Chapter I- The Youngest God-Slaying Devil King

In this world, the victor is the one who lives to tell the tale. The only reason why justice triumphs over evil without exception is because the winner always believes themself to be justice. So to put it another way, this is a world where the victor is right and the loser loses their rights to speak.

For example, if America had lost the revolutionary war against Britain, it would have simply been called a rebellion and their dreams of democracy would have been dismissed as mad raving by adolescent colonies in the New World. The world would have agreed.

However, this was not the case. America said that the king was evil and they won the revolutionary war. As such, their words became righteous and the New World proclaimed monarchy to be evil.

On the topic of kings, what place did a king have in this nation that so openly despised monarchies, dictatorships, communism, and anything that is not democracy? Even if we only discuss the world of magic, it is not too different. Government was a coin with two sides—the surface that is seen and the one beneath it that is less noticeable. Religion has been strongly involved with politics for as long as history can remember. This was no different, even for the United States of America. So what could a devil king do in this self-governing country that would not value his opinion? In fact, as all other devil kings took the place of the traditional sovereign in their respective region, what spot did America have to offer?

“Hahahahaha! You pussies can whine all you want; the media loves it when two-faced bastards like you show you true selves on camera!”

A single person’s laughter filled the night air of New York City, echoing over the loud blaring sirens and crowd that had gathered below at the base of the tall skyscraper that seemed to hold up the moon in the background. The police had arrived for crowd control, pushing the crowd back as they set up police tape. Mob shields forced the civilians back but the crowd didn’t allow itself to be quieted. Their cheering and laughter filled the air before it devolved into angry shouts and rough pushing and shoving.

The reason for this reaction was simple.

Countless American dollars were raining from the sky, falling from the top of the building and toward the ground around the building. Greedy humans swarmed from their apartments and jobs in order to grab as many bills as they could with their hands and shoved it in their pockets. Only the media seemed to be somewhat immune to the raining money as the camera focused on the top of the building, getting a close up of the figure standing at the center of the storm.

Five men were standing on the edge of the building in nothing but their boxers, shivering in the cold breeze at their high altitude. That had been the initial cause for the laughter. The fact that these men were the board of directions for the company that resided within the building they stood on now was quickly deduced and broadcasted by the media live as these five stared with surprised and terrified eyes at either the money that was once theirs or the media that was broadcasting their shame across the world.

Standing behind the five members of the board was a short woman wearing a business suit and a black cloak that was spread open to show her front. The cloak resembled one Dracula was depicted wearing, but was black on the inside as well. She also wore a black domino mask and her hair was long and straightened to lie across her fluttering cloak that moved wildly in the wind. A sadistic grin spread across this short woman’s face as she relished the situation she saw before her.

“T-T-That’s the money from our vault!” One of the rich naked men cried as he turned to the girl frantically. “What the hell are you doing, throwing it all to the crowd?!”

“It originally belongs to them anyhow.” The girl shrugged indifferently. “You swindled it from the public and laughed at them behind your closed doors as you lived lavishly. And now you’ve been stripped naked and everyone will know about your crimes. An interesting development, don’t you think? When you right about this in your auto-biography, be sure to describe the way those idiots down there are actually punching each other in order to take money from each other. It’s fucking hilarious.”

“You’re insane! Do you think you’re some kind of super hero?! This has to be against the law! You’ll ruin our public image!”

“Says you.” The girl’s grin widened sinisterly and the five men cringed at it. “Don’t you realize how many reporters will try to interview you now? You’ll be in all the newspapers and talked about all over the country. I’ve given you a major boost in popularity, got it?”

“We’ll be laughing stocks and jailed!”

“It’ll be a more interesting experience than sitting in your penthouse thinking of more ways to embezzle money. And besides, who the hell told you I’m a hero? I’m a fucking villain, you pieces of shit. If you feel like this embarrassment is too much, how about I push you off the edge of this building of yours right now? It’ll be a nice metaphorical representation of how I’m kicking you off your high fucking horse!”

The woman wearing a domino mask’s voice boomed through the city much more loudly than a megaphone could manage. The police deduced that several speakers had been set up just to make more of an effect. Thanks to spreading the money out to the public so blatantly, the police had its hands full with crowd control. And since the money was filling the air around the skyscraper, choppers could not get close in low visibility. Such obvious tactics were actually carefully plotted to prevent this vigilante’s own capture.

“And so the Black Lacer puts an end to another evil plot…huh?”

Inside New York’s police department, there was a special agency called the ‘Anti Black Lacer Inquisition’ that focused on tracking and dealing with the eccentric vigilante known only by her self-professed moniker. The chief of the Inquisition tossed down a newspaper onto the table at the center of the small room and the seven other men frowned at the title that read; Black Lacer Strikes Again: Corrupt Board Members Thwarted.

“It really looks like a newspaper printed for a super hero movie…” One of the detectives of the Inquisition murmured in awe. “It’s almost surreal.”

“She dresses and acts like an insane character from a comic book.” Another agreed, but with a harsher tone. “But she’s smart, which is a pain.”

“She calls herself a ‘super villain’ and is just that.” The chief growled fiercely. “We can’t have someone recklessly going around performing judgment like some sort of idiot imitating a movie! It makes the police look bad and she does her fair share of damage! She’s a monster that needs to be stopped!”

The Black Lacer. A strange name, that was for certain. She was known for her completely unorthodox plans and for being completely unpredictable (as well as for being short). Even experts in criminal mentality could make sense of her and it frustrated the detectives here that they could not figure out her true identity despite the fact that she only wore a merely domino mask that hardly covered her face at all. Plus, despite the implication of the tuxedo underneath her cloak, she was a coarse, rude, unreserved, ‘potty-mouthed’ girl who used bad language along with a theatrical flair that made a strange combination. In addition, she looked nineteen, though her age was a controversial topic. Put simply, this woman was not normal.

“Even so, the public loves her.”

The amateur detective known as Faulkner Marigold sat on the couch by the table, frowning at the newspaper with discontent. He was a young man of twenty-five years with shaggy dark hair and slightly toned skin that reflected his mixed Native American ancestry. He wore a suit with the jacket open and his tie loosened so he could breathe and wore glasses with oval frames. He pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he sighed miserably.

“Since she takes independent action that can be considered to be her own sense of justice and puts on a show at the same time, the public enjoys her quite a bit.”

“Yes, I don’t think what she’s doing is exactly wrong, even if she’s pretty drastic.”

Another young detective spoke up immediately, apparently encouraged by Faulkner’s lack of negative tone, and an excited light appeared in his eyes.

“Lately, the crime rate has dropped drastically all over the New England states and people have begun acting more hopeful thanks to her. Even though she’s not a policeman, maybe that’s why criminals are so afraid of her!”

The young detective paused as the chief shot him a fierce glare. A silence drew on that was filled by sighs from the other members of the Inquisition.

“I’m sorry. I guess I said too much.”

“Never fail to state the truth, Daniel.” The chief sighed as the young detective apologized. “It is true that the crime rate has dropped in the entire region. But be careful about what you say about whether what she is doing is right or not. During one of her ‘vigilante missions’, she blew apart an entire building and nearly killed one of my colleagues. She’s out of control.”

Another silence filled the air after this confession. It was clear that there were differing opinions among everyone in the room.

“Well,” Faulkner murmured aloud, mostly to himself. “She’s definitely not normal. That’s for sure. Normal people would think of such an elaborate plan.”

“What do you mean?”

One of the detectives looked toward Faulkner in confusion along with the others as they heard this. Faulkner pointed toward the article on the magazine.

“It says here; ‘Several scattered bills remain in the alleyways and traffic makes a big detour into the crevices of New York City in order to treasure hunt for the free lunch.’ In other words, the alleys are now filled with people, poor or greedy, looking for money that has been neglected. For some reason, I doubt that the Black Lacer did this on accident. If it was on purpose, she’s now got surveillance throughout all the alleys, preventing any shady action from being taken there.”

“…The extortions?” The chief murmured after a moment of thought. “Is she trying to get witnesses for them in order to narrow down where they are occurring?”

“Maybe. The Simon family has been unnaturally active lately and it might have touched her sense of justice.”

“That girl wants to fight a mafia family? She really is insane!”

“She’s meeting the standards she’s set for herself as a villain.” Faulkner corrected grimly. “This is good. This might be our chance to get close to the woman, assuming she doesn’t do anything more crazy that usual.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jackson was a member of the mafia, typically wearing a suit and fedora. He rushed through the hall of a house somewhere in Brooklyn, feeling a bit anxious. He carried an envelope with him and a manila folder. He found the door he was looking for and knocked twice before opening it without waiting for an answer. The room had a desk in it and was filled with casual decoration that didn’t really mean anything. The man behind the desk was a young man with reddish hair and a sly expression that appeared to have been born on his face.

“It’s a message for you, boss.” Jackson said as he opened the envelope. “From the Black Lacer.”

“Oh?” The mafia boss known as Stacy raised an eyebrow as he looked up lazily. “That idiot parading around like some kind of comic hero? This should be good.”

“‘Dear stupid boss of the Simon family. I’m coming for your head, so get ready to suck up if you don’t want to die. Don’t bother running away like a pussie, cause I’m going to kill your sorry ass. Don’t bother trying to get your loser allied families to help either, cause I’ll wipe the floor with them too. See ya soon, stupid boss of the moronic clan for dweebs.’”

Stacy snorted in amusement despite the trash talking. The subordinates were impressed by their leader’s calm disposition when it came to such an infamous person.

“Don’t be such chumps.” Stacy waved a hand indifferently as he sat back in his chair laxly. “Though this person is a devil king, she’s young and inexperienced. We’ll be able to handle this situation on our own. For now, do you have the information on her?”

“Yes sir. We tailed her just as you asked. But...something is a little strange.”

“How is that?”

“Well, first of all we cannot find any clues toward her true identity. She’s a completely enigma. The Black Lacer’s movements are erratic and impossible to predict. But that’s not the most vexing part. Here; look at this.”

The mobster handed a folder filled with a few pieces of paper and several pictures detailing her movements. Stacy observed the picture and his face lost its composure for a moment. The pictures were of Black Lacer, of course, in various moments during her eccentric actions. However, she was not the problem. In every picture, a man in a suit with dark hair and glasses was present behind her. And in every picture, he was looking directly at the camera.

“Who is this man?”

“Black Lacer’s unnamed companion. He’s a crafty jerk who somehow evades even the eyes of the U.S. government. Well, it’s to be expected of the person who was chosen by the devil king to be their right hand.”

The one who answered was not Jackson. Stacy looked up to see a man who had walked into the room without bothering to knock. The men who had been lounging on the couch nearby were on their feet immediately and aimed their guns at the man. Stacy frowned as he sized the man up. He wore a white robe and wore sandals as a very strange combo and his dark hair was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. His dark eyes sparkled ominously as he grinned at the men holding guns at his face.

“Relax.” Stacy sighed as he sat back in his chair. “This is the man I hired to deal with our little problem.”

“Kinsley, at your service.” The man spoke without any reservation in his voice as he looked away from the guns carelessly. His expression had a dangerous look to it that made the men surrounding question his sanity. Were they dealing with another freak? “They call me the Mage Killer. In any case, good job on figuring out that brat’s plans. Sending money around to attract people into the alleys to limit your working range…very clever of her to disguise it under another erratic exploit of hers. Though I’ve got to say, I’m surprised the freaking mafia knows enough about magic to be able to hire a heretic like me to handle a god-slayer.”

“The mafia has its connections.” Stacy replied vaguely in a silky voice as he spread his hands calmly. “Anyways, can you do it?”

“Of course I can! Let me tell you a secret, bud. That brat is the youngest god-slayer in existence. She looks 19, but she probably only a few years older than that. She doesn’t have the prestige like the European, Asian, and African god-slayers. That’s why there are a bunch of ways for me to handle an immature brat like her.”

“Have you met her before?”

“Twice—and I’ll tell you that she’s a pain in the freaking ass. I wanted to kill her…oh, how I’ve wanted to kill her! She’s a spider that I want to squash under my foot. Honestly…she’s more obnoxious than you can imagine. No matter how much you offered to pay me to kill her, I would have done it. After this, I might change my name to ‘Spider Killer’. That would be good…It would serve that damned brat right.”

The mafia members were thoroughly abashed by the Mage Killer’s rambling. What was with all the spider references?

“Anyways, I’m going to borrow a bunch of your men.” Kinsley went on. “We’ll crush that brat in no time.”

Fools in the Night

As packed as New York is, there were always various areas where traffic and people were prevented from going because of construction, leaving empty areas where no one could pass through. Whether it was new apartments, a commercial district, or business offices, things were always being rebuilt. In this particular area, several tall buildings were emptied completely. Inside, they seemed like office buildings with massive windows on every floor to see the outside without letting anyone see inside thanks to the way the light was reflected. Of course, in insides had been stripped bare so it was difficult to guess what it had been used for. But since the city eventually planned to use it for construction and no one could wander in this area even by chance due to how far it was from the streets, it was an ideal place to wait. Beside one of these buildings in particular, an empty playground remained, soon to be torn out as well after lack of use. A sentimental person might have found it sad.

Boccaccio Blandelli only snorted as he eyed this through his scope. It was just like a rich city to care so little for such things. Even though those swing sets were in perfect shape and the mulch was still red from recently being put in, it would all be thrown away as if it had no value. There were starving countries and people who could have made good use of the money that had been put into maintaining this area, but they were insignificant by comparison. The mercenary who was calling the shots—Kinsley, he called himself—had said that their target would appear wherever they waited, and that this was the ideal spot to wait. That may have been true, but Boccaccio suspected that he had decided on this place because it was an excellent representation of the very things that the Black Lacer stood against. That man did an excellent job of spiting his enemy.

Boccaccio’s job was simple, just like any sniper: identify the target then shoot. He sat at the top of the tall building with the many windows that overlooked the playground, his weapon loaded and ready to fire. He lit a cigarette calmly before sticking it in his mouth and taking a deep breath. He’d been working as an assassin for years, evident by his professional aura. In his line of work, he’d never faced someone with such an infamous reputation. Supposedly, the Black Lacer’s superpowers consisted of growing legs from her body, firing thin but strong thread and weaving it into complex designs, and having a body that could withstand even gunfire. Boccaccio found this hard to believe. First off, super heroes or super villains did not exist. This was a given. Secondly, he’d never heard of a monster who could withstand a bullet to the brain, no matter how powerful their ‘super powers’ were.

It was thanks to this line of thinking that he could calmly observe the woman walking down the path toward the park at a lax pace and calmly position himself to aim his gun at her forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Heh, how ridiculous.” Black Lacer chuckled in amusement as she stopped in the empty park, a sly grin on her face. She wore her formal tailcoat underneath a black cloak that reminded one of Count Dracula and her obligatory domino mask. “I made absolutely sure to avoid any means of hiding my presence as I came here to make sure I was noticed. Why the hell have I made it this far without being attacked?”

Black Lacer sighed as she tilted her head to the side and stuck her pinkie in one ear. She fell silent for a moment as her sense of hearing expanded and distant voices reached her, coming from all directions. Mumbling and shallow breathing accompanied by nervous shifting.

“Holy crap.” Black Lacer sighed heavily in exasperation as she lowered her hand and shook her head back and forth. “You momma’s boys are a thousand years too young to ambush me. I can hear you pissing your pants already!”

Black Lacer threw back her cloak as she extended one hand theatrically. It seemed like nothing more than a dramatic movement, and it was true that such a wide motion was entirely unnecessary. However, there was some practicality. Thin lines of what seemed like string flew from her body and were sent in all directions, nearly invisible if not looked at from the right direction under the light. Glass shattered in all directions on the two buildings towering over the park where she was and the sound filled the air, covering several screams as the shards embedded themselves in several unsuspecting men. A grin spread across Black Lacer’s face as dozens of machine guns were still pointed down at her from the space opened above her, now that the windows were gone. The machine guns blared, but Black Lacer was already gone.

The only reason why the mafia was able to keep focused in the situation was because they’d seen it on television. Even so, a few balked a moment at the sight of eight spindly legs sprouted right from the Black Lacer’s back (somehow leaving the cloak unaffected, as if by magic), pushing her up off of the ground to give her movement like a spider. She shot across the ground faster than a cockroach appeared to (even though a human could easily outrun one, they still appeared to move fast due to their size and nearness to the ground) and her legs effortlessly scaled the side of the nearest building, allowing her to shoot up it as if it were a floor.

A few men who were in the same building that she was climbing fired their machine guns down at her, but none touched her due to a strange blast of some sort of energy that was emitted from the Black Lacer’s hand as she thrust her palm forward. The shockwave blew away the bullets and made the men stumble in surprise. The next thing they knew, the arms that had sprouted from Black Lacer’s back suddenly grabbed them by their shirts and threw them out of the building, completely disregarding the fact that they were about five stories high. Black Lacer immediately turned and raised her hand up. The men in the building across from her couldn’t make out what she was saying due to her even being out of range for their bullets, but they saw her lips moving as if making some sort of chant. Bullets suddenly shot from the tips of the Black Lacer’s fingers, having been previously absorbed after being shot at her, and flew with the same velocity as a machine gun. This forced the men to scatter and flee into the building, following the orders of Kinsley. Once things got out of hand, it would be smartest for them to try to get away. These men had no problem doing that.

Except for one man who tripped onto the ground while trying to run. A few of his fellows hesitated as they considered helping him, but seeing the Black Lacer land behind the man, they quickly reconsidered. Their fired their machine guns fiercely at the super villain as they retreated down the stairs. Black Lacer merely laughed as one of her legs grabbed the nearest desk and ripped it out of the ground despite being bolted, using it as a shield against the onslaught of bullets.

“Hold it, pipsqueak.” Black Lacer stomped her foot on the Mafioso’s back as he attempted to crawl away with his hands. His legs were bound tightly by thread that refused to come loose no matter how much he tugged at it. Even his knife had been uselessly to cut it and it was knocked away when Black Lacer pushed down his weight to prevent him from moving. “I have a few questions to ask you. If you behave and answer me, I’ll let you scurry off to your rat hole.”

“Screw you.” The Mafioso growled defiantly. “I ain’t got nothin’ to tell ya.”

“Listen, asshole. I don’t think you understand your situation. If you don’t tell me where your boss is hiding, I’ll seriously crush that skull of yours. I don’t need to prove that I’m telling the truth, do I? Those strange powers I have, like redirecting bullets. There is a basis to them, you know? Like religion and that crap. But I just learned to use the stuff that I’ll actually use. If you won’t be helpful by talking, I guess you can prove your worth as a useless piece of shit by letting me practice on you, eh?”

Though the Mafioso was unsure of what the masked villain was talking about, the evil intent in the girl’s voice was impossible to mistake. He quickly felt his willpower wither as he considered his own life.

“The boss…ain’t here. He’s back with the rest of the family, see. He didn’t need ta come out here.”

“So he didn’t even bother to come and say hi? That sorry bastard is going to get a pleasant visit from Pain and Death.”

A wide smirk appeared on Black Lacer’s face as she listed her foot off of the Mafioso’s back. But instead of taking the thread off of his legs, she brought her foot back and mercilessly kicked him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He slammed into a wall and two of the Black Lacer’s legs wove a net to trap him in, sticking him to the wall.

“What gives?!”

“Shut up. I didn’t kill you, did I? Just stay there until some nice fellow comes by the pick you up. It’s not my problem whether that’s a cop or one of your friends.”

“You bitch! I fucking kill you—”

A gag made of thread wrapped around his mouth tightly to prevent him from continuing as Black Lacer sighed in exasperation, unfazed by his words. Then her eyes widened as she felt a pain spread across her shoulder. Black Lacer glanced at the spot where she felt the pain and saw that her cloak was tinged red. No doubt, her suit was even more wet with the color of her own blood.

“Too close, too close…” Black Lacer murmured as she turned her attention to the direction where the sound of a gun being fired had reached her ears. “Had I not shifted my weight just then, that could have hit a dangerous spot…”

That comment spoke dryly and yet without serious concern, Black Lacer’s eight legs launched her into the air, out the broken window, and up a dozen stories onto the adjacent building where she clung firmly with her legs before climbing up to the roof. What she found there, however, was nothing but a used blanket and a cigarette that was still burning.

“Oho, we’ve got a badass professional on the loose.” Black Lacer whistled laxly. She showed no interest in chasing after the sniper. “He must have hauled ass the moment he missed me.”

“He managed to hurt a devil king, though, which is impressive. Don’t you think?”

Rather than turning, Black Lacer swung one hand back and a small spark of fire erupted in the air, exploding in the face of the person who’d approached behind her. However, Black Lacer was surprised to find that she misfired and her own hair caught on fire. She whirled around and swatted at her dark hair to put out the flames, her arms swing out like bludgeons at the same time. The figure hopped back with a grin to evade the arms and went off the side of the building. Black Lacer snorted impatiently before jumping after him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A breeze managed to find its way through the tall buildings to reach the low park where two figures (and a few men who’d been thrown from five stories high, now either dead or severely injured) remained in silence. On one hand was the infamous Black Lacer who was well-known for her vigilante actions and inhuman nature even in the world of normal people and was known as a god-slaying devil king among the world of wizardry. She wore a formal tailcoat and a coat resembling Count Dracula, as well as a black domino mask. Her block clothing and long black hair clashed with her pale skin. On the other hand was Kinsley the Mage Killer, a notorious mage among the world of wizardry and a mercenary among the normal people who had touched slightly upon the supernatural, such as the mafia. He wore a white robe and sandals and had dark hair that could be pulled into a ponytail. Magic generally wore eccentric clothing that didn’t always work well with the normal world. In particularly America, mages who practiced dark magic were especially prominent. It was common to see the underworld mix with the supernatural, which had things get out of hand. This situation was a wonderful example.

“Long time no see, spider. It’s nice to see that you’re as lively as always, using the privileges of a devil king to its full extent. That Authority you usurped from Arachne seems as useful as always.”

“Hmm? The hell? Who the hell are you, speaking to me like we know each other like drinking buddies or some crap? I’ll kick your ass, jerk-off.”

“Hey, what are you saying? You don’t even remember my face? Granted; we haven’t seen each other since that event. But still, to have forgotten the face of the person who even summoned the god you slayed…you’re just a rude brat, aren’t you?”

“Piss off, asshole.” Black Lacer stuck her tongue out harshly as she gestured rudely toward Kinsley. A dangerous grin appeared on Kinsley’s face as a vein in his temple throbbed.

“You’re really getting on my nerve, brat. Don’t you have an ounce of gratitude?!”

Kinsley raised a metal ring filled with flashcards and energy sparked from them. Black Lacer manipulated her tongue strangely to point the tip toward Kinsley and lightning flew from her, slamming into the gavel made of magical energy that flew at her. The attacks crashed into one another and cancelled out at once between the two of them.

“Those flashcards are a well-hidden grimoire.” Black Lacer observed as her tongue slipped back into her mouth. “Now I remember. You’re that idiot who summoned Arachne a few years ago for some stupid reason like becoming a devil king yourself, only to get your ass handed to you by someone who technically wasn’t even a real god. On that note…I still never kicked your ass for that, did I?”

Black Lacer raised one hand and several bullets flew from her hand as if it had turned into a gun. Kinsley grinned as Black Lacer’s eyes widened. Several bullet wounds opened in her body, coloring the front of her body with red blood.

“What—?” Black Lacer gasped as she staggered slightly.

“Another misfire, huh?” Kinsley chuckled tauntingly. “What a failure of a god-slayer.”

Black Lacer grimaced as she thrust her palms out, her lips moving at the same time as she spoke a chant.

“Maw of the demon of the west, the beast that hordes gold and is the bane of knights as knights are its bane! Bite through the peasant who raises his pitchforks and torches in your direction!”

An avatar erupted from Black Lacer’s palm, taking on the form of a dragon’s head. It sailed toward Kinsley’s small form with its jaws wide open, as if prepared to bite his head off. However, Kinsley smirked without even shifting his body to evade it. The next thing Black Lacer knew, the dragon was flying in Black Lacer’s direction once more. Black Lacer raised her arms up to defend against the force of the attack that sent her skidding back several inches.

It was clear that Kinsley was somehow reflecting her attacks, but how?

“Gyahaha! Pathetic!” Kinsley cackled as he raised his ring of flash cards once more. Energy erupted around him as he gathered magical energy and it began to swirl around him ominously, creating a strange green fire. “What a pathetic brat! It really should have been me who became a god-slayer and ruled the Americas! Not some brat who hasn’t even expanded her control beyond the United States in the past six years!”

The flames flew at Black Lacer and exploded as they slammed into the ground and nearby swings. This green fire was Greek fire—a special fire with unique properties that made it more effective for attacks. Black Lacer did not bother to dodge the inaccurate attacks—moving around would probably get her hurt more. But that was not the reasoning she used. Her body was trembling violently as she hung her head, her dark hair hiding her expression. Kinsley noticed this and began cackling even louder.

“Are you crying, brat? Or are you just terrified that your magic doesn’t work on me? I’m the Mage Killer for a reason, don’t take it too hard. I can manipulate the living essence that magic feeds off of and redirect it! That’s why no mage—no, not even a god!—can hope to fight me!”

No matter what the religion or source, magic had to have come from one of two places—internally from a human’s life essence or externally from the life essence permeating the world. While there was no such thing as a place without life essence—even the desert or tundra had more than enough to sustain highly complicated magic—there were multiple theories that used this basis in the world of wizardry. Apparently Kinsley had created a theory that allowed him to control magic around him. There must have been weak spots or loopholes that a professional mage could find. But even though she was a god-slaying devil king, Black Lacer was no expert on magic.

“Small! You’re a small man, Mage Killer!!! Are you hiding behind your foreskin or something! What kind of bullshit are you spouting?”

Black Lacer raised her head, showing an excited expression as she spoke with a harsh and laughing tone. Magical energy began to swirl around her and took the form of another dragon avatar that towered behind her.

“Controlling the Americas? What sort of generic, pointless, moronic ambition is that?! I’m not interested in uniting the western continents under my rule! I’m not interested in becoming their messiah, or leading the Americas along a path that I believe is right! I’m a fucking villain! I exist for my own selfish desires! I’m a tyrant who reaps the souls of the corrupt higher ups in the government who sit on their high pedestals with their irritating auras! With that sort of ambition in mind, no wonder your butt was whooped by a minor deity from a pointless legend!”

The pointless legend she spoke off was the reason she was a god-slayer, but he didn’t seem to care. Her expression showed a complete lack of sanity that was reflected in Kinsley’s eyes. Kinsley snorted as he focused the Greek fire to fly directing at her on a concentrated path. The dragon towering over Black Lacer dove into the super villain’s body and the girl’s body buckled slightly under the sensation of her body’s characteristic changing to resemble a dragon’s. Her nails became sharp like claws, her skin began to break out in the shape of scales, and her eyes narrowed, turning yellow and the pupils turned into oval slits. Black Lacer charged forward without hesitation, diving through the flames, protected by the scales of a dragon.

“I’ll beat the hell out of you, you fucking retard!”

The Rampaging 'Youngest'

Falkner Marigold sighed as he looked down at the man he’d just knocked out. He man was an older man with a sniper rifle across his back. Judging by the situation with the windows of this building completely shattered along with the fact that no one should have been there to begin with, Falkner made a decision based on his own judgment that this man was someone to knock out—and so he did.

The rest of the Anti-Black Lacer Inquisition was busy arresting Stacy Simon of the mafia. They had expected to find Black Lacer attacking them, but had been surprised to hear that the mafia had acted preemptively after seeing the same clue that Falkner had recognized. Questioning had proved futile, however, as it seemed that the mafia boss had hired another man to deal with Black Lacer and whoever this person was had been smart enough to keep the location of the fighting a secret. After searching the news, it became evident that someone was controlling information when nothing related to the infamous Black Lacer could be found. But the mafia would not have the power to do this, nor would Black Lacer. Knowing who it must have been, Falkner began to search the small new below the headline to see everything going on. After all, there was no doubt that a fight between the mafia and Black Lacer would be considered more important than another shop being robbed or a scandal among celebrities. Once Falkner narrowed down an area where there was no news being reported—and hence, supposedly, nothing going on around there—he unhesitatingly rushed over without bothering to tell his comrades in the Inquisition.

And so he arrived, running into Boccaccio Blandelli. After knocking the man out, Falkner hurried toward the playground as he heard a heavy explosion.

“…Why do I even bother hoping it was someone else who did this?”

Falkner murmured to himself in exasperation as he observed the destruction of the park and the surrounding buildings. Thin beautifully woven strings were extended out to all of the windows that were shattered and there was a small crater in the playground, having blown away all of the mulch. Approaching with his gun still in hand, Falkner saw a single short girl in eccentric clothing standing in the crater, looking slightly beaten up. Falkner pointed his gun at the person’s head, which caught their attention.

“Yo, asshole.” Black Lacer smirked as Falkner lowered his gun with another sigh. “You’re late.”

“I can see that. You’ve made a total mess of this place. But…who on earth were you fighting?”

“Some jerk who can reflect magic attacks. I had to beat the crap out of him with my fists in order to knock him out before I can destroy him with a magic attack. Though I think I might have went overboard.”

There was a crater without even ashes left of the corpse. Rather than going overboard, Falkner suspected that she hadn’t held back at all. Well, that was how the Black Lacer did things. As loudly and flashily as possible while still adhering to her principles. Falkner wondered if all devil kings were so reckless.

“Without even leaving a corpse, it’s difficult to say he’s dead.”

