Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 6

The Simplicity of Hardship

A feeling of heft stacked upon the boy’s back as he looked up at Alpha, having been caught off guard so suddenly. The ambience in the room dulled to the point it flattened Chloe’s ears. Tokken couldn’t help but stare off into any direction other than Alpha’s eyes; the walls, the door, the tables, the noticeboards lined with uncharted documents and plans…

“I’m guessing you’re more interested in my family…?” Tokken assumed, vocalizing his thoughts.

“Nay more than partly.” Alpha nodded, straightening his back against his chair in a formal manner. “I am curious so. How did you make it this far, sprout? Did you live honest-like?” he raised his head, almost accusingly.

“I’m not a criminal if that’s what you’re asking… I just lived,” Tokken replied, shrugging his shoulders in slight discomfort.

“Aye, no doubt. But there’s nay a chance in hell you crossed the border without notice, and less still survived the Outskirts on your lonesome.”

“...I wasn’t always alone, I guess.”

Alpha looked at the boy inquisitively, scratching his chin. “Is that so...”

“My grandfather was with me for a few years,” Tokken admitted.

“He made it, you say?”

“Yeah… once he heard of the chaos unfolded during the celebration, he moved what remained of the bloodline to a cabin in the woods. I was young at the time, so it’s still a bit fuzzy,” Tokken explained, closing his eyes to think. Despite his words, he merely frowned at the thoughts. “Grandma died not long after. Illness and shock, I believe.”

“Ah, a dreadful shame, lad. And I don’t mean to pry sonny, but——“

“Might as well get it off my chest. Yeah, don’t worry," Tokken intervened, waving his hand as he petted the attentive Howler next to him. “It was pretty rough, but I guess my younger self didn’t really care. So long as I had food on my plate and a roof over my head, I just assumed everything would turn out fine. My grandad taught me how to hunt, though I never liked dispatching the animals. It was risky, but he had a shotgun just in case, and we lived in a relatively quiet area. We were… lucky, even after all that.” Tokken chuckled awkwardly.

Alpha almost chortled with him, but he was smart enough not to make short of the boy’s reminiscing. Surely, the teen understood the depth of his poor experiences. And yet, he managed to forge such a potent emotional shield that it prevented him from going mad. Surely thinking back on it now would crumble his humbler, more mature heart?

Thoughts of concern and confusion sprouted within the monarch’s mind as Tokken added: “Of course, when grandad died, I finally got my reality check. He passed peacefully, though; I was thankful for that at least. Guess he couldn’t wait any longer to see his wife.”

To this, Alpha smiled, closing his eyes in understanding. “Can’t blame an old soul for wishing respite, eh?”

“No, not at all. The greedy sucker,” Tokken jested, lightening up the mood a tad.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “Of course, a kid on his own is screwed without guidance. Especially someone like me. So after a while of living off of the tiniest scraps I could will myself to scavenge for, I finally decided I’d had enough of it all.”

Alpha raised his head to his words, listening carefully. Chloe felt her eyes widen.

“Even I couldn’t tolerate so much time without human contact, you know? I felt I’d starve sooner or later, so I packed what little I could carry and finally left that old cabin. I finally left what my family had coddled me with behind. Truthfully, I hoped I’d die quicker. I’d never have imagined running from a few wolves would lead me straight to a village that hadn’t even been recorded on any maps. Victus… I must’ve run for miles back then. I thought my legs would snap had I taken another step. I collapsed as soon as I reached the dirt roads, and I guess somebody must’ve found me because the wolves didn’t get their dinner that night,” Tokken concluded, his words doing little to calm the troubled canine.

“I had no idea...” Chloe muttered, looking up at the human with a completely new perspective. “I thought the humans had it easier...”

“Not one soul does, I fret. Relatively speaking,” Alpha muttered, opening his eyes to meet the young man’s gaze. He was right. This boy really was a Tsuki; the lucky sod.

“And so, the villagers lent you their homes?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, thankfully that parade ends there. There’s not much else to tell, honestly. I know there are so many holes in what I say, but that’s about as far as my knowledge stretches to, I’m afraid,” Tokken confessed with a sigh.

“What of the family jewel?” Alpha finally inquired, focusing his glare on the boy.

“I figured you’d ask… When my dad died, it naturally found its way to me. Again, I don’t have much else to work with.”

“Ah, trickery does befuddle me sometimes,” Alpha admitted, nodding. “I assume you have questions of your own, then?”

