fine. These days, Kendo, it’s really easy to earn money as a metahuman, especially as one with your skills.”
Artemis averted his eyes, keeping them trained on the road.
Kendo looked Artemis over, with those piercing azure eyes of his.
“...Your skills have deteriorated.”
With those words, Artemis nearly jumped out of his seat.
“Hah… y-you can t-tell?”
His laugh was nervous.
“Of course, I can, slacker. Just because you’re 45 doesn’t mean you can let your skills rot.”
Artemis sighed.
“Look, I’ve been busy these days. I didn’t tell you, did I? I’m the coach for the National Hunter League Team of Korea.”
“You just said a lot of words that I don’t understand, my friend.”
Artemis blinked once, before laughing.
“Oh, right, I didn’t explain, did I?”
He kept his eyes on the road, but kept talking.
“So basically, after the final dungeon closed, all the other dungeons opened up again. With that, more and more metahumans started to appear. Well, we call them ‘Hunters’, now. The Hunters hunt in teh dungeons to collect items, experience points and level up and increase their stats. But along with this, a new sport was invented, taking place in virtual versions of the dungeons. Most Hunters are actually part of the International Hunter League, or the IHL. I’m the captain of the Korean team.”
That seemed to interest Kendo.
“Not only have the dungeons re-opened, but there’s a sport revolving around it as well? Wow, technology has really improved, to make virtual versions of the dungeons, huh?”
Artemis let a small smile seep through.
“Yeah. It has”
Kendo looked over at him one more time.
“So. What place is Kroea in the rankings?”
The car jolted food a moment, as Artemis’ posture stiffened.
He laughed nervously.
“Well, you see… uh…”
“Spit it out, Artemis.”
Artemis seemed to shrink under Kendo’s gaze.
“Uh…”
“Say it.”
“...dead last.”
“Excuse me?”
The two of them sat in dead silence for a few moments, before Artemis spoke once more.
“B-but, it’s because the government has been putting regulations up left and right since the end of the war, you know? Honestly, It’s a miracle that we even still qualify in the major leagues! I’ve been working my ass off to make sure Korea stays afloat in the hunter major leagues…”
Kendo was staring out the window, in silence.
Every second that passed made the silence that much more crushing.
“...Kendo?’
Kendo turned to Artemis, frowning.
“Tsk. Serves you right.”
Artemis sighed.
“Hey, that’s not fair. I really am trying my best. After nearly a decade hanging around you, I thought I would have learned a few things…”
The silence passed after a few moments.
“...So, Kend-”
“No.”
Artemis fumbled with his words. What a sight.
“I didn’t even say anything!”
Kendo clicked his tongue.
“It’s clear, you’re trying to rope me into this ‘sport’.”
“Come on, Kendo. The war’s long over. You don’t need to fight for the sake of revenge anymore. You’re just 27. You can use your skills for the fullest, now, without putting your life on the line.”
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Art. My life as a hunter, and a metahuman in general, ended in that dungeon, twenty years ago.”
He shuddered.
“Yeesh. Feels weird saying that. Am I technically 47 now? Hm… Nah, it was a time-space distortion thing, so I’m still in my prime.”
Artemis looked over at him.
“...Kendo, you don’t need to fight with a sense of duty anym-”
“Do I look like a man with a sense of duty?”
Kendo laughed, running a hand through his golden hair.
“I never fought with a sense of duty.”
Artemis stared at him for a moment. The roads were completely blocked, traffic as terrible as ever. Kendo continued.
“Look, amn. I fought to live since I was a kid, and then i fought for recognition in an environment that understood my efforts.”
Kendo looked over at Artemis, a genuinely happy smile gracing his features, for a moment, instea of the cocky, lopsided grin.
“Isn’t it about time I live for myself?”
Artemis nodded, after a moment.
“Yeah, I guess so. You make a decent point.”
Kendo’s attention was already gone, though. He had turned out the window, staring out it, at a billboard.
Some commercials about shampoo displaying some probably well-known hunter.
“Doesn’t look like Korea’s hunters have failed too badly.”
“? What’re you talking about?”
Artemis looked over where Kendo was.
The woman displayed on the billboard seemed fairly tall, with short pink hair streaked with lines of azure, bright crimson eyes, and a cocky grin.
Quite attractive, one could say.
“I mean, lookit her. She’s pretty hot.”
Silence.
“Kendo. That’s my daughter.”
The resounding jump out of his seat nearly left a dent in the roof of the car, as Kendo spluttered out some words.
“That’s Alexandra? Holy shit! Wasn’t she 6?”
“It’s been twenty years She’s 26..”
Kendo laughed nervously, looking genuinely flustered.
“Ah… ah… really? shesreallyprettyand20yearsmayhavepassedbutnowthatIlookclosershelooksreallysimilarasbeforehahahaha-”
“Kendo. Just… Stop. Save what few scraps of dignity you have left.”
“...alright.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re telling me that you’re 45, turning 46 this year.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me that you and that pink-haired witch-”
“-My wife-”
“-Live in Korea now?”
“Yep..”
Kendo sighed, leaning back in the shotgun seat of Artemis’ car.
“What the fuck?”
Artemis glanced over at his friend, with pitying eyes.
“I don't know, Kendo. I’m just as confused as you are.”
Kendo looked out the window, into the night sky. It had taken a while for him to be discharged from the hospital, so it seemed it had already been around 8 hours since he’d returned.
“Look, Artemis, do I have anything left? Like, my assets?”
“Donated to that charity for orphans, as you wrote in your will.”
“Fuck. Uh… my house?”
“They turned it into a museum.”
“Shit. My car?”
“Auctioned away.”
“My phone???”
“It’s an exhibit in the museum that used to be your house.”
Kendo slammed his fist down onto the door of the car.
“Goddamn it, if I knew I was going to survive, then I would’ve left some stuff behind…”
Kendo groaned, earning a look of pity from Artemis.
“Well, it’s fine. These days, Kendo, it’s really easy to earn money as a metahuman, especially as one with your skills.”
Artemis averted his eyes, keeping them trained on the road.
Kendo looked Artemis over, with those piercing azure eyes of his.
“...Your skills have deteriorated.”
With those words, Artemis nearly jumped out of his seat.
“Hah… y-you can t-tell?”
His laugh was nervous.
“Of course, I can, slacker. Just because you’re 45 doesn’t mean you can let your skills rot.”
Artemis sighed.
“Look, I’ve been busy these days. I didn’t tell you, did I? I’m the coach for the National Hunter League Team of Korea.”
“You just said a lot of words that I don’t understand, my friend.”
Artemis blinked once, before laughing.
“Oh, right, I didn’t explain, did I?”
He kept his eyes on the road, but kept talking.
“So basically, after the final dungeon closed, all the other dungeons opened up again. With that, more and more metahumans started to appear. Well, we call them ‘Hunters’, now. The Hunters hunt in teh dungeons to collect items, experience points and level up and increase their stats. But along with this, a new sport was invented, taking place in virtual versions of the dungeons. Most Hunters are actually part of the International Hunter League, or the IHL. I’m the captain of the Korean team.”
That seemed to interest Kendo.