Both Falkner and Black Lacer turned to see a woman and a few men in uniform standing behind them. Several people in uniform piled into the playground and immediately set to work fixing everything. There were also people inside the buildings, replacing the windows and cleaning up the shards. The woman frowned at Black Lacer sternly as she propped up her glasses.

“I’m a thorough person.” Black Lacer assured with a grin. “I completely wiped out that jackass, so don’t worry about it.”

“I can hardly trust your words when you consistently lie to us.”

The woman spoke coldly and the Black Lacer shot her a grin that caused the woman’s frown to deepen as if in fear. Seeing this, Black Lacer simply chuckled. Her legs that represented her Authority usurped from the Greek minor figure of weaving, Arachne, a woman who could weave even better than the gods, sprouted from her back and pushed off of the ground, sending her climbing up a building before disappearing over it. The woman’s gaze went to Falkner immediately and the poor young man cried inwardly, cursing the girl for running away. Basically, she was saying ‘I leave the tedious stuff for the underling’.

“I’m sorry about her reckless actions, but she really can’t help herself.” Falkner apologized sincerely.

“I do not understand why you stand up for her. She’s jeopardizing your position as a member of the Anti Black Lacer Inquisition and leaves you with quite a bit of work.”

“She dislikes cleaning up after herself and has always made my work more difficult since we were kids. I’m used to it. Besides, the Anti-Black Lacer Inquisition isn’t very effective. She seems to enjoy the idea that the government would create a unit for the sole purpose of capturing her.”

Erika Thorton merely snorted at that comment. She was the vice-commander of the only magic organization in the United States. Up until recently, the New World was split into two groups; the heretics and the government associated Patronus. Patronus was one of the world’s biggest magic associations and even had a strong influence on the government. It had been their power that had prevented news about the fighting going on here. Even the small tweets about something strange occurring in this area that was off-limits had probably been prevented from being posted, disguised as errors and failed up-loads.

As mentioned before, the United States’ world of wizardry had been split into two groups until recently. Now there was a third group, another made up by wizards who were not affiliated with the government or Patronus, nor were they ‘dark’ mages. These were people who had their loyalty with the young devil king who claimed to be a super-villain. While most who claimed to be a part of this group have never met the Black Lacer before in person, they still supported her openly. Technically, Falkner Marigold was the vice-commander of this group, even though it was never discussed. This gave him the same title as Erika Thorton, even though she had far more influence and power.

The nth Holy War

Two years ago, the Roman war god known as Mars descended and caused a major conflict in Eastern Europe. When heretic gods manifested, they often caused various forces of destruction to come about. While not all gods who appeared were heretic (and so not all caused trouble for the world), the appearance of gods is significant in both the world of magic and wizardry as well as the world of normalcy.

This world where normal people without knowledge of magic coexisted with magicians and witches is called the mortal world. Above the mortal world exists a multitude of heavens and pantheons belonging to gods, such as Olympus and Asgard, where gods normally reside. Below the mortal world exists a multitude of underworlds and hells such as the Duat and Hades where gods also reside. And no matter how high a person may go, nor how deep down, they cannot find either Heaven or Hell. The reason for this is a concept similar to wavelengths. One can only see visible light—anything above or below on the spectrum is not perceivable. The same was with sound—anything too loud or too quiet cannot be heard. It isn’t until a god manifests in the mortal world personally that they become perceivable. And even then, their divinity prevented them from being properly recognized by nonbelievers and those who did not possess enough magical power to observe them. The magic power used to bring a god into the mortal world is quite a bit as it is, even for beings said to be omnipotent such as gods.

That said, is there not a way to provide the magical power to summon a god from the mortal world by providing the magical power necessary from their side? Just like opening a door from the outside for someone inside, it was theoretically possible. After all, gods are essentially deities as perceived by man. Myths, legends, folklores, stories…all these things attest to their existence and act as a link to the mortal world. The fact that we can say the name of a god who was worshipped thousands of years ago is proof of their immortality and influence. They are made up of the stories and faith that people have for them. Gods exist through the minds and egos of Man. ‘They created reality and reality sustains them. They are nature and the impossibilities in life. Reality exists, therefore they are.’ This is a basic teaching within any school of magic. While providing the magical power necessary to summon a god takes time and effort (and usually many sacrifices), it is not impossible, however frowned upon.

With that logic, a question has been asked. Gods were made up of our myths and stories. So if we made up a story about a new and unique god and spread it around the world, would that essentially be creating a new god?

“The arguments against it are as expected. ‘Such a thing would immediately be rejected as heresy and occult.’ ‘How can one prove that the stories make the gods rather than the gods making the stories?’ This logic is predictable. However, those who are stubborn with a curious mind will not let the opinions of others sway them. The person who initially proposed this theory still wishes to prove or disprove it. Morals mean nothing before her ambition. As such, her ambition shall be crushed by the morals she ignores so dutifully.”

The one speaking was none other than Grandmaster Charles Saint-Richelieu, the devil king of Western Europe who led the Holy Crusaders, one of the largest magical military factions in the world that was known for being able to trample everything in its path before even reaching its destination. Charles stood atop a tank that was at the head of the massive army as it crossed European soil, away from the eyes of civilization. An army this size should not be able to move quickly, unnoticed or not. However, with the aid of certain traveling magic, they were able to cross through whole countries in a matter of days by foot. At this moment, they were moving across German plains, heading for Poland and then Ukraine. Their target was simple—the witch’s guild in Kiev Manor.

“Fedosia Martel became a devil king while researching gods, right?” Spencer Nicolson spoke from inside the tank Charles stood atop. He was an excellent long bowman and a sharpshooter that could fire the tank’s cannon to strike an opponent barely within range of his scope. He had short dirty blonde hair and wore a glove that a single small gem in it could sprout into a magic bow when he needed. “I had heard that she was called the Queen of Witches before then due to her deep knowledge of magic and her heretic beliefs.”

“Her contribution to the world of magic is undeniable.” Yvon D’Argent sighed as he sat in the seat that controlled the tank’s movements. He was the vice-commander of the Holy Crusaders and one of twenty-four paladins in the world. He had silvery hair and wore a blue and black striped stole to signify his rank. “This is the perfect example of her genius. Though they will deny it immediately, it is well-known that both the Queen of Witches and King Elseyed are both masters of magic. However, there is a line which even the Queen of Witches cannot cross.”

Two years ago, Mars had caused war in Eastern Europe. But that wasn’t all. The Wild Hunt, one of Europe’s darkest folklores, had rampaged at the same time under the war god’s control which only increased their frightful strength. The Holy Crusaders had succeeded in wiping them out, as is their job. However, some questions had been left behind. While defeated heretic gods left behind their Authorities (that is, a representation of their power and strength as a god) behind as a spoil of war to be claimed by the one who defeats them, Mars had left none. This had meant that Lady Fedosia Martel, demon king and witch of Eastern Europe, had interfered beyond merely stealing the god’s main Authority—the Spear of Mars. In addition to that, it was unsure as to why she had stolen it to begin with. Charles was unwilling to let this pass without investigation and was unhappy by what he found. The Queen of Witches was evidently continuing her research in creating gods and had likely been testing to see what extent she could alter an already existing legend. As more and more proof of her dangerous experimentation became obvious, Charles became more and more infuriated.

Charles Saint Richelieu was a devout Christian who denied the existence of pagan gods and believed that the sacred commandment of ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’ could be ignored on the exception that violence was used on infidels. He would not hesitate to slaughter a school ground of children if they were all possessed by violent demons. At the same time, however, he would throw himself before a full powered railgun if it was pointed at the same school if the children within it were all benign and innocent. Merciless enough to be a commander on the same level as Genghis Khan and Richard the Lion-Hearted, but benevolent enough to be called a saint. This was the man who’d immediately called a Crusade on Kiev Manor.

“…My liege.”

Spencer spoke as he observed something in the distance through the scope that he used to aim his cannon. Something was waiting in their path and as they approached, it became more and more clear that it was the same size as even the Holy Crusaders.

Countless tanks and soldiers stopped their advance as Charles stepped off of the tank to stand at the front of the army. His eyes narrowed as his expression remained firm. He placed his large broad sword before him with the tip digging into the ground at his feet and his hands extended in front of him to lay on the pommel of his sword. This was the familiar posture Charles took naturally. It reflected his position as a king in this new era where democracy ruled.

Charles Saint-Richelieu stood firmly at the head of the entire battalion of tanks belonging to the Holy Crusaders, wearing his suit of armor with his cape billowing in the wind behind him. The entire force of the Crusaders was halted on the grassy plains of Germany, as if unable to pass by a certain road block. Charles faced that very roadblock, one that even forced an army led by a devil king to a stop.

An army roughly the same size as the Holy Crusaders with their tanks and soldiers remained opposite to the Crusaders with approximately two-hundred yards of grass between them. These tanks were different from the Crusaders as their color was a dark green and blood red, whereas the Crusaders’ were gold and scarlet red. The tanks were shaped slightly differently, indicating the difference in use. Those tanks were capable of crossing the seas and oceans of the world and maneuver on any island. The Crusaders’ tanks were capable of traveling across enormous stretches of land and mowing down any town unfortunate enough to be in its way. The difference was entirely visible, even to one who knew nothing about tanks.

A silence had filled the air as the Crusaders spotted the flag held in the air above the tanks, displaying a red dragon’s maw that was in stark contrast to the red cross flying over the tanks of the Holy Crusaders.

“My lord, those are the Bloodlust Normans.” Yvon D’Argent said as he and Elizabeth Renoir stood on either side of the devil king (though one respectful step back). “We had heard that they had mobilized from Scandinavia, but for them to be here…”

“They only rule the land belonging to the Norse, don’t they?” Elizabeth asked with a small frown on her face. She wore her modified army as usual, her golden hair tied into a bun to keep it from getting into her eyes. She carried a shield with a red cross emblazoned on its surface. “Why have they come down further than Denmark?”

“Germany was once part of the Holy Roman Empire and a big portion of the Viking territory at the same time. His Majesty and the leader of the Bloodlust Normans have contested the land countless times before, so it essentially remains neutral territory. If they are blocking us here, then there is room for little speculation.”

Yvon spoke grimly as Charles narrowed his emerald eyes in the direction of the enemy forces. A lone tank moved forward, breaking from the tight formation of the tanks as it came from the very head. As the tank came forward, it transformed it’s appearance. It’s entire body morphed like the movies depicted a Transformer changing form, only this turned from a dark green and blood red tank into a chariot being pulled by two powerful oxen—a feat no Transformer could ever pull off (or anyone, for that matter) without magic. The oxen came to a slow stop still several yards away and three people hopped out of the chariot and headed toward Charles and his two knights. The latter two stood erect and formally as they saw who it was coming.

The small group coming consisted of two men and one woman. The one woman was slightly short for her age, wearing a winter coat open over a black sports bra, baring her abdomen. She wore the bottom portion of a tunic similar to a skirt and her boots crushed the grass beneath her as she walked with a long stride to match the pace of the other two. Her fiery colored hair lay down her back like a wave of flames, draping over the sheathed sword strapped across her back. Judging from her clothing and cold look in her eyes, she was most likely a Valkyrie—a maiden of war from the Scandinavian countries that excelled in both magic and combat.

Beside her, two men walked, one ahead of the other to indicate a difference in rank. The one who walked at the same pace as the woman was a man in a German military uniform with medals glittering across his chest underneath the sun. He had blonde greasy hear half-hidden under his military cap and pretty blue eyes that made his coy expression all the more cruel as he held his arms folded behind his back as he strode forward, managing to make it look like a casual pace.

Finally, the last man was walking ahead of the other two with a grin on his face, his stride completely unreserved and, unlike the other two, held none of the solemnity necessary when greeting a devil king such as Charles. He was the perfect example of someone who was well-built without being unnaturally huge. This man wore a short sleeved winter coat that exposed his muscular forearms with animal fur especially abundant around the collar and had dark hair he probably never did more to than wash, letting it hang flat on his head, sometimes getting in his one good eye. He wore an eye patch over his right eye but was clearly used to it, as he showed no hesitation toward his blind side as he walked. His expression was surprisingly friendly as the three came to a stop before Charles and his knights.

Ils se parlent

“Long time no see, god-slaying knight of the Holy Roman Empire.” The man wearing the eye patch greeted with a cocky grin on his face. “Have you been well?”

“Do you to ask if I still feel the wounds from our battle?” Charles asked with an amused sigh, showing a rare smile to this man. “I’d be lying if I said no, Mobile Fortress.”

Jarl (or ‘Earl’) Svanhildr Víðarr, known as the ‘Mobile Fortress’, clasped hands with Charles firmly as if they were acknowledging old friends. The two knights at Charles’ side paid no mind to the massive disparity between the tension they held and the familiarity of the two devil kings, as did the man dressed as a military general, but the girl with red hair audibly sighed as she shook her head back and forth, reflecting the feelings of the other three without reservation.

“I’ll get right to the point, Charlie.” Svanhildr Víðarr abandoned all formality as he used the name only he could use for Charles, putting his hands on his hip as he spoke. “You plan to go to Eastern Europe to suppress Kiev Manor, essentially halting its activity, right?”

“That goes without saying. It is a holy war to prevent a witch from inexcusable heresy, after all.”

“And you intend to assault Ukraine in order to get your point across, crushing anyone who may get in your way.”

“What is your point, Van?”

“Right, right. Bluntly speaking; I’m going to stop you. The entire Bloodlust Normans will not budge from this spot. If you want to keep going, you’re going to have to defeat each and every one of us.”

“Do you mean to start a war?!” Yvon snapped angrily as he stepped forward daringly. The girl with fiery hair stepped forward at the same time and both of their hands flew to the hilts of their swords in preparation to draw. The two devil kings paid no mind to them as they continued to glare into each other’s eyes.

“Why would you support that witch’s actions?” Charles demanded in a low tone as his golden brows knit together. “Or have you simply been forced into this by one of her tricks?”

“I’m doing this of my own free will, Charlie.” Svanhildr assured. “I do not like your motivation. You aren’t going to fight—you’re going to slaughter.”

“That is the difference between you and I. I fight with victory in my sights, even if I must crush countless for that vision. You, on the other hand, only seek pleasure no matter the outcome.”

“Look at it however you like—you aren’t moving past this point without a fight. I’ll give you five hours to decide. Step back and leave if you don’t want bloodshed. Step forward and draw your weapons if you plan to fight.”

Svanhildr spoke these threatening words with a grin showing how much he enjoyed it as he turned on his heel. His two retainers followed after him, hopping into the chariot that made a U-turn and returned to its spot at the head of the Bloodlust Norman army.

“Supposedly, the Bloodlust Normans are our equals on the battlefield. If we get into a fight here, it’s doubtful we’ll be able to siege Kiev Manor with any more than half our current battle potential.”

Elizabeth spoke these words aloud with a frown as she frowned in thought. Yvon sighed bitterly as he sheathed his sword once more, having drawn it out halfway by instinct earlier. He turned to face Charles, who remained where he was with a fierce expression in his eyes.

“The way things stand now, it would probably spare more lives if we returned home now.” Yvon admitted. “But we shall, of course, follow Your Majesty’s decision without complaint. What do you wish to do, sir?”

“What do you think, Yvon?” Charles asked rhetorically as he picked his sword up to aim the tip toward the sky, and gripping the hilt tightly with his right hand. “We came here to purge. If we return without doing so, what will that tell my men? That their leader was far too much of a coward to fight? That he hid when the odds were against him? That he values his unnatural life more than the cross he fights under? I shall not stand for any of it! If Van will be foolish enough to stand before the Holy Crusaders, we shall trample him in our wake, just like we would with anything else!”

Proudly standing tall, Charles Saint-Richelieu spoke without any hesitation, showing no concern for the enormous threat another devil king presented him with. His countenance would remain unchanged as he charged forth with a legion of his men following him, mourning any death but never regretting his decisions. He was a true king that these holy soldiers would follow into the very depths of hell.

Meanwhile…

“Jarl Van,” The fiery haired girl name Bayloupe spoke as Svanhildr spread his body out in the chariot, relaxing as he shut his one good eye. “You know Lord Saint-Richelieu better than anyone else does. You are well-aware that he would sooner be burned on the stake before submitting to a threat to his life. Since he’s determined to mete out proper justice, even your presence is trivial to him.”

“Yeah? What about it?” Svanhildr yawned lazily. Bayloupe sighed in exasperation.

“You only gave him those five hours in order to take a nap, didn’t you?”

“It was out of magnanimity!”

Sigmund, the German in the military uniform, observed the relaxing devil king for a moment before turning his attention to the man lying atop the nearest tank on his back. The long shaft of a dangerous spear stuck over the side beside the man.

“Guðrún, our opponent is an army led by another devil king. By this point, I don’t even need to tell you, do I?”

“Relax, Sigmund. If there is one thing I know, it’s how to fight. You worry too much.”

“The fighting will break out with us already fully aware of one another’s positions. Even the smallest preparation will change the battlefield significantly.”

Sigmund spoke with a small grin as the man named Guðrún waved a hand in response to his previous comment. The Bloodlust Normans was well-known for its excellent combat ability both on land and in the sea. Using the strong diversity of Norse spells, they’re unpredictability was one of their biggest advantages. However, the thing they were most feared for was their brutality and sheer battle spirit. When these thugs clashed with the Holy Crusaders who known for their mastership in offensive attacks, the results were difficult to predict. Especially with their leaders being so contradictory. Mobile Fortress was known for being able to unleash an incredible amount of fire power while chasing a target. The god-slaying knight, on the other hand, could take on an atomic bomb and return the damage without flinching. It was unlikely that this beautiful landscape of grass would remain this way for much longer.

From Fairy to Tiger to Goat

East China was one of the oldest civilizations to have been settled in during the earlier ages, when most people were still nomads traveling the world. China itself is one of the most prominent nations in the world of magic and is the very center the oriental, influencing all other cultures around it. Any magician who would call themselves and expert would know about their culture. Someone such as Xenias had even gone as far as to learn the different dialects of the language.

Much of China was advanced. It was one of the world’s most powerful nations and so had many bustling cities and high tech facilities. One of the largest dams in the world blocked one of the two rivers that was the foundation for ancient Chinese civilization in the east. At the same time, there were countless places that reminded one of going through China’s past with whole villages that were self-sufficient without any help from other towns or even electricity. It was truly an exciting visit for someone who studied history.

But the landmark Xenias had come to see was particularly modern. A massive crater that was probably around two-hundred meters deep was gaping in the earth, having wiped away everything that would have been there before. There were signs of melting ice within the crater and water was flowing in, steadily filling the crater. Soon enough, the vines surrounding the crater would vanish and a salt lake would form. Of course, only the world of wizardry was aware of what this was. The Chinese government was hiding this phenomenon from the masses, using their power as a Communist nation. After all, how does one explain the manifestation of a god to one who knew nothing of magic?

Xenias was standing by the edge of the crater silently as several men worked to fix the damage. The smell of grapes tinged the air, proving just how recent this event had been. Xenias was a young woman with long bleach colored hair and black clothing that set her apart from normal people, regardless of race. Her skin was pale and soft, giving her the overall appearance of a fairy and she carried a sword with a pitch black blade on her belt that radiated with a creepy aura that kept others away from her. Her expression was blank as she eyed the crater critically and calculatingly. As a member of the witch’s guild in Kiev Manor from Eastern Europe, this fell under her expertise to an extent.

“Aiya? This is a surprise. What is a European mage doing in a place like this?”

A worker had apparently noticed her despite the ward the pitch black sword created and approached her with a friendly smile. He wore raggedy work clothes and his skin was smudged with mud and dirt from his work, but Xenias was not fooled. His black hair was pulled into a clean braid and his movements were too deliberate. A normal person would be unsettled by the presence she was purposely emitting, but that was not it. The way he moved…he was clearly not a trusting person. A human naturally had a 180 degree vision, even though they normally did not pay much attention to their peripheral. In addition, there were numerous reflective objects around to allow a person to keep track of everything around them—especially behind. That way, they could not be snuck up on. This sort of caution was abnormal for a person who had no reason to expect an attack from behind and left small, nearly unnoticeable, idiosyncrasies, such as a difference in timing with their reactions. Xenias had the same quirks, so she could recognize them easily. Whoever this man was, it was no coincidence that he decided to approach her.

“Upon hearing that an occidental heretic god had appeared in China, I was ordered to investigate.” Xenias replied carefully. “Unsurprisingly, this was over before I could arrive. I assume the empress was prompt with her duties?”

“Yes, Her Eminence was quite giddy when she noticed that a god had appeared in her territory and she wasted no time confronting him. I believe this was just two hours ago. She has quite a bit of time on her hands, you see.”

Due to their pseudo-immortality, god-slayers tended to have a different sense of time than normal people, often taking their time with things patiently as they took advantage of their endless time before them. It was rare for them to have such prompt reaction when it came to dealing with gods like this. This was a fact that Xenias knew from experience.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why you were so interested in coming here to see this god.” The Chinese man went on with the same friendly smile. “I’m sure the Queen of Witches would not send out her prized gatekeeper while her manor is in danger for absolute no reason.”

Xenias’ eyes narrowed drastically at the man’s words before she turned her back to him with a swish of her hair. After taking a few steps away, her body morphed into a black raven in an instant before taking to the air and flying west. The Chinese man watched her leave with a dry expression as he sighed.

“Well then, from what I can tell, you must have come to see if the occidental god left anything.” The man named Hsien-Shao Bao-Wong-Ling murmured as he turned his attention back to the massive crater. “Her Eminence did not receive any Authority after dealing such a devastating blow to the heretic god from Greece, so there are a few possibilities. This was right after the god had manifested and started doing damage, so we can assume that Dionysus—or Bacchus, whichever form he was in—should not have been harmed by anyone else beforehand. With that line of thinking, why did he even come to begin with?”

“What an interesting development.” Hsien-Shao chuckled as he decided to recap aloud in order to put his thoughts back in order. It was a simple attempt to reach a conclusion through logic and reasoning without becoming mixed up. Through methods such as talking to oneself, one could find the answer to what seemed to be a difficult problem quite easily. “It seems the reason why the occidental god did not leave behind any spoils is because he is still alive. To have lowered himself to escaping underground…no, such a pitiful escape would be necessary to escape from a devil king who refuses to acknowledge the shameful. Nevertheless, it’s still baffling that the cult leader Bacchus would manifest in China. Since there is nothing linking the god to this country, that leaves little other possibility aside from someone performing the summoning ritual…”

Hsien-Shao’s face became pensive as he slipped into deep thought. Just then, the faintest rustling came from the bushes nearby and Hsien-Shao’s sharp senses caught it immediately. Any normal person would pass it off as the wind, but it was far too carefully camouflaged as such. Though Hsien-Shao remained relaxed, his senses opened up and his awareness expanded. It was a natural skill that came to him without even requiring that he modify his breathing patterns.

At the same moment, a figure burst from the bushes behind him and flew toward him, possibly aware that they had been noticed. Hsien-Shao turned on his heel and brought his arms up to block the swipe from the attacker’s hand. The person wore a hoody to hide his face and body-shape, as well as baggy pants, but Hsien-Shao recognized the smell of goat immediately and smiled as the figure kicked out ferociously and struck Hsien-Shao’s chest as the swift movement bypassed his defensive posture. It was quick and powerful, like an animal. Hsien-Shao retreated back several feet to a safe distance as he observed his attacker carefully.

“A faun, eh? Excellent. If you are attacking me, you must be aware of your leader’s fate, yes?”

Rather than answering, the hooded faun continued to attack using his brute force. As part goat, its physical ability was higher than a human’s. But someone like Hsien-Shao could hardly be compared to a human when it came to sheer martial arts. In a move too quick and fluid to see properly, Hsien-Shao grabbed and pinned the faun’s four limbs to the ground using his own four limbs, moving his body in an unnatural way in order to do so. The faun found himself unable to resist what felt like Hsien-Shao’s gentle pushing and soon found himself with his face in the dirt.

“If you do not wish to speak of your own volition,” Hsien-Shao spoke calmly and smoothly as he remained poised over the faun, holding his weight down firmly. “We have multiple ways of forcing the information out of you. Of course, your cult leader might be angry if you simply divulge the information you know without at least giving a fight. But I will not hold back if you continue to harbor such ridiculous notions of honor and nobility. So…with a lion at the front and a tiger in the back, which door shall you choose?”

I have to say, Exorcist, you have a very intriguing writing style. I quite enjoy it and this story is no exception. XD. Good work, man!

Charisma Comes in Too Many Forms

“You know what? You should just put on a mask and become my sidekick. That way you won’t have to worry about preserving your image among those morons in the police department.”

“It would look strange if I left all of the sudden now when the superhero that I’m supposed to be trying to capture suddenly gains a new sidekick the same height as me.”

“Hey, half-wit. What the hell did I tell you about calling me a ‘hero’? At least say ‘antihero’! It gives me hives when you talk about me like some kind of protagonist!”

“Think better of yourself, why don’t you? And anyone else would be able to tell that you’re no protagonist from the word ‘capture’…” Falkner sighed in exasperation as the small girl in a black suit, cloak, and domino mask glared at him ferociously. They were at the very top of a skyscraping tower in New York City, sitting in a penthouse under the skylight that encompassed. They sat across from each other at a small table, food and drinks before them. This was the not-so-secret-base for the ‘super villain’ devil king of America, Black Lacer.

Samantha Tilburg was still in full costume, wearing her suit and domino mask that obscured her face from recognition. She acted completely without manners, grabbing a turkey leg and ripped it apart with her teeth, speaking with her mouth full. She had even resorted to waving it at Faulkner as she chastised him when he referred to her as a ‘hero’.

“I am perfectly aware that you want to erect some metaphorical shrine for me so you may worship my existence and choke the chicken.” Sam said as she bit into the turkey leg once more. “But if you’re going to do it, make sure you label me as a super villain. I don’t care if I saved you from being eaten by a bunch of vultures like the ones that ate Prometheus’ regenerating liver last month. I only did it because if you died, I wouldn’t have anyone to mess with. And I’d have to do all the freaking paper work on my own. Screw that!”

Faulkner sighed as Sam proceeded to slurp the pasta into her mouth and swallow without chewing. For someone so small, she was a very big eater. Of course, she was never going to grow again due to her aging having been halted. But she’d only been a devil king for a few years and her habits had hardly changed. When one slays a god, their life literally changes forever. And yet this girl’s perspective didn’t change at all. To be frank, that just went to show how big and unshakeable her ego was. Some could argue that that was a good thing.

“I get that you want to be a super villain. I really do. But rather than being evil, your methods are just unique and complete overkill. Holding all of Wall-Street captive in order to draw out the cult? Weaving a thread to hang them all from the Empire State Building, threatening to drop them if they didn’t talk? Exposing half-naked corporation leaders to the media and scattering envelopes of money into all the alleyways in order to get people taking that route more often, just so the mafia would have a harder time moving around?”

“I was feeling surprisingly meek for that last one and I wound up getting more beaten up than normal…”

“Effective as they are, it’s not natural for a person to be so direct yet roundabout at the same time! The world of American wizardry has a hard time as seeing you as a villain or a hero, especially since you’re a devil king. If you really want to be evil or something like that, you’d have to start as an anarchist, becoming the country’s leading domestic terrorist or something. Of course, there is your recent work in the underground where you’ve got the some mafia families and dozens of other gangs in your debt and your charity to human trafficking…why are you even doing that sort of shady business anyways? Are you even listening? Sam!”

Faulkner ground his teeth in irritation as the girl continued to inhale the noodles loudly without responding.

“Sam…”

More slurping.

“Samantha!”

No response.

Falkner sighed in exasperation as he face-palmed. “Black Lacer.”

“What the hell do you want, Falkner?”

“Why are you even still in your costume? This is the one place where you don’t have to be careful about whether you are a devil king or a normal thuggish girl.”

Falkner fell silent as Sam abruptly slammed one foot against the table, sending empty plates and utensils clattering to the ground. She smartly picked up the last remaining bowl of chips in her hands so they wouldn’t fall.

“Listen up, faggot. I’ve told you before and I’ll freaking tell you again: I’m a villain. I always will be and always have been. It’s not even my hobby; it’s who I am. You remember how I used to bully you back in middle and high school? I didn’t take your lunch money. I went all the way with forcing you to confess to two girls at the same time, made you dance like an anglerfish on stage, and got you chased by a bear. For some reason, you decided to follow me when I became a god-slayer right before graduation and I haven’t gotten any nicer. In fact, I’ve gotten worst, obvious just by hearing the few things you listed. I know I’m a monster—I killed a god, after all. I plan to fulfill my role in life as being a demon by being the best fucking demon there is. I’ll kick a god’s ass if they come by because I’m a villain. I’ll spare a god for the same damn reason. Become an anarchist and America’s ruling domestic terrorist? I’ve already gone beyond that point and I’ll continue to get worse.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you still in costume?”

“Up yours, Falco. That’s why.”

“Don’t call me that! I won’t become your stupid sidekick!”

Samantha merely gave him the finger as she finished the chips and tossed the bowl onto the table. It was obvious that the two were close friends—one tolerated the other’s nagging while the other tolerated the other’s rudeness. This was simply a major example that exemplified the difference between the devil kings in the eastern hemisphere and the youngest god-slayer of the century.

Heat in the Monsters' Shadows

Three hours into the fighting, the grassy plains of Germany were already covered in holes and arrows from the misfires from the archers and tanks from both sides. Weapons clashed among the foot soldiers but the clashing of steel was lost among the sound of cannons firing. War cries echoed and magic spells hummed through the air. Long range, close range, high speed, tactical…many aspects of war were apparent among the two armies.