“Yeah… I want to know what the hell Obscure Energy is. And what Crimsoneers are. And about the Syndicate——“

“One at a time, sprout!” Alpha exclaimed.

“S—Sorry, right,” Tokken excused, clearing his throat to soothe his nerves. “Let’s start with what you know about my family, then.”

“Your family, eh? Curious how you of all would ask, but doubtless they wouldn’t have told you squat at your age. The Tsukis were the proud owners of one of the most commercially known tailor companies our country has ever known. Even Yanksee caught a glimpse of—”

“I’ve gotten that far. I want the other bits,” Tokken halted the kingly man impatiently.

“Righto. They were well-known for their craft, as well as their seemingly never-ending chain of good fortune… But they were also known for their dirtier, conspiratorial business. They apparently paid Urchins to do underground work, as well as to keep off any robberies with compensations. They might’ve even worked with those hounds to weaken competition. Rumour goes, your predecessors might’ve even forged deals with the Crimsoneers themselves to truly secure their emporium,” Alpha explained, honesty soaked in his words.

“That... sounds hard to believe, but they were always pretty dodgy with me...” Tokken pondered.

With a sigh, Alpha cast a glance at Tokken’s belt. “Aye, it would explain your weapon’s origin, lad.”

“And these Crimsoneers. Who are they? They’re coming here to attack again, correct?” Chloe asked, raising a clumsy paw.

With a hum, Alpha confirmed. “Regretfully, aye. Crimsons are a bit of a mystery to all of us, and yet they’ve been the enemies of man for as long as history dates. They desire the annihilation of all we’ve built; to reset all that exists in the Jealous God’s image, with the aid of the Jewel-Eyed King.”

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

“Emris! Goddess damn it, there you are!” shouted a smooth yet frustrated voice that permeated through the vast and darkened hallways of the Facility.

The anger-driven combat veteran stopped for a mere moment, exhaling through his nose like a bull. Turning his head at the approaching doctor, Emris felt compelled to walk off either way. Patience was not his greatest virtue, and his boiling blood made it even more lacking than usual.

“What is it,” Emris barked, a demand more so than a question, restarting his steps albeit with a slowed pace.

Finally reaching his side, Fely spoke between laboured breaths. “When did you last sleep, you goon?! Do you have any clue how damaging that could be for somebody your age——?“

“I’m going. Didn’t ye hear? I ain’t pickin’ any battles,” Emris interrupted, facing forward.

“And you expect me to believe your stubborn nature won’t get you in trouble?!”

“Aye,”—Emris challenged—“That’s the bet.”

“Urgh! Just who do you intend to face alone?” Fely demanded, exasperated.

“The Dwellers. Then maybe Yanksee, if I’m feelin’ it.”

“You intend to face the Dwellers with no assistance whatsoever, whilst already drowning from your lack of self-care?! Do you truly expect Zylith to even want to listen to an Elite from the Syndicate, assuming neither Ezequiel nor Minnota hack you down?”

“Aye.”

“Nothing I say is going to change your course, is it?”

“Nay.”

“Then at least take Erica and Corvus with you,” Fely pressured desperately.

Stopping in his tracks, Emris finally turned to the troubled doctor. “And if I don’t, ye’re gonna stop me?”

“...What has gotten into you these days?”

“This doesn’t require more than one man. I’m capable of handlin’ myself; I’ll take care of this.”

Seeing Emris depart so determined yet spitefully gave Fely a distinct feeling of foreboding. Alas, even he knew that his position meant squat to the stubborn Guardian. Power often made an individual arrogant, and such arrogance was their common weakness. Of course, that same power also made it harder to guide or force one’s understanding, so those ignored were often left incapable of getting the point across. Fely found himself with no other option than to personally gather his reinforcements, plucking them from their quarters in the midst of the night.

“I do apologize for the tardiness, but I dread the outcomes of his recklessness,” the doctor apologized, bowing to the two subordinates he had tasked.

Lieutenant Corvus, regarded as the Guardian’s Sword, was entrusted from birth to give aid to the burdened Guardian of his generation. To enforce such a duty upon him was unfortunate, but his destiny had already intended for him to do so. Alongside him stood Erica, a Celestial lancer who wore a set of bizarrely fashioned, radiant armour, tipped by the waist with scales of unusual green. She stood half a head shorter than her counterpart but no less fearsome. The one thing keeping her from looking outright lethal was a delicate smile that adorned her exposed face; idle tufts of red hair present through her helm.