“Not only have the dungeons re-opened, but there’s a sport revolving around it as well? Wow, technology has really improved, to make virtual versions of the dungeons, huh?”
Artemis let a small smile seep through.
“Yeah. It has”
Kendo looked over at him one more time.
“So. What place is Kroea in the rankings?”
The car jolted food a moment, as Artemis’ posture stiffened.
He laughed nervously.
“Well, you see… uh…”
“Spit it out, Artemis.”
Artemis seemed to shrink under Kendo’s gaze.
“Uh…”
“Say it.”
“...dead last.”
“Excuse me?”
The two of them sat in dead silence for a few moments, before Artemis spoke once more.
“B-but, it’s because the government has been putting regulations up left and right since the end of the war, you know? Honestly, It’s a miracle that we even still qualify in the major leagues! I’ve been working my ass off to make sure Korea stays afloat in the hunter major leagues…”
Kendo was staring out the window, in silence.
Every second that passed made the silence that much more crushing.
“...Kendo?’
Kendo turned to Artemis, frowning.
“Tsk. Serves you right.”
Artemis sighed.
“Hey, that’s not fair. I really am trying my best. After nearly a decade hanging around you, I thought I would have learned a few things…”
The silence passed after a few moments.
“...So, Kend-”
“No.”
Artemis fumbled with his words. What a sight.
“I didn’t even say anything!”
Kendo clicked his tongue.
“It’s clear, you’re trying to rope me into this ‘sport’.”
“Come on, Kendo. The war’s long over. You don’t need to fight for the sake of revenge anymore. You’re just 27. You can use your skills for the fullest, now, without putting your life on the line.”
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Art. My life as a hunter, and a metahuman in general, ended in that dungeon, twenty years ago.”
He shuddered.
“Yeesh. Feels weird saying that. Am I technically 47 now? Hm… Nah, it was a time-space distortion thing, so I’m still in my prime.”
Artemis looked over at him.
“...Kendo, you don’t need to fight with a sense of duty anym-”
“Do I look like a man with a sense of duty?”
Kendo laughed, running a hand through his golden hair.
“I never fought with a sense of duty.”
Artemis stared at him for a moment. The roads were completely blocked, traffic as terrible as ever. Kendo continued.
“Look, amn. I fought to live since I was a kid, and then i fought for recognition in an environment that understood my efforts.”
Kendo looked over at Artemis, a genuinely happy smile gracing his features, for a moment, instea of the cocky, lopsided grin.
“Isn’t it about time I live for myself?”
Artemis nodded, after a moment.
“Yeah, I guess so. You make a decent point.”
Kendo’s attention was already gone, though. He had turned out the window, staring out it, at a billboard.
Some commercials about shampoo displaying some probably well-known hunter.
“Doesn’t look like Korea’s hunters have failed too badly.”
“? What’re you talking about?”
Artemis looked over where Kendo was.
The woman displayed on the billboard seemed fairly tall, with short pink hair streaked with lines of azure, bright crimson eyes, and a cocky grin.
Quite attractive, one could say.
“I mean, lookit her. She’s pretty hot.”
Silence.
“Kendo. That’s my daughter.”
The resounding jump out of his seat nearly left a dent in the roof of the car, as Kendo spluttered out some words.
“That’s Alexandra? Holy shit! Wasn’t she 6?”
“It’s been twenty years She’s 26..”
Kendo laughed nervously, looking genuinely flustered.
“Ah… ah… really? shesreallyprettyand20yearsmayhavepassedbutnowthatIlookclosershelooksreallysimilarasbeforehahahaha-”
“Kendo. Just… Stop. Save what few scraps of dignity you have left.”
“...alright.”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sun, 28/05/2023 13:36 (1 Year ago)
TW: A LOT of swearing.
Show
hidden content
“Away, devil!”
“I could say the same to you, pink-haired bitch.”
“Artemis, why did you bring the modern reincarnation of the firey pits of hell to our sacred home?
Emma Brown, 43 years old, looked over Kendo’s shoulder at her husband.
Artemis sighed, tiredly, watching the Strongest Metahuman and the Strongest Mage in the world square off.
“It’s been twenty years, and yet you two are still like this…”
“Twenty years of having to hear you and Alex and Felix spout praises of that devil!”
“Watch yourself, witch.”
“Same goes for you, asshole.”
Artemis sighed, as the two hunters faced off. He pushed past kendo, putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder.
“Please, not now. Em, just let it slide for once.”
Emma stared up at him. Kendo almost started laughing at the height difference.
“Fine. Get inside.”
Emma turned and walked back into the house in a huff.
Artemis sighed, turning back to Kendo.
“...You know how she is.”
“Yeah.”
Kendo laughed.
“Still can’t believe that you, a pretty good-looking guy, decided to settle for that little brat.”
“I loved her. I still do. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”
Kendo laughed.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t. Well, either way, you’re still my lil’ bro, so it doesn’t matter too much.”
He looked around the house, as he followed Artemis inside.
It seemed they were pretty well off, judging from the marble tile floor and ground-to-ceiling slide windows, which lead into a pretty large backyard. The kitchen and the dining room were connected, and the table had been set a bit ago. Emma came out of the kitchen, glaring at Kendo.
“I apologize, Mr. ‘oh-so-wonderful-savior’, but I only got the heads-up for three people coming to dinner today, so I don’t have anything for you.”
Kendo nodded, a snarky response already forming.
“Honesty didn’t think you’d be able to cook in the first place.”
“You little-”
Emma’s eyes glowed slightly, and the temperature of the room rose by about 5 degrees. Artemis put a calming hand on her shoulder, with a sigh.
“Not in the house, love.”
Emma glanced back, keeping eye contact with Artemis, the temperature staying toasty for a few moments, before she unclenched her fists, and the temperature dropped back down.
“...Fine.”
Artemis smiled at her.
“I’ll go get some snacks for Kendo, don’t worry. Try not to burn down the house.”
And with that, Artemis disappeared into the kitchen.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“So, how’d you come back alive, bastard?”
“No Idea. How’d you raise a kid, bitch?”
“Two, actually. You haven’t met Felix yet, have you?”
“Nah, I haven’t. He a hunter too?”
“No. He’s a blacksmith.”
That caught his attention.
“A… blacksmith? Really?”
Emma nodded, like she was the proudest parent in the world.
“Despite Korea’s Hunter scene being virtually non-existent, other than a select few, like Alexandra, our production scene is one of the best. Did Art not mention that?”
Kendo almost laughed out loud, but he stifled it.
“Art? Almost as bad as him calling you ‘love’. Ick.”
“Shut up.”
“Ugh. Romantic relationships are strange.”
Emma glared dagger at him, but he ignored it, pointedly.
“Well, whatever. At least it looks like you didn’t let go of your skills, after all this time.”
His grin was evil.
“But you’re not quite as good as in your prime…”
A shiver ran up her spine. She instinctively got into a defensive position, and a staff appeared in her hands.
“No. Don’t you dare. Get your Mind’s Eye away from my status window.”
He grinned.
“Huh. You caught on quicker than in the past. Guess you did improve.”
“Damn your cheat-like ability.”
“-Said the one with 5 inherent abilities.”