The Bloodlust Normans, known for their brutality, and the Holy Crusaders, known for their offensive force. The former charged at the call of ‘Panzer Vor!’, while the latter charged at the call of ‘For the cross!’ It went without saying that it was a battle of kings.

Spencer Nicolson and ‘Calvary Chief’ Sigmund were locked in deadlock within their tanks. It was rare for the ‘flag-tanks’ to lock in direct combat, but there was little choice on this occasion. A lot of strategy and tactics had gone out the window the moment the two armies found themselves directly in front of one another.

The flag-tank of the Bloodlust Normans was called ‘Sleipnir’ and was also a magic tool. Originally a chariot pulled by oxen, it could turn into a tank in order to blend in with the army and in modern society. It had the power to travel through air, across the sea, and across the land. However, that did not give it much advantage against the Holy Crusader’s flag-tank when Spencer was inside. Having called two spare soldiers to drive the tank and handle reloading, the other two had left to attack in close combat. Spencer handled the cannon and fired with the precision of a sniper, taking out three tanks before the two armies even met. He had fired one expertly aimed shell at the Sleipnir as well, but Sigmund was an expert driver. He easily manipulated the controls to evade the shot, which surprised Spencer.

“Oho…” Spencer grinned as he licked his lips in anticipation. His face was pressed to the scope as he aimed at the moving tank that demanded all of his attention. “Not bad…”

“The Crusaders have an interesting way of greeting their opponent.” Sigmund murmured as he worked the controls, looking through the scope that was special for this tank in particular, allowing him to navigate without help. “I suppose I should show him the German greeting.”

Grass and dirt was thrown up as the wheels of the tanks turned ferociously, making them jerk at the same time as they fired their cannons, both missing narrowly. The Holy Crusader’s flag-tank was caught off-guard as the Sleipnir suddenly rammed into their side full force with the barrel of the cannon aimed point blank. However, the attack was narrowly avoided as the Crusader’s flag-tank skidded to the side abruptly, moving around the Sleipnir with its momentum as it dug a large rut in the ground. Spencer grinned as he pulled the trigger and fired the cannon point blank at the Sleipnir. Smoke rose along with the collision, but as the wind blew it away, it revealed nothing but a small mark on the surface of the tank.

“Considering that they had to dodge,” Sigmund murmured indifferently. “Their armor must be quite thin. Fire before they retreat.”

“Ah crap.” Spencer clicked his tongue as the driver pulled back immediately, zigzagging to evade the shots that followed them. “I suspected it at first, but that thing really is a KV-2, called the ‘beast of the highway’ in World War II…Its armor’s so thick, it took an entire platoon of German tanks to take it down. Guess I’ll have to snipe the weak spots in its armor. Oi, put some distance between us and make sure it doesn’t hit us.”

“Let’s see if this opponent is a worthy enemy when it comes to panzer.” Sigmund rolled his shoulders as a small playful smile appeared on his lips. His clear blue eyes sparkled with an excitement that was in contrast with his relaxed posture. “I’ll calmly corner him into a corner before finally putting them out of their misery.”

“Using the least amount of ammo should be best…Relying on your thick armor will be your downfall.” Spencer chuckled as he kept the scope on his opponent. He fidgeted anxiously as his eyes took in the external appearance of the KV-2 Sleipnir and attempted to deduce its weak point even though he didn’t have a map of its design. “Arrogance is the easiest to shoot down.”

Two opponents that could not see each other’s faces yet analyzed and predicted the ability and strategy of the other stranger. Modern warfare was stepping one foot into the age of heroes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Leader of the charge! Shield of the masses! The golden sun that burns bright in the sky! Tossing gold and silver into the air, it rains down on a sea of bloodshed!”

Elizabeth Renoir stabbed her rapier into the ground at her feet and there was only a short pause before several black spires shot out of the ground around her, encaging her. Flames roared forth and crashed into the spires, but found no purchase. The flames receded almost immediately afterward and the spires dug into the ground once more. Elizabeth frowned as she jabbed her rapier into the air and several small white bullets that were really prayer beads shot forward as if from a handgun. Bayloupe easily shifted her body to evade them without taking her eyes off of Elizabeth.

“Spears that shoot forth from the air, meant to pierce through the bodies of all who stand over it…A nice spell for combat, but it’s not Christian. I’m surprised that you know Greek spells as well.”

“Christianity found a lot of support in Greece.” Elizabeth said as she held her rapier and shield up before her. The red cross emblazoned in the shield reflected the light of the sun coming from above. “There is nothing wrong with using spells from their culture.”

“I see.” Bayloupe responded dryly as she raised her hand. A ball of flames appeared and she tossed it forward. It turned into a stream of fire that flew at Elizabeth, who simply raised her shield. The flames slammed into the shield, but Elizabeth only skidded back a few inches, her heels digging into the dirt. Then the flames flew off into the air as Elizabeth redirected it. Elizabeth immediately stabbed her rapier into the ground and more spears erupted from the ground. They took a path straight toward Bayloupe who sent a whip of flames out in front of her. The flames erupted into a large wall that blocked the spires before it could reach her.

“As I thought.” Elizabeth murmured as she rushed forward in a full sprint, her rapier raised. “Those flames aren’t meant for offense. There are stories about several means of protecting one’s treasure in Norse mythology. One of the many ways is to cast a spell over it that creates flames that prevent the chest from being touched. It’s one of the few defensive fire spells.”

“Excellent deduction considering I was using it offensively until that moment.”

Bayloupe drew her sword from across her back and dodged Elizabeth’s thrust. Her sword clashed against the shield several times but could not bypass Elizabeth’s defenses. Bayloupe’s eyes widened as Elizabeth’s boot came out and slammed into her side, though a wall of flame appeared and blocked most of the impact. Elizabeth targeted the small opening by bashing her shield into Bayloupe with all of her strength, sending the girl flying back several feet, though she quickly regained her balance and straightened herself. Her red hair was thrown wildly across her face but she made no attempt to fix it.

“Valkyries are maidens of battle who are experts in both combat and magic, just like a knight.” Elizabeth said as she slowly approached, her emerald eyes narrowed against the embers being thrown into the air by the wind. Small fires had taken form on the grassy plains, but not just due to Bayloupe’s spells. Other spells from other soldiers as well as the firepower from the tanks was to blame as well. The landscape was already being destroyed even though the long fighting had just begun. “And you are considered the Mobile Fortress’ right hand. Devil Hair Bayloupe, why do I feel hesitation in the blade of someone of such prestige?”

“You mean to say my blade is dull?” Bayloupe confirmed with a dry smile that held no humor. “Perhaps this is so. I am the blade of Jarl Van, but perhaps this is self-proclaimed. When it comes down to it, I cannot muster up the courage to fight with all my zeal when two monsters fight on a level that casts shadows down on us all.”

Bayloupe indicated upward where two powerful forces were indeed colliding with blows that rung across all of Germany. Elizabeth did not have to even look up to understand. Bayloupe wished for a splendid battle, no doubt. She considered herself a sword that should be swung for the benefit of Svanhildr and Svanhildr only. Her loyalty to the devil king was certainly admirable. But seeing him fight a battle that she could not take part it seemed to hurt her pride, which dulled her blade. Elizabeth had gone through a similar inferiority complex before and it sometimes returned to her during battle. However, she never let it keep her down.

“Hold your head high, Devil Hair. There is greater shame in acknowledging your inferiority than actually being inferior. There is a vast difference between those who merely wallow in pity and those who strive to climb to new heights. If you wish to be swung for your king’s sake, then become a blade worth swinging. My resolve is to become a warrior who can uphold His Majesty’s ideals so that he does not continue to burden himself with it alone. If I give up, that dream shall never be realized. Do you understand?”

“You think that normal people like us can compare to devil kings?” Bayloupe eyed Elizabeth in disbelief. “That sounds quite arrogant.”

“We live in a world where the arrogant are right if they are the winners. Do you wish to be the wrong loser, Devil Hair?”

Bayloupe’s eyes narrowed as a dangerous expression crossed her face. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword as she raised it slightly.

“…Fine then, Elizabeth Renoir. I understand. You plan to point out the shameful blemish on my honor without mercy even though it’s useless to fight it? Fine then! I’ll simply crush you and show you how futile your arrogance is! Hrunting!”

Bayloupe’s hair was suddenly washed in a brighter red that truly resembled a hellish color, hence her epithet. Her sword, too, changed shape and color. A red substance began to flow over the broad sword in her hand and formed a new shape. The substance was like a viscous mix of blood and syrup as it molded into a curved shape with several sharp across the top. The result was a different and bigger sword altogether that looked much sharper and more deadly. Bayloupe’s eyes locked on Elizabeth as she raised this sword and Elizabeth instinctively raised her shield up. The look in Bayloupe’s eyes had abruptly lost its sobriety that had been the focus of Elizabeth’s ridiculous just a moment ago and had been replaced by the expression of one who had snapped.

Bayloupe’s lips moved slightly as words spilled lazily from her mouth.

“I’ll praise you if you can handle this for more than few minutes, Renoir…if you slip for even a second, you’ll die.”

Then Bayloupe launched herself forward with a single jump. Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she immediately hopped back into the air as Bayloupe approached like a train. The curved sword in her hand slashed across the shield three times before Elizabeth even landed on the ground once more and her heels sunk into the ground to absorb the consequent blows. Elizabeth gritted her teeth as she thrust her rapier at Bayloupe’s head, but the Valkyrie evaded with a cock of her head. Bayloupe’s expression remained impassive as her sword fell down like a guillotine and Elizabeth was forced to side step entirely to dodge it, unable to block in time. Elizabeth’s rapier shot out quickly, using magic to strike twice in a single moment, but Bayloupe’s sword skill allowed her to deflect both strikes at once. It was almost as if this was an entirely different person.

“Divine possession…” Elizabeth murmured as she retreated several feet after Bayloupe jumped into the air and attempted to bring her sword down on Elizabeth once again, missing and getting the blade stuck in the earth. “And a legendary artifact, just like Yvon. I’m impressed.”

“Be impressed after my next assault.” Bayloupe spoke in a toneless voice as she approached in an unrestrained manner. “I’ll definitely draw blood, maybe even an entire limb.”

Succession of Legends

“The blade that can never be destroyed and is said to bring victory to its wielder, huh? As I expected, that’s a tough opponent to beat.”

Guðrún smirked despite his disadvantaged position. He was a tall man wearing clothes that had obvious once been animal hide. In fact, he never wore anything that didn’t come from an animal that he had killed personally. His upper body was bare except for the short furry coat he wore over his shoulders in a similar fashion to a cape. He had spiky dark hair and carried a heavy looking spear that was about seven meters in length. With this weapon, he’d been able to carve a path through the knights of the Holy Crusaders and had taken out three tanks. For a man to take out cavalry on foot was an absurd thought, but it had happened. It was because this man was so obviously different from the other warriors of the Bloodlust Normans that he had attracted the attention of an important member of the Holy Crusaders.

Yvon D’Argent stood about ten meters away, cautiously aware of the spear in the man’s hand. Yvon was a paladin; one of twenty-four in the world (though they all resided in Europe) that had mastered the way of the knight. His strength was on par with a warrior who used divine possession, which was basically a warrior allowing a deity to partially possess them, giving them strength beyond a normal person’s. In addition to that, he wielded the legendary sword of Durendal that had once belonged to one of the original paladins known as Roland. Legends said that just by wielding it, the user was promised victory. Also, as the name implied, the sword was indestructible.

However, this was called into question as he stood before Guðrún who had survived the heavy gash that Yvon had delivered to his chest. Yvon himself had received a bloody wound to his side from the spear that Guðrún held. It was clear that there was some question behind the theory that he was promised definite victory. (The latter theory of indestructibility was in question because a small portion of the sword was missing near the pommel. It was incased in a cliff within Rocamadour, France, according to local folklore.)

If Yvon remembered correctly, Norse mythology was special in relation to other myths and legends because the gods weren’t powerful all on their own. One’s strength was reflected by the strength of the weapon the wielded. If a god carried a weapon that could blow up planets, they’d immediately become a god capable of destroying planets. Arguably, some could look at it as them being able to wield the weapons because they were strong enough to, but the focus in the stories emphasizes more on the weapons. As such, if there was a weapon in Norse mythology that never suffered defeat, then consequently that god would be powerful and undefeatable so long as they wielded that weapon. It was a drastic definition of symbolism.

“The sword of the harvest god Freyr…” Yvon murmured at last as he narrowed his eyes. “A weapon that never saw defeat. Freyr only lost when he went to war after leaving the sword behind.”

“That’s the barebones explanation, but yeah.” Guðrún waved his spear casually as he grinned carelessly, unconcerned that his secret had been discovered. “Like you, I wield a weapon that can bring victory to the wielder. Wanna see which of these weapons is more powerful, paladin?”

“This is just my observation…but do you use any other magic aside from mere support magic?”

“I suck at any techniques that don’t involve powering up my attacks, so I don’t bother with them.”

“I see…In that case, I will refrain from using flamboyant spells as well.”

Yvon gripped his sword tightly as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air around him seemed to calm drastically before becoming charged with a strange sensation that was like the air burning. Guðrún recognized this as killing intent and his smirk widened.

“Interesting. Fine then. I, ‘Iron Stake’ Guðrún accept your challenge!”

His spear was abruptly covered in a blue light and he gripped the shaft with two hands and charged forward, thrusting forward with incredible strength. Yvon braced his legs as he raised his sword to block, his teeth gritted. The sound of the two invincible weapons echoed through the air as an incredible shockwave emitted from them, blowing away knights and warrior fighting nearby indiscriminately.

The Sub-Divinities Wave the Same Flag Yet Argue Nonetheless

Svanhildr Víðarr was one of the oldest living devil kings along with two others known as Empress Mei Fong and King Elseyad. It was unclear who was the oldest among the three and none of them was willing to shed light on the matter. It was just that irrelevant. After all, age did not represent strength among the devil kings. However, it did reflect overall experience. Among all of the devil kings, it was widely agreed that Svanhildr carried the most sheer offensive power.

When it came to Authorities, it was difficult to say there was any solid rule. It is thought that each devil king only receives one Authority per god slain. However, there have been many instances where god-slayers have received ‘sets’ of Authorities that came together as a package deal. Svanhildr’s main Authority was just that.

“Scorch the sky and bring glory to the earth! Beginning and the end, the sustainer of life and death! Be the light of the heavens and burn like all the hells!”

“Grant me the power to grip evil and strangle it mercilessly! No matter how poisonous and acidic it may be! I shall grip it! No matter how slippery it may be like the shadows! I shall grip it! Járngreipr!”

A major wave of pure heat and flames flew through the air like a solar flare, expanding like a powerful atomic bomb being detonated above ground. It was the sort of situation that people imagined would end up destroying the earth when the sun went super nova. But even this incredible blast was redirected upwards to sail away from the earth, bursting through the atmosphere and into the heavens. It looked like something had braced their hands beneath it and tossed it upwards despite the incredible heat and intangibility that the super nova possessed.

The two monsters who had been the cause of this were a few feet away from each other in the air as if flying. Svanhildr was grinning as his one good eye sparkled with excitement. Charles had the same firm expression he always wore as he carried his heavy broad sword in one hand. However there were numerous changes that had occurred to these two.

First off, Svanhildr was now armed. He had a belt wrapped around his waist tightly with two tools placed in it—a small hammer and a short staff. On his hands, he wore gloves that looked more like a blacksmith’s rather than warrior greaves. These were all part of his Authority set that he had usurped from the well-known Thor, protector of Midgard, god of thunder, and wielder of a hammer that could destroy mountains.

Charles had two visible changes to him as well. On his head was a crown made of light and flames that looked like a crown that belonged to a king of western royalty, fitting him perfectly. This Authority was Viracocha’s crown of fire that gave Charles the power to create miniature suns and fire solar beams, solar flares, super novas, and so on. It was his only Authority meant for offense. His other change was less obvious unless one looked at the air behind his back. The light in the air was refracting ever so slightly, making the vaguest shape to reveal the invisible set of angel wings that extended from his back. It was the reason he could fly and could move at high speeds thanks to defeating the fallen angel known as Azazel.

“I’ll tell you once again, Van.” Charles pointed the tip of his sword at his old friend’s face despite the great distance between the two. “You are making a severe mistake. Fedosia Martel has crossed the line with her experiments and she must be stopped. You’ll regret letting yourself be used by her.”

“I have to disagree.” Svanhildr replied as he casually drew his hammer and staff from his belt to hold in his gloves. The tools were far heavier than their size implied and Svanhildr’s muscles rippled like a wave. The staff extended from a few inches in length to nearly seven feet long in a crack of electricity. Dark clouds were already beginning to gather overhead. “It is natural for kings to be at odds, but you only seek bloodshed to satisfy your hunger for justice. You’re trying to punish that woman based on a conclusion you came to on your own without considering her position. How can this be fair trial?”

“This is no trial. This is merely divine retribution. To crush those who oppose God and show them the truth of their erroneous ways. This is justice!”

“How do you know that justice of yours is not misguided?” Svanhildr sighed with a shake of his head. “You’re simply a radical who claims to understand your god’s will. Isn’t that simply arrogance?”

“Are not all men arrogant to believe God shall do everything for them? That He shall help them and carry them to His palace so long as they believe without doing anything? How can we say that God does not want us to act in his stead? You’d have to be a radical to say for sure that you know more about God’s will than I, who follows him devoutly. The very fact that I am willing to act is proof of my determination. After all, swinging your blade under the banner of justice is far better than swinging it without a cause at all.”

“Every time we argue, we come to the same conclusion, eh?” Svanhildr chuckled with a grin. “Ah well. I guess we’ll just have to talk with violence!”

Svanhildr swung his short hammer with one hand as if it were a baseball bat and lightning sparked from it as it flew in a straight path toward Charles at the speed of light. Charles’ wings disappeared from sight as he moved with incredibly speed, completely evading the bolt of lightning as he charged at Svanhildr with his sword raised. Svanhildr grinned as his staff sparked with electricity and he moved like a bolt of lightning, flying in a straight path for a couple of meters as he evaded Charles’ swing that cleaved the air. Charles whirled around in midair and his sword clashed fiercely with Svanhildr’s staff. Charles cocked his head back as Svanhildr swung his hammer up and the hammer slipped from Svanhildr’s grip, flying up into the air. Charles capitalized on the moment to slam his knee into Svanhildr’s body (though Svanhildr’s abs were actually strong enough to act as a makeshift plate of armor when tense to block the blow) and Charles chopped down with his sword, using all of his strength.

“Whoa!” Svanhildr chuckled as he barely evaded by dodging backwards. Even though the blade didn’t touch him, a cut appeared on his cheek, followed by a drip of red blood. Svanhildr’s staff flew forward as he jabbed it like an expert all billiards and the tip crashed into Charles’ armor. The blow itself was strong enough to crush a building, but thanks to Charles’ ever-active Authority usurped from Gaia, he was unharmed. However, the burst of lightning that followed sent Charles reeling back several feet as he gritted his teeth painfully.

“Fear the might that crushes mountains and evil alike!” Svanhildr called as he shot into the air as his staff turned his temporarily into lighting to allow him to fly upward like a lightning bolt. “Might that destroys the enemies of the innocent! Might that shows no mercy to the demons of Hel! Fear the mighty Mjölnir!”

With that name called, Svanhildr grabbed the falling hammer in one hand and a lightning bolt fell from the dark clouds above him, striking the hammer. Svanhildr fell down toward Charles, using the momentum of gravity to increase the strength of his blow. Charles gritted his teeth as he braced himself with his sword raised. Using an attack that could easily blow away mountains, it would easily crush his armor even with Gaia’s Authority active. It was for this reason that Svanhildr had always proven to be a difficult opponent for Charles no matter how many times the two fought.

Charles’ sun crown burned brightly as a ball of light and flames manifested over him in the air, swirling as the energy inside it condensed with its own gravity at the center. Charles gripped his sword tightly in his hands as he made a full swing that cleave right through the sun and caused an immediate reaction. The energy from the small sun fired in the same direction as his slash, flying up toward Svanhildr as it spread wide into a blast of pure heat and light that burned away the very oxygen in the air. Svanhildr did not hesitate to slam his hammer into the sun that flew at him and a massive crack of thunder shook the air, even distracting those fighting below them for a moment.

“Receive my sword of divine justice!” Charles called as his invisible wings flapped once and he moved with the speed of an angel, putting him behind Svanhildr in an instant. Svanhildr had evaded the full brunt of the solar beam by moving to the side after his lightning bolt forced the attack to stall for a moment. While he was falling beside the pillar energy that could probably sustain the earth for several hundred years, Charles swung down on him with merciless force as the blade of his sword glowed a bright golden color from his holy magic. Svanhildr swung his staff around and it sparked with electricity as their weapons collided fiercely. They traded blows in quick succession with force that was mistaken for thunder cracks from below and Svanhildr grinned as Charles suddenly found himself numb from the blows. The electricity had found its way through his body gradually and paralyzed the knight. Svanhildr quickly pressed his knuckles together as he made fists, positioning his body firmly in the air.

“I summon Brahma, the creator!”

Svanhildr called on his second Authority and a large avatar materialized over Svanhildr. It was an Indian man with four identical faces looking in different directions and four arms, each representing a different portion of the human mentality; mind, intellect, ego, and self-confidence. In the hands, they held a string of prayer beads, a book, a Vedas, and a scepter. No weapons.

Charles grimaced uselessly as he tried to force his body to move. But the paralysis was tough and his limbs wouldn’t move. The thunder clouds above him descended on him like a blanket of darkness, forming a sphere around him that hid him from sight. The clouds molded into an Indian palace with intricate designs and architecture that seemed unnecessary considering these were clouds. However, this was the naturally effect of Brahma. Svanhildr’s second Authority was the Hindu Trimūrti, essentially the power to control the three concepts of creation, maintenance, and destruction. For about five seconds. Brahma could use anything nearby to create a construct of Svanhildr’s imagination.

“Sturdy as an oak tree, fast as lightning, capable of destroying a mountain with a single swing, and wielding the power to catch evasive evil…The Authority of Thor, protector of the earth, will not falter even before divine might! I summon all the lightning that flies down from the heavens to char the earth!”

The sky rumbled with thunder as the sphere of thunder clouds was charged with electricity and mercilessly sent lightning bolts within itself to injure the captive. Svanhildr did not hesitate to raise his hammer and swing down on the sphere of clouds as lightning fell from above and crashed into his hammer, creating a forceful lightning bolt that could crush mountains.

A figure flew from the sphere of clouds and sailed to the earth like a meteor. Countless men below immediately threw themselves to the ground as the god-slaying knight crashed into the earth, creating a massive crater in the ground. Several eyes shot up to Svanhildr who stuck both his staff and hammer into his belt as he smirked.

“That’s what you get for acting recklessly, Charlie! Justice that goes too far is just evil! What use is it to swing your sword if it is under a falsely labeled banner?”

With Charles Saint-Richelieu incapacitated, the rest of the Holy Crusaders would be wiped out by the Bloodlust Normans and their leader. When it came to beings on the level of god-slayers and gods, this was how war was often decided.

“You’re determined to stand in the way of my ideals to the very end, are you? Van!”

This undeterred voice boomed through the air as one man stood up in the crater. Charles glared up at Svanhildr with his sword still gripped in his hand, his emerald green eyes flaring. Many of the knights nearby breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of this. Charles was undoubtedly hurt by the last devastating attack, but he would not succumb to his wounds so easily. It was difficult to even tell that he was hurt with the way he stood proudly.

Svanhildr was completely unfazed to see Charles standing and merely sighed in exasperation.

“You’re as stubborn with your ideals as always, Charlie. This world isn’t painted in black and white.”

“Of course not. It’s distinguished between heaven and hell. Good and evil. Right and wrong. I shall stand for what I believe is right no matter how hard you try to convince me.”

“Then we have no choice but to move onto round two, eh?”

“I’ll face you as many times as it takes to prove my resolve to you!”

Two people strong enough to slay gods, both in strength and in personality. They stand proudly before one another with their own ideals supporting them as they stubbornly clash. This is what it means to be a king—no. This is what it means to be a god-slaying devil king.

Powers Bigger than Life Are at Work, Aren't They?

Fedosia Martel frowned as she sat within her throne room, staring at the waterfall that cascaded into the pond before her. Kiev Manor was the home of the only ‘legal’ witch’s guild that is led by the devil king known as the Queen of Witches. Though there were only three students of the witch’s guild under the master, there were countless ceramic statues throughout the entire mansion that served as excellent obedient guards.

Polyushka Regnar silently entered the throne room and set down a tea cup beside Fedosia as she glanced at the waterfall curiously. Polyushka was the eldest of the three students and was a beautiful young woman with dark hair wearing a proper maid’s outfit. If their facial structure was more similar, she and Fedosia may have been related. Fedosia wore an elegant backless black dress and had silk gloves that extended up to her elbows. Her expressionless face did not change as she picked up the tea cup and took a sip calmly.

The waterfall that was used for scrying had several images reflecting off its surface. The scenes mostly consisted of the fighting going on between the two devil kings in Germany as well as the damage left by the Chinese devil king after having fought a god. Though such things may have been interesting to see, Fedosia was increasingly frustrated with her own powers of precognition. She was missing something—she was well aware of it. But even though she was missing something, she could not figure out what it was. No matter how hard she searched, she found no definitive answers. She could only speculate without any true proof. Why did she have this terrible feeling? Was it related to the event two years ago when Mars had descended to the mortal world?

“Mistress.”

A voice came softly from the steps before Fedosia’s throne. Kneeling on one knee with her head bowed was Xenias, the gatekeeper of Kiev Manor. Fedosia’s eyes peered toward her and narrowed slightly.

“Well?” Fedosia demanded with a slightly impatient tone.

“It seems that it was a mix of both Bacchus and Dionysus in characteristic and the deity is still alive. I suspect that the Chinese god-slayer will finish him off soon enough and Quincy is nearly finished with the preparations. Furthermore, it is highly probable that the god was summoned through heretic methods.”

“That would confirm our theory.” Polyushka sighed as she turned her attention to Fedosia, who shut her eyes for a moment after hearing that news. “What shall we do?”

“Those two are simply having fun causing trouble.” Fedosia sighed as she lifted herself off of her throne. “So we’ll start by interrupting them. If things go as I expect, that is all we will need to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All over Europe, Asia, and Africa, there were countless magic cabals, far more than could be counted. They typically pledged their loyalty to the nearest devil king for the sake of self-preservation and only the big ones made any movements that could make the world turn. While these magical associations were dealt with on a daily level through the politics of the wizardry world, one could not even begin to memorize the name and history of each one, as they pop up like pimples and sometimes vanish just as quickly.

It was different in the United States. There were several cults that caused trouble, taking part in heresy and other dangerous magic and made up about thirty percent of magic users in the fifty states. On the other hand, there weren’t nearly as many magical associations that practiced proper and traditional magic. In fact, there was only one. Patronus was a major magic association that spread all over the fifty states of America, as well as its territories. For nearly two-hundred years since the American Revolution, when the British magical association ceased its protection of the formerly known colonies, this association had ruled as the biggest and most influential magical association in all of the New World. It had enormous sway both in American politics and the world of wizardry in the east. They absorbed any magical associations that popped up within the states almost immediately and kept the dark guilds and cults in check all on its own. It was always an unspoken prediction that if and when a devil king appeared in America, they would become the Fuhrer—the uncontested leader of the large organization.

Though the name appealed to a certain eccentric devil king who eventually appeared, the idea of leading such a large magical association conflicted with her own plans of becoming a super villain.

“‘Fuhrer Black Lacer’ doesn’t have a bad ring to it, but since all the other devil kings have already been taking on names used for the various monarchs in the world, what fun would it be if I just copied them?”

“Say what you like; you’re nothing if not unreasonable.”

Samantha Tilburg sat laxly outside a coffee shop, sitting under the shade of an umbrella propped over the table she sat at. She held a coffee mug in her hand as she sat in an unflattering position that was entirely characteristic of this thuggish girl.

She had an earpiece attached to her ear that she spoke into, having a conversation with someone who wasn’t present physically.

As a side note, Sam was speaking with the same voice as Black Lacer despite not wearing her disguise. As such, she was obviously conversing with someone who only knew her as Black Lacer.

“Anyone else would have taken the influential position that was practically waiting for them, rather than refusing for a reason like that. While all the other devil kings are rulers of some sort, you’re just an ambiguous alias with a mysterious identity.”

“Sucks, huh? I don’t really give a damn about how those old-fashioned guys do it in the east. Here in America, I do things how I want to. It’s not like we’ve ever emulated them when it came to these sorts of things before, right? America’s not fond of kings.”

“But it’s fond of positions of power. Well, whatever; I’m not going to argue about this with you again.”

“Smart choice, Fuhrer.”

A grin appeared on Sam’s face as she used a taunting tone, referring to the person she was speaking to with a formal title, though it was done mockingly. The person on the other line sighed and chuckled once, apparently used to dealing with this difficult devil king.