“Don’t stress, doctor. The Guardian’s acting up, so nothing new, right?” Erica spoke, calmingly.

“Precisely. Let’s make haste; I wouldn’t want to miss rest. Not at a time like this.” Corvus nodded with a sly grin. “Come. I’m sure a few drinks will help quell his temper.”

Raising his head to meet them with a gentle smile, Fely gave one last wave before the two-winged soldiers took off into the night with hasty vigour.

“You really like your fancy talk, huh?” Erica teased, raising her voice so as to be heard through the passing wind.

Corvus hummed to himself. “Truth. Call it whimsy. I could try a less stiffened approach, but it simply wouldn’t be as majestic to the land-walkers. We’re supposed to be living grace, see?”

“I’m all for it. It’s kind of funny how they see us like that. Also a bit embarrassing.” Erica sniggered.

“That too,” Corvus smiled to himself. Pointing down towards the earth, he exclaimed. “We’re closing in on the Outskirts. Forest Dweller territory.”

“Oh boy… are you nervous?”

“They’re certainly quite the foe, but so long as we don’t stir the hornet’s nest, we’ll be fine,” Corvus acknowledged, sombrely.

“Oh? Are you putting the strength of our race beneath them?” Erica asked sheepishly.

Turning to face her, Corvus raised a brow. “And you claim arrogance to be futile?”

Erica cackled, flying in front of him as she glided backwards. “I was just asking, silly,” She teased, shrugging her shoulders. “In all honesty, I don’t get how we haven’t taken these guys down already. Their tech is primitive.”

“It irks me to say, but they’re skilled in the arts of magic and stealth,” Corvus rebutted.

“But we know where they live? Why not just storm them?” Erica offered.

“Same issue as with Khorralege. Soldiers get nervous when they’re bunched up against things they can’t see. Or, in Khorralege's case, against things they fear.”

Hearing this, Erica sighed. “Dirty blades?”

“Rat shit-covered blades. If they cut you even once you’d best be prepared to face a rather dreadful end. We can’t afford to send our diminishing doctors out into the field.”

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Emris had long since entered the vegetation-covered woods, intentionally designed in such a way so as to prevent any aerial eyes from prying on the Dwellers’ affairs. The veteran muttered profanities to himself as he parted through the dense flora that served in restricting his entry. Even as he gazed up above to the canopies—watching as the silently vigilant warriors of this rebel faction observed his every move— he pressed on, not feeling much more than irritation at their skittish and unwelcoming behaviour towards him. It wouldn’t be entirely unusual, especially considering his reputation to these folk.

As he finally reached the entrance of the established, primitive dwelling they called their own, he was halted by a small group of hooded, ghillie-suited assassins, of which one in particular looked all-too-familiar — his hood not covering enough of his head to hide his notorious identity.

“Halt, outsider,” the fabled Keeper of the Dwellers commanded, his hand resting on his rapier’s buckle.

“’Eve, Ezequiel. Good to see ye’re still full of life,” Emris greeted with a cocky smirk. “Mind steppin’ aside? I think yer mistress is makin’ a biiig mistake.”

“You will address her properly to start with, fiend!” One of the lackeys demanded, raising an improvised tomahawk as a warning.

“Eh?” Emris mocked, straightening himself to impose his presence. “Aye, when she learns to behave. Put that thing down before you kill yerself with it.”

“Did you come here just to make threats, Syndie? What is your business here?” Ezequiel asked, narrowing his eyes at the intruder.

Waving his hand at his demands, Emris snorted. “Now, eh, I’m here for the lass. It’s about her untimely choices regarding the uh… ‘invasion’ of our regions. I assume ye heard? Crimsons are makin’ their way south as we speak.”

Hearing this, the Keeper lowered his gaze in thought. “We have no involvement with those devils. I think now’s a perfect time to trample your country.”

“Oi, don’t go runnin’ that tongue out of yer mouth,” Emris growled, approaching the Keeper and grabbing him by the collar. The thoughtless act provoked a commotion between the lackeys — however, their disturbance was soon halted with a gesture from the skilled fencer.

“They’re as big a problem for ye as they are ours. Now step aside,” the veteran demanded.

Seeing the man before him act so carelessly and arrogantly made the Keeper hold his breath in frustration. Releasing his grip with a tug, the Keeper finally subsided, before stepping aside; allowing his entry wordlessly.

“We’re letting him in, sir?” one of the Dwellers asked.