Inherent abilities are abilities that every metahuman is born with. One makes you metahuman, two makes you a pretty good contender for higher positions and three or more makes you one of the strongest in the world.
It’s very rare that any metahuman has above three, but every one of the 7 Heroes had 4-5 Inherent Abilities, making them insanely powerful.
Well, all of them except for Kendo Miyazaki Satou.
Kendo had two inherent abilities.
The first was known as [The Three Musketeers- The Rapid].
While on its own, fairly powerful, it wasn’t enough to make the wielder the strongest in the world, or anything. In fact, two versions of this ability actually existed elsewhere, one in an American known as Ulysses, in the form of the ability [The Three Musketeers- The Accurate], and the other in a Chinese man known as Qiāng Chuān, in the form of [The Three Musketeers- The Piercing].
But what made this ability so powerful, was the influence of Kendo’s second ability, [Mind’s Eye], alternatively known as [Beyond-Perfect Vision].
This ability made it so that he was able to see details most couldn’t, such as another person’s status window, the location of any biological organism around him, the personal details of another person, and even the latent talent of a person.
The thing is, thought, this ability also increased his reflexes by just that much, able to react to events full seconds before they even occurred. This combined with his near-perfect gun control and his first ability, which made him able to shoot dozens of bullets in mere seconds, made him one of the single strongest people on the planet.
“Of course I noticed it! Goddamned monstrous bastard.”
She pointed her staff at him. He looked over it for a moment.
[Staff of Merlin]
[Legendary]
[40% Spell Casting Time Reduction]
[+1 Spell Casting]
[+80% Spell Size]
[+120% Fire-Type Damage]
[The First Legendary-Grade weapon forged by human hands, this staff was forged from the blacksmith’s pure love and gratitude towards the owner.]
He nearly choked on air.
“Legend grade? What the hell?”
That distracted Emma.
She grinned.
“I know, right? This was made by my son. He’s such a sweet boy, to make something like this for his mom…”
That was bizarre. Kendo had never expected to hear such words coming out of Emma’s mouth, but here he was. Staring at a version of Emma that had just spoken tenderly about someone.
“...What.”
“What, you want one, asshole?”
There was the Emma he knew.
“You’re probably going to egt one sometime soon anyway. As unfortunate as it is, my son idolizes you, as does my daught-”
"Mom, Dad, I'm ho-"
Thud.
Something hit the floor.
Kendo glanced back.
A fairly average-height girl, with pink hair streaked with blue, tied into a ponytail, stood in the doorway, mouth agape, a backpack on the ground.
“Uncle?”
He grinned, gesturing her over.
“Heyyyyy, Alex. Get over here, yeah?”
“I could say the same to you, pink-haired bitch.”
“Artemis, why did you bring the modern reincarnation of the firey pits of hell to our sacred home?
Emma Brown, 43 years old, looked over Kendo’s shoulder at her husband.
Artemis sighed, tiredly, watching the Strongest Metahuman and the Strongest Mage in the world square off.
“It’s been twenty years, and yet you two are still like this…”
“Twenty years of having to hear you and Alex and Felix spout praises of that devil!”
“Watch yourself, witch.”
“Same goes for you, asshole.”
Artemis sighed, as the two hunters faced off. He pushed past kendo, putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder.
“Please, not now. Em, just let it slide for once.”
Emma stared up at him. Kendo almost started laughing at the height difference.
“Fine. Get inside.”
Emma turned and walked back into the house in a huff.
Artemis sighed, turning back to Kendo.
“...You know how she is.”
“Yeah.”
Kendo laughed.
“Still can’t believe that you, a pretty good-looking guy, decided to settle for that little brat.”
“I loved her. I still do. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”
Kendo laughed.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t. Well, either way, you’re still my lil’ bro, so it doesn’t matter too much.”
He looked around the house, as he followed Artemis inside.
It seemed they were pretty well off, judging from the marble tile floor and ground-to-ceiling slide windows, which lead into a pretty large backyard. The kitchen and the dining room were connected, and the table had been set a bit ago. Emma came out of the kitchen, glaring at Kendo.
“I apologize, Mr. ‘oh-so-wonderful-savior’, but I only got the heads-up for three people coming to dinner today, so I don’t have anything for you.”
Kendo nodded, a snarky response already forming.
“Honesty didn’t think you’d be able to cook in the first place.”
“You little-”
Emma’s eyes glowed slightly, and the temperature of the room rose by about 5 degrees. Artemis put a calming hand on her shoulder, with a sigh.
“Not in the house, love.”
Emma glanced back, keeping eye contact with Artemis, the temperature staying toasty for a few moments, before she unclenched her fists, and the temperature dropped back down.
“...Fine.”
Artemis smiled at her.
“I’ll go get some snacks for Kendo, don’t worry. Try not to burn down the house.”
And with that, Artemis disappeared into the kitchen.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“So, how’d you come back alive, bastard?”
“No Idea. How’d you raise a kid, bitch?”
“Two, actually. You haven’t met Felix yet, have you?”
“Nah, I haven’t. He a hunter too?”
“No. He’s a blacksmith.”
That caught his attention.
“A… blacksmith? Really?”
Emma nodded, like she was the proudest parent in the world.
“Despite Korea’s Hunter scene being virtually non-existent, other than a select few, like Alexandra, our production scene is one of the best. Did Art not mention that?”
Kendo almost laughed out loud, but he stifled it.
“Art? Almost as bad as him calling you ‘love’. Ick.”
“Shut up.”
“Ugh. Romantic relationships are strange.”
Emma glared dagger at him, but he ignored it, pointedly.
“Well, whatever. At least it looks like you didn’t let go of your skills, after all this time.”
His grin was evil.
“But you’re not quite as good as in your prime…”
A shiver ran up her spine. She instinctively got into a defensive position, and a staff appeared in her hands.
“No. Don’t you dare. Get your Mind’s Eye away from my status window.”
He grinned.
“Huh. You caught on quicker than in the past. Guess you did improve.”
“Damn your cheat-like ability.”
“-Said the one with 5 inherent abilities.”
Inherent abilities are abilities that every metahuman is born with. One makes you metahuman, two makes you a pretty good contender for higher positions and three or more makes you one of the strongest in the world.
It’s very rare that any metahuman has above three, but every one of the 7 Heroes had 4-5 Inherent Abilities, making them insanely powerful.
Well, all of them except for Kendo Miyazaki Satou.
Kendo had two inherent abilities.
The first was known as [The Three Musketeers- The Rapid].
While on its own, fairly powerful, it wasn’t enough to make the wielder the strongest in the world, or anything. In fact, two versions of this ability actually existed elsewhere, one in an American known as Ulysses, in the form of the ability [The Three Musketeers- The Accurate], and the other in a Chinese man known as Qiāng Chuān, in the form of [The Three Musketeers- The Piercing].
But what made this ability so powerful, was the influence of Kendo’s second ability, [Mind’s Eye], alternatively known as [Beyond-Perfect Vision].
This ability made it so that he was able to see details most couldn’t, such as another person’s status window, the location of any biological organism around him, the personal details of another person, and even the latent talent of a person.
The thing is, thought, this ability also increased his reflexes by just that much, able to react to events full seconds before they even occurred. This combined with his near-perfect gun control and his first ability, which made him able to shoot dozens of bullets in mere seconds, made him one of the single strongest people on the planet.