Far away from New York, all the way in Washington D.C. and below the Washington Monument was a secret headquarters for a powerful association. In the most confidential and inaccessible portion of this wide underground labyrinth was a lavish room with a desk that had a golden and purple sash wrapped around its perimeter, giving it a very royal appearance. Someone was sitting in the comfortable leather swivel chair behind the desk, holding a phone up to her ear. She wore a grey woman’s military uniform and an open black military general’s jacket. She wore high black boots with five inch heels as sharp as spikes, resembling a style high school students might wear for fun. The woman’s face, however had a sophisticated sort of beauty that resembled one who could order an entire battalion to sacrifice themselves in battle in order to bring better results, all with a composed voice and smile. She had long blonde curls and bright blue eyes that sung with amusement from the conversation she was having. While her face could be described as either beautiful or cute, depending on the one describing it, one with good eyes or instincts would shudder at the shadow in her eyes that was the only real sign of a dark personality and black heart that was hidden under a façade.

“At any rate, Black Lacer, have you heard? The three devil kings of Europe are having a series of conflicts right now. Grandmaster Saint-Richelieu and his Holy Crusaders have attempted to attack Lady Martel in Ukraine, but they were intercepted by the Bloodlust Normans and their leader, Jarl Víðarr. The two armies are currently in deadlock.”

“Oh? It seems to me like the Queen of Witches set those two up against one another and is now sitting back to laugh at them making asses of themselves.”

“Right? That’s exactly what I had presumed at first. Sometimes I wonder if they are even aware of how strongly their decisions affect the world. Things have been quite stressful in politics as a result of their rivalries. But that’s not even the best part. It seems that during this past week, a lot has happened in China. A god materialized and was presumably defeated, but then it’s effects continue to rage throughout the country twice as hard. It’s like biological warfare has broken out in Asia. There are even some of us worrying that it will turn into an incident similar to the Bubonic Plague.”

“Really now?” Black Lacer laughed amiably, not the least bothered by this news. “Are you sure it’s not one of Coyote’s pranks? That jackass would pull that sort of crap.”

“Coyote hasn’t been sighted for the past three weeks, but we’d at least notice if he left the country. Besides, he’s technically a benevolent god. However, we’ve got some unreliable rumors about a man who resembles Kinsley sneaking onto a plane bound for Pakistan. It is not unlikely that he ‘disembarked’ while the plane was flying over China.”

“‘Kinsley’? You mean that bastard with the ponytail who can cause magic spells to lose their structure and backfire, right?”

“Yep. Your best friend, the Mage Killer.”

“That mother-fucker. He’s alive?! He should at least still be hiding quietly somewhere in the fetal position, licking his loins like a good kid after barely getting away from me with his life. I should kick that pretentious ass of his!”

“Let me guess what you’re thinking, Lacy. You plan on going abroad to China in order to find the Mage Killer and finish things, killing the heretic god there if you happen to run into him, right?”

“I’ll be borrowing the Flying Dutchman, Alicia. It’ll be over so fast, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Let me tell you right now. We’ve been treading on thin ice when it comes to Empress Mei Fong, the devil king of China. Our ‘American mentality’, as you call it, completely disagrees with her ideals. If our devil king barges into her territory unannounced, I shudder to imagine the consequences we’d suffer. The last thing we want is to become like the Europeans who can’t even lock eyes without butting heads. As such, do not even think about going to China until we’ve at least sent word ahead and received a reply.”

It was a rare occasion for a mere mage, even one as influential as the Fuhrer, to refuse to will of a devil king. That just went to show how different the etiquette in America was compared to the rest of the world.

“What a kill joy. Fine, I’ll try to behave myself. For now.”

Eccentricity at it's Finest: Enter Alexander!

Alicia Renolds, the Fuhrer of Patronus, strode along a dock by the ocean with Erika Thorton, her assistant/secretary, directly behind her. Alicia was naturally poised with elegance and composure, so even the normal people who spotted her immediately made way to the women wearing the military uniform. And even if they missed this, they would have cringed away under the sharp look of disapproval Erika gave everyone they passed.

The two came to their destination at the furthest point of the dock, where the magic airship that could never sit on land, the Flying Dutchman, was supposed to have been. The sight that met them provoked exasperated reactions from the two professionals.

“This was to be expected from a devil king.” Erika murmured as she propped up her glasses irritably. “Absolutely no restraint used.”

“Still, you must admire her work.” Alicia said casually as she observed the sight with one eye open, the other shut against the sudden sea breeze that blew salt into her face. “Especially since it was on such short notice.”

Before them was a mess of web that was so firm, it almost seemed like thread (or rope, as it was so thick). The webs were draped around the buildings and posts by the dock much like streamers for a party. Higher above them, several men who worked at the dock—all men from Patronus—hung upside down, completely encased in the thread up to their necks. They swung slowly and resembled a bunch of chandeliers or mirror balls hanging from a ceiling. It was a very obvious reference to a party, indicating that a certain talented weaver was planning to enjoy herself with the ghost ship that was now missing from the dock.

“My, oh my…”

Alicia murmured this over the chorus of apologies coming from the men trapped above them. She didn’t both responding, but once she looked up toward them, she saw something that made her even more amused. As if to leave behind a signature to make absolutely sure Alicia would not be mistaken on who had left this mess, the men were all hanging in a pattern, creating a single unmistakable shape when looking directly up at them, creating a hand with a single finger sticking out, giving Alicia a nice and pretty bird.

“I suppose it is a blessing that she refused the office of Fuhrer, considering her lack of subtlety…”

Erika murmured this with a tone of reproach before looking away from the offending sign and regarding Alicia critically.

“Ms. Renolds, I must confirm something. You told the Black Lacer explicitly not to act until we received a reply from China in regards to the message we sent, yes? In spite of knowing her personality?”

“I told her so because I knew her personality, of course.” Alicia correctly casually. “What of it?”

“If she shows up in China now, before the reply comes, it will look like we sent her without really considering the message we sent to be anything more than formality, which may increase the animosity gained from this coming incident. Or…did you predict this would happen and allowed it to, thinking the Black Lacer would bluntly state that she was acting against our wishes?”

“What do you think, Erika?” Alicia responded vaguely. “As you know, god-slayers are revered and respected for two reasons—because they are good at their job, and because we can use them if we appeal to their egos. As Fuhrer, I cannot let the perfect opportunity slip by just because of some political limitations, can I?”

Fuhrer was the title for the undisputed leader of the big organization known as Patronus. But it was a position a person had to fight to receive with political skill and knowledge of magic. In a way, this woman with blonde curls and a pretty face could be said to be just as dangerous as a devil king when it came to the mind alone.

“…Ms. Renolds, no matter how many years I work under you, I still feel chills down my spine when you smile so prettily after saying such scaring things.”

“Geez, Erika! When you put it like that, it sounds like I’m older than you! We all know I still have many years of youth ahead of me before my skin begins to wrinkle.”

“…What exactly are you implying?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“One minute, I’m minding my business in the shopping center, spending the paycheck I finally received for my work in the police…” Falkner Marigold murmured quietly to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And now I suddenly find myself speeding off to China at the whim of a spoiled child. Can this get any worse?”

“Shut up with the drama and call Alex.” Black Lacer yawned indifferently as she sat down in the corridor they were in and leaned against the wall with her arms behind her head. The size of the Flying Dutchman could be likened to a building. It was massive and was split into different sections as it was made for cruising, similar to a cruise ship. Its level of speed was beyond that of a normal cruising vessel, of course, and it was for people of the magical world. But it was not on a cruise at this moment anyhow. It was going through its periodic maintenance and was being brought around the world once to make sure all was well. There were also personnel being trained as well as some extremely important people on board who were being given special treatment for various reasons. Considering that it was about August, most people were at work or school anyhow, so it was completely natural for this airship that was meant for cruising to be empty.

Falkner simply sighed reluctantly as he brought out his phone and dialed the number for the person Black Lacer referred to as Alex. After a few rings, someone answered.

“It has been a long time, my friend.” A voice that was deliberately grandiose and dramatic spoke in a way that was far different from the standard ‘hello’. “While I have been through quite a bit in the last few weeks, I am sure you’ve been through many more hells than I have. However, it is part of your character to be naturally unfortunate, so I shall spare you the pity.”

“Thanks a lot, Alex.” Falkner didn’t both to try and match this person’s pace. It tired him out quickly when he tried. “Did you make it on the ship? We didn’t see you when we arrived in Washington D.C. nor when we boarded, so I bet you’re already on but can’t find your way to us, right? In other words, you’re lost.”

“Very perceptive.” Alex spoke arrogantly even when he should have been embarrassed. “Indeed! I, Alexander Terrarium, have lost my way within this massive airship called the ‘Flying Dutchman’! It is so empty, one could truly call it a ghost ship, to be honest. However, you need not worry for me, Marigold. Shall I tell you why? With my perfect memory, it shall not be long before I memorize the ship’s layout. By that point, I shall be moving through its interior as if it were my backyard.”

Falkner put the phone on speaker as Alex spoke and set it down next to Black Lacer and the devil king merely grinned slightly as she heard Alex’s voice.

“Yo, drama queen. I see you’re in high spirits as always.”

“Well if it isn’t the Antihero of the United States.” Alexander seemed thrilled to hear Black Lacer’s voice. Alexander Terrarium was in fact one of the few people of Black Lacer’s growing ‘group’ that had actually met her. Though they had met several times in the past few years, he did not know her real identity. In fact, he did not seem to care about it. Falkner could go as far as to say he sometimes took caution not to ever find out. “For the main antagonist of this world to have requested the assistance of the Dimensional Blade, this must be a very interesting job.”

“Have I ever disappointed?”

“Never. So what is the situation?”

Black Lacer shot a look toward Falkner and the poor boy merely sighed before taking a deep breath to get his thoughts in order.

“Well, I’m sure you know about Black Lacer’s fight with the mafia more than a week ago. While destroying property as usual, she ran into Kinsley the Mage Killer and lost her temper. So she proceeded to mercilessly beat away at him until nothing was left but a crater in the earth. But now it turns out that he might still be alive and might be the cause of a god being summoned in China. So we’re going there now to check it out.”

“Kinsley the Mage Killer…in other words, the same sorcerer who summoned Arachne before losing and being saved by the main antagonist by chance? If he’s doing this sort of thing, it is highly likely that he’s trying to become a devil king again. Heh. He’s quite the sore loser, isn’t he?”

“…I have problems with how you say Black Lacer ‘saved’ him, but other than that, you’re pretty much right.”

“So there you bastards have it.”

Black Lacer yawned once more after Falkner mumbled his reply. She shut her eyes as she grimaced.

“We’ll begin investigating once we reach China. Until then, do whatever you want.”

“Yes, you’re Highness!”

Alex answered enthusiastically before the phone hung up. Falkner frowned at Black Lacer as he pocketed his phone.

“Sam, do you plan on sleeping?”

“I don’t know who the hell that Sam person is, but I played FPS all last night without even shutting my eyes for a minute. Of course I’m going to freaking sleep!”

“Don’t say that like it’s totally naturally…and what about me? I doubt I’ll have to stay nearby and keep an eye on you…”

“How about you go and start investigating, then? They don’t know we’re onboard, so it should be simple enough for you.”

Falkner frowned at that. Though neither of them had talked about it before, they already knew that this airship’s passengers did not just consist of trainees, their instructors, important people getting special treatment, and themselves. Ever since they’d gotten on, they had noticed something strange. It was highly likely that there were others from a third party that had snuck on as well. Aside from the security, a person who infiltrated should also keep an eye out for the slight coincidence of another group infiltrating as well. One could learn quite a bit that way.

“I guess I’ll be the assistant that actually works…” Falkner muttered as he drew out a handgun from his belt and gripped it in his hand as he started down the hallway. Black Lacer’s eyes were shut as she went to sleep, but a grin was still on her face, showing that she had yet to pass out yet. It irritated Falkner how willing he was to do as she asked despite the circumstances.

The Strings of Fate Rush to Intertwine in but a Second

A beautiful song that could only be played on a string instrument filled an elegant Chinese throne room as a figure played an instrument that resembled a lute with a round body. The extravagant room itself looked as if it belonged to a goddess and it looked incredibly traditional, lacking any modernization. Up the steps to where the throne usually sat was a privacy wall usually used by one who was changing clothes. The silhouette of a robed figure sitting among several cushions could be seen wielding the yueqin that looked like a round lute, and judging by their movements, it was clear that they were the one creating the divine melody that pervaded the air like a chorus of angels.

Beside the privacy wall was a gorgeous bust of the person behind the wall that was so realistic, one would assume a goddess had been frozen in marble. It was unspeakably beautiful, but it wasn’t Chinese. It was of Greek inspiration, revived during the Italian age of rebirth. Such an object, beautiful as it was, should have clashed with the oriental decorum of the room, but the intricate placing of every little detail seemed to make it work without much resistance.

It was below this divine bust where a letter had been opened before being cast aside lay. It was evident who the sender had been.

“Speak, Hsien-Shao.”

“As you believed, it seems that the wine god escaped death, though barely.”

Hsien-Shao Bao-Wong-Ling kneeled at the bottom of the steps and had arrived silently, not daring to speak before being spoken to. He knew how to handle this person better than anyone else.

“I see. Quite stubborn, isn’t he?”

“I have also caught a faun who has resisted all attempts to wrest information, despite our gentle handling. With your permission, we can use less civil methods to persuade him, Your Eminence.”

“Do as you wish.” The figure behind the wall replied casually as she released her fingers from the strings of her instrument and strummed it once. A beautiful sound rang throughout the room from the perfectly tuned instrument. “Whatever means you deem necessary have already been deemed acceptable by me.”

“Forgive my pursuing the subject…but do you not wish to inquire about what my methods will be?”

“I do not have the time to expend doubting you, my faithful servant. The methods you put to use hold none of my interest. If they turn out to require my attention, then I shall deal with it accordingly at that time and only then.”

Though Hsien-Shao could not see it, he could imagine the beatific smile the empress gave him from the other side of the wall. In other words, she did not believe that any betrayal would be able to harm her. And even if he had such audacity, she’d simply crush his aspirations without batting an eyelash. It was the ultimate sort of insurance where no matter what happened, it would all be a petty matter for her to handle. Hsien-Shao could not resist the smile that appeared on his face. Such an imposing woman was his immortal master? He could not be happier.

Then his eyes veered toward the letter.

“…I presume that is from the witch’s guild?”

“America, actually.” The melodic voice was now filled with light amusement that made it sound positively lovely in conjunction to the song she played on her yueqin. “It was quite boring and not even worth replying to. Even if I do not give my answer, I should expect a visit from my youngest kin. While I feel that I should have my own house in order before greeting a guest, it cannot be helped. My splendor shall have to make up for the disastrous state.”

“Are you particularly interested in meeting her, Your Eminence?”

“The Changjiang River waves behind drive the waves ahead, after all.”

Hsien-Shao raised an eyebrow as the empress spoke this well-known proverb with a laughing tone. It was clear to him how things would turn out from this point onward. The empress was easily bored nowadays after having lived for many centuries and would seek any means of pleasure. The only reason the god of wine had survived fighting her was likely due to her intentional mercy in hope of a more interesting comeback or simply losing interest.

“I wish you the best of pleasure, Your Eminence. I shall be sure to discover the god’s whereabouts for you to enjoy another interesting fight after your encounter.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin Angelo sighed as he strode through the corridor, scratching his hand lazily. He was one of the people who had been brought to guard this airship, but he didn’t have much to do aside from patrolling. He wore a suit just like any other security officer with a gun on his holster and an earpiece that he received orders from. He was thoroughly prepared in case something happened, but it was unlikely to. After all, with their perfect security, someone would have to climb on to the airship after it had taken off and find an opening somewhere. But the people at the docking area would have seen it and reported something suspicious. No such thing had happened, which meant that there was less than a one percent chance of even a professional burglar sneaking on the Flying Dutchman.

“Area 17, is there anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, everything is fine.” Martin replied to the periodic status report in a bored tone. He continued speaking to himself even though the persona asking for the report had moved on. “Why bother hiring a private service anyways…? Those rich people brought their own guards anyhow…”

Martin raised an eyebrow as he saw someone else walking toward him down the hallway. It wasn’t surprising that they had some patrol routes overlapping in this area—it was the suite area where the bedrooms were. There were numerous places to hide if one could somehow acquire a key, but movement through the halls was still limited.

“I take it you haven’t seen or heard anything weird, huh?” The man sighed to Martin, who simply shrugged in exasperation. “This is going to be a boring trip.”

“You’re telling me. Well, we’re getting paid so that’s something.”

“True. And from the looks of things, there seems to be a reason why we’re guarding.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

Martin blinked in surprise as this man mentioned something interesting in casual conversation. The man sighed as he took his glasses off and cleaned them with his black suit jacket.

“Just by looking at how many people were brought for patrol, that isn’t enough to cover this entire airship. And our formation leaves a lot of holes in various places.”

“Doesn’t that just mean that those are places where we don’t need to patrol?”

“That’s a possibility. Maybe they only want to make sure nothing happens over here. Or maybe those are places where they don’t want us to patrol. It all seems weird to me.”

“I get your point. But it’s not like it’s any of our business. We’ll just do as we were ordered to and things will turn out fine.”

“Right? Well, see you.”

The man stepped around Martin to continue walking and Martin’s eyes narrowed as he noticed something off about him. Martin’s hand drifted toward the gun on his belt as he spoke up.

“By the way, what’s your name? I don’t remember seeing spiky hair like yours back during the briefing.”

The man paused for a moment before sighing.

“Let me guess.” He said casually without turning. “You grew suspicious when you saw that I didn’t have an earpiece like yours?”

“Turn around slowly.” Martin ordered as he aimed his gun at the man’s back. “With your hands over your head.”

The man did as he was told and looked at Martin with a tired look. Martin frowned as he looked into the man’s face and saw just how young he was. He hadn’t noticed before, but he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five or twenty-six.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Martin demanded.

“My name is Falkner Marigold and I’m searching for some intruders. I figured you might know something, so I told you the conclusions that I had come to after observing the security formations, but you weren’t really any help.”

“‘Conclusions’…?” Martin recalled what Falkner had said about some places being deliberately avoided. “What intruders are you talking about?”

“More importantly, can you not report this to your higher ups? They’re probably being controlled by these intruders, so I don’t want to tip them off that I’m here.”

“Don’t talk crazy. Of course I’m going to report a suspicious intruder. It’s my job.”

“Well,” Falkner sighed. “Then we have a problem.”

Martin frowned as he raised one hand to contact his superior to make the report and Falkner began moving at once. Martin fired his gun immediately but Falkner evaded easily. Falkner brought his own gun up and used its body to knock Martin’s gun to the side at close range. Martin’s eyes widened as Falkner pointed his gun at Martin’s and fired. Martin cringed as the gun flew from his hand and skidded to the ground several feet away. Martin brought his arms up and blocked Falkner’s expertly delivered kick, knocking the security officer off balance. Falkner’s fist sunk into his gut in the next moment and Martin collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Falkner sighed deeply as he crouched beside Martin’s body and took off the earpiece as well as the master key he held. By opening the nearest door, he tossed Martin inside and locked it.

“Area 17, is there anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, everything is fine.” Falkner responded calmly as he strode down the hall, sticking his gun back in its holster.

"Protector of the Earth"

“Well, well, lucky me.” Alexander Terrarium spoke softly as he casually strode down a hallway. He was on the sightseeing deck of the Flying Dutchman where all of the hallways and corridors were wide and spacious to allow for many people to gather in them. Instead of walls, there were windows on either side to display the beautiful scenery below. They had already passed the Californian coast and were flying over the Pacific Ocean, so there was only a sea of blew either below or above. Even so, it was a breathtaking sight to see it from this perspective.

Alexander Terrarium was a young man with shaggy dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes that were reminiscent of a certain god-slayer in Europe. He was an eccentric man who always wore a sweater vest, long sleeved shirt, slacks, and lace-less shoes. His sweater vest was tawny this time and he wore a red tie that he could often be seen adjusting out of habit.

“My wandering of this accursed ship has proven to be useful after all, despite the complaints of a certain man.” Alex spoke to himself in a grand voice, not interested in trying to keep himself from being found. “I have already memorized the ships layout and provided him with the information that brought him to his interesting conclusion. Making the best of any situation is truly a sign of genius, is it not?”

In other words, after describing the ship’s layout to Falkner, who had observed the routes of the many security officers, he’d been able to find the places where they should be looking. Alexander went on ahead since he could move much faster than Falkner due to a special talent this man had.

Just then, the sound of several people jogging through the hallway up ahead caught Alex’s attention. Men dressed in combat clothes held guns in their hands and were about to pass by the corridor Alex was in. But the leader caught sight of him and motioned for the others to stop. A sly grin appeared on Alexander’s face as he continued to stroll forward.

“Hold it.” The leader of this armed squadron spoke. “I don’t know how you got here, but we are permitted to shoot anyone suspicious. Stop or we’ll shoot.”

“Suspicious?” Alex chuckled as he raised his hands with his palms facing up. His pace did not falter for a moment. “Now how did you come to that one sided conclusion? Is it because I, Alexander Terrarium, am not wearing a uniform? Or is it because I am somewhere I should not have come to? Or…is it because you have already been told who is suspicious and who is not?”

“Fire.” The squadron leader ordered irritably, showing a lack of tolerance for Alex. The men followed his orders immediately and began firing at Alex, who finally came to a stop. A wave of confusion swept the squadron as they kept their fingers on the trigger, observing a strange phenomenon at the same time. Alex was not moving, but the bullets were still missing. They flew on the right path at first before coming with a few feet of Alex. They then immediately diverted off of their path and seemed to fly around Alex without actually harming him. The young man grinned as he straightened his tie casually before raising one hand in a dramatic gesture, laughing strangely all the while.

“Huhuhuh…Foolish creatures of the forest, did you truly believe that one such as myself could be harmed by such weak attacks? Show your true form before me!”

Alex’s hand twitched and the guns within the men’s hands disappeared from their hands, reappearing behind Alex as if teleported. The men’s eyes widened as they saw this magic and took a different sort of action. They drew panpipes from their pockets and immediately began playing on the strange instruments. A violent melody filled the air and vines suddenly sprouted from the ground at Alex’s feet. Evidently, seeds had been planted within the corridor ahead of time and began growing when the satyr’s added a stimulus—music.

“Satyrs—no, fauns? Either way, I praise you for having infiltrated the Flying Dutchman and taking over the security.”

Alex spoke in the same tone of voice as the vines attempted to wrap around him. Alex vanished from sight and the men whirled around to find Alex standing among them calmly. They immediately shot away with their powerful legs, moving quicker than a normal human normally could in a single jump without magic. They ripped off their shoes and pants, displaying hooves and furry legs. Alex grinned as he waved one hand and the vines that proceeded to attack him vanished abruptly, falling outside the Flying Dutchman and toward the sea.

“If I recall, Dionysus was a god who had a drunken group of satyrs that followed him religiously like a cult.” Alex continued speaking casually as the vines flew at him but distortions in the air forced them to piece and sometimes ram into each other. The satyrs continued to play their panpipes angrily, their bloodshot eyes abruptly filled with a red tint. “But you should be with your god in China, should you not? For what purpose did you hijack this vessel for?”

“For Dionysus!!!!” The answer came back in a loud cry as several of the satyrs charged forward with their powerful legs. They kicked out at Alex mercilessly, but Alex merely teleported past them and used his teleportation to stick their bodies halfway between the windows with their arms pinned at their sides. Alex’s teleportation allowed whatever he teleported to ‘push away’ whatever he teleported something into, so he could perform feats such as that without breaking glass.

“‘For Dionysus’, eh?” Alex murmured with a sigh. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“As if you need to know!”

Alex teleported once more as more satyrs charged at him and his hands gripped their shoulders from behind, catching them unawares. They, too, found themselves stuck halfway in the windows or floor with their freedom taken away. They were soon all like that and Alex stood over one of the satyrs who was stuck in the floor, a dangerous grin on his face.

“Now then, everyone!” Alex spoke grandly as he spoke to all the satyrs at once. “I shall now begin my interrogation! Please try to keep up, for there is little time to spare! I shall ask each one of you a question. Those of you who do not answer shall be teleported outside the Flying Dutchman where you shall fall to your demise. Those of you who answer shall be asked another question. Simple rules, eh? Now is the time to weigh your life versus your loyalty!”

It took exactly seven satyrs to get the whole story. Of course, Alexander didn’t really throw them out over the sea. From the height they were at, it would be like falling onto asphalt. Instead, he teleported them into a wall on the other side of the ship (he’d memorized the exact distance, thanks to his perfect memory).

At any rate, he now understood. Dionysus’ drunken followers intended to avenge the near death experience their leader had suffered by killing the god-slayer of China. Of course, none were stupid enough to try and beat her on their own, so they decided to drop this massive airship on her instead.

There were many problems with their plan, but what could you expect from such creatures that lacked proper reason?

“We’ll have to find each satyr to make sure none of them carries out their plan.” Falkner said bitterly after Alex told him what he had learned. “I’m heading to the cockpit right now.”

“Oho?” Alex chuckled as he strode down the hallway, now at a less casual pace. They would be reaching China soon, so there wasn’t much time to waste. “You can fly this contraption?”

“With my power, it will be fine. Can I entrust you to handle everything else?”

“Of course. We shall ensure that the main antagonist can land in our destination without having her slumber disturbed. That is the very least we can manage as her henchmen. No…that is to be expected of we who follow a charismatic figure such as her.”

“Right…” Falkner muttered in exasperation. “We have ten minutes, so let’s hurry.”

“With pleasure.”

The Casting Away of Shells

Falkner grimaced as he approached the cockpit where everything needed to control the Flying Dutchman was. Though he was still outside, he could smell the strong scent of wine. Having drunken satyrs fly the airship…that was one way to ensure a crash.

Falkner pushed open the door and was nearly knocked out by the hoof that swung out immediately. Falkner grimaced as he drew out both of his handguns, one in each hand, and held them up to block the hoof that flew at him once more, nearly breaking his wrist in the process.

Falkner gritted his teeth as he activated his unique magic. Visible only to his eyes, several small orbs of varying colors appeared in front of his vision, organized in a ring shape. It was as if he was in an RPG choosing which item he wanted to use, and he selected one in particular that was red in color. It expanded over his entire vision as the other orbs withdrew and Falkner felt his body surge with energy. He rammed the side of his gun into the attacking satyr’s gut and fired the gun point blank. The satyr collapsed to the ground, unconscious from the tranquilizer that Falkner had loaded into the gun. The other satyrs were dispatched just as quickly, unable to fend against Falkner’s speed and accuracy from his distance.

The ‘cockpit’ Falkner had referred to was really the ship’s bridge and was big enough to hold a dozen people working. However, Falkner would have to pilot the entire ship from the main seat alone with no prior training.

“Flesh and bone make up my body.” Falkner murmured as the red color in his sight faded and was replaced by silver as he selected a new orb. “But dirt and dust make up my flesh and bone. Ashes to ashes. Light from light. All comes from the same ‘root’…”

Falkner touched his hands to the controls and drew a sharp breath as a flood of information flowed into his mind. Falkner took a deep breath and let it out slowly to relax himself.

Relax. He told himself. I’ve felt this sensation before. I have a lot to learn if I’m going to keep this thing in the air.

Falkner had initially hoped to find the trainees or instructors who had been on the bridge earlier as planned. But they had all been knocked out cold by the satyrs and refused to stir no matter how hard Falkner tried to wake them up. He was the only person left who could fly the Fly Dutchman.

One of his powers was something similar to psychometrics. By touching something with the silver orb active, he could gather information from any objects he touched. Aside from simple information gathering, he could also learn how to use a weapon he’d never seen before or drive a vehicle he’d never seen before. Even so, driving a vessel this big when it is normally piloted by twelve people was no easy feat. Even so, he was resolved to try and succeed.

Two minutes passed as Falkner focused on flying, slowly lowering his altitude. They’d already passed Japan and would be reaching the Korean coast soon enough.

“Pilots of the Flying Dutchman, can you hear me?” A voice suddenly came from the radio beside Falkner. “This is Samuel, chief of security for Timmy Corporations. We received word that your flight patterns have become erratic. Is everything alright?”

Falkner clicked his tongue as he glanced out the side window and saw three jet planes in the air beside the Flying Dutchman. His luck was as bad as ever.

“All the pilots are unconscious.” Falkner replied dryly without hesitation. “The flight had been hijacked but I took care of them. Right now I’m planning to land the Flying Dutchman in China, so I’d imagine that we’ve deviated from our flight path a bit.”

“Are you piloting alone?”

“No one else here knows how to pilot this thing.”

A long silence followed this. Falkner knew they were discussing his odds of success and how they should react. His hands gripped the controls tightly as he anticipated their response. Depending on what they said, there were numerous possibilities that could occur.

Then Sam, chief of security of Timmy Corporations, spoke.

“Pilot of the Flying Dutchman, listen to me. You have to land in the Sea of Japan. A safe crash landing will have far less collateral damage and it is doubtful that you will even make it to China. Our corporation’s CEO and his child are both on board, so we cannot take the risk.”

That was the most reasonable response. Frankly, Falkner agreed with that plan of action. He’d thought of it already and thought it through carefully. It was definitely the least dangerous plan to go with.

That was why he rejected it.

Every time he thought about it, he imagined Black Lacer’s response to it. She’d have been furious for multiple reasons. The first was because Falkner wussed out. The second was because he failed to get them to China properly when that should have been the priority. The third was that she wouldn’t like him choosing the safer route. And finally, she’d be pissed that Falkner listened to these people at all.

“Sorry.” Falkner sighed as he regretted what he was about to do with every fiber of his being. “But I don’t have the luxury of taking the safer route.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You see, we’re radicals when it comes to what we do. I am Falco, Black Lacer’s most trusted companion. If you think I’d let these hijackers have their way, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m going to handle this situation the way I want to, so just sit back and enjoy the show, alright?”