“Yes. Let him speak to the Queen. There’s nothing to fear; he couldn’t do anything to us anyway.” Ezequiel derided, glaring at the veteran as he passed by him with a displeased grunt.

Emris was already running short on patience and decided not to retort to his taunt. It would serve him little in what he had to do — stirring a commotion now that he had been so leniently allowed entry would be simply childish. Even in his pissed-off, arrogant state, he knew trying to take this place down single-handedly would land his head on a decorative stake.

With his hands in his pockets, Emris glanced around him as he walked. The village was certainly a quiet, humble place; a spacious, wood wall-surrounded space with several primitive cabins, trading posts, and other necessities forged from various lumbers, sticks, leaves and rope. In the farthest end from the entrance, atop a small hill that overlooked the town, stood the most exotic of all huts: the throne room.

As he walked by, the Brigadier took pleasure in deep breaths, enjoying the soothing air the bountiful greenery offered. Casting glances upon those who walked by, he soon realised just how much he stood out to this village. While the townsfolk were aware of the vast technologies life had long invented a mere horizon away, they simply preferred and chose the humble simplicities of nature. That being said, their obsessively sharpened blades and deadly-quiet tactics were nothing to scoff at; not to mention the fact that a small gathering of these assassins could fell groups of Nynx-suited officers without making a peep. They even did so for sport at times.

Passing by a makeshift training area, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched their young’s first steps into the world of combat. It almost seemed impossible such light-hearted, innocent children would one day join the ranks of this imposing rebellion.

Reaching the foot of the stairs that lead to the throne, Emris passed by many a guard that stood protectively by their ruler, protecting her at all costs. While most did glare at the veteran, he didn’t seem all too bothered by their threatening looks. He wasn’t here to fight, and showing any kind of weakness wouldn’t serve him well when facing the stubborn royal that stood for this miniature Kingdom. Sitting atop the mahogany throne sat the pensive Queen of the Forest Dwellers, Zylith, whilst her closest bodyguard stood protectively a few feet away. A bodyguard that certainly seemed out of place — her body more akin to a little girl than a warrior hell-bent on guarding her employer. While her miniature frame did little to impose, the gigantic, eagle-shaped axe she leaned against most certainly did. How someone of her stature was to wield such a weapon was nothing short of bewildering, but the minuscule jet engine embedded into the axe’s blunt end likely gave answer.

This axe, much like himself, didn’t fit at all in such a primitive village.

Stolen, no doubt.

“Zylith,” Emris spoke, breaking the train of thought the ruler must’ve been set upon.

Before she could utter a word, the tiny body of the girl next to her sprung into motion, standing between the two. “Woah, woah. Who the heck are you, talkin’ to her like that? You’re not friends ya know. Back off and come back once you’ve learned some manners, you Syndie——“

To her ramblings, Emris gave a broad, sleazy smirk. “I always forget how small ye are, Minnota,” he sniggered, pointing to her mockingly as he faced Zylith. “Ye really banked with this jester, eh?”

“JESTER?! I oughta conk ya out right now, scumbag!” Minnota complained, punching Emris’ chest in protest, to little effect. Raising from her seat, the young, serene authority intervened, her voice mature and knowing.

“That’s enough, Minnota. If a Brigadier of the Syndicate came all the way here, I’m sure it’s not for idle play.”

“Ye catch on fast, Zylith,” Emris muttered, cracking his neck. “We uh… noticed ye’ve been keepin’ tabs lately.”

To this, Zylith couldn’t suppress a sigh. As competent as her stealth-specialised Chameleons were, their mixed intellect often made them unpredictably efficient. Watching the axe-dragging girl return to her post reluctantly, the royal smiled malignantly.

“For the last few weeks, yes.”.

Gnashing his teeth together, Emris’ tone grew more serious. “I’d suggest ye cease.”

“What advantage would that offer?” she retorted, raising a brow at his suggestion.

“We can’t be gettin’ worried about yer next moves right now. We’ve got bigger problems goin’, understand? It involves yer likes. Crimsons.”

While the estranged communities had much distaste for one another, their mutual enemy was one they both reserved an equal amount of respect—and in the same right, ill will— towards. With a huff, the monarch crossed her legs and leaned into her palm in thought. She appeared irritatingly unaffected.

“So, the Reds are here once more? I never thought I’d have the misfortune to see them twice in my lifespan, I’ll admit.” Zylith sighed.

“Ye’re too young to be that wishful, princess,” Emris jested, earning a growl from the bodyguard.