“Of course I noticed it! Goddamned monstrous bastard.”
She pointed her staff at him. He looked over it for a moment.
[Staff of Merlin]
[Legendary]
[40% Spell Casting Time Reduction]
[+1 Spell Casting]
[+80% Spell Size]
[+120% Fire-Type Damage]
[The First Legendary-Grade weapon forged by human hands, this staff was forged from the blacksmith’s pure love and gratitude towards the owner.]
He nearly choked on air.
“Legend grade? What the hell?”
That distracted Emma.
She grinned.
“I know, right? This was made by my son. He’s such a sweet boy, to make something like this for his mom…”
That was bizarre. Kendo had never expected to hear such words coming out of Emma’s mouth, but here he was. Staring at a version of Emma that had just spoken tenderly about someone.
“...What.”
“What, you want one, asshole?”
There was the Emma he knew.
“You’re probably going to egt one sometime soon anyway. As unfortunate as it is, my son idolizes you, as does my daught-”
"Mom, Dad, I'm ho-"
Thud.
Something hit the floor.
Kendo glanced back.
A fairly average-height girl, with pink hair streaked with blue, tied into a ponytail, stood in the doorway, mouth agape, a backpack on the ground.
“Uncle?”
He grinned, gesturing her over.
“Heyyyyy, Alex. Get over here, yeah?”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Mon, 29/05/2023 12:13 (1 Year ago)
Less swearing than before but still a little.
Show
hidden content
Alexandra Miyazaki Roshfeld-Wright was
having an odd day.
For the past three weeks, she’d been on a trip to Europe- Germany, specifically- to help subjugate a dungeon that had popped up a while ago.
When she got back, she’d noticed Korea had been oddly loud.
Walking through the airport, she could hear the just-barely audible murmuring of the wall-mounted televisions, but she was being jostled, pushed, and crowded around too much to be able to hear what the newscasters were saying properly.
Grabbing her luggage had taken too long.
Way, way too long.
She’d touched down in Korea at 1 PM, and by the time she caught a taxi, it was 6.
Of course, she’d grabbed a bite for dinner first, but still. Korea’s airport was always too crowded.
The taxi ride from Incheon back to her home in Seoul had taken nearly an hour and a half- 6 PM traffic was awful, all the non-awakened(and awakened) office workers driving home from a long day of work.
She silently prayed for them, out of sympathy.
After a while, the taxi driver dropped her off at her house. She quickly thanked the driver, handing him the appropriate payment.
She watched the taxi driver rush away in the car, and she waved a goodbye.
She let out a breath she’d been holding in, a smile spreading across her face as she turned to the house behind her.
She took brisk, elated steps towards the house, before breaking out into a jog, up the path.
SHe fumbled with her keys, but managed to fish them out of her pocket, inserting it into the keyhole.
She threw the door open, walking in, smiling cheerfully.
“Mom, dad, I’m ho-”
And then she paused.
There was someone unfamiliar sitting in their dining room.
Long, straight golden-brown hair, fairly thin frame, and a blue hoodie over brown trousers, like the ones she’d often seen her dad wearing when he cam back from expeditions.
Wait.
Golden-brown hair?
She dropped her bag.
The unfamiliar man turned to her, a lopsided grin on his face. Azure eyes.
She did know this man.
“...Uncle?”
He gestured her over.
“Hey, Alex. Get over here, yeah?”
She couldn’t stop herself. She ran over to Kendo, hugging him, tightly.
He let out a strangled gasp.
“Uncle! Ohmigod, it’s you!”
His laugh was more like a dry wheeze.
“Stop… you’re going to crush my bones…”
Instantly, Alex let go of him, her face flushed red.
“S-sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry towards your bastard uncle. Be sorry towards me instead, Alex. Instantly went to him instead of your mom?”
Emma’s tone was light, teasing, as she smiled at ehr daughter.
Alexandra visibly saw a chill run up Kendo’s spine.
“Don’t smile like that, witch. Terrifying.”
“You have a problem with my smile, Satou?”
“Yeah, I do, Brown.”
“Asshole.”
“Bi-”
“Break it up.”
Artemis walked out of the kitchen, pulling off his apron. He set a plate in front of Kendo.
“Eat up.”
His attention shifted from Kendo and Emma, still galring at each other, to Alexandra.
“Hey, Alex.”
His smile was soft. That made Alex’s day, almost as much as seeing her previously-assumed dead uncle. She hugged him.
“Hey, dad!”
She pulled away after a moment. His smile was still present. He glanced over at EMma and Kendo.
“Sorry about them. You know how your mom gets.”
“Yeah, I do. But can we ignore mom, and focus on the bigger elephant in the room?”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What would that be?”
“The fact that Kendo Miyazaki Satou, greatest Hunter in history, the Arcane Gunman, who was presumed dead 20 years ago is eating a bowl of rice in our dining room?”
Alex pointed at Kendo, who broke away from his non-verbal argument with Emma.
“You flatter me, Alex. You’re surprisingly eloquent for a 6-year-old.”
“6??? Uncle, I’m 26!”
He shrugged.
“Same difference, right?”
Artemis sighed.
“Let’s take a seat, Alex. I’ll explain it then.”
For the past three weeks, she’d been on a trip to Europe- Germany, specifically- to help subjugate a dungeon that had popped up a while ago.
When she got back, she’d noticed Korea had been oddly loud.
Walking through the airport, she could hear the just-barely audible murmuring of the wall-mounted televisions, but she was being jostled, pushed, and crowded around too much to be able to hear what the newscasters were saying properly.
Grabbing her luggage had taken too long.
Way, way too long.
She’d touched down in Korea at 1 PM, and by the time she caught a taxi, it was 6.
Of course, she’d grabbed a bite for dinner first, but still. Korea’s airport was always too crowded.
The taxi ride from Incheon back to her home in Seoul had taken nearly an hour and a half- 6 PM traffic was awful, all the non-awakened(and awakened) office workers driving home from a long day of work.
She silently prayed for them, out of sympathy.
After a while, the taxi driver dropped her off at her house. She quickly thanked the driver, handing him the appropriate payment.
She watched the taxi driver rush away in the car, and she waved a goodbye.
She let out a breath she’d been holding in, a smile spreading across her face as she turned to the house behind her.
She took brisk, elated steps towards the house, before breaking out into a jog, up the path.
SHe fumbled with her keys, but managed to fish them out of her pocket, inserting it into the keyhole.
She threw the door open, walking in, smiling cheerfully.
“Mom, dad, I’m ho-”
And then she paused.
There was someone unfamiliar sitting in their dining room.
Long, straight golden-brown hair, fairly thin frame, and a blue hoodie over brown trousers, like the ones she’d often seen her dad wearing when he cam back from expeditions.
Wait.
Golden-brown hair?
She dropped her bag.
The unfamiliar man turned to her, a lopsided grin on his face. Azure eyes.
She did know this man.
“...Uncle?”
He gestured her over.
“Hey, Alex. Get over here, yeah?”
She couldn’t stop herself. She ran over to Kendo, hugging him, tightly.
He let out a strangled gasp.