There was another stunned silence as Falkner silently wept. Why did he have to say such stupid and embarrassing things?

“Black…Lacer? As in that radical devil king? Why are you people on the Flying Dutchman?!”

“Don’t you worry about that. Just know that we have everyone on this ship hostage if you try to stop us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! We’ll just force you down into the water, then!”

The jet plane broke formation as they prepared to come in on the Flying Dutchman from all sides. Though they were much smaller by comparison, one could easily herd a big object using this method, redirecting their path. Falkner frowned as he took out his phone with one hand and dialed the number.

“Alex, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“I’ve already taken care of all the satyrs, so go ahead and ask.”

Falkner explained the situation quickly and told Alex the plan. Laughter immediately burst from the phone in response.

“Incredible! Such a cruel and ruthless method! You are truly Black Lacer’s subordinate if you’re willing to resort to such a method!”

“Just hurry up and do it. I’m stressed beyond logic right now and I’m afraid my heart will stop if I don’t relax soon.”

“But of course. Please give me a minute—no. I simply need forty-five seconds.”

Then he hung up. Falkner must have truly been anxious as he counted out those forty-five seconds. He was obviously nervous enough to count too fast, though, as he had reach seventy-five already when change occurred.

Outside the window, he saw a group of people appear in midair, all of them with terrified expressions except for one. Alexander Terrarium grinned as he motioned to the three jet planes with one hand, bowing slightly. Then the air around the group of people distorted as they vanished and reappeared a good distance away.

“After them!” Samuel’s furious voice came through the radio. He had apparently lost his cool as well. “Even a teleporter can’t outrun jet planes!”

Falkner sighed as the planes shot off at Mach speed, creating sonic booms that made the Flying Dutchman rumble. Now he just had to focus on landing in China safely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There are few things someone with a power as unflashy as myself can take pride in!” Alex proclaimed as he and the group of people he held in tow vanished and reappeared in quick succession, putting incredible distance between them and the Flying Dutchman in a short time. He ignored the screams of the people who had no control over themselves as they saw how high up they were. Many had already fainted. “One of those things is speed! You are arrogant to believe that those pieces of metal junk can keep up with me!”

Meanwhile, Samuel was in the cockpit of one of the jet plane, grimacing darkly.

“Impossible!” He roared into the radio as he glared at Alex as he and the group of people continued to remain the same distance away despite his speed. “We’re going Mach 7! How can he be so much faster than the speed of sound?!”

Mach speed is calculated depending on how quickly sound moves through a fluid (such as air). Sonic boom were the result of something reaching Mach speed or higher. Jet Planes could do this, but a teleporter like Alex was an exception. Since he was distorting the dimensions around him to create multi-dimensional space that changed the vectors at which he moved, it was different from normal Mach speed. As such, he made no sonic boom as he teleported so many people at once. However, his arrogance was merely a front. He’d get tired quite quickly by going such a far distance without break with so many people in tow. He’d have to drop them off in Japan before escaping alone and resting. Then he would have to return to China on his own, which would be another difficult trip. However, he did not complain. Falkner was putting a lot of trust in him for his reckless plan. How could Alex do anything but try his best for such an interesting person?

This is getting very interesting. I will have to keep reading this!

The Exceptions Among Exceptions

“So they tried to crash the Flying Dutchman into China? How did they plan to even find the Chinese devil king?”

When Falkner told Black Lacer about the hardships on the plan, she’d mercilessly started laughing, holding her sides with her arms. They were on a high-speed rail going to Beijing, so the entire compartment was packed. Even so, Black Lacer was not worried about the looks people gave her.

Luckily, no one had seen them near the Flying Dutchman as they had abandoned it in the ocean (it was, as mentioned earlier, unable to ‘land’, literally.), so they had left it where it was to float until men from Patronus in America came to reclaim it. Alex had yet to rejoin them, but they knew he would find his way back soon enough.

“They probably intended to drop it on the imperial palace while hoping she happened to be in it.” Falkner sighed in disappointment. What exactly had he expected? For Black Lacer to praise him for his work? To thank him for the effort he’d put into ensuring their arrival? As if that would happen. “They weren’t the sort to really think things through.”

“Clearly not.” Black Lacer snickered. “At any rate, good job on kicking their ass. It would have been interesting to see them succeed, but acting on our own sense of justice is more important. Thanks to you, we can keep going without a problem.”

“…Eh?”

“What ‘eh’? I said good job. You finally lived up to my standards as a villain, so congrats—whoa! What the fuck are you crying about, you pussy?! You’re making a face like a brat during Christmas! You moronic pervert!”

Black Lacer kicked Falkner in the crutch in the midst of her flurry of words as she panicked and Falkner could only groan with a mixture of pain and joy. Both were unaware of the people shifting away from them conspicuously as rumors about the strange relationship of an American couple began to spread.

The train finally arrived in Beijing West Railway Station and Black Lacer sent Falkner to begin investigating any news about the mercenary mage with yells similar to “Do your job as an investigator or whatever!” or “Quit wasting time, pussy!” and “Screw jetlag! You’re a man! Use that perverted energy of yours!”

With Falkner gotten rid of, Black Lacer sighed as she rubbed her temples in exasperation. She strode out of the station with a swish of her cape, completely aware and indifferent of how badly she stuck out in the crowd. Ever since she had become a god-slayer, all languages became the same to here, allowing her to speak and understand French, English, Italian, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese—anything that had an established culture. Even so, she naturally preferred to speak English as that was the culture she naturally distinguished herself with. It was probably the same thing for gods.

According to certain sources, the effects Dionysus has been having ever since he first appeared were clear as day. Crimes and accidents spurred by alcohol multiplied exponentially. Many people had died from binging and numerous bars fights all over China. It was bad enough that it could be considered a sort of biological attack, though normally people would not be able to identify it.

Black Lacer frowned as she paused her thought process as she observed something strange.

What she loved was the unnatural. Black Lacer disliked generic stereotypes—especially the average teenager kind. She had been a weird person since childhood and took pride in that. As such, she felt respect toward others who could be shamelessly different in public and refused to ‘go with the flow’. That was what had gotten her to become so fond of Alex.

So when she saw a woman sitting at table under the shade of an umbrella, she was unsure of what to think.

This woman was certainly not normal. One worthy of the description of transcendent beauty, a girl with black hair and wearing ancient Chinese attire—Han clothing. Her upper garment had very long sleeves and a lower hem that hung low. The lower garment was like a long flowing robe which resembled a kimono due to its style of overlapping the left portion over the right. Her black hair was woven into two buns on either side of her head, as if they were ears, with a single chopstick stuck through either one. She wore flats and had what looked like large prayer beads wrapped around her waist in a similar fashion to a loose belt.

Chinese royalty was supposed to be descendants of divinity. Looking at this, even an atheist such as Black Lacer (yes, she was atheist. She didn’t think gods were truly gods in the sense they were meant to be. The fact that she killed one only further proved her belief) found herself wondering if the Chinese goddess of mercy spent her time sitting by the train station. The woman’s beauty was undeniable and her elegance was beyond natural. It was like she was a figure of pure white beside the grimy and muddy figure of Black Lacer.

And so the American devil king felt herself overcome with a sort of despicable and evil aura that she could not contain. It reflected itself on the dangerous grin that appeared on her face.

“Good morning, youngest god-slayer.” The devil king empress smiled elegantly at Black Lacer and spoke despite the distance that was still between them. Somehow, Black Lacer could still hear her soft voice through the bustling crowd even though she was not yelling. “Care to tell me about your journey to this country? It seems like an interesting story to tell.”

It was as if the crowd of normal people did not exist. Black Lacer grinned sinisterly across at the elegant woman, wearing eccentric formal clothing and a domino mask that hid her appearance. The empress of China smiled elegantly across at the uncultured devil king, wearing clothes fit for royalty.

The meeting of two devil kings who were opposite in nature yet so alike. Both believed they were different from other devil kings but were very different with their methods.

The Exceptional Exceptions Chosen by the Exceptions

“…”

Falkner was unsure of what to say at this moment. Not long ago, he had been investigating the effects of the god known as either Dionysus or Bacchus. Whether in his Greek or Roman form, the god was troublesome. He was a divine being that loved to cause trouble. As the god of wine and harvest, he was associated with festivities often along with theater. However, as a heretic god, he manifested with his more corrupt aspects more apparent. With wine came intoxication. With intoxication came numerous tragedies. Fights, divorce, sickness, death…This god of wine had a side that represented the purest of insanity and madness that could break one’s mind.

As of now, it had yet to reach that point. While crimes and accidents caused by intoxication had suddenly risen in China, people were still retaining their sanity. A person who passed out from alcohol poisoning could be saved and could return to their normal lives without problem. Even alcoholics could recover. Of course, those who were already alcoholics were effected more deeply and some had truly lost their mind, but that was to be expected. At the very least, those who should not have been influenced by alcohol to begin with could be saved.

But to think that this was merely the passive effect of the god while he was dormant.

At least, that is what the people who kidnapped Falkner had said.

Though ‘kidnap’ is a drastic way of putting it. He’d been visiting hospital and police agencies to gather information when he’d been ambushed by several men who were wearing clothes like a martial artist. Although Falkner knew some self-defense techniques, he wasn’t used to dealing with so many experts at once. So in the end, he submitted to them. He had been a little taken aback when one tall Chinese man with a braid approached him and properly asked him for his assistance. When they introduced themselves as the loyal servants of Empress Mei Fong, he could not refuse.

And now he found himself skidding across the Great Wall of China in a rickshaw. It was basically a carriage big enough to hold five people being pulled by three others at the front wearing straw hats to shade their bodies. Naturally, such a thing wouldn’t be very fast, but for some reason they were moving at speeds quicker than a single person could run while unburdened. Either the rickshaw or the Great Wall itself must have been a magical tool—or both. Beside Falkner sat the man named Hsien-Shao, who was watching Falkner with an amused expression. Needless to say, it made him uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hsien Shao?”

“Yes? And you can speak English to me. It’s probably more preferred, just in case someone’s trying to eavesdrop.”

“Right…Can I ask you why you’re staring at me?”

“I’m merely amused.” Hsien-Shao showed no shame as Falkner pointed this out. He rested his chin on one hand as he continued to observe the uncomfortable Falkner. “I’ve met a few other devil kings in my life time as well as their right hands. In fact, I’m one as well. You can tell quite a bit about a devil king by observing the person they choose to have with them and their relationship with each other. I’m really curious as to why the devil king of America chose someone with as little magical ability as yourself. Don’t get me wrong—your deductive ability is incredible since you’ve deduced our destination in a mere few hours after gathering information so quickly.”

“It’s probably because we’ve been friends for so long.” Falkner sighed miserably. He could understand Hsien-Shao’s curiosity. From an impartial perspective, the two of them were as incompatible as can be. “Black Lacer’s not the best at making friends and I’ve dealt with her for a while. Frankly, she has standards for people that are not exactly easy to fulfill.”

“I can understand that. My master is the same. She does not accept others very easily. In fact, aside from a god or another god-slayer, she doesn’t acknowledge very many people. As one of the eldest devil kings, she understands the pain of loneliness.”

“Loneliness?”

“Indeed. I’m sure you know; god-slayers are cursed. Upon slaying the first god, they cease aging. It’s an incomplete sort of immortality, but one all the same. Unless Black Lacer is killed in the next many decades, you will definitely die before her. She’ll live on to see her family, friends, nieces, nephews, and all her descending relatives die one by one. Anyone she becomes close to will eventually pass away and this includes you. My master had to witness the Wuchang Uprising and lost a great many of her closest friends in the process. Ever since, she lost interest in normal people in general. In this world of government where respect has been lost, she finds it difficult to acknowledge people below her status. Similar traumas affect the other devil kings as well. Even the Mobile Fortress, who is known for being good-natured, is forced to remember the first woman he ever loved thanks to his missing eye.”

Immortality…Falkner hadn’t thought about it much, but Hsien-Shao was right. Unless Black Lacer met a violent and gruesome end, she would never die. Falkner was guaranteed to pass away at some point and leave her behind. Even if Black Lacer got new friends, they’d still die anyways. Looking at it that way, could one really blame the devil kings of the world for their arrogant nature? In order to hide the pain of loneliness, they put on airs of conceit and superiority. After all, the only people they could truly acknowledge as equals were other devil kings and gods. But thanks to their strong personalities, fights inevitably broke out.

Being a god-slayer was truly a curse.

The Heavenly Ascendant Goddess of the Imperial Throne

“My surname is Mei and my given name is Ling. However, my style name is Fong, so refer to me as Mei Fong.”

The Chinese devil king spoke calmly and elegantly as she held a face fan up in her hand, motioning with it slightly as she spoke. Black Lacer had taken the seat across from her and made no attempt to sit properly just to impress this woman. Mei Fong paid no mind to it at all.

“Black Lacer, fake alias.” Black Lacer replied curtly, speaking in Chinese only because she’d been hearing it ever since she’d arrived in the country. “I’ll go out on the limb here and say you’re a god-slayer, right?”

Two god-slayers could not tell that the other was one through some psychic means. Anyone in the world of wizardry would hear rumors about such important people and could tell by the idiosyncrasies of the person. It was no different from two kings in the normal world meeting one another. There were numerous signs, but no actual proof.

“Indeed.” Mei Fong nodded. “I am the god-slaying devil king that presides over China, the Koreas, India, the various countries with –istan in their name, and many more. Essentially, I am in charge of ninety-percent of Asia. I am also one of the three eldest devil kings along with the Mobile Fortress and King Eleazar, but as you can see, I am still a young and beautiful girl; the very pinnacle of splendor.”

“So your fundamental niche is as big as mine.” Black Lacer snorted. Though she had claim on all that land, the empress did not truly own the Asian mainland. It was just like how Black Lacer was considered the devil king of all the Americas but her ‘realized niche’ was only the United States. “So what’s a hag like you out in the open for?”

“I’d come to greet my junior, as is natural of proper customs. I’d heard some interesting rumors about a large modern machine that was mixed with magic. When I noticed it coming toward China, I decided to go to the coast to witness it. Since you crashed into the ocean, I assume you had an interesting experience on the way. Do you mind sharing?”

“Cut the crap, princess.” Black Lacer snarled as she leaned forward and slammed one fist on the table. Mei Fong raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst. “I can tell that you don’t really give a crap about what happened on that stupid ship. What you really want to know is what I’m doing showing my face here when you didn’t even get the chance to reply to the letter asking whether or not I could come, right?”

“My, how uncouth.” Mei Fong grinned slyly as she shut her face fan and set it on the table. “You’re terribly wrong, child. I wanted to see what sort of person you are and letting you speak extensively about your adventure seemed like an excellent way to observe your habits. However, it seems you’ve yet to be disciplined. You don’t even enjoy telling a story at the table? What a shameful child.”

“Child, eh?” Black Lacer smirked. “Like I give a crap. I’m here for one thing only—to clean up my mess. After I take out that bastard Kinsley who summoned Dionysus, I’ll be on my way. So I don’t feel the need to entertain your customs or traditions or whatever.”

“Liar~” Mei Fong sang in a melodic voice. Her eyes locked with Black Lacer’s and her smile became coy. “Young and reckless as you are, you probably intend to kill Dionysus while you’re at it or even fight me.”

“Problem?”

“You’re acting arrogantly on both accounts. That Greco-Roman god is my prey. No matter who summoned him, I have already made the decision to slay him. Any opinions otherwise mean nothing before that decision. And, of course, any belief that you can defeat me is nothing but immaturity.”

“Immaturity, is it?”

“Indeed. I am not like other god-slaying devil kings. I do not believe I gained divinity upon slaying a god. No; I was already one worthy of standing among the gods as it was. My splendor and magnificence is already a gift that even the heavens are jealous of. But now I am one that even Heaven itself cannot hope to touch. While the other devil kings are content to their positions after using magic to slay divine deities, I destroyed the foolish god who threatened my home with nothing but my body.”

Black Lacer knew the stories. Supposedly, the god-slayer of China had martial arts on par with the gods themselves—well beyond that of any human. This was proven when she defeated a god with her martial arts rather than magic. She was a prideful woman with a large ego, but her strength and beauty made it difficult to disprove her arrogant claims.

“What a coincidence.” Black Lacer stood from her seat with a smirk splitting her face like a demon. “It’s been a few days since I’ve kicked an arrogant ass off their high horse. I don’t even need to tell you that I’m not like other devil kings either, do I?”

“Is that so?” Mei Fong remained perfectly poised as she considered Black Lacer calmly. “You, who hides her face from the world, wishes to knock the pinnacle of martial splendor off of her high horse? Were you anyone else, I would punish you severely. However, as your senior that is akin to an elder sister, I shall show benevolence by tolerating your childishness. This may work out for me as well. After all, they say you can learn more of a person in an hour of play rather than a day of conversation. However, I must confirm something first, child. Do you wish to challenge me? Or do you wish to duel me?”

What happened next caught Black Lacer off guard. Mei Fong hopped up from her seat and slid across the table to land directly beside the American devil king. She moved so fluidly and wonderfully, as if it was a well-rehearsed dance move designed to leave the audience in wonder. Black Lacer didn’t even get the chance to completely turn around even with the reflexes of a devil king as Mei Fong grabbed her shoulder with one slender hand.

Then Black Lacer was sailing upward through the air, gaining height and momentum all at once.

Buildings and people were beneath her as she seemed to literally fly through the air like a rocket fired on Chinese New Year. The wind chill wasn’t bad considered the many layers of clothing Black Lacer’s outfit consisted off, but the shock and indignity of being caught off guard so easily was enough to send a shiver down her back. Flying through the air like this, her cape flew around her like Death’s cloak in an ironic fashion. She sailed like this for only a thirty seconds at the very least before her momentum began to fade and she dipped out of her arc toward the ground. Then a figure summersaulted overhead, a mere silhouette thanks to the blindly sun behind then, and Black Lacer immediately brought her hands up to defend against the downward kick. Black Lacer grimaced as she felt her body ache under the force of the attack even she flew toward the ground like a rocket.

“Like I’d fucking fall for that a second time!”

Black Lacer yelled angrily as her eight legs sprouted from her back and grabbed on the Chinese pagoda that was standing tall directly beside her. She skidded down several feet as she quickly lost momentum and then pushed off toward the ground, skidding across the floor before finally coming to a full stop. Black Lacer let out a breath as she stood straight and looked around. She was in an empty plaza with high walls on either side of her and behind her. Ahead of her was another wall with the pagoda she’d grabbed onto attached to it, serving as the only way out by foot.

“Oho. An excellent recovery, King Black Lacer.”

Standing atop the pagoda was Mei Lin—more commonly known as Mei Fong. The beautiful Chinese empress smiled down at Black Lacer with a beatific expression as she raised her face fan casually. With a single flick, her illustrious Han robes changed to a beautiful mandarin gown known as qipao. It was a stylish one piece body-hugging dress. Though it extended to her ankles in length, it was split in two pieces at the waist so her slender legs were exposed when she moved, displaying her jade-like skin and supple figure. The only thing that didn’t change was the prayer beads around her waist like a loose belt. Her hair style changed as well—her two buns vanished and left a single Chinese bun based on the back of her head with several strands extending out of it as a ponytail, falling down to lay between her shoulders. Both chopsticks were stuck in this bun.

“I shall ask you again, god-slayer of America.” Mei Fong spoke elegantly as she held her fan open in front of her horizontally. “Do you wish to challenge me? Or do you wish to duel me?”

Black Lacer lowered her head for a moment as her shoulders trembled before she began roaring with laughter, tossing her head back as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Alright, alright, I get it!” She spoke finally after calming down a bit. She grinned up at Mei Fong as she placed her hands on her hips. Though her tailcoat certainly made her look more adult-like, the ensemble with the cloak and mask (along with the lack of a chest) made her look merely childish in comparison to this refined woman who was among the eldest of the current devil kings. “After getting tossed around by an old hag, I know enough to just shut up and let you test me.”

“I would like to say that you are more mature than I expected, but you seem to ignore the fact that I am hardly older than you when it comes to physical age. Once again, I practice restraint and tolerance. Well, never mind that. Shall we begin?”

[b]Madness in the Tunnel of Saints[/b

“This is Dunhuang…right?”

Falkner looked around at the large desert dunes towering over him and the seven Chinese martial artists in awe.

“This is the northwestern Gansu province of Western China.” Hsien-Shao informed Falkner casually as he walked at the head of the group. Their pace was a bit faster than a healthy stride, indicating that they were in a bit of a rush. “It is known as the ‘city of sands’. It has a certain level of significance as it was a major stop on the Silk Roads…well, you already know about that.”

Indeed he did. Falkner had deduced that this city would be where the god they were searching for would be. He was clearly planning on spreading his madness as efficiently as possible and the best way to do so would be to use these Silk Roads. Using the Bubonic Plague as precedence, using powerful trade routes from Asia could spread a sickness all over Europe, Africa, and France. This was a major problem that the magic world could not ignore. If left alone, something disastrous like a third of the world’s population being affected might occur.

Plus, Falkner knew that Kinsley the Mage Killer would be nearby. That man had summoned a god for one purpose only—to become a god-slayer, just like he had attempted to several years ago. He needed to kill the god when he was at full strength, sporting no injuries from any previous battles. As such, he would likely wait until the dormant god healed completely.

The group of men came to an area where several cliff faces surrounded them. One of the martial artists took the lead as the approached this area and sniffed around.

“There is a strong hint of grape in the wind.” He reported the information he acquired by acting as a bloodhound. “It is definitely coming from the caves.”

“Fantastic…” Hsien-Shao said miserably. “This makes things much more difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

Hsien-Shao responded to Falkner’s question by pointing to the cliffs around them. Falkner looked and saw the many cave entrances on the cliff faces all around them. There were far too many to count and made it seem like there was a city within the cliffs with those as the front doors. At least, that was what Falkner imagined. He knew it was unlikely.

“Those are the Mogao Caves, known as the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas. These aren’t the actual temples themselves, of course, but they are connected to them, sort of like a back door. These caves contain the finest examples of Buddhist artwork spanning over a period of one-thousand years. They were built thousands of years ago for worship and meditation and are a holy place. Also, many Buddhist grimoires were found in a hidden cave there. Most have been taken out, but the effects left behind are undeniable. Needless to say, we cannot simply go in there recklessly with abandon. I do not know why this god holed himself up in this labyrinth of all places, but we’ll have to search for him with caution.”

And so the trek began. Following the martial artist using his sensitive nose to track down the smell of grape, the eight men entered the holy caves, abandoning the darkness. Falkner formed a small flame for light in his hand using magic once the light of day abandoned them and Falkner’s eyes widened as he witnessed the many paintings on the walls around him. Though he wasn’t much of an art fan, he could sense the powerful magical power that came from them. These paintings must have been made by powerful Buddhists priests many years ago. The significance they held only multiplied with age. Setting them into flames by accident would be the biggest mistake of his life. As such, Falkner put out the fire and followed closely behind the martial artists who had powerful senses that allowed them to navigate in the dark.

After wandering for a few hours in silence, a light could suddenly be seen up ahead. Falkner blinked as he wondered what it could be, since it didn’t seem to be the outside.

“There.” The martial artist bloodhound spoke as he sniffed the air one last time. “He’s in there.”

“Well then, shall we see what a god is like while sleeping?” Hsien-Shao grinned slyly at Falkner knowingly. “It should be an interesting experience.”

“I just hope he doesn’t wake up with us there.” Falkner murmured bitterly as they started forward.

The tunnel they were in opened up into an antechamber sort of area within the cliff with a lot more room than necessary. There were no paintings nor a source for the light. It was as if the light was just there. Vines were strewn across the walls and the ground, creating a sort of makeshift shrine to the two animals sitting at the center of a bunch of grapes. The smell of grapes was so strong suddenly, it was difficult to think of anything else.

Sleeping on the floor at the center of the vines was a large leopard and a snake that was curled up on the leopard’s body. Falkner knew that these were both symbols of the god known as both Dionysus and Bacchus.

“You’d think that we could actually kill them right now if we wanted to.” Hsien-Shao spoke wryly and Falkner shot him an incredulous look. “I’m kidding! That would be like asking for a painful death. But it’s nice to see we found him before he woke up. This may be the first time two followers of devil kings worked together against a single god like this.”

“What exactly is that?” One of the martial artists asked as he pointed. The others turned their attention to the wall painting he indicated. It was a beautiful young woman naked except for a single cloth wrapped around her breasts and waist, seeming to dance with a man among several other men with their bodies from the waist down appearing to be goats. Falkner frowned in confusion at the picture. Where had he seen this before?

Then it came to him. Literally. Falkner’s eyes widened as he felt his body suddenly go stiff. Something was gripping his legs, keeping him in place as it slithered up his body. Falkner could not even turn as he felt a heavy and slender figure drape over his shoulder and wrap around his shoulder a few times. Falkner’s mouth felt dry and the smell of grape had suddenly gone sour as he felt a strange pressure in his brain. But he paid no mind no mind to it as the slender object now within his line of sight drew his attention. It was a leafy vine that was moving similarly to a hand as a red liquid dripped from it. Falkner could not tell whether it was blood or wine, but it approached nonetheless.

It seemed the reach for his face.

It was reaching for his face.

His eye was its target.

It was going to pull out his eye.

“Agh!!” Falkner gasped as he stumbled back several feet. His heartbeat was hammering in his chest violently as he began to break once more. The vine that had been wrapped around him was nowhere to be seen, but the dryness of his mouth and the pressure in his head were still there and extremely noticeable. The overwhelming scent of sour grapes dominated his senses.

“Good job resisting it…”

Hsien-Shao was still standing nearby, one hand to his temple. Most of the other martial artists were unconscious, lying on the ground with wide eyes and grins of ecstasy on their face. Blood was drooling from the corners of their mouths but Falkner could not tell whether they were dead or alive. Aside from Hsien-Shao and Falkner, only two other martial artists were still conscious. One was on the ground, gripping his head as if he had a massive migraine as he trembled. The other was leaning against the wall, gritting his teeth.

“This is definitely Dionysus’ madness…” Falkner muttered darkly. “This wall painting must be linked to his awakening. It will probably activate once he wakes and will spread madness along the Silk Roads.”

“To think he actually had this prepared.” Hsien-Shao smiled without humor. He looked toward the sleeping snake and leopard that were now shifting restlessly. “This is very bad. It seems like Dionysus will be waking up soon. By coming here, we may have stimulated the god by accident.”

Falkner and Hsien-Shao regarded the wall painting as they contemplated their situation. In the end, they came to the same conclusion.

“We’re pretty much screwed.” Hsien-Shao sighed dramatically as he pressed his fingers to his temple even harder. “If we do nothing but wait, Dionysus will awaken and send madness across the world like the plague. But if we call for our masters, they would not be pleased. Especially mine, since she is probably enjoying a meeting with your master.”

“I understand your pain, but it’s probably smarter to call for them and deal with their punishment, whatever it may be.” Falkner sighed as he struggled to take deep breathes. He needed fresh air and oxygen, but his lungs were only filled with the smell of grape. It was by sheer willpower that he had not collapsed yet, but he was unsure of how much longer he’d last. “After all, we’ve got to be the ones to tolerate their selfishness, right?”

Hsien-Shao grinned at Falkner briefly before turning his attention to the only other martial artist who seemed capable of movement.

“We have to stay here to see if we can delay the arousal by even a few minutes. You’ll have to find Her Eminence and beg her to come. Do you understand me? No matter what, she must come. I’ll take full responsibility if she is angry about having her assembly interrupted.”

“I will do my very best.” The martial artist promised before rushing out of the cave in a full sprint. Falkner silently prayed that the martial artist was fast enough, and that Black Lacer would willingly come without being too stubborn. If not, she may be left alone a lot sooner than Falkner thought.

Black and White Mix Together to Make Grey?

Black Lacer grimaced in frustration as a slender arm gracefully inserted itself into the hole in her defensive posture and a palm struck her chest with enough power to grind meat and bone together, sending her flying back several feet. Black Lacer gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the ground to slow her momentum. She immediately raised her arms defiantly to defend against the next onslaught of delicate strikes that flew at her, determined to block all ten.

Just an hour earlier, their positions were reversed. The American devil king had done all that was within her power to strike a single hit on the beauty known as Empress Mei Fong. Kicks, punches, grappling techniques, head butts, biting, tackling, spitting—Black Lacer had used everything within her arsenal that didn’t involve magic or Authorities. Mei Fong’s challenge was simple; land one strike on her body as she did her best to avoid and block. Mei Fong had graciously offered to let Black Lacer use the eight legs gained from her Authority, but that simply pissed off Black Lacer and the super villain stubbornly refused.

The result showed just how different the two were when it came to physical prowess.

Kicks, punches, grappling techniques, head butts, biting, tackling, spitting—all attempts failed miserably. Mei Fong didn’t bother to keep her distance; she merely turned and twisted her body in elegant fashions to evade the attack when necessary. There was even an embarrassing moment was Black Lacer kicked out openly out of pure frustration and was thrown to the ground as a result.

“Damn it!” Black Lacer roared as she smashed her fist into the ground where Mei Fong had been a moment before. The empress simply side stepped and swung her leg around. Black Lacer reflexively brought her arms up to dodge, but Mei Fong merely used her defensive posture as a spring board and descended lightly on top of the nearest wall. Black Lacer was to furious to even make a comment after getting a convenient angle from below the bottom of Mei Fong’s qipao.