“She’s the Queen, dipshit,” the fanged little girl spat, her voice shrill and vicious.

“Eh, ‘Queen’ don’t roll off the tongue well. Too gratuitous,” Emris shot back.

Breathing in deeply for a moment, as if preparing to fulfil a simple chore, Minnota stepped forward once again.

“Alright, that’s it,” she uttered, suddenly springing the gigantic axe into motion as she raised it over her shoulder, readying a strike. Before she could detonate the jet-propelled weapon, a voice called from above.

“Woah, woah! Put that thing down, sister,” persuaded the female angel, who then proceeded to land smack-dab in the middle of the hidden village’s most guarded location.

As if to punch a hornet’s nest.

Erica cast awkward glances around her as guards of various sizes readied their spears, blades, and bows in her general direction. To such a display, another angel slapped his own face.

“Good Goddess… could you not act with such abandon?!” Corvus, who landed less aggressively near her, added.

“I’d say my impulses are my greatest feature,” Erica pridefully pointed out.

“Yer ‘greatest feature’ is bein’ a liability,” Emris complained, cupping his face in his palms.

In a world of reason and tranquillity, one wouldn’t expect a brash entry to be worth more than a few odd looks from your co-workers and rivals; much like an employee arriving fifteen minutes late to a meeting that is underway, and being forced to wriggle oneself in with the lot while trying to avoid the glares of those around you — particularly from the person who was so smoothly talking up until that very moment.

Of course, when considering a town full of primitive savages who had managed to remain standing against an empire of century-advanced technology, one would hope to at least enter with some dignity. In the grand scheme of things, is dignity really the best term to use? One might find a bit too much dignity, which might culminate into a mountain of pride unrivalled and undeterred towards awkwardly deadly situations.

Erica was, of course, within this category of geniuses. And as the fanged girl sprang into action, boosting towards her target with flailing axe at the ready, many might wonder if such idiocy was worth the kick of the moment.

Stepping in within mere inches of life and death, Corvus’ blade clashed against the incoming hatchet, splashing their surroundings with hot sparks. Gritting his teeth, Corvus rooted himself to the floor as best he could, angling his body forward so as to effectively push back against his lighter opponent, forcing the girl to back away in a skilful flip. As the metal of her weapon clanged against the floor, Minnota reached into her coat to produce a small, pyramid-tipped blade—a throwing knife—before flinging it towards Corvus with speed and precision.

“Ay, do you freaks have any beer?” Emris sheepishly asked the amused royal.

With a smile, Zylith learned forward. “No. We wouldn’t waste our time dulling our blades.”

“Tsk. Shame.”

As the steel leaf travelled through the air, dangerously closing in on Corvus’ neck, the female angel stepped in with a weapon of her own; her halberd. With a spinning motion, the spear parried the projectile with a triumphant bash, halting the weapon in its tracks.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a proud Celestial, you know,” Erica shrugged, her armour clinking as she gestured. “We’ve lost a good deal of people. I don’t think we could afford to lose the Guardian’s Sword now——“

“Shut the trap!” Minnota barked, easing two more blades into her grip. Just as she would cast them off, Zylith finally stood up.

“That’s enough,” she ordered, her authority made clear through her potent voice.

“B—But my lady——!”

“You’re upsetting our guests and causing a commotion. I’m giving them temporary clearance.”

“The outsiders——?!”

“I hope you’ll respect my decision,” the monarch concluded, silencing the shrinking girl.

Corvus wiped his brow nervously. To have to deal with whatever that girl was capable of alongside the wrath of the entire village would’ve been a death sentence. With a sigh, he walked up to the Queen—while also smacking the back of Erica’s head—and offered a respectful salute.

“I apologise for the intrusion of my… comrades,” Corvus pleaded, bowing his head.

“Dignity, man...” Emris muttered, folding his arms.

“It matters little; though your appearance seems unneeded,” Zylith mused, humoured.

“Consider us the scary-looking guards in this negotiation, then,” Erica chuckled, approaching the throne alongside them.

To this, Zylith tilted her head in amused confusion. “Is that so? Those words hold little significance when mine outnumber yours so severely.”

“Agh! Ruin the fun, why don’t you!” Erica complained, earning a chuckle from the men.

Shrugging his shoulders, Emris finally turned to the subject of his queries. "So, ye're gonna postpone yer efforts, aye? We can handle our disputes at a later time. We need to group up if we want to stand a chance against those bastards. I can tell yer folk are fairly well trained, so I reckon we’d all be better off formin’ an alliance for the time bein’. How's it sound?"