“Uncle! Ohmigod, it’s you!”
His laugh was more like a dry wheeze.
“Stop… you’re going to crush my bones…”
Instantly, Alex let go of him, her face flushed red.
“S-sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry towards your bastard uncle. Be sorry towards me instead, Alex. Instantly went to him instead of your mom?”
Emma’s tone was light, teasing, as she smiled at ehr daughter.
Alexandra visibly saw a chill run up Kendo’s spine.
“Don’t smile like that, witch. Terrifying.”
“You have a problem with my smile, Satou?”
“Yeah, I do, Brown.”
“Asshole.”
“Bi-”
“Break it up.”
Artemis walked out of the kitchen, pulling off his apron. He set a plate in front of Kendo.
“Eat up.”
His attention shifted from Kendo and Emma, still galring at each other, to Alexandra.
“Hey, Alex.”
His smile was soft. That made Alex’s day, almost as much as seeing her previously-assumed dead uncle. She hugged him.
“Hey, dad!”
She pulled away after a moment. His smile was still present. He glanced over at EMma and Kendo.
“Sorry about them. You know how your mom gets.”
“Yeah, I do. But can we ignore mom, and focus on the bigger elephant in the room?”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What would that be?”
“The fact that Kendo Miyazaki Satou, greatest Hunter in history, the Arcane Gunman, who was presumed dead 20 years ago is eating a bowl of rice in our dining room?”
Alex pointed at Kendo, who broke away from his non-verbal argument with Emma.
“You flatter me, Alex. You’re surprisingly eloquent for a 6-year-old.”
“6??? Uncle, I’m 26!”
He shrugged.
“Same difference, right?”
Artemis sighed.
“Let’s take a seat, Alex. I’ll explain it then.”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Mon, 29/05/2023 23:51 (1 Year ago)
Show
hidden content
How long had it been, for the Immortal
Alchemist?
A couple hundred years?
A couple thousand? He didn’t remember.
All he knew was that he’d seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
Yet, he carried on.
Yet, he remained, brewing his potions.
What was his name?
What was his purpose?
He didn’t remember any more.
He didn’t know what the point was.
Why was he here?
Why was he brewing these potions?
What was he waiting for?
He vaguely remembered why he was waiting
He vaguely remembered the flash of a silver sword.
He vaguely remembered a flutter of white hair.
He vaguely remembered a group of people… maybe 6? Maybe 7?
It was 8.
It was 8 of his friends.
He’d long since forgotten their names.
He’d long since forgotten their faces.
He’d long since forgotten their voices.
…
It was too hard to think about this any longer.
It was all too blurry to recall.
The Immortal Alchemist looked back at his bubbling pot.
The Immortal Alchemist went back to brewing his potions.
A couple hundred years?
A couple thousand? He didn’t remember.
All he knew was that he’d seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
Yet, he carried on.
Yet, he remained, brewing his potions.
What was his name?
What was his purpose?
He didn’t remember any more.
He didn’t know what the point was.
Why was he here?
Why was he brewing these potions?
What was he waiting for?
He vaguely remembered why he was waiting
He vaguely remembered the flash of a silver sword.
He vaguely remembered a flutter of white hair.
He vaguely remembered a group of people… maybe 6? Maybe 7?
It was 8.
It was 8 of his friends.
He’d long since forgotten their names.
He’d long since forgotten their faces.
He’d long since forgotten their voices.
…
It was too hard to think about this any longer.
It was all too blurry to recall.
The Immortal Alchemist looked back at his bubbling pot.
The Immortal Alchemist went back to brewing his potions.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Tue, 30/05/2023 00:13 (1 Year ago)
Show
hidden content
The Immortal Alchemist hummed a quiet
tune, as he picked the various herbs from his garden.
The Immortal Alchemist quietly filled a basket with herbs.
That was a strange sound.
That was a strange whirring.
He looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright.
He looked up at the crack in the sky, slowly opening above his quaint cottage.
How did he recognize that portal?
How did he recognize the color of that crack in the fabric of space-time?
Where had he seen that type of portal?
Where had he last seen that type of crack in the dimensions?
The portal opened further, and a person fell from the sky.
The figure had long, silver hair, wearing a suit of armor he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Her armor was shattered in various areas.
Her body was cut up and bruised.
She groaned as she struggled to prop herself up.
She groaned, as she looked around for her sword.
The sword that had fallen at his feet.
The sword was picked up by the Immortal Alchemist.
The woman’s eyes locked onto the Immortal Alchemist.
Why did she look so familiar?
Why did his long-dead heart jump at the sight of her?
He didn’t know.
He took a few steps towards the woman, setting the rapier down at her side.
He turned away, picking his basket of herbs off the ground.
He started to walk away.
“W-wait!”
He turned back at the woman.
His jade-colored eyes stared at her through his murky-grey bangs.
He watched her inhale sharply, her eyes widening in recognition.
“Iliya?”
Iliya.
Iliya.
What a strange name.
What a strange, odd name.
He recognized it.
He had heard that name before.
Was that his name?
Was that his identity?
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know who he was.
He didn’t know who this woman was.
He watched her struggle to get up, her body broken and battered, her gleaming silver armor shattered.
She took a few struggling steps towards him.
She stopped in front of him, putting a blood-stained, gloved hand on his cheek.
“Iliya. It’s you.”
He flinched away.
He took a step back, away from her touch.
Touch.
Touch.
He hated touch.
He hated touch.
Her smile fell.
Her body slumped slightly, at the reaction.
“Iliya…?”
He was frozen in place.
He was stuck there, for a moment.
He recognized her.
A name was just on the tip of his tongue.
A name he had said far too much.
What was it?
K…
Kr…
“…Kristin?”
His voice was quiet, ragged.
His voice hadn’t been used in centuries.
He broke eye contact.
He turned away.
He started to run, back into his cottage.
The Immortal Alchemist quietly filled a basket with herbs.
That was a strange sound.
That was a strange whirring.
He looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright.
He looked up at the crack in the sky, slowly opening above his quaint cottage.
How did he recognize that portal?
How did he recognize the color of that crack in the fabric of space-time?
Where had he seen that type of portal?
Where had he last seen that type of crack in the dimensions?
The portal opened further, and a person fell from the sky.
The figure had long, silver hair, wearing a suit of armor he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Her armor was shattered in various areas.
Her body was cut up and bruised.
She groaned as she struggled to prop herself up.
She groaned, as she looked around for her sword.
The sword that had fallen at his feet.
The sword was picked up by the Immortal Alchemist.
The woman’s eyes locked onto the Immortal Alchemist.
Why did she look so familiar?
Why did his long-dead heart jump at the sight of her?
He didn’t know.
He took a few steps towards the woman, setting the rapier down at her side.
He turned away, picking his basket of herbs off the ground.
He started to walk away.
“W-wait!”
He turned back at the woman.
His jade-colored eyes stared at her through his murky-grey bangs.
He watched her inhale sharply, her eyes widening in recognition.
“Iliya?”
Iliya.
Iliya.
What a strange name.
What a strange, odd name.
He recognized it.
He had heard that name before.
Was that his name?
Was that his identity?
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know who he was.
He didn’t know who this woman was.