Mei Fong looked down at Black Lacer without any emotion on her face, similar to that of a martial arts mentor evaluating their student. This only annoyed Black Lacer further.

“Child, do you understand the point of this exercise?”

“I don’t know what you get out of it, but I was hoping to vent out my frustration by smacking your around.” Black Lacer replied immediately as she folded her arms across her chest. “But I’m just more pissed off than I was before.”

“Childish as it is, that’s perfectly natural. However, there is a point I’m trying to make.”

“Oh really? Nice to see you’re trying so hard!!”

Black Lacer yelled indifferently as she charged up to where Mei Fong was by scaling the wall and swing at her. Mei Fong elegantly evaded the blow with another sidestep and jumped down to the plaza once more. Black Lacer pursued immediately, her attacks using every bit of a devil king’s unnatural strength to land a single blow.

“Let’s say that your resolve in this fight is ten.” Mei Fong spoke casually as her flexible body continued to move in a dance-like manner. “Mine would be seven. However, your resolve is split between offense and defense, so your offense power is about five. As I am pouring all my current resolve into defense, it is not unexpected that you cannot touch me.”

“So this was rigged from the beginning!” Black Lacer snarled as she ceased her attacks. Mei Fong stood straight a few yards away, regarding Black Lacer with amusement.

“You grasped the concept rather quickly, child. Indeed; there was never any chance for you to succeed. Unless I push you past your limits by forcing you into a corner, you will not be able to focus completely on offense. My purpose was not to ‘win’ but simply not to ‘lose’.”

“Sorry, but that kind of pussy’s way of thinking does not work for me.” Black Lacer snorted darkly. “It’s beyond stupid.”

“Oho? Do not fret, my dear. It is not as if you have failed the challenge. In fact, by learning this lesson—even though you stubbornly reject it—you have succeeded in passing the first half.”

“There’s another half?”

“Of course. As your elder sister, I seek to educate my youngest sibling. My methods can sometimes be harsh, but a rock cannot be made smooth without friction. Be grateful that you can learn from a master such as myself.”

“What the hell is the second half? Do I have to learn another stupid lesson?”

“You’ll use the lesson you learned in practice.”

A beautiful smile of joy and pleasure appeared on Mei Fong’s face as she tossed her face fan to the side, letting it skid across the floor until it came to a stop near the wall. She took a Chinese martial arts stance and Black Lacer immediately went on guard. The woman who’s greatest pride was her martial skill only made such an innocent and pure expression during combat. Black Lacer could easily guess what was coming.

“You only need to block or evade ten consecutive strikes. Do this, and you can proudly claim to have overcome the challenge that I, Mei Fong, presented to you.”

And so the Black Lacer, the well-known vigilante and super villain of America, found herself being pummeled by a flurry of attacks so expert, she couldn’t even see them coming at first. For the first twelve sets, Black Lacer found herself being incapacitated by the very first strike—swept off her feet, a palm to her jaw, a knee in her gut, and many more strikes that utilized all four of Mei Fong’s limbs. The Chinese empress didn’t understand the concept of holding back, evidently, as she forcefully dealt each blow without hesitation. Black Lacer, who’d never took a single lesson of martial arts before in her life, was completely overwhelmed.

“Even a complete amateur can put up some semblance of a fight.” Mei Fong spoke in a musical voice as she spun on the balls of her feet and thrust her arms forward. Black Lacer threw herself to the ground to dodge, but ended up flat on her back. Mei Fong’s legs came down fiercely without missing a beat and Black Lacer found herself with her hands up, gripping the empress’ slender leg tightly as a crater formed in the earth beneath her. The strength of this god-slayer was definitely inhuman. “But relying on this instinct is foolish. The difference between swinging your fist and actually punching. The difference between kicking at someone and actually kicking them. The difference between blocking and putting another body part in the way of an attack. Do you know these differences?”

“As if I care about the difference, so long as I can smash the person’s face in!”

Black Lacer remained defiant as she shifted her body to let the force of Mei Fong’s kick to crash into the ground beside her. Black Lacer hopped to her feet immediately feeling slightly smug. She’d finally managed to block two strikes in a row.

That smugness was crushed as Mei Fong, despite her distance, pivoted on one foot and stretched her body and one arm forward. Black Lacer’s eyes widened under her domino mask as the spear hand’s finger tips jabbed almost a quarter inch into her chest as if it were as sharp as a knife. Had Mei Fong been closer, that strike would have been powerful enough to pierce through her body.

“Perhaps I should admonish you throughout this trial.” Mei Fong murmured aloud as she withdrew her hand as Black Lacer grimaced. A small amount of blood stained Mei Fong’s slender fingers but she paid no mind to it. “You fail to understand the level of respect necessary between a child and her elder. Your years do not compare to mine. Nor does your brilliance. Though you may be a devil king, do not forget you are still the least experienced among we seven. Can a dawn-to-dusk fungus understand the compass of a single month? Can a seasonal flower of the spring speak of the inconveniences of fall? Understand your place, child.”

“As if a villain like me can understand my ‘place’.” Black Lacer smirked bitterly. “My charm is my utter lack of charm, get it? Just because you feel obliged to act as my elder sister or whatever does mean I have to reciprocate those feelings.”

“I see. I suppose only time can heal the illness known as immaturity.”

With that said, the transcendent beauty took one step forward and her movement became a blur, even to Black Lacer with her expanded senses. The villain drenched in black continued to absorb blows from the elderly virgin in a strangely ironic fate. Two egos clashed in a limited challenge, both undoubtedly putting their all into it despite the fact that there was nothing to gain from success. It was unlikely that either of them even thought about how pointless this trading of blows was. To them, two people having a disagreement was perfectly natural. No matter how unreasonable either side was, so long as they resolved it in a way that could be accepted by both parties, then everything was fine. It wasn’t much different from the line of thinking the two devil kings in Europe had.

And though Black Lacer did not want to admit it, Mei Fong’s ‘teaching’ was actually having an effect. From the first many blows, Black Lacer had been struck by the first blow each time. But as time went on, then number of strikes she could block or dodge gradually increased. Black Lacer, who had no martial arts training whatsoever, was slowly learning to predict the woman’s movements before she made them and learned how to defend against them through trial and error. It was a dangerous way to learn, one that would cost the body of a normal person, but it was effective thanks to the sturdiness of a god-slaying devil king. Though the number of blocks she succeeded in performing was irregular, the average soon came out to be seven. Of course, the scary part was how long it took to reach this point. The hours that had passed had already brought sunset upon them.

There were stories about warriors who fought for days at a time without fatigue. Considering that these devil kings were meant to be on that level, it was unsurprising that they were still fighting without getting bored. With the end in sight, energy pumped through them like a powerful drug. After all, who’d ever heard of a devil king that did not enjoy a fight, whatever the reason? Even the sound of two voices calling out their name did not distract them at first. But eventually, it became so irritating that their focus broke.

“I do not care what your title or rank is, nor your economical position.” Mei Fong spoke coldly without turning as she and Black Lacer drew away from each other. Black Lacer looked up toward the top of one of the walls with a dead look of indifference on her face. “You are clearly aware that I am quite busy and yet you insist on interrupting me anyways. I assume you are prepared for the corresponding punishment?”

The look Mei Fong had in her eyes was a fury beyond the comprehension of a normal person. The Chinese man wearing the clothes you’d expect a kung fu master to wear froze for an entire second as Mei Fong peered toward him. He immediately knelt from his standing position on the wall, kowtowing as the picture of penitence.

“My deepest apologies! Hsien-Shao ordered me to come and report to you immediately about the dire situation! He begs that you come to take action at once and says that he shall responsibility for everything if this interrupts your assembly with the American devil king!”

“Dire situation…?” Mei Fong repeated as her eyes narrowed. “Is it the matter related to the god who escaped from me?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. The Greco-Roman deity is near Dunhuang where he has gone into a dormant state to heal his wounds that he had received from your imperial majesty. He also seems to have a spell that will activate along with his awakening.”

“Does he intend to use the Silk Roads…?” Mei Fong murmured under her breath as a pensive expression crossed her face. Then she looked toward Black Lacer, who merely regarded her without expression.

“I must apologize, child. This is a matter that I wish to handle properly. I failed to smite that cheeky god due to my own immaturity, so I must slay him properly now. I shall punish this one firmly for his impertinence, so please pay me a visit sometime in the future.”

“Actually, there is no need. I need to start over in that direction as well.”

“Why is that?”

Mei Fong’s elegant face made a confused expression that was strange considered the sharp beauty it usually held with more sophisticated expression. Black Lacer casually rolled her shoulders, frowning at the pain.

“Because I’ve got some trash to clean up, too. The bastard who summoned the god you’re hunting is someone I should have killed already but somehow got away. I came just so I could kick his ass. Also, my sidekick was supposed to have reported to me, but knowing his streak of misfortune, he’s probably already there with no way to directly contact me, so he’s relying on your messenger to get the message to me as well.”

“I see.”

Mei Fong accepted Black Lacer’s explanation easily enough. She turned her attention back to the bowing messenger.

“Be grateful that the American devil king has business in Dunhuang as well. Thanks to our benevolence, you shall be spared from any punishment.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence.” The man bowed his head deeply as relief filled his voice. He must have been incredibly stressed. “Your kindness shall be remembered for the rest of my small life. Shall I prepare for the travel?”

“No need. There is no need for a procession for this matter. As you said, we have little time to spare. We’ll use the Great Wall.”

“Yes, your imperial majesty.”

Procession of the Two Kings

By ‘use the Great Wall’, Mei Fong had literally meant using it as a means for transportation. The Great Wall of China had numerous uses thanks to its significance in history. First and foremost, it was a means of protection against the barbarians of the north, specifically the Mongolians. But it could also be used to travel its length at an incredible speed, so long as you knew the proper spell. Running worked, but you could on use it on yourself and another object. So in order to bring Black Lacer, who could not use the Great Wall of China like the martial artist and Mei Fong, the martial artist used a rickshaw with Mei Fong and Black Lacer in in the back.

Upon arrival in the desert, Black Lacer snorted as she observed the massive sand dunes. She still wore her tail coat and cloak, but the heat didn’t bother her at all. This wasn’t due to being a devil king—one could not be immune to temperature, even if the extremes couldn’t kill her. Her clothes were enchanted to withstand small things like this so that she could wear it anywhere. Mei Fong still wore her qipao that exemplified beauty, and due to the opening for her legs and the lack of sleeves, plus her hundreds of years of martial arts training, no one could even pretend to be worried for her. And even if there was a kind soul who’d still want to ask, they would think twice upon remembering this girl’s level of pride.

“They’re in there.” The martial artist pointed with one hand toward a cliff face as they reached the spot. “But there are no caves directly leading there, so we’ll have to take another route. I’m afraid that even the quickest route will take some time…”

“Save you breath, Jackie Chan.” Black Lacer said with a snort as she brushed back her cloak with a swing of one arm. Her expression was fierce as she regarded the cliff face with no openings. “We’ll simply make a path if there isn’t one already. Taking the long way is just a waste of time and cramps my style.”

“Agreed.” Mei Fong spoke succinctly as she stepped up to stand beside Black Lacer with her long black ponytail blowing on the wind. “You have served your purpose well. You are dismissed.”

The martial artist bowed immediately and backed away without showing his back to the two devil kings before he was out of sight behind a sand dune before he turned and ran off. His actions may have seemed cowardly, but it was the smartest decision. If he stuck around, he’d get caught in a battle between those at the level of the divine.

“I can sense that our loyal retainers are eagerly awaiting our arrival.” Mei Fong spoke calmly as she raised one hand. “It would be rude to tease them by stalling any longer.”

“That’s fine, but…I want to make sure of something first, old hag.”

Black Lacer glared at Mei Fong with a dark expression on her face and Mei Fong raised a dark eyebrow in response.

“Rude as always…what could you have to say?”

“I ain’t doing this to help you, nor is it because I don’t want the world to be covered in madness. I couldn’t care less what happens to Asia or Europe. In fact, it might be really fucking hilarious to see you all go crazy and starting burning each other’s houses. But the bastard I’m here to kill wants this to happen, so I’ll get in his way. If that includes me killing Dionysus, then sucks to be you.”

“You’re saying that you won’t observe the honor of one on one combat?” Mei Fong smiled elegantly at Black Lacer as an amused spark appeared in her eyes. “In that case, be prepared to defeat me as well, for I won’t stand aside for a foolish child like you.”

Their clear intents spoken, Mei Fong turned her attention back to the cliff face before her. Her thin lips parted as she began to sing aloud with a beautiful voice that flowed through the valley of cliffs.

“I am only an old woodsman, whispering a sob / As I steal like a spring-shadow down the Winding River / ...Since the palaces ashore are sealed by a thousand gates.”

As she sang, Mei Fong moved fluidly with her arms waving about slowly in a dance-like fashion. Along with the last word, she thrust one palm upward diagonally, her body becoming stiff as a board as she leaned forward on one bent knee, the other leg stretched out behind her. The sound of rock being crushed and crumbling to dust filled the air as he palm touched the cliff face from her thrust. Black Lacer whistled aloud in appreciation to the show of brute strength.

“That wasn’t just martial arts, was it?”

“Far from it. That was my Authority, the first of the twelve Chinese zodiacs. With the rat that came in first during the legendary race, I can burrow through any wall or ground with ease. And so we now have a path directly to our destination.”

“Then let’s get moving. I’ve been itching all day to kick Kinsley’s ass!”

The two monsters known as devil kings strode into the newly made tunnel to greet the god who was going to afflict the eastern world with madness. Even as the strong smell of grape and wine reached their noses, they did nothing more than twitch uncomfortably for a moment. With egos so big that even a god’s madness was nothing but an unpleasant wind, the two not-really-allies prepared to clean up their individual ‘messes’.

God of the Wine Harvest

The two retainers of the devil kings of America and Asia were side by side as they faced the leopard and snake, as well as the wall painting that had knocked out the majority of their forces in an instant. The god of wine could have awakened at any moment but neither of the two intended to leave. Of course, they would feel much better if they put a couple hundred kilometers between themselves and the cavern they were in, but if they did that, the spells they had set up to slow down the awakening of the deity would have gone to waste.

Falkner stood among several totems that sat on the grown around him. They were small handheld objects that could be hidden in his clothes, useful in situations like this. The totem represented the kinship of one with another being, whether they are animal or another person. Falkner used the characteristic to summon nature spirits from his surroundings. It was far different from normal divine summoning that called divine beings forcibly into the mortal world. This required a lot less energy and only called upon nameless existences that already existed in the world. This said nothing for how much power could be summon. Unlike gods, these spirits were merely forces of nature without a conscience. They could not interact with the living nor could they take on physical form. Their power was both omnipotent and inconsequential. Totemism is a hotly contested and underappreciated art that touched into another realm of spiritualism different from mere gods. However, using the power of multiple nature spirits was useful for soothing a god into a deeper slumber.

Hsien-Shao knelt beside Falkner, murmuring under his breath as he touched his fingers to the earth at his feet. The martial arts master seemed to be in a deep trance so Falkner assumed he was invoking Chinese arts to help keep the god asleep. Energy swirled gently within the cavern, which stirred the grape smell in the air. It ate away at Falkner’s consciousness, but he forced himself to stay focused no matter what. While he had totems that might help fight the madness slowly creeping onto his body, that would take his focus away from the more important issue at hand—stopping the god from awakening.

“Oi, oi. This is a real pain in the ass, you know? So can you quit trying so hard and just let him wake up?”

Falkner staggered as a figure strode into the cavern in a nonchalant manner and grinned directly at him. He wore a white robe and sandals and his dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His sneering expression reminded Falkner of a certain super villain from America.

“Kinsley…!”

“Yo! I don’t know who the hell you are, nor how you know who I am, but I’m serious about stopping. I worked pretty hard to summon this god and worked twice as hard to make sure he didn’t die in his fight against this country’s devil king.”

The energy swirling around Falkner stopped abruptly as his hands expertly pushed back his open black suit jacket to expose the two hand guns sitting on his belt. He grabbed them and mercilessly began firing on Kinsley, but not directly. He aimed at the surrounding walls, floor, and ceiling on purpose, partly to confuse his target. The bullets bounced off the hard surfaces like rubber balls and redirected their momentum straight toward the smirking Kinsley.

Falkner’s eyes widened as the bullets redirected themselves in midair before even touching Kinsley, flying into the walls once more to ricochet wildly, a few nearly hitting Falkner as a result. Kinsley snickered as he watched this.

“So those bullets of yours are made of magic, huh? Too bad; I can redirect the natural flow of magic around me. You can’t touch me with those bullets.”

Falkner ground his teeth as he aimed his guns again. He’d expected as much but couldn’t help trying. He’d have to figure out a different way to get to Kinsley without trying to directly affecting him with magic. Since Falkner was technically an amateur mage anyways, he was used to being innovative on the battlefield.

Just as Falkner prepared to move, a sharp pain spike through is head and he stumbled.

“Crap.” Falkner murmured irritably as his vision faded. In his moment of distraction, he’d lost focused and the madness got to him, giving him a headache. He immediately steeled his mind to recover, but was apparently too slow. Kinsley had drawn a knife from his robes and smirked sinisterly as he chucked it mercilessly at the stunned Falkner from just a couple feet away.

A robed figure placed himself between Kinsley and Falkner at the last moment and the knife was stopped by the open palm that placed itself firmly in its path. The blade slipped between the middle and ring finger of the hand, coming to a smooth stop. Hsien-Shao frowned darkly at Kinsley as he loosened his stance, holding the knife’s pinched between two fingers at his side.

“I am Empress Mei Fong’s most trusted daifu.” Hsien-Shao introduced himself as he cocked his head slightly. “Who may you be?”

“There is no need for introductions.” Kinsley smirked as he raised one hand with his thumb and middle finger pressed together. “With you now focused on me, there is no one left to sustain the magic you have prepared to subdue Dionysus with.”

The sound of his snap resembled glass shattering. It took Falkner a moment to realize that the sound was his ability to redirect magic taking effect. His many totems began to crack before shattering to pieces uselessly. The same happened to the Chinese characters Hsien-Shao had drawn on the ground. But the remains did not simply disappear. The shards arranged themselves strangely as the Chinese pictograms turned into strange foreign marks. It was not a function the two had added in, so that must mean…

“My power isn’t the cancel magic—I redirect and rearrange it! The spells crafted to keep Dionysus asleep are now speeding up the inevitable and waking him up!”

A truly detestable man, Falkner thought as the air was sudden tinged a deep red. His villainous character was beyond despicable. Perhaps that was why Falkner imagined that Black Lacer would have applauded this tactic.

The air became incredibly stifling and concentration dropped along with visibility. There was a strange screech that pierced the air as excitement levels increased for absolutely no reason. The summoning of the heretic god of wine and ecstasy was probably fueling insanity all on its own.

Hsien-Shao tackled Falkner to the ground as grape vines suddenly burst from the ground and rock walls, throwing rubble and dust into the air. It was followed by a sound that didn’t exist, resembling the sound of a mind breaking that Falkner already heard. It was difficult for him to be sure, but he had a dead feeling in his gut that it was the sound of the spell linked with the heretic god’s revival finally activating.

Asia, Europe, and Africa would be overrun with madness in a short amount of time, spreading along the same routes as the bubonic plague that wiped out a third of the medieval population.

Silence followed the explosion of debris and was only broken by the sound of someone drinking sloppily from a wine bottle.

“Ugh…” A rigid voice spoke, completely relaxed despite the situation. “I feel so stiff. How long was I asleep?”

“Some amount of day. I lost track due to the anticipation.”

Kinsley’s voice replied smoothly. Falkner and Hsien-Shao pushed the debris that had landed on them off and saw a strange sight before them.

A large Caucasian man in a toga with a purple sash was sitting among a mass of twirling vines, relaxing in a completely unconcerned manner like Greek king. He had a thick curly beard that linked to his hair through is side burns. He carried a massive wine bottle in his hand and deep red wine that resembled blood was drooling down his lips, staining his toga.

Kinsley was just a few feet away, grinning toward the god with excitement etched into his face.

“Oh? So you are the one who summoned me?”

“And the one who made sure you could get a good rest before I could fight you. You almost lost before but I managed to give you a last minute escape route.”

“Oh really? I almost lost?”

The Greek god laughed jollily as he clapped a hand on his knee repeatedly. The alcohol in his bottle slopped across the ground but was immediately soaked up by the vines.

“Hilarious! I don’t even remember! I must have had a big hangover! I can’t even tell if I’m in my Greek or Roman state! But I can tell that you’re not one of those god-slayers I’ve heard about. Why are you interested in fighting me?”

“In order to become a god-slayer and rule the Americas! I almost succeed some years ago, but this brat got in my way.”

“You summoned me for the purpose of becoming a god-slayer?” Dionysus murmured groggily as he frowned at Kinsley. “That’s a first.”

“And it will also be your last. Get up and fight me, god of wine and harvest!”

The Realm of the Divine Egos

Before Dionysus could give his reply, whether it was positive or negative, the wall exploded as something burst in from the outside. But unlike before, it seemed to be done to tunnel through, rather than a reckless smashing of pure stone. This was even more surprising, though, since that meant that someone had managed to blow through solid rock without any explosives or a drill.

“Hey you!” A rapidly approaching voice echoed through the smooth tunnel that had been suddenly dug out. “Fuck you!!!”

The next thing that anyone knew, a figure wearing a black cloak came out of the tunnel so fast that it seemed to be flying. Kinsley barely managed to bring his arms up to soften the blow that went straight for his face and he went flying straight into the nearest wall with debris falling over him.

“There we go.” Black Lacer smirked as she landed roughly on the ground, her dark hair draping wildly over her cloak. “It looks like our shortcut worked. What’s up, Falco?”

Falkner could not respond. Though he had been praying that this person arrived as soon as possible, he hadn’t expected her to suddenly crash in like this. How had she even managed to pull of that feat? There was no magic used and Black Lacer definitely did not have an Authority that could carve such a clean hole through cliffs.

“The stench in here is abhorrent and stifling. Does a Greek god really indulge in such a disgusting and sloppy manner? It lacks the grace that one who claims to be ‘divine’ should have.”

The smell of sour grape was clearly affecting Falkner’s sense of judgment. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have controlled himself far better when he turned around curiously to see the speaker with such a melodious and lyrical voice.

Standing just a few feet away, having come from the tunnel so gracefully that she could not be detected, was the transcendent beauty that made the mind of any man stop. Falkner had never been interested in the oriental, but he even forgot his own preferences when he saw the woman wearing a tight fitting qipao that was both practical for movement and showing off a body blessed to her by the gods themselves. Her long black hair was tied into a single bun with two chopstick stuck in it before extending down a long ponytail. When she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, the movement allowed the split within the bottom portion of her qipao to expose her slender legs and flats.

“Americans truly lack manners of any kind. Retainer of King Black Lacer, do you know no shame?”

Falkner regained control of his blank and unreserved expression immediately as Mei Fong referred to him without even turning her eyes in his direction. He immediately bowed his head in apology as soon as he could.

“I’m sorry, Lady Mei Fong.” Falkner was inwardly grateful that the name came to him before he could stumble over it, which would probably only further incur her anger. “I did not mean any disrespect. I had forgotten myself.”

Rather than answering, one of Mei Fong’s slender legs extended out quicker than the eye could track and her foot connected with Falkner’s chin. He was thrown back several feet before landing roughly on his back in the debris.

“Normally, a commoner who lays eyes on me without permission must gorge out his eyes.” Mei Fong spoke with her small back to Falkner. “A commoner who hears my voice without permission must stick pens in their ears. A commoner who speaks to me out of line or without permission must cut out his tongue. However, as you are the one most trusted by my youngest sister, I shall look past your sins this once. Be grateful.”

Falkner felt his numb chin with one hand as he frowned, daring not to respond. Though it may have seemed harsh, she was definitely being kind in her own way. That kick could easily have broken his jaw and snapped his neck, but she’d retrained herself so that it would only serve as a light punishment. Remembering what Hsien-Shao had said before, Falkner figured that he could simply swallow his own pride and deal with it.

“Kehehe. That pervert deserved it.” Black Lacer snickered as she watched this unnatural greeting with enjoyment.

“I just wake up and entertainment like this greets me.” Dionysus agreed as he took another swig of wine. “The mortal world is bountiful with interesting things.”

“Oh? You find me entertaining?” Mei Fong raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention to the god with dispassion. “God of the wine harvest, your ignorance and lack of wit is unsuited for one who claims superiority in age even to me. As I said before, this stench is unbearable and you indulge in alcohol without any reservation.”

“Oho. But it is simply who I am.” Dionysus grinned as he waved the wine bottle before the god-slayers as if trying to tempt them. “But the way you talk, you sound like you and I have met before? But I cannot say I recognize you.”

Mei Fong’s eyes narrowed drastically at that and Black Lacer hid a spiteful grin.

“It appears I was truly too lenient at the time…to have failed to engrave this face into your memories, I see my own flaws glaring at me like crowd on a boring entertainer. Very well. I shall speak to you my name once again and then condemn you to death as punishment for having forgotten it. I am Mei Lin, style name Fong, also known as the Empress of the Martial Realm. I am the god-slaying devil king that presides over these Asian lands and among the eldest of the existences that defy uncultured deities such as yourself. I have slain the disorderly and riotous wind god of the northern blizzards as well as the twelve incarnations of the Chinese zodiac and possess the martial arts of the gods themselves.”

“Revealing your god-slaying techniques to a god who has forgotten them?” Dionysus cocked a grin as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty confident.”

“I have nothing to hide from a fool such as yourself. Even if you know what I am capable of, you shall be crushed all the same.”

Dionysus merely chuckled as he turned his attention to Black Lacer, who stood with her arms folded across her chest as she observed the Greco-Roman god with an unreadable expression.

“Black Lacer, god-slaying devil king of the New World and super villain vigilante.” Black Lacer responded shortly. Her grin appeared back on her face. “By the way, Mr. God, it seems that you had a spell ready and revving to go once you woke up. But it seems like something’s containing it within the surrounding area.”

“I noticed.” Dionysus nodded agreeably. “Stopping a spell of that caliber is no easy feat, so kudos to you.”

“It wasn’t us.” Mei Fong readily denied. She elegantly refused to take credit for something she had nothing to do with. That, in its own way, was a mixture of pride and generosity. It was highly possible that Mei Fong adhered to her own standards of being a devil king similar to how the Black Lacer followed her own standards for being a villain. “The devil king of Eastern Europe sent her subordinates ferretting around, so I suspect she set up a barrier with holes so small that even the tendrils of madness cannot escape to spread.”

“Loki’s Net, eh?” Dionysus chuckled as he took another large swig of wine before setting it on the ground beside him. “Can I interest you two in some wine? Since you’re here, I should at least follow the Greek customs of homage.”

“I must refuse your offer. I refuse to drink alcohol unnecessarily.”

“And since I’m frozen at nineteen, I’m technically underage, right?”

The two devil kings refused in their own way, drawing an exasperated sigh from the wine god. However, Black Lacer added onto her reason in a way that was more like a playful excuse.

“Besides, I’ve got to focus on my reason for being here. It was fun talking, but I’ve got to kick someone’s ass…”

As she said this, an orb of orange light flew at Dionysus. Black Lacer stepped in front of it and her eight slender inhumane legs sprouted from her back. Two of her left ones grabbed the orb in midair and tossed it to the side, creating a small explosion that sent debris raining from the ceiling.

“Hey, retard!” Black Lacer roared with a smirk bright on her face. She was clearly enjoying herself, acting thuggishly simply for the sake of it. “Didn’t I already knock you the hell out?!”

“Shut up, you sorry excuse for a devil king!” Kinsley yelled back. He had pulled himself out of the rubble and had used his ring of flashcards to send that attack at Dionyus, eyes lit up in furry as he failed. “What the hell are you doing here when you can’t even conquer your own territory properly?!”

“Again with this imperialism crap? Do I have to kick your ass?!”

Kinsley the Mage Killer slashed his flashcards through the air and blue glitter seemed to fill the air in front of him. It blew towards the two god-slayers and the god before beginning to detonate like cluster bombs. Black Lacer easily protected herself by erecting a blue force field of crackling energy as she spread her palms out. One of her eight arms shot a string upwards to cling to the ceiling, drawing her upwards into the air to see over the smoke and dust raised by the explosions. One of her arms shot forward like a scorpion’s tail and grabbed Kinsley nimbly, pulling him up into the air. Once he was close, Black Lacer’s force field immediately shattered and Kinsley’s flashcards sent another orange orb to attach the masked villain. Black Lacer swung on the string holding her in the air to narrowly avoid the attack and the arm holding Kinsley abruptly threw the man straight through the tunnel the two god-slayers had arrived through, forcing him out of the cavern entirely. Black Lacer’s seven legs grabbed footholds around the hole as the remaining leg cut the string holding her up and the legs pulled her through the hole, shooting her like a slingshot.

“Well, it looks like it’s getting messy in here.” Dionysus’ voice spoke lazily amid the smoke and dust. Immediately afterward, it was all sucked out through the hole by a wind conjured with magic. Dionysus’ eyes turned to the ground nearby and saw that all of the martial artists who’d been there unconscious before earlier were all gone along with Hsien-Shao and Falkner. Apparently, the two of them were smart enough to retreat with the survivors rather than stick around and watch the fighting.

“But they’ll miss the thrilling show.” Dionysus snickered as he reached for the bottle of wine he’d set down. The bottle shattered suddenly before he could touch it and the god blinked in confusion for a moment. He observed the rock that had flown from the ground nearby, moving with enough velocity to completely smash the half full bottle.