With a momentary pause, watching the confident smirks and smiles of her sworn enemies, she raised her head to respond. The simplicity of hardship. "We will do nothing of the sort."

"Say again?" Corvus asked, reeling from her words.

"I said, we will not cease our pursuit. Never mind the plans for an alliance," Zylith announced, with a tone so firm and clear it made even her guards’ skin crawl.

Of course, these were far from the words the Syndies had hoped to hear. While unity was still up for debate, it was at least anticipated that the Forest Monarch would foresee the risks and at least temporarily forego plans of the Syndicate's elimination. Hearing this, Emris released a growl.

"...Did ye offer a single second of mind to the shite we're talkin' about? A sea of death's comin' and you still want to breach the dam?!" Emris exclaimed.

"See it as I do, could you? In the end, their primary interest is in you, isn't it?" Zylith questioned, standing up so as to properly face the agitated veteran. "So long as we don't interfere, they will have no advantage losing lives to dominate a mere few patches of the forest. We could even make a pact with them if we simply helped them do what we wished to do in the first place."

Creaking his teeth together, Emris' face became full of spite. Just as he would speak, Erica intervened. "It's not like that. They wouldn't lower themselves to make a deal with your people unless you chose to revere their God!"

"Precisely. They would demand of you something you simply cannot give," Corvus added.

Raising her hand as if to halt them, Zylith proceeded. "Even if we were to assume your words are true, and they are as beastly as you say, I still don't see how we gain anything from cooperating. In the end, we lose much-needed allies while you continue to amass growth. It would weaken us enough for infiltration to ruin us without much for concern."

"Then we'll share a treaty, with conditions of no intervention during this time of need——!" Emris tried to offer, desperation clear in his voice.

With a piercing glare out of the corner of her eye, the royal interrupted. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I refuse to settle a condition in blind faith of compliance with you disloyal, disgraceful pigs, do you understand?!" she roared, making the three visitors step back in shock. The esteemed protector of the village, Ezequiel, approached the source of the noise, bowing before the monarch.

Clearing her throat, and with a tone eerily sweet and motherly despite her outburst, she ordered: "Keeper, show the intruders out, will you?"

"Abhai, my lady,” the fencer obeyed, assisting in their forceful removal alongside a few of his lackeys.

Staring back at her as he was shoved away, Emris yelled. "Ye’re makin' a real fuckin' mistake, lass! These people will die under yer reign, Zylith!"

"That guy pisses me off so much..." Minnota growled, baring her fangs as she cradled her oversized weapon.

With a surprisingly light-hearted chuckle, the monarch crossed her legs, watching them leave. "Humour every moment, dear girl. Every moment."

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

"That's two names I'm curious about... I hate to say it, but you're digging yourself deeper and deeper in my questionnaire, you know," said a sheepish Tokken.

"You don't know the Jealous God...?" Chloe asked, surprised at his lack of knowledge over something so globally recognized.

"If I did, I wouldn't ask," Tokken muttered, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

With a silent nod, Alpha made a bridge with his hands as he spoke. "Och... They really had you blind. Aye, the Jealous Divine, who used the Crimsoneers to enact his spiteful revenge on the mortal folk: Mortos."

"Mortos...?" Tokken asked. For some reason, the name clicked perfectly within him. As if he'd had that name scorched into his mind for the longest time, and only now placed the word to the thought.

"The God of Death and Oblivion; as well as the undeniably less beloved sibling between the Twins of Existence. The sister—Victus—won the larger end of the pole, doubtless."

"A sore deity? Are you serious...?" Tokken sighed, facepalming.

"Such is fate, unfortunately," Alpha chuckled.

"...You're both looking for trouble. I'd be lying if I didn't find it... a bit funny," Chloe recognised, smiling to herself.

With a beaming chuckle, Tokken couldn't help but pet the flustered quadruped. "Don't worry too much; I doubt these thick walls would let even a god break through."

"Something about that sentiment makes me even more nervous!" she exclaimed, not resisting his comforting touch.

"Hah, ah! Have no fear, lass! We pride ourselves in our work, we lot. You'll see; when the day of reckoning soon comes, just how fearsome we can be!" Alpha proclaimed, enthusiasm engraved in his noble grin.

But in his own deceit, a guilty thought wavered through the conflicted Head of Men’s mind.

“For a deity as hated as ye, there's a dab much room for sympathy.”