He watched her struggle to get up, her body broken and battered, her gleaming silver armor shattered.
She took a few struggling steps towards him.
She stopped in front of him, putting a blood-stained, gloved hand on his cheek.
“Iliya. It’s you.”
He flinched away.
He took a step back, away from her touch.
Touch.
Touch.
He hated touch.
He hated touch.
Her smile fell.
Her body slumped slightly, at the reaction.
“Iliya…?”
He was frozen in place.
He was stuck there, for a moment.
He recognized her.
A name was just on the tip of his tongue.
A name he had said far too much.
What was it?
K…
Kr…
“…Kristin?”
His voice was quiet, ragged.
His voice hadn’t been used in centuries.
He broke eye contact.
He turned away.
He started to run, back into his cottage.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Tue, 30/05/2023 01:13 (1 Year ago)
Show
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The woman was always there.
The woman had been living in this cottage.
He didn’t mind.
He did his best to ignore her.
She made it quite easy for him.
She just sat there, watching him.
Every so often, she’d call out that strange name.
Every so often, she’d call out that odd name.
“Iliya.”
“Iliya?”
“Iliya!”
He just ignored it.
If he ignored it, it would go away, right?
Of course it would.
It had to.
He tended to her wounds, every night.
He fed her healing potions every night.
The silence was as present as ever.
The loneliness had been lessened, slightly.
“Iliya.”
The Alchemist turned to look at her, slightly.
The Alchemist stared at her, as if to ask her to continue.
She took a deep breath in, then let out a sigh.
She pushed her silver hair back.
“Do you… not remember me? It’s only been a few years…”
A few years.
A few years.
It couldn't have been a ‘few years’.
It couldn't have.
He’d been in this cottage for thousands of years.
He’d been all alone for all these years.
She continued.
She continued talking.
“...What happened to you?”
That struck a chord.
That was something he hadn’t expected.
“... is… that my name?”
“What?”
She looked confused.
She looked puzzled.
“Is… ‘Ili…ya’... my name?”
“...”
She stared at him, her golden eyes pitying.
She stared at him with those annoying golden eyes.
“Iliya… yeah, it is.”
The Alchemist turned away.
The Alchemist looked down at the ground.
“...Wh…o are you? You kn…ow… knew… me?”
The woman nodded.
The woman smiled at him.
What a dazzling smile.
What an annoying smile.
“I did.”
She sighed.
She looked dejected.
“I… I don’t know what’s going on with you… but I can at least tell you who I am, right?”
She extended her hand.
“My name’s Kristin Dahl. Nice to meet you again.”
The woman had been living in this cottage.
He didn’t mind.
He did his best to ignore her.
She made it quite easy for him.
She just sat there, watching him.
Every so often, she’d call out that strange name.
Every so often, she’d call out that odd name.
“Iliya.”
“Iliya?”
“Iliya!”
He just ignored it.
If he ignored it, it would go away, right?
Of course it would.
It had to.
He tended to her wounds, every night.
He fed her healing potions every night.
The silence was as present as ever.
The loneliness had been lessened, slightly.
“Iliya.”
The Alchemist turned to look at her, slightly.
The Alchemist stared at her, as if to ask her to continue.
She took a deep breath in, then let out a sigh.
She pushed her silver hair back.
“Do you… not remember me? It’s only been a few years…”
A few years.
A few years.
It couldn't have been a ‘few years’.
It couldn't have.
He’d been in this cottage for thousands of years.
He’d been all alone for all these years.
She continued.
She continued talking.
“...What happened to you?”
That struck a chord.
That was something he hadn’t expected.
“... is… that my name?”
“What?”
She looked confused.
She looked puzzled.
“Is… ‘Ili…ya’... my name?”
“...”
She stared at him, her golden eyes pitying.
She stared at him with those annoying golden eyes.
“Iliya… yeah, it is.”
The Alchemist turned away.
The Alchemist looked down at the ground.
“...Wh…o are you? You kn…ow… knew… me?”
The woman nodded.
The woman smiled at him.
What a dazzling smile.
What an annoying smile.
“I did.”
She sighed.
She looked dejected.
“I… I don’t know what’s going on with you… but I can at least tell you who I am, right?”
She extended her hand.
“My name’s Kristin Dahl. Nice to meet you again.”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Tue, 30/05/2023 05:18 (1 Year ago)
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“Kristin.”
The Sword Saint turned to the sound of a soft voice.
Artemis Wright.
That was the man who had just called out to her.
The last only other person alive in this hellish dungeon.
“Artemis?”
She vaguely noted how his blue hair reflected the fire in front of them.
He got up from his seat on the ground, picking up a spear.
“Kristin. You need to run.”
She could hear something approaching, like drumbeats.
“What?”
His eyes were dead, cold and emotionless.
They’d been like that since Emma died, a year ago, and he’d only gotten colder since their leader, kendo, had died last winter.
The thundering drumbeats started to get closer.
“Run. Right now.”
“I can’t leave you here!’
She got up, picking up her sword.
“I won’t let you die as well! Goddammit, Kristin, just run!”
The ferocity in his voice startled her.
“Ar-”
“You have someone waiting for you, Kristin. Everyone I love is dead now. Run. Don’t leave poor Iliya alone.”
And she obliged. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran. She ran until the sounds of mayhem and battle ended.
She ran until she could not hear the sounds of the desperate last stand of her friend.
And finally, she stopped. She sat there, in the dark tunnel, for what felt like an eternity.
But after that eternity? She heard footsteps.
She turned back.
A tall figure was walking down the tunnel.
And then, his voice rang out.
“Kristin…”
“Artemis!”
The figure approached closer. A spear was held in hsi hands.
She paused.
Something didn’t feel right.
“...Kristin…”
“Art…emis…?”
“Kristin… you need to run.”
And suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her chest.
And the last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered shut, was a monster.
A monster that had taken the form of her fallen friend.
The monster that’d killed all of the others.
…
The cottage was dimly lit.
Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of a bubbling pot.
She pulled herself out of the bed.
Another day.
How odd, it felt, not to awake to screams and blood on the battlefield.
She could still feel the vestiges of the blade that had been stuck through her chest right before she arrived here.
She checked herself in the mirror, tying her hair into a neat ponytail.
She exited the guest room, into the cottage.
There he was.
Iliya Volkov.
Clad in a dark cloak covering his entire body, with messy, murky gray hair, he stood over a bubbling pot, mixing various mystical ingredients into the mixture.
He didn’t even look up.
She looked at him, longingly.
It had been nearly 8 years, in that hellscape, but it seemed it had been much, much longer for Iliya.
“...Good morning, Iliya.”
He glanced up. His green eyes stared at ehr for a moment, before going back to his work.
She sighed.
Of course.
She hadn’t expected much.
Still, she had to try.
“...Have you eaten yet?”
A nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
She walked past him, pausing in teh doorway of the kitchen.
“...Do you want to eat?”
He glanced at her.
A nod of his head.
She smiled at him.
“Alright then. I’ll make breakfast for you.”
He paused… and pointed at the wall-mounted clock.
11:43 AM.
She laughed.
“Alright. I’ll make lunch, then.”
Just before she entered the kitchen, she thought she caught the slightest hint of a smile on Iliya’s face.