“What a waste…”

“On your feet, harvest god. Greek or Roman in nature—it makes no difference. Either way, you shall suffer the might of the one who stands at the very pinnacle of martial splendor.”

A wide smile split Dionysus’ face as he looked up toward the young looking god-slayer who had lived for several hundred years. Mei Fong looked down at him with a graceful smile that radiated joy and purity; a smile that was in stark contrast with Dionysus’, which was fueled by lust, arrogance, recklessness, wrath, and many other sinful characteristics.

“It should be fun, challenging an opponent I don’t remember fighting.” Dionysus chuckled as he raised his hand as if he had a walking cane to use to support him. As he motioned to stand, a thyrsus suddenly appeared, wrapped in a vine and dripping with a substance that must have been honey. The end was bottom end was sharp like a thorn and it was known to destroy those who oppose his cults. The scent of wine flowed from it, filling the air once more as the scent had been filtered out along with the dust and smoke earlier. “I expect this to be entertaining.”

“Oh, it shall be. One does not get the privilege to challenge me often. Even rarer is one misfortunate enough to duel me. Harvest god, former demigod and the latest edition to the Greco-Roman pantheon…you must truly have been damned by your fellow gods to face me twice.”

Rage of the Holy Wars

“I don’t care if we trample even our own comrades!” Spencer roared furiously at the driver of the flag-tank of the Holy Crusaders as he pressed his head against the goggles allowing him to aim so hard that he was unsure if he’d be able to unglue himself once this was all over. “Do not stop moving for even a second! I’m going to crush that 152 mm cannon with my own shots if I need to!”

Spencer had no real reason to sound so mad. He simply got worked up when he was enjoying himself. The grassy plains of northern Germany had turned into a fire field under the stress of the Bloodlust Normans facing off with the Holy Crusaders. Two forces with zeal and offensive power that surpassed any other magic organization, the fighting was beyond normal war. The Bloodlust Normans were basically modern day Vikings who once pillaged and burned down entire islands. Their brutally remained even in this era, though they fought for a slightly altered set of morals. Similarly, the Holy Crusaders are a large group deriving from the very same Crusaders who led charges against the Holy Lands under the control of the Muslims, consisting of violent and rowdy knights all across Europe who fought under the flag. Now with a higher success rate than their predecessors, the flag was still flown as they trampled those they deemed to be enemies of God. They did not fight with the normal thoughts of jealous rivalry and bitter competition, but rather with the same set of morals that brought them along the same path in opposite directions.

The most intense fight between two tanks was taking place on this battlefield that could be seen as the bridge between these two different groups from entirely different worlds. The two flag-ships—one called Sleipnir, the other merely a nicely decorated tank with excellent specs—were constantly moving from being nearly a kilometer apart and a mere few inches away as their cannon fire filled the air. Both sides were slightly frustrated with the fact that they had so little options for tactics on such open land, but they were also thrilled by the challenge. It was clear that whoever got the first solid hit in would be the victor.

“At least, that would be the case if their attack power was higher.” Sigmund chuckled as he smiled slyly. He was a blonde German man wearing clothes like a military general, sitting in the driver’s seat of the tank. He had a custom made scope for him to see and navigate without any help from the others in the tank. Despite his cold appearance, he appeared to be inwardly thrilled as he manipulated the controls fiercely, shaking the entire tank with violent-yet-expertly-done jerks. “Our tank can handle their fire but their brittle armor will be crushed by a single blow from us. Lock the cannon’s position when I give the order!”

“Yes sir!”

The other men listened to his orders flawlessly. Sigmund was a proven combatant with excellent skill when it came to war. He had studied numerous historical documents on both ancient and modern warfare. Though he wore the military outfit out of pure preference, it wasn’t as if it was undeserved. Numerous times, he’d led the Bloodlust Normans in a fashion similar to a military general, proving his tactical and strategic prowess.

“Comparatively, this enemy should be nothing more than a brute who knows nothing more than how to fight. Since they’ve been be cautious with their fire, it’s highly probable they already know their shells can’t pierce our armor so easily. They’ll wait for an opening to shoot out the weak spots. Sad to say, we have no weak spots. We’ll shatter they’re efforts with an attack they can easily understand.”

And so Sigmund immediately changed the pattern of the Sleipnir’s movements. While it was much faster and versatile while in its chariot form, it also lacked the same defense power the KV-2 form had. Sigmund naturally preferred the modern feel of the tank despite his roots in the world of magic. That was the one thing he wondered about himself. Did he, who loved the modern world, really have a place in the world of magic?

His thoughts were cut off abruptly by cannon fire. This time, it connected with the cannon atop the KV-2 and the tank shook violently as Sigmund gripped the controls in order to keep control of the machine. The entire KV-2 turned sideways as it came extremely close to the Crusader’s flag tank, actually coming side by side with it. The shooter apparently had the skill to shoot the cannon of another tank and knock them off course. It was definitely an incredible feat.

“Just as I expected. This is checkmate, Crusaders.” Sigmund smirked as he sat back in his seat victoriously. The cannon had already been locked in place so that it faced the exact direction of Crusader flag-tank after being shot off course. The range was completely pointblank.

The sound of cannon fire range out as the 152 caliber blast fired without missing a beat. The frail armor of the Crusader flag-tank was completely ripped apart by the blast that was amplified by magic, leaving little more than charred remains and flames. It was doubtful that a living human could stand up to such an attack even with defensive magic put up at the last second.

But what about defensive magic from one called a god-slayer?

A glowing cross crafted from magic burned brightly over the remains of the tank, bathing it in holy white light. Sigmund’s teeth ground together as he saw the men who’d been piloting the tank all standing without any visible wounds. He quickly calmed down as he began to consider whether it was worth firing on them directly or if he should just run them over. But before he came to a decision, Spencer Nicolson held up one hand and chanted aloud a Christian prayer. The small golf ball sized gem embedded in his left glove glowed as it sprouted into what resembled wings. In reality, it was a bow crafted from magic. Spencer calmly pulled back on the glowing blue string as he aimed to large arrow that manifested directly at the Sleipnir.

“He intends to fight cavalry as infantry?” Sigmund murmured incredulously as he had the Sleipnir retreat cautiously at once. A grin spread across Spencer’s face as he turned the bow horizontally and remained focused.

“The longbow is a monster that can unhorse knights.” He murmured the last stanza of the spell to increase the arrow’s piercing strength. Against cavalry, this spell was best suited. Spencer than released the arrow fluidly and it shot through the air as if cutting it. It spread wide like a fan and connected with the front of the tank, cutting right below the cannon and splitting the tank’s top off like a can opener. The top of the Sleipnir went flying off into the air before landing heavily on the ground nearby.

“Geez.” Spencer muttered as he sighed in relief as the Sleipnir came to a stop. “I thought I was dead. Thank god His Majesty’s Croce di Pietro activated, or else we would have been in trouble.”

“So you were protected by a powerful spell related to the disciples of Christ himself?” Sigmund spoke coolly as he stepped out of the now useless tank to glare down at Spencer. “I suppose I should commend your caution. If even half of our men were able to think that far ahead, they would be a thousand times more effective.”

“You shouldn’t insult you own men on the battlefield.” Spencer warned as he aimed his bow once more. “It’s disgraceful.”

“Not like there is much charm in this sort of dirty combat.” Sigmund sighed as he held up his military baton like a general would. No doubt, it would serve as a wand during combat. “However, I shall oblige. One way or another, it must be done.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elsewhere on the battlefield, two people were locked in such dirty combat.

These two were moving across the battlefield, completely ignoring the other knights and warriors in deadlock as they traded blows. It was far from a fight that anyone could get involved in, so the best they could do was try to keep from getting sucked in.

Elizabeth Renoir was using magic to stimulate her leg muscles, allowing her to back pedal and jump with incredible speed and to incredible heights. This golden haired knight wore custom made armor that signified her fierce nature without marring her young maidenhood and carried a large shield with a red cross emblazoned on it as well as a long rapier in her hands. The look on her face was set with determination as they focused on her opponent without distraction.

Bayloupe was called ‘Devil Hair’ for a reason. Red as her hair was before, it now burned like scarlet rubies as it flowed behind her in the air. She wore what appeared to be an open winter coat over a black sports bra and a tunic’s bottom in a manner similar to a skirt. She, too, was a maiden—one referred to as a Valkyrie, a Norse spirit of battle. While she was not an actual Valkyrie, she was as close as a living human could get when it came to combat and magic. On top of that, she was also capable of making use of the technique called divine possession, which was currently active as she wielded a sword that appeared to have been made by a viscous liquid that may have been blood.

It was this very sword that crashed into Elizabeth’s shield as they moved throughout the battlefield, one in pursuit of the other. Elizabeth had immediately gone on the defensive after Bayloupe’s relentless attacks had nearly cut off her facing, leaving a single cut across her cheek. Bayloupe didn’t hesitate to press the knight with slash after slash. The powerful attacks send blasts of force around them that sometimes knocked the others off of their feet, but only sent a few strands of Elizabeth’s hair that was free from the braided flat bun fluttering wildly.

“Is this what you do after forcing me to go all out?!” Bayloupe demanded furiously as she slashed down fiercely and Elizabeth’s shield once again got in the way of the attack. “Fully aware that I am a Valkyrie wielding the legendary sword Hrunting, you challenged me! Why are you suddenly backing away?!”

“The tactics of one with a shield is different from one who only uses a single sword.” Elizabeth replied with a voice that was filled with concentration. “Frankly, I feel troubled when I see someone fighting with a sword one-handedly while the other hand does nothing. Not even those as strong as Yvon or His Majesty fight like that. It looks to me that you are either not enjoying the fight or are insulting me by saying both hands aren’t needed for your victory.”

“Do you involve your pride in every little thing you do, Renoir?”

Elizabeth grimaced as she felt her feet land back on the ground and Bayloupe immediately slashed once again without giving Elizabeth the chance to jump back again. If Elizabeth stayed on the ground, she’d be pressed between Bayloupe’s crushing attack and the ground, which would harm her body even if she blocked with her shield.

Elizabeth cocked her body to the side and brought her shield up firmly. The blade skidded against the surface of the titled shield so that the attack was redirected. Elizabeth had moved her body to evade most of the strike, expertly sidestepping away from the directed blow. As Bayloupe had mercilessly put all of her strength into the blow, she was unable to bring the blade back up in time as Elizabeth shifted her body, bringing her hand with the rapier thrusting forward like a lance, moving along a straight path toward the girl’s head.

Just as the tip of the rapier approached her face, only a mere centimeter away, Bayloupe managed to tug on the hilt of the blade that had just embedded itself in the ground, bringing Bayloupe’s body downwards to the ground as Elizabeth’s swift and flawless movement brought her over her. Bayloupe released her sword altogether and clenched her hands as she brought and elbow into Elizabeth’s gut fiercely, completely ignoring the armor that was there. Elizabeth jerked in shock as she felt her breath leave her and the second strike made her cough up her own mucus and saliva. The third consecutive strike nearly made her drop her weapons. But as Bayloupe withdrew her arms for the fourth, Elizabeth tightened her grip on her weapons and drew her body back abruptly, kicking out with one foot at the same time. Though this put her off balance, the metal of her boot would do quite a bit of damage to the back of Bayloupe’s unguarded head.

Bayloupe barely managed to avoid the strike by pressing herself to the ground once more and she ripped her sword out of the ground once more as she charged toward Elizabeth’s unbalanced body once more. However, the shield put itself between the two once again and Bayloupe used her velocity to jump and use the shield as a spring board, flying back a few feet. The force sent Elizabeth toppling to the grass and Bayloupe capitalized on the moment by stabbing down fiercely. Elizabeth rolled over just in time to evade the strike and brought her rapier up at the same time, aiming straight for the girl’s naked abdomen.

Of course, Bayloupe was protected by the fire spell that protected her from physical harm by produce flames where it was touched, much like treasure chests in Norse stories. However, Elizabeth wasn’t fazed.

“Michael…!”

Invoking the power of the archangel that led God’s army, white flames erupted from the swept hilt of the rapier and shot up the length of the rapier’s blade. The white flames mixed with the reddish-orange flames as the two opposing types of fire clashed. The reddish-orange flames that were simply the result of a defensive spell for physical attacks parted when faced with the unrelenting force of the holy flames, which receded as well, allowing Elizabeth’s rapier to continue along its path, piercing the soft flesh of the Norse maiden.

Several moments of silence passed as the Valkyrie and knight glared at each other, both of them with their thin lips parted slightly to gasp for breath. Red blood mixed with salty sweat that dripped from the Valkyrie and stained the knight’s armor, but that was far from a concern. It was only natural for these two to be exhausted. One had used the exhausting technique known as divine possession while the other had faced it. On top of that, they’d been fighting for so long that the sun was beginning the set. Strong as they were, they were still human. They took the moment for a break even though they were in the midst of combat.

This break only lasted a brief few moments. The sound of dirt and grass being plowed could be hurt from Elizabeth’s right and her emerald eyes glanced to the side to see the legendary sword known as Hrunting slowly inching its way toward Elizabeth’s neck while cutting through the ground. This Valkyrie was entirely restless! Even with a sword in her gut, she refused to back down!

“I am the blade that cuts for the sake of Jarl Van.” Bayloupe murmured as the blade continued to inch toward Elizabeth. Elizabeth shifted the rapier and more blood spilled from Bayloupe’s gut. However, this did not even slow the girl’s progress. “There is no regret in going this far to defeat my opponent.”

“I won’t hesitate to pierce through your innards and force you to bleed internally.” Elizabeth warned as she gave up on using her shield to knock Bayloupe off of her. After the beating her body had taken, she could not seem to get enough oxygen flowing through her body to give her the strength to lift the shield. “As a knight, I won’t go down alone.”

“So be it. I won’t back down. So long as I take your head, even if I die, there won’t be any shame.”

The two girls who were warriors at heart only had the honor of their death in mind as they tightened their grips on their weapons. The legendary sword named Hrunting then suddenly cut through the soil and grass toward a neck as the long rapier of the holy knight thrust forward without mercy, piercing through more flesh.

Forty-Thousand Men Do Not Make Up Their Sum

The two forces known as god-slaying devil kings clashed once more, but completely forgot about staying in the air to avoid wrapping up others in their fight. While they weren’t inconsiderate enough to simply fight without regards for their own comrades, it went against their nature to restrain themselves too much for too long.

It was really simple. If you were inside a full subway for hours on end, you would feel tight and cramped. You would want to stretch but it would be bothersome to others if you suddenly took up more space selfishly. The moment you got the chance, you would stretch your muscles freely. It was the same for these people who had power beyond control. Against normal people and even divine beasts that give normal people trouble, devil kings normally had to hold back to avoid going overboard. Even if they were aiming to defeat an opponent, they would hold back by nature in order to make the moment last longer. With the exception of the youngest of the New World who was still too immature to do anything but throw her all into her eccentric actions, all devil kings tended to do things in a manner that they would enjoy most. So when they got the rare chance to ‘exercise’ their full strength when faced with a god or god-slayer, could one really blame them for forgetting themselves?

“Take a round of this!” Jarl Svanhildr Víðarr, devil king of Scandinavian country, called with a grin as he grabbed at the air with his gloved hands and contracted his fingers as if to grab something. Though their appeared to be nothing there, Svanhildr’s fingers still ceased contracting as if they found purchase. In reality, there was something there. If one looked at it logically, there was the theory of catching and throwing air. There was air resistance, which meant it existed and was a physical substance. That is all that is necessary for this phenomenon. Of course, this scenario is still unlikely as human muscles do not have the capability of grabbing air that is a fluid less viscous than simple water. Magic, however, had the power to make up for what he lacked. Especially if they were Járngreipr, the gloves that could grab anything no matter how slippery or corrosive.

Svanhildr swung his arms over his head and threw his hands forward with all of his might. The air shook as a gust of wind rushed into the area where the air unnaturally left. A bomb of expanding air rushed forward with the force to tear skin from bone. It slammed into the plains of Germany, unable to reach its intended target as it blew away grass and dirt along with tanks and infantry too slow to get away.

Grandmaster Charles Saint-Richelieu, devil king of Western Europe, grimaced as he moved at speed on par with the gods, flickering about so quickly that a normal person would mistake it for teleportation. Though it was not visible while he moved, wings stolen from the fallen angel named Azazel sprouted from his back and allowed him to evade the air bombs thrown at him without harm.

“Van, you fool! Be more aware of your surroundings!”

Charles roared aloud as he charged forward in a straight line suddenly, aiming directly for the sturdily built Norseman with his large broadsword held up high. If one could take a high resolution picture of this ultra-high-speed moment, they would have captured what looked like a medieval king charging forward like leader of the angels of God. It had an eerily poetic feel to it that would have surely become a legendary picture if it had been captured and painted by someone some few hundred years earlier.

Svanhildr grinned as he grabbed the small rod stuck in his belt around his waist and held it up. It sprouted into a longer staff that sparkled with electricity as he shot forward. Gríðarvölr was a staff that allowed the user to turn into a bolt of lightning to fly in any direction they want temporarily, moving at the speed of light. However, they could only move in a single direction and could not attack while in this form, so it was severely limited compared to Charles’ god speed. However, with enough concentration Svanhildr could turn in ninety degree angles abruptly. With this, Svanhildr seemed to bounce through the air like a ping pong ball, circling around Charles from behind before reforming and slamming into the knight’s side with the staff.

Charles grimaced from the force of the attack but did not let Svanhildr off. His hand gripped Svanhildr’s wrist tightly as he held his other hand up over his head.

“Father of the almighty Sun! I call upon thy fathership to bring down the strength of thy sun! With the crown fashioned from the light that illuminates even the heavens, cede to me another of your heavenly creations!”

A glowing orb of fire and light formed quickly in Charles’ hand, growing quickly to the size of a golf ball. That was the size it normally took since, even with Viracocha’s Authority called the ‘Crown of Suns’, Charles could not create something the size of the sun that sustains life on earth. Though scientifically there was no real difference between a sun and a star, the magic side made a big deal about it. Nonetheless, Charles carried enough power to wipe an entire nation off the face of the earth if he had the resolve and energy to spare.

However, the Immobile Fortress was a force to be reckoned with as well, wielding an Authority from a different creation deity.

“I invoke the power of the maintainer, Vishnu!”

Svanhildr called aloud as his magical power swelled in his body and an avatar of another man appeared over him with four arms and a mustache above his lip. Charles clicked his tongue impatiently as he slammed his palm into Svanhildr, but the sun merely went out like a smothered fire.

“Heh.” Svanhildr cocked a grin as he gripped Charles’ waist with his arms and swung his torso around into a spin, making a full revolution multiple times as his feet pivoted on the ground. With his Trimūrti Authority usurped from Hinduism, Svanhildr could summon Vishnu, who could maintain everything in its current state. For five seconds, nothing around Svanhildr could be created nor destroyed. No harm could come to anyone or anything, nor could they be healed. It was a completely impartial ability that affected Svanhildr as well. So instead of attacking, Svanhildr merely used his superhuman strength to throw the enemy devil king. Charles was helpless to resist that powerful force as he was thrown into the air mercilessly. With four seconds passed, Svanhildr immediately picked up the hammer Mjölnir from his belt and tossed it fiercely at Charles’ airborne body. It would strike by time five seconds passed. But that also meant Charles’ ability would become usable as well, leaving a two minute window before Svanhildr could use the Authority again.

Since there is probably a misunderstanding towards just how strong Svanhildr is, an explanation is necessary. With the power of the Megingjörð that was part of Thor’s Authority set, Svanhildr possessed immeasurable physical strength. The belt of Thor was said to grant the strength to carry Mjölnir, which only one other could do due to how incredibly heavy it is, as well as grant him strength beyond that of the god known for ripping apart Fenrir’s jaws. The result? Charles was shot into the atmosphere like a rocket, giving him the altitude to view the entire battlefield from above.

“While this would work against a normal person who can’t fly…He must really just be interested in showing off his strength.”

Charles grumbled as he gripped his broad sword with two hands. He would not stand to be humiliated by a man who put so much more value in simple comparing physical strength. Though he knew he should be above such trivialities, his honor as a knight could not stand the thought of ignoring such a challenge.

With a single swing, his broad sword struck the hammer flying after him. With an explosion of sparks similar to fireworks lighting up the sky, the heavy but short hammer was deflected and sailed back toward the ground.

“Wine signifies the blood of the Lord…Bread signifies His flesh…”

Charles murmured a chant referring to the most powerful example of symbolism in all of Christianity. It helped him link another symbol that he was currently wielding his hands—probably the most famous symbol in all of religion.

People often overlooked it, but the generic sword was made with a cross guard, blade, and hilt in a particularly dry and overused pattern. However, it was still continually used with few exceptions in the west. There was a reason for this.

Hold a sword up vertically, and it is a weapon.

Turn it one-hundred-eighty degrees and it became a cross.

Charles flew down with his god’s speed without any hesitation. His sword glowed with bright white light as he bellowed aloud, his face contorted with determined strength as he shot downward like an angel attacking the earth.

Svanhildr caught his hammer as he waited below, grinning as he gripped it tightly to meet the quickly approaching knight.

“Divine…”

“MJÖLNIR!!!”

“JUDGMENT!!!!!!!”

The collision of weapons sent a powerful shockwave coupled with white light and lightning across the entire battlefield. Many knights and warriors in the midst of battle were blown away from the attack, flying off in all directions from the attack. The air went deafeningly silent from the force of the attacks that met and the light died, electricity continued to crackle around the deep crater left in the attacks wake. Only Charles was visible standing at the edge of the crater as he doubled over, using his large broadsword to keep himself standing.

After an attack of that level, even a devil king’s body was shaken. With the speed at which he reentered the troposphere along with the force of collision, it was incredible more of his bones weren’t broken. However, with Gaia’s Authority that gave him the sturdiness of the very earth itself, he had managed to shrug off a lot of damage. Magical damage, however, was different. Taking on the mighty mountain crushing Mjölnir was a dangerous gamble no matter how he approached it.

“Still…” Charles muttered as he straightened his back. His blue cape fluttered behind him in the wind as his emerald eyes focused on the pounds of rubble in the crater that had buried the other devil king. “Being on the bottom during a clash like that is disadvantageous in any fight. I may have given him a wound too heavy for him to even dig himself out.”

“Who’s…too wounded…to dig themselves…OUT?! CHARLIE!?!?!”

Svanhildr’s voice echoed from beneath the large pieces of rubble that he’d been buried under. Charles wasn’t surprised to hear that he was alive, but once he saw the large rocks begin shifting and moving as if someone beneath them was pushing up, even the normally composed king balked for a moment. Boulders flew from the crater and landed outside the edge as Svanhildr pushed them away, eventually only leaving him with a large boulder that he carried over his head. He was covered in bruises and blood was running down from his forehead, but his eyes showed that he was ready for another round, just as Charles had been after being struck from the sky earlier.

“Like I would be kept down by something like an attack equivalent to a falling meteor!”

“…I’d call you a monster, but that would be hypocritical. Nonetheless, I commend your tenacity, Van.”

Svanhildr tossed the boulder away and easily climbed out of the crater, coming to standing just a few feet away from the waiting Charles. He carried his staff in one hand and the hammer in the other, both yet to be activated with crackling lightning, his gloves and belt perpetually active. Charles carried his heavy broadsword that was strengthened by Gaia’s Authority as a crown of fire burned over his blonde hair and the angel wings that granted him god speed became partially visible in the light of the evening moon.

“It’s been a while since we’ve gone at it like this.” Svanhildr chuckled in spite of his injuries. “Wasn’t it when the German princes went Protestant? Things have certainly changed.”

“The world continues to evolve even if god-slaying devil kings remain immortal.” Charles agreed with the smallest of sighs. “Our old-fashioned sense of doing things must be an eyesore.”

“Ya think? Well, I’m older than you but we’ve still seen an equal amount of bloodshed. I guess all of it has gotten us to be pretty stubborn in what we believe, eh?”

“For the sake of dead comrades, we wield our weapons for a greater purpose, and yet others criticize us. Perhaps this is how olden kings…no, how gods themselves felt.”

Charles picked his sword up and leveled the tip with Svanhildr’s face. Svanhildr’s grin widened to show his teeth excitedly as he prepared to intercept Charles’ god speed with his lightning speed.

Both were monsters who’d held their weapons up in order to do what they thought was right. The experiences they held could not be fathomed, but those behind them wished to see the ideals they held for themselves, and so followed them loyally. Though they had a different way of seeing things, they both essentially respected the other for having similar motives in mind. That was why they could be such close friends despite attacking one another with the intent to kill.

And so they would clash again without regret, perfectly at peace even if the other killed them.

“To think this world still tolerates such selfish tyrants.”

Summit of Three Kings

A cold and icy, yet alluringly beautiful, voice floated through the air as the visibility dropped. Charles’ eyes narrowed slightly as Svanhildr’s grin widened into a smirk as purple smoke collected tightly enough to be seen. It was obvious that it had been spread out thinly so that it could not be seen before consolidating through manipulation.

The first thing that would probably come to one’s mind when they saw this smoke was a genie lamp. It looked exactly like the smoke movies would use to create an effect when a lamp was rubbed to summon a genie. This smoke was odorless and had no temperature, but a chill went down these two’s backs nonetheless as they focused toward the thick purple fog that condensed several yards nearby. Two figures stepped forward like ghosts coming out of the otherworld. However, these two knew what ghosts were like. They did not appear in such an extravagant and clichéd manner.

“What the heck is going on?!”

“…”

Svanhildr exclaimed in surprise as Charles silently fumed with anger. Before them were Iron Stake Guðrún and Yvon D’Argent, trusted companions of these two devil kings. They both held their legendary weapons said to bring victory to all in their hands loosely as they stood without purpose or conscious. Their eyes appeared to have rolled back in their head as they stared at the two god-slayers with blank zombie looks that would frighten even a hardened truck driver or Mafioso. It was obvious that they had been affected by magic in some way and the reaction that followed the conclusion was mutual. Murderous expression that had been absent even as the two tried to kill each other suddenly possessed their faces as they glared at the smoke.

“Oh? Those expressions tell me that you’re prepared to subdue these two with force if necessary. After only a few moments to grasp the situation, this is the conclusion you arrive to? Do you plan to kill them if they are permanently possessed by evil spirits?”

The cold voice from earlier melted a little as it laughed in amusement, teasing the two devil kings as it echoed from the purple fog. The fog curled around the limbs of Charles and Svanhildr playfully, almost too much so to have been the wind. In fact, the still blowing wind seemed to have absolutely no effect on the fog, though that wasn’t the biggest surprise considering circumstances. Smoke and fog brought about by magical means would be useless if mere wind could disperse it.

“Show yourself, witch.” Charles growled darkly, not bothering to speak up as he knew his voice would be heard either way. “I will cut that large head off of your shoulders without mercy.”

“Oh, do not be like that. It took quite a lot of preparation to stop a battle of this magnitude. Luckily, you were all fighting close together in open space, so it was much easier than expected. Can you blame me for using a bit of the extra power left to tease you a little?”

Both Svanhildr and Charles used their sharp senses to take in information from their surroundings without taking their focus off of their immediately predicament. It quickly became apparent that this person’s words were true. Nearly every person on the battlefield was collapsed on the ground, but not dead. They were either in a coma-like state or asleep thanks to some enchantment or powerful spell. Details could not be gathered simply with the vague observation they made in the short moment their eyes glanced around. This made the two even angrier. The war had been between two forces alone. Having a third party appear and do this was an insult to their pride.

“Oh come now.” The laughing disembodied voice became clearer as it began to focus in the spot just behind Guðrún and Yvon, who still stood where they were without any signs of waking up from their stand state. “These two here in particular were in trouble, trapped in a situation where both of their weapons promised victory. Your two lovely girls were about to finish each other off with mutual strikes, but I arrived in time to stop them. Should you not be thanking me?”

The air filled with infuriating laughter that was meant to taunt and incense the two. For a single person to cause such a major change merely with their appearance…it left little room for imagination. This mastery of magic and unique way of enjoying other’s pain without truly being in the wrong themself belonged to a certain person these two knew quite well.

Yes...

Lady Fedosia Martel, known as the Queen of Witches and devil king of Eastern Europe, took shape slowly as the fog created a purple form of her body. Color appeared in her skin and the features carved themselves out at the same time before the black backless dress and elegant features became evident. It was far too perfect for a mere copy with magic of any kind.

“Well then,” Fedosia smiled prettily with an expression of enjoyment on her beautifully pale features as she floated slightly in the air. Only the front of her body had been formed. The rest of her was still connected to the fog as she stood between the two hypnotized warriors. “Though my hypnosis is powerful, I still must praise you two for you well-chosen subordinates. Both have resisted my mind control and all attempts to force their will to crumble. If they were weak, I would have taken their secret names and turned them into some of my handsome sculptures guarding my manor.”

Fedosia seductively passed a finger across Guðrún’s collarbone and electricity sparked through her body, passing through the smoke uselessly. As her body reformed, a pleased smirk was apparent of her face.

“Keep your hands to yourself, enchantress.” Svanhildr warned as he held his staff up threateningly. “Seduce him while he’s conscious and his will is his own.”

Fedosia’s smile said that she had only acted to force a response and didn’t care for the man at all. To put it in a single word; schadenfroide (pleasure derived from the misfortune of others). Elegant and lady-like as she was around most people, she enjoyed teasing others without their knowledge and particularly enjoyed their reaction. She only resorted to directly provoking the reaction of these two devil kings in particular because of the strange relationship the three held.