Success.
The Sword Saint turned to the sound of a soft voice.
Artemis Wright.
That was the man who had just called out to her.
The last only other person alive in this hellish dungeon.
“Artemis?”
She vaguely noted how his blue hair reflected the fire in front of them.
He got up from his seat on the ground, picking up a spear.
“Kristin. You need to run.”
She could hear something approaching, like drumbeats.
“What?”
His eyes were dead, cold and emotionless.
They’d been like that since Emma died, a year ago, and he’d only gotten colder since their leader, kendo, had died last winter.
The thundering drumbeats started to get closer.
“Run. Right now.”
“I can’t leave you here!’
She got up, picking up her sword.
“I won’t let you die as well! Goddammit, Kristin, just run!”
The ferocity in his voice startled her.
“Ar-”
“You have someone waiting for you, Kristin. Everyone I love is dead now. Run. Don’t leave poor Iliya alone.”
And she obliged. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran. She ran until the sounds of mayhem and battle ended.
She ran until she could not hear the sounds of the desperate last stand of her friend.
And finally, she stopped. She sat there, in the dark tunnel, for what felt like an eternity.
But after that eternity? She heard footsteps.
She turned back.
A tall figure was walking down the tunnel.
And then, his voice rang out.
“Kristin…”
“Artemis!”
The figure approached closer. A spear was held in hsi hands.
She paused.
Something didn’t feel right.
“...Kristin…”
“Art…emis…?”
“Kristin… you need to run.”
And suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her chest.
And the last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered shut, was a monster.
A monster that had taken the form of her fallen friend.
The monster that’d killed all of the others.
…
The cottage was dimly lit.
Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of a bubbling pot.
She pulled herself out of the bed.
Another day.
How odd, it felt, not to awake to screams and blood on the battlefield.
She could still feel the vestiges of the blade that had been stuck through her chest right before she arrived here.
She checked herself in the mirror, tying her hair into a neat ponytail.
She exited the guest room, into the cottage.
There he was.
Iliya Volkov.
Clad in a dark cloak covering his entire body, with messy, murky gray hair, he stood over a bubbling pot, mixing various mystical ingredients into the mixture.
He didn’t even look up.
She looked at him, longingly.
It had been nearly 8 years, in that hellscape, but it seemed it had been much, much longer for Iliya.
“...Good morning, Iliya.”
He glanced up. His green eyes stared at ehr for a moment, before going back to his work.
She sighed.
Of course.
She hadn’t expected much.
Still, she had to try.
“...Have you eaten yet?”
A nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
She walked past him, pausing in teh doorway of the kitchen.
“...Do you want to eat?”
He glanced at her.
A nod of his head.
She smiled at him.
“Alright then. I’ll make breakfast for you.”
He paused… and pointed at the wall-mounted clock.
11:43 AM.
She laughed.
“Alright. I’ll make lunch, then.”
Just before she entered the kitchen, she thought she caught the slightest hint of a smile on Iliya’s face.
Success.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Wed, 31/05/2023 09:38 (1 Year ago)
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Ad Infinitum
[ad in-fuh-nahy-tuhm]
1. To infinity, endlessly, without limit.
The ability for humans to develop endlessly.
That is the idea behind Magic.
Magic is glorious, and those who wield magic, called mages, are celebrated throughout the continents.
Being a mage is fundamentally different from being, say, a swordsman, or a mercenary.
Even the lowest rank of mage certification can get you quite far.
That’s because, unlike swordsmanship, or mercenary work, magic is difficult to learn and near-impossible to master, which is what makes mages be in such high demand.
Less than 20 mages graduate from the prestigious Karsennan Academy each year.
And what makes it worse?
Only nobles are accepted into this academy.
The rest of the 99%?
They almost never even manage to witness magic in their entire lives.
…well, there has been one case.
This is my story.
-The Infinite Mage
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The night’s winter air was bitingly cold, and Alder Winter shivered as his boots crunched into the snow with every step.
He scolded himself mentally, pulling his fur coat around his broad shoulders.
Stupid. Stupid! She warned me! She said that it was too cold!
He slapped himself on the head. It stung.
Obviously.
He trudged through the forest, shaking the snow off his shoulders every so often.
He started to walk faster and faster, as he spotted a cottage, in a clearing in the woods.
His home.
After just a few moments, he was standing directly in front of the door.
He smiled.
Finally, I’m ba-
His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the distant wailing of… a child?
What?
He looked around for a moment, before running off in the direction of the crying.
He trudged through the snow, towards the back of his house, to the stable, where he kept the animals.
The crying slowly got louder.
And louder.
Until he entered the stable, in which he saw a flock of animals herded around a manger…
And in that manger?
A child.
A child with bright, blonde hair and startling green eyes, and pale skin, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering from the cold.
His heart jumped.
His first thought was “What a pitiful child, all alone, and cold.”
His second thought was “Wait a minute, how did this child even get here?”
He rushed through the flock of animals, picking up the child.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A beautiful voice,e ven while crying.
“...What’s your name little one?”
And then Alder realized that it was an infant.
He laughed.
And the child stopped crying, and started laughing with him as well.
Alder stopped after a moment, wiping away the tears.
“...I think I’ll name you Elias.”
Alder smiled down at the infant.
“Elias Winter. Has a pretty good ring to it, no?”
[ad in-fuh-nahy-tuhm]
1. To infinity, endlessly, without limit.
The ability for humans to develop endlessly.
That is the idea behind Magic.
Magic is glorious, and those who wield magic, called mages, are celebrated throughout the continents.
Being a mage is fundamentally different from being, say, a swordsman, or a mercenary.
Even the lowest rank of mage certification can get you quite far.
That’s because, unlike swordsmanship, or mercenary work, magic is difficult to learn and near-impossible to master, which is what makes mages be in such high demand.
Less than 20 mages graduate from the prestigious Karsennan Academy each year.
And what makes it worse?
Only nobles are accepted into this academy.
The rest of the 99%?
They almost never even manage to witness magic in their entire lives.
…well, there has been one case.
This is my story.
-The Infinite Mage
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The night’s winter air was bitingly cold, and Alder Winter shivered as his boots crunched into the snow with every step.
He scolded himself mentally, pulling his fur coat around his broad shoulders.
Stupid. Stupid! She warned me! She said that it was too cold!
He slapped himself on the head. It stung.
Obviously.
He trudged through the forest, shaking the snow off his shoulders every so often.
He started to walk faster and faster, as he spotted a cottage, in a clearing in the woods.
His home.
After just a few moments, he was standing directly in front of the door.
He smiled.
Finally, I’m ba-
His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the distant wailing of… a child?
What?
He looked around for a moment, before running off in the direction of the crying.
He trudged through the snow, towards the back of his house, to the stable, where he kept the animals.
The crying slowly got louder.
And louder.
Until he entered the stable, in which he saw a flock of animals herded around a manger…
And in that manger?
A child.
A child with bright, blonde hair and startling green eyes, and pale skin, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering from the cold.
His heart jumped.
His first thought was “What a pitiful child, all alone, and cold.”
His second thought was “Wait a minute, how did this child even get here?”
He rushed through the flock of animals, picking up the child.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A beautiful voice,e ven while crying.