“Allow me to clarify a number of things, my fellow kings of Europe.” Fedosia’s body sat back elegantly and a throne of purple fog identical to her throne back in Kiev Manor formed for her to relax on. “Beginning with my prank on the war god two years ago.”

“That was basically a confession.” Charles growled warningly as his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He appeared ready to slash her head off in that moment. “Why on earth should we listen to you, witch?”

“Aside from the fact that I’m holding all of your men as hostages? Well, I suppose there is the ‘honor’ thing where you’ve fought with Svanhildr all this time in order to get to me and that you’d be disrespecting his wishes if you don’t even listen. Plus, would I come all the way out here if it wasn’t something meaningful?”

“As if I would ever pretend to understand or trust your motives and actions. Have you not attacked Van’s men as well?”

“Put them to sleep, actually. As I said, I came to stop the fighting. Or have you not been paying attention? Either way, I have done no harm and am willing to explain myself. Will you stubbornly insist on remaining close-minded, you mere slave of the Church?”

Charles’ teeth ground together furiously but he could see no point to argue. So he slammed his large broadsword into the ground vertically and placed both of his hands atop the pommel due to habit. Svanhildr merely grimaced with a reluctant shrug before he stuck his weapons into his belt as a sign of acceptance. Seeing this, Fedosia smiled.

“How well-behaved.”

“We’ve set down our arms, Queen of Witches. Release our men!”

Fedosia complied indifferently as she snapped her fingers. The two hypnotized men were startled as they came to, glanced around in wonder as they saw their kings watching them and their fellow comrades collapsed on the ground.

“Your Majesty?” Yvon began in wonder. “What on earth—”

Then the two collapsed as a thick wave of congealed invisible energy overtook their senses, forcing them to pass out in a manner that didn’t seem to gentle. The sensation sent an involuntary shudder through the bodies of the two devil kings as Charles activated his god speed Authority, leaving his broadsword behind all together as he caught the unconscious knight and warrior and brought them back all in the blink of an eye. Svanhildr caught Guðrún in his arms as Charles tossed the large man to him and they laid the men on the ground behind them. They then returned their attention to Fedosia to begin this makeshift council of the Three Kings of Europe.

“Allow me to say this first; I did not summon Mars. Contrarily, his appearance was a nuisance to me. When the Wild Hunt descended, I used them to perform some necessary experiments while containing their movements to a minimum. I admit that I ended up sacrificing some lives in the process, but what do you expect from a witch such as myself? However, the Wild Hunt only began to cause true damage once Mars materialized. Their actions became difficult to control and the god intended to amass the Army by destroying and reaping souls. Rather than letting him have his way, I returned their attention to Eastern Europe quickly by carefully stealing Mars’ most important Authority. The rest is as you two know.”

“You mean to say that you did it with good intentions?” Charles asked with a dangerous tone in his voice. Fedosia seemed to find that comment amusing.

“Can anyone truthfully say they acted with good intentions? Of course, I enjoyed teasing both gods and normal people in the process of attempting to save as many lives as I could. Nonetheless, the important point I’m trying to make is that your decision to attack the Wild Army is your own. I had hoped to use that young aspiring paladin to cause some confusion that could be used to my advantage. However, the fact that he took the initiative to call upon the Holy Crusaders even while investigating things on his own is certainly interesting. I don’t know whether that young mage or he himself is the more fascinating child.”

Charles did not respond to this. While he had no proof that she was telling the truth, he had a natural talent when it came to sensing lies from others. He suspected that the Queen of Witches had a way of tampering with that power of his but it was baseless since she didn’t even know about it. In addition, even though Svanhildr was missing an eye, he had a powerful intuition that bypassed the logic of even magic, making it extremely difficult to smother. Since he wasn’t saying anything, it was difficult to disbelieve these words of Fedosia’s.

Even so…

“If you believe that is enough to absolve your sins, you are severely mistaken.” Charles held his chest out proudly as he glared at Fedosia Martel’s elegant figure with an expression that closely resembled loathing. “Your naked ambition shall be the ruin of men and women everywhere if you succeed with such a despicable and blasphemous act of heresy. Even if I ignore it now, that will simply increase the probability of your success. In the name of the justice that I stand for, I cannot overlook the crimes you’ve committed!”

Fedosia raised one hand as all sign of her playful expression was wiped away and was replaced by an icy countenance. She made the motion to stand from her makeshift throne and the smoke billowing around them was absorbed into her body, allowing the setting sun to clear up quickly. The sun had nearly disappeared over the western horizon and the woman stood proudly to face it along with the two men who could easily destroy even her, considered to be one of the two most powerful living users of magic. No sign of fear could be seen in her face or actions as she spoke clearly.

“Charles Saint-Richelieu, do you believe that I came here to grovel for my life? To beg for mercy? To rattle off excuses and explanations in an attempt to cull your rage? Do not be ridiculous. I told you the truth. How you respond with that information is your own prerogative as a devil king. However, you will listen to what I have to say before making any stupidly hasty decisions. I do not care whether you are a slave of the Church, knight, god-slaying devil king, European, Catholic, male, or even my executor-to-be.”

“You dare order me, witch? Do you not understand your position?!”

“It is you who is failing to see reason!”

A stunned silence followed after Fedosia raised her voice for the first time to match Charles. Charles grimaced fiercely as he glared into Fedosia’s calm yet stern face. Svanhildr folded his arms as he turned his attention to the dark sky behind Fedosia as if attempting to see what may have been on the other end of the eastern hemisphere.

“Fedosia…” Svanhildr murmured, taking advantage of the silence between the two. His intuition may have given him some clue as to how serious the matter was. “You haven’t told us what business is so important that it would draw even you from your luxurious manor. What exactly is going on?”

Charles glanced back at Svanhildr, annoyed by the way he seemed to be taking Fedosia’s side. Svanhildr narrowed his one eye at Charles that said save it for later.

“As I mentioned before, Mars was not summoned by me.” Fedosia immediately continued as Charles did not attempt to argue further. “So the question should be ‘who else could have performed the ritual?’ In order to summon a god, it requires an enormous amount of magical energy and several human sacrifices. Aside from that, the ritual varies slightly with the god and the aspect you want. However, I could not find the culprit with this line of thinking even after all this time. Now that another heretic god has appeared in Asia, I immediately sent my journeymen to investigate it.”

“So you acted selfishly without thinking about how the empress would feel…?” Charles now murmured in exasperation as he remembered the Chinese devil king’s opinion of her European kin. Though she thought of them as troublesome younger siblings (with the exception of Svanhildr), she thought that their methods and philosophies were less refined and more barbaric than necessary. Fedosia’s actions would not help that opinion.

“The empress easily crushed the heretic god and the man who summoned it is not who I am looking for.” Fedosia ignored Charles’ comment almost as if by instinct. “However, the heretic god managed to escape with his life thanks to the assistance of this man. The two I sent—known as Quincy and Xenias—were able to deduce the heretic god’s whereabouts and discovered an unsettling spell set up. Quick analysis brought about troublesome results. The spell was linked to the heretic god’s awakening…well, you’d best see for yourself.”

Fedosia raised her thin, elegant hand. At some point, a scepter that was Egyptian in design had appeared and she held it up so the end faced the two devil kings in front of her. The air distorted as Fedosia muttered an incantation and pictures appeared like a screen in front of her, though somewhat blurry. Both Svanhildr and Charles observed the sight of the cavern within the Asian grottoes with two sleeping animals. It went on into a brief visual summary of the heretic god known as Dionysus awakening and the spell being released. It then blurred heavily as it appeared to zoom out and showed the sky above the cliff faces holding tunnels made for Buddhist worship. The sky appeared to be covered in a grid—many crossing lines forming square shapes in the air. Charles’ attained a bluish tint as he observed this, using a spell that allowed him to identify spells on sight. Svanhildr immediately recognized it as Loki’s Net—a Norse spell that could be among the best of binding techniques. Loki was a dangerous trickster god who caused a lot of trouble in many ways. As such, many deities were after him but he had managed to evade them all with his wit. In order to catch him, special material was needed to bind him. It was made with this in mind, so even the sickening madness released by Dionysus could not escape. But to cast it over a wide area on such short notice without even going directly to the scene…there was no doubting Fedosia Martel’s magical genius.

“But you won’t be able to surround it like a globe.” Svanhildr muttered darkly as his eyes narrowed grimly. “If a net can be put on something, naturally it can be taken off. Just like what gladiators used to capture their opponent, it is only truly useful when the captive struggles and entangles themselves. But if they can calmly go in the reverse direction with minimal movement, they’d be able to escape without a problem.”

Meaning, the spell could not hold in the madness from all directions. At best, with Fedosia’s ability, she could block off the path along the Silk Roads that reached Europe. Spreading it more thinly in an attempt to capture the madness heading to India, the rest of China, or even Egypt, would make it more likely for madness to slip through. In other words, only Europe was saved with this action.

“I did my duty as the devil king of Eastern Europe, since I can be considered the wall splitting Europe and Asia. However, Asia’s devil king will not accept me protecting any more territory that this, since it is under my jurisdiction. There is no fault in humoring her. However, there is a more troubling concern. That spell was not prepared by the injured heretic god currently stuck between his Roman and Greek aspect by sheer coincidence. Nor was it cast by the man who summoned him, as he had nothing to gain from such an action. This means there is another who is involved in this matter. Another who has something to gain from spreading such chaos.”

Both Svanhildr and Charles remained silent as Fedosia drew back her scepter and the images vanished. The blue hue in Charles’ eyes had vanished as his turned his gaze toward the ground for a moment in thought. Svanhildr watched his friend silently from the corner of his eye.

“So we shall have a truce. All three of us.” Fedosia concluded at last. “It’s not an alliance. I only wish to be left to my own devices as I look into this matter in peace. This is not a trick in order to turn your attention elsewhere, I assure you. Even I would not stoop to such a low and shameful strategy that is so far beneath me. I’m sure you two can understand a pact made by mutual benefit?”

“I’m interested to see just what is coming.” A grin appeared on Svanhildr’s face as he heaved a sigh. “I’ve got the sense that something big is coming. Fine; I’ll agree to your terms.”

“…”

Charles continued to gaze toward the ground, clearly having an internal argument with himself. The very fact that Fedosia had managed to make this man of unshakeable resolve even consider reconsidering was impressive.

“Very well. I shall agree to this much, Fedosia Martel. I will cease the Crusade against Kiev Manor, leaving this as a failure. In exchange, you must not let a single shred of madness slip past that net and enter Europe. If you show any signs of betraying my trust, I shall behead you without hesitation.”

“I don’t mind. Though I’m sure it’s far of in the future, I already get the premonition that it will be your sword to end me. In that case, I have to ensure that you do not die before then.”

Though it did not seem like much, there was now a thick bond between the three. Verbal promises acknowledged by multiple devil kings were binding. It was a solemn yet simple ritual where a mutually consented verbal promise would be upheld with their honor and pride as devil kings at stake.

The three European devil kings were hence brought into a mutual truce that was created, more or less, for the sake of others rather than themselves.

The Oriental Path to Perfection

Pealing laughter rung like bells throughout the many tunnels that made up the famous Buddhist grottoes in northwestern China. The lovely song was somewhat eerie when heard inside a place that felt as if the dead spirits of priests were lurking around within the shadows. This was either balanced out or even further knocked out of sorts by the echoing cackling coming from one who lacked sanity, filling the many tunnels as well along with the maddening scent of sour grapes.

“Is this truly all that you have to offer, god of theater? Similar to last time, you have yet to offer a fun experience! Employ those methods you used to entertain your guests in accordance to your Greek hospitality!”

“You shut up! My Roman energy has been turned up to eleven and I don’t even remember you!!!”

The melodic voice belonged to the beautiful Empress Mei Fong, naturally, while the crazed and unrestrained voice belonged to Dionysus/Bacchus. Vines were crashing through the tunnel they were in, having left the cavern chamber already. The tunnels caved in, completely disregarding the sacred nature of the grottoes, and nearly buried the empress over and over again. Mei Fong, however, merely smiled with an expression of purity as her elbows and knees flew in all directions along with her fists and feet, creating eight different points for her to use for blows, utilizing the concept behind Thai Boxing. Rocks shattered to small shards and were ground to dust when faced with the impressive blows of the one who mastered all bare-handed techniques. She even managed to knock much of the shrapnel in the direction of her pursuer, forcing them forward like bullets. However, the vines shielded Dionysus, becoming covered in the rock shards in a fashion similar to spines. The vines parted abruptly to allow Dionysus to rush through with a large toothy grin on his face as he held his thyrsus up like a javelin, the sharp bottom end acting as the spear tip, and jabbed forward fiercely. Using her arms to control her momentum, Mei Fong easily evaded the attack with her body bent back, easily holding her own weight up. Her leg flew up from the side, swinging in a one-hundred-eighty degree arc to slam into Dionysus’ side. Vines shot up and immediately wrapped around Dionysus’ body to protect him from the crushing blow as he slammed into the tunnel’s wall, sending more debris into the air.

“Witness the spear that needs only flesh and bone to be as sharp as a blade~”

Mei Fong took a Chinese martial arts pose with one leg held up to focus all of her weight on the other, her arms raised at shoulder height. This pose briefly displayed her long legs as her qipao’s split bottom flew up, but she paid absolutely no mind to it. In the very next moment, her body stretched forward so that her back straightened and one hand jabbed forward with a spear hand, just like what she had used against Black Lacer during their ‘challenge’. Her finger tips sunk into the rock wall as if it was made of a softer material but drew no blood. Dionysus had reflexively planted his thyrsus’s butt into the ground and pushed up on it so that he was in the air to evade Mei Fong’s attack. It was just like what an elderly martial arts master was depicted to do in modern culture, except Dionysus’ beard did not fit the same description. Nevertheless, Mei Fong was nearly caught off guard as Dionysus’ feet flew at her open face. She shifted her weight and broke her stiff posture instantly, folding in her body and somersaulting just a few inches above the ground before landing flat on her feet once more. Dionysus landed on the ground beside her and grinned as dozens of grape vines shot forward once more in an attempt to crush her. Mei Fong cartwheeled out of the way expertly, narrowly avoiding the attacking vines. However, one extended from the tunnel’s ceiling and wrapped around her ankle, stopping her quick movement and pulling her in the air to prevent her from getting proper leverage to break free. Dionysus jumped up to the same elevation, holding his thyrsus like a javelin once more to stab forward in a perfectly straight path, as if it had be fired from a crossbow at point blank.

“You’re holding back on me, are ya?” Dionysus didn’t hesitate as Mei Fong’s smile widened elegantly. She swiveled her body upward and evaded the strike easily and her hand gripped the vine and ripped it out easily in her grip. She somersaulted to the ground just below the airborne Dionysus and held her hands up over her head and braced them in what should have been a defensive posture.

“Wild as lightning that crashes to the earth/ Gold is found among virgins alone/ No shield protects against the arrow of truth!”

Mei Fong sang in her beautiful voice as she summoned her Authority once more. Having fought and defeated the incarnations of the twelve zodiacs, the Chinese devil king held the power to call upon any of these twelve incarnations so long as the circumstances were right. While she could only use each incarnation once within twenty-four hours, it gave her a very wide and diverse moveset, so to speak, that surpassed the Immobile Fortress.

What she summoned now was the 8th incarnation, the Ram. An avatar materialized over her in the shape of a goat with curled horns, allowing her to rush in a linear direction while trampling whatever was within her path, even if that happened to be in a vertical direction. With a single push of her legs, Mei Fong shot into the air with the Ram avatar surrounding her body. Dionysus had no means to evade to wide attack in such a small space as he was trapped between the tunnel’s ceiling and the Ram’s horns, suffering from an enormous amount of pressure despite the fact that Mei Fong didn’t get the chance to gather much momentum. Perhaps a cement truck rolling downhill at eighty miles per hour would be a good metaphor? But since the Ram didn’t lose any momentum even after running into a trivial obstacle (like a mountain), the ceiling was crushed and turned to rubble as Mei Fong continued upwards, pushing Dionysus through meters upon meters of solid rock. The wine god could only cackle in masochistic ecstasy as he was pushed upwards by such great strength, unable to even lift a finger. It was impressive enough that his body remained intact under this pressure, anyhow.

Finally, after digging forcibly through the mountain with brute strength, both Dionysus and Mei Fong shot into the open air above the many cliffs with tunnel entrances covering their faces. They came out of a gaping hole that pretty much formed itself as dirt and rock rained everywhere and they flew several dozen feet into the air before the Ram avatar finally vanished.

“Hahaha! So it was the Loki’s Net after all!” Dionysus cackled as he spread his arms and legs out in the air, staring up at the grid-like design in the night sky even as he went into free fall. “Those bastards! I went out of my way to set up this whole thing before I went dormant! Probably. Maybe. Ah, whatever?! How dare they mess with my stage! I’ll turn them all to dolphins!”

Dionysus stuck his hand in his toga and threw the wine bottle directly upwards with all of his arm strength like a drunken alcoholic might. It went up quite far but inevitably fell back down to earth uselessly, smashing into his head as he slammed onto a cliff without even attempting to brace for landing. Mei Fong landed on a cliff across a deep ravine, watching this act with a sigh.

“Honestly,” She murmured in exasperation. “Comedy isn’t the only form of entertainment and frankly, it’s quite primitive. Can you not think of something more enjoyable?”

“Shut up! I’ll give you your stupid ‘entertainment’!”

Dionysus hopped out of the small crater in the ground that he left behind as he raised his thyrsus above his head. He then began chanting an incantation with a form of spell words that would shock most people. “Wake up, you old geezer, it’s time to work that flabby ass of yours! You came close to your goal, but some assholes think that you’ll quit halfway through! Beat them to a bloody pulp to show ‘em who’s boss!”

The ground beneath Dionysus shattered as a lithe golden body rose in a fashion similar to a sea monster rising from the ocean. Countless black spots covered this golden fur, breaking up its outline, and the long muscles underneath the skin were completely visible to Mei Fong’s sharp eyes.

“Oh…?” A sly smile appeared on her fearless face as she observed the massive leopard that glared over at her. With a single leap, it would be able to cross the gap between the two cliffs with ease. “You’re sending a minion after me?”

“This guy’s been with me longer than you’ve been alive. It’s not like most beasts.” Dionysus assured as he hopped off of the leopards back to standing behind the big cat. “Play with that for a while.”

“Harvest god…you’re preparing a trap, aren’t you?”

Mei Fong only seemed excited after making this observation and Dionysus merely smirked at her despite being found out.

“What cheeky god you are. I suppose I’ll have to discipline you properly…”

Mei Fong took a single step forward and the leopard reacted immediately. With a single jump, it crossed the gap between the cliffs and pounced on Mei Fong’s thin body. Mei Fong raised her arms to catch the leopard’s paws, but even this master martial artist was knocked aside from a heavy swat that slammed into her body. Mei Fong caught herself by flipping once to right herself, skidding back on the balls of her feet. Her eyes widened as the leopard shot forward for another pounce and its speed increased, allowing it to catch up with ease.

Dionysus grinned as he watched this. In terms of physical prowess, a mere human, even if they were a master martial artist, could not hope to compare. Speed, strength, ferocity, stamina, killing intent…an animal that was true to its nature would surpass it every time. Mei Fong may have been able to easily dispatch it if she used her high leveled magic, but the Chinese devil king proudly refused to use anything but her own body and Authorities when it came to fighting gods and god-slayers. It was simply how she was.

Dionysus’ smile was abruptly wiped away when the sound of a heavy impact shook the air and a pathetic whimper sounded through the air. He narrowed his eyes to get a closer look at what was going on and he gave a low whistle as he witnessed the cause for the second impact that shook the air with a low thud.

“You bared your fangs at the wrong person, stray cat.”

A third impact shook and was followed by another whimper from the massive leopard. It attempted to retreat for its own safety, but a figure spiraled in the air before its face and a foot connected with its snout. The leopard stumbled to the side, unable to hold itself up straight under the force as Mei Fong landed on the ground directly from her spin and crouched low. She then pushed herself upwards with her tense legs, resuming her spin. She clenched her fist and held it at her side as if preparing for a middle punch as she approached the leopard’s underbelly. With as single blow, Mei Fong’s fist forced the leopard into the air an entire six inches, despite its incredible weight that was proportional to its size.

The strength of the second incarnation of the Chinese Zodiac, the Ox, gave Mei Fong unnatural strength.

“While martial arts may give strength to the powerless, when combined with brute physical muscle, it creates an unstoppable force. Brutish as it may seem, my splendor is the only factor that can make even something such as this elegant. Do you understand, stray cat? Your arrogant power is nothing when compared to my splendid martial prowess that surpasses the Crusaders, Romans, Muslims, Samurai, Mongolians, Spartans and any other warrior spirit that may have come to pass within history. But fear not—that is like comparing a bunny to a wolf when it comes to direct combat. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

The giant leopard could only tremble under Mei Fong’s fierce punishment and chastising. It began to fade away into a bunch of withering grape vines as Mei Fong landed before it. But before she could turn her attention back to Dionysus, the vines shot out suddenly, regaining their color and strength as they wrapped around her limbs and waist tightly, almost painfully as it restricted her movement. An ethereal figure of the leopard erupted forth as if shot from a cannon and roared fiercely directly in front of her face, it’s fangs at her neck, prepared to rip her throat out. Even so, Mei Fong proudly remained poised in the face of this predator and she did not flinch at the sensation of vines curling up her body slowly. With a single glance down, she noticed that these vines were actually large snakes. Their flickering tongues tickled her thighs and constricted tightly around her abdomen, accentuating her well-endowed body inadvertently. The smallest of frustrated expression appeared on her face as Mei Fong attempted move her body but failed. She would not be able to use her godly strength for another twenty-four hours after having used it against the leopard, so breaking free would not be a simple feat.

“Such a shame that this luscious body must go to waste.”

Dionysus chuckled over Mei Fong as he firmly gripped her ponytail and pulled back, forcing her head back to look up at him. His breath smelled heavily of grape and his eyes were crazed. They were even spilling over with purple tears. Was it…wine?

“Take your filthy hands off of me.” Mei Fong ordered in a flat voice. “You shall regret this audacity. You have already been sentenced to death. Do you wish to meet an even less dignified end, harvest god?”

Dionysus merely chuckled, splashing wine all over Mei Fong’s unflinching face. He raised his thyrsus up so the sharp end rested against her cheek. A wide grin spread across his face, filled with pure ecstasy and corrupt lust, much like a serial killer before he took out a target. He happily thrust the thyrsus down, carving through Mei Fong’s flesh without any hesitation in the movement. But he did not feel the resistance normally present when piercing a human’s body.

Once Dionysus looked at Mei Fong again, he was dismayed. What he and the snakes were holding was no longer the Chinese god-slayer. It was just a mere skin that had been cast off, similar to how a snake shed its skin, or a ninja substituted itself with another object to escape harm. Martial arts or magic…no. It was most definitely one of the many incarnations for the most diverse Authority wielded today.

“Ah, now I understand.” Mei Fong’s voice floated through the air as Dionysus dropped the cast off skin with a grunt. “I didn’t want to worry too much about it while I was in the midst of fighting, but it’s hard not to notice it now. That spell was linked with your awakening and would spread madness like a disease to everyone across Europe, Asia, and Africa if left unchecked. But what is there to gain from that? A god like yourself probably has no interest in thinking that far ahead, but the magicians who are using you most likely have a plan. No, they most definitely do. The power to send all into madness…Yes, the obvious answer is hallucinations. Those who lose their sanity go mad and hallucinate. Your madness weathers away one’s judgment and logic, leaving little reasoning ability as they see what isn’t there. Often enough, one’s own mind destroys itself. In other words, self-destruction. That is the root of your power. My, my. I must say that is quite the despicable aspect, harvest god.”

“I have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Dionysus smirked toothily as Mei Fong’s voice finished speaking. His body began to turn into dead vines that fell to the ground and he quickly vanished from sight.

Mei Fong opened her eyes as she recovered from the illusion, regaining her senses. She’d initially escape Dionysus’ influence by purging herself of the heavy influence of alcohol in her system. The smell of sour grape juice that filled the air was basically unrefined wine that was waiting to be used for something. Mei Fong had no choice but to breathe it in, so when Dionysus activated the Authority that allowed him to control it, he could force those who’ve inhaled the smell of grape to become drunk and go mad, giving them delusions that would eventually break their mind. The 6th Chinese zodiac was the Snake that allowed Mei Fong to shed her skin, purifying her of any internal sicknesses and leaving her to be healthy (with a fresh layer of skin as soft as a newborn’s. She literally appeared to have a ‘healthy glow’ on her now that seemed to augment her previous beauty). It was likely due to the magic alone that this could be done without Mei Fong casting away her clothes in the process. She would likely die before resorting to it, if that were the case.

“And now you’ve completely fallen for my trap!” Dionysus’ voice cackled aloud as movement surrounded Mei Fong. She didn’t even get the chance to look around before two cliff faces slammed into her from either side, sealing off any means of movement as they crushed her.

“Hahaha! Iiiiiddddiiiiooootttt! Did you think you were safe once you somehow managed to dispel my illusions?! A trap hidden by a trap is really the best! Now you can cry while you slowly suffocate or are flattened to a pancake!”

Dionysus roared with proud laughter as he felt accomplished. While Mei Fong was caught in the illusion, Dionysus had sent his vines through the cliff he was on to connect to the cliff Mei Fong was on. Her movements while in the illusion had brought her to step off the cliff side and into the ravine. Once Dionysus drew in the vines, it pulled the cliffs together with unnatural strength, closing them on the Chinese god-slayer.

The 1st zodiac, the Rat that allowed Mei Fong to tunnel through anything…The 2nd zodiac, the Ox that granted Mei Fong the strength to pry apart mountains…The 8th zodiac, the Ram that allowed Mei Fong to crush and trample anything within a single linear direction…All of the zodiacs that allowed Mei Fong to escape this situation had been used already and could not be used for a twenty-four hour period after their use. They were of no help to her in the situation.

“That should show her.” Dionysus brushed off his toga and drew another bottle of wine from inside his clothes. He chugged down half of it before giving a satisfied groan and looking back up to the grid overhead. “Ugh…how the hell am I going to mess with that thing, though? It was meant to catch a god that isn’t me and it was modified to capture madness, but…I would prefer not to touch it. It looks like it’s just blocking the routes to Europe, so maybe I can leave it alone. The disease will probably spread there anyways by plane or something. This age of easy travel can easily destroy this world when it comes to biological warfare, eh?”

Dionysus prepared to take another swig from his wine bottle, but the sound of a heavy impact filled the air. It was similar to the impact that had knocked the massive leopard into submission, but it was also different. Dionysus recognized the sensation that rolled down his spine as magic. The air was charged with it as nature was bent in order for the supernatural to occur. But he could not see where it was coming from. Even so, his eyes drifted toward the seam where the two cliffs met. The ground rumbled once more and an awkwardly vague smile appeared on his face.

The Ego to Move Even Mountains

“No…way…?”

A muffled melodic voice preceded the next impact and Dionysus moaned in distress as he clawed at his curly hair in fury. That woman! Not only was she still alive, she’d also decided to use magic! From Chinese Buddhism to North Indian Jainism, Empress Mei Fong had numerous techniques available to her from all across Asia. With the many years she had under her belt, she’d taken the time to master all sorts of magic along with martial arts and other skills. In a way, she was the perfect bishoujo with a massive and impregnable ego.

The impacts persisted and large cracks formed in the cliff with every strike until a large hole shattered. However, they continued even after the hole appeared and Mei Fong apparently made no attempt to escape through it. However, her voice could be clearly heard.

“Indecisive as those of Iron/ Recovery of that which was thought to be unmovable/ Self-preservation and duty is motivation!”

Though it was vague, Dionysus’ vast knowledge as a god allowed him to identify these words as referring to Hanuman, a god from Hindu legends. Specifically, she was referring to how he had been sent to retrieve an herb from a mountain and could not decide which one he was. So he did the unexpected in order to solve his problem—a drastic action that went beyond logic. The radical characteristic went well in conjunction with one who took the name ‘devil king’.

“Aw crap.” Dionysus cursed as the ground beneath him shifted and moved. The seam between the two cliff sides opened up and the two cliffs were quickly pushed back to their original spots like two icebergs spreading away from each other. This completely ignored the tectonic plates beneath that should have controlled the whereabouts of the earth’s surface, defying logic as only magic could do.

And Empress Mei Fong stood elegantly on the same cliff as Dionysus with an elegant smile on her face as the other cliff crashed into place behind her.

“Harvest god who foolishly uses cheap tricks to get his way,” Mei Fong spoke in a frightfully beautiful voice. “Prepare to be beaten into the deepest parts of earth.”

“What a scary woman!”

Dionysus called upon his vines and they shot toward Mei Fong like sharp tendrils. Mei Fong raised one hand and swiped it through the air in a fluid motion. A powerful gust of wind followed and seemed to freeze the air itself, creating snow and ice crystals as it passed over the approaching vines. The vines were encased in ice that prevented them from coming even an inch closer, turning into a beautiful ice sculpture as they hovered over Mei Fong just a few feet away. It was her second Authority (or rather, the first that she rarely used) usurped from Boreas, the wind god of the northern blizzards, that allowed her to summon to freezing winter winds at will.

With her text step, Mei Fong easily moved around the frozen sculpture she’d created and headed toward Dionysus with elegant poise and a breathtaking smile that was dripping with killing intent.

“Prepare for divine retribution, foolish amnesiac god of wine.”