“...What’s your name little one?”
And then Alder realized that it was an infant.
He laughed.
And the child stopped crying, and started laughing with him as well.
Alder stopped after a moment, wiping away the tears.
“...I think I’ll name you Elias.”
Alder smiled down at the infant.
“Elias Winter. Has a pretty good ring to it, no?”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Thu, 01/06/2023 01:32 (1 Year ago)
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Death terrified him.
The cold embrace of death was one he never wanted to feel, ever again. The tall, skeletal figure of death beckoned to him, every time he lay down at night.
Loss terrified him.
He didn’t want to lose anything. He didn’t want to lose his family, or his friends. He didn’t want to lose anything more than he already had.
Knives terrified him.
Every time he closed his eyes at night, he saw the red glint of that damned knife. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the crimson eyes of that damned human.
Fire terrified him.
The crackling of the fire reminded him of nothing but his house burning down, the unholy screams of the damned soul of his father. The crackling of fire brought back memories of a burning metropolis, a broken bottle of whiskey.
Guns terrified him.
When he gripped one, the memories rushed back. Burning hellfire, monsters emerging out of giant portals, blood dripping down his head. He remembered a rainy day, in front of a grave. He remembered the piercing pain through his chest.
People terrified him.
It hurt, so much. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It hurt.
He terrified himself.
He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. He didn’t want to be useless anymore. He didn’t want to be so worthless. He didn’t want to be so weak. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t want to feel anymore.
Feelings terrified him.
He didn’t want to feel. If he didn’t feel then he wouldn’t hurt. If he removed his emotions, then he wouldn’t have to go through this. He wouldn’t have to feel the pain.
Love terrified him.
They all died in the end. they all left in the end.
he wasn't the protagonist of his own story.
And he didn't want to hurt any more.
The cold embrace of death was one he never wanted to feel, ever again. The tall, skeletal figure of death beckoned to him, every time he lay down at night.
Loss terrified him.
He didn’t want to lose anything. He didn’t want to lose his family, or his friends. He didn’t want to lose anything more than he already had.
Knives terrified him.
Every time he closed his eyes at night, he saw the red glint of that damned knife. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the crimson eyes of that damned human.
Fire terrified him.
The crackling of the fire reminded him of nothing but his house burning down, the unholy screams of the damned soul of his father. The crackling of fire brought back memories of a burning metropolis, a broken bottle of whiskey.
Guns terrified him.
When he gripped one, the memories rushed back. Burning hellfire, monsters emerging out of giant portals, blood dripping down his head. He remembered a rainy day, in front of a grave. He remembered the piercing pain through his chest.
People terrified him.
It hurt, so much. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It hurt.
He terrified himself.
He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. He didn’t want to be useless anymore. He didn’t want to be so worthless. He didn’t want to be so weak. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t want to feel anymore.
Feelings terrified him.
He didn’t want to feel. If he didn’t feel then he wouldn’t hurt. If he removed his emotions, then he wouldn’t have to go through this. He wouldn’t have to feel the pain.
Love terrified him.
They all died in the end. they all left in the end.
he wasn't the protagonist of his own story.
And he didn't want to hurt any more.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Fri, 02/06/2023 14:20 (1 Year ago)
Swearing
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They called him, back at the start of
the end of the world, the ‘Deadliest Man Alive’.
The clacking of a horse’s footsteps sounded out, throughout the dreary forest.
His eyes were obscured by black sunglasses, and his golden hair was tied into a tight ponytail behind him.
He jumped off the horse, sighing, pulling out a phone. He fired up the camera staring up at the cliff face in front of him.
“What a shitshow.”
Blood dripped from the crudely painted words, splattered, like some sort of bloody Jackson Pollock work, onto the cliff.
A headless body sat at the very bottom, under the words.
“You’ll never find us.”
“Fuckin’ bastards.”
He spit out the cigarette in his mouth, stomping it into the snow. He glanced back at his horse.
“...Gotta keep moving…”
He glanced back at the bloody symbols.
“...goddamnit… m’ pay’s gonna be cut in half.”
He sighed, getting back on the horse.
"Giddyup. Gotta get back 'fore sundown."
The clacking of a horse’s footsteps sounded out, throughout the dreary forest.
His eyes were obscured by black sunglasses, and his golden hair was tied into a tight ponytail behind him.
He jumped off the horse, sighing, pulling out a phone. He fired up the camera staring up at the cliff face in front of him.
“What a shitshow.”
Blood dripped from the crudely painted words, splattered, like some sort of bloody Jackson Pollock work, onto the cliff.
A headless body sat at the very bottom, under the words.
“You’ll never find us.”
“Fuckin’ bastards.”
He spit out the cigarette in his mouth, stomping it into the snow. He glanced back at his horse.
“...Gotta keep moving…”
He glanced back at the bloody symbols.
“...goddamnit… m’ pay’s gonna be cut in half.”
He sighed, getting back on the horse.
"Giddyup. Gotta get back 'fore sundown."
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Posted: Sat, 03/06/2023 11:03 (1 Year ago)
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In his youth he’d used dozens of
different aliases.
The South Sectors knew him as ‘Machiavelli’.
The North Sectors knew him as ‘Lupin’.
The East Sectors knew him as ‘Abraham, the Slayer’.
The West Sectors knew him as ‘Pan, the Lord of the Woods’.
All of those names had been used by him, at one point. But none of that mattered right now. The middle-aged, blue-haired man sprinted through the forest, snow crunching under his feet. A computer chip embedded in the side of his head glowed faintly, under his messy blue hair.
A gun was in his hands, as the groaning of the undead got closer.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. I need to find him. I need to find him…”
He picked up the pace, sprinting even faster.
The footsteps of a horse sounded out, ahead of him.
“Yes! Finally!”
He wove through the trees, bursting out into a path, where a golden-haired man on a horse was passing through.
“I found you, you elusive sonovabitch!”
The man looked over at him, peering at him through his tinted shades.
“...Wright?”
“Yeah, it’s me! Hurry, let me on, the monsters will be here any minute!”
The man stopped the horse, allowing the blue-haired man to hop on.
“Go, go, go!”
The South Sectors knew him as ‘Machiavelli’.
The North Sectors knew him as ‘Lupin’.
The East Sectors knew him as ‘Abraham, the Slayer’.
The West Sectors knew him as ‘Pan, the Lord of the Woods’.
All of those names had been used by him, at one point. But none of that mattered right now. The middle-aged, blue-haired man sprinted through the forest, snow crunching under his feet. A computer chip embedded in the side of his head glowed faintly, under his messy blue hair.
A gun was in his hands, as the groaning of the undead got closer.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. I need to find him. I need to find him…”
He picked up the pace, sprinting even faster.
The footsteps of a horse sounded out, ahead of him.
“Yes! Finally!”
He wove through the trees, bursting out into a path, where a golden-haired man on a horse was passing through.
“I found you, you elusive sonovabitch!”
The man looked over at him, peering at him through his tinted shades.
“...Wright?”
“Yeah, it’s me! Hurry, let me on, the monsters will be here any minute!”
The man stopped the horse, allowing the blue-haired man to hop on.
“Go, go, go!”
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.