Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being Human

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Dais said dryly.

“Oh, come on,” Sekhmet drawled.  “You’ve been bored, too.”

“Now that Lord Talpa has been dethroned, the Dynasty has been reduced to dozens—maybe hundreds—of small, petty warlords trying to fill the power void,” Kale chimed in. 

“Which is why we should stay.  To make sure that things don’t get out of hand,” Dais replied calmly.

“Kayura is more than capable of quelling any insurrection that gains influence,” Sekhmet said as he picked out the threading of a pillow on the pile he was sitting in.  “She doesn’t need our help.  I think she rather enjoys it—perhaps a hold over from her time as a Dynasty warrior.”

Dais rubbed the bridge of his nose.  He hated being reminded that she wiped the floor with them on multiple occasions and that only Anubis’ sacrifice brought her back to her ‘good’ self.  He had a feeling the final battle would have ended much differently had she been in it. 

The three remaining former-Dynasty warlords were together in what served as a War Room, the rice-paper doors rattling slightly each time a patrol passed.  The magicked pieces that signified different warlords and armies shuffled quietly on the raised map that took up the center of the room as the three men stared at each other.

Dais had a bad feeling that things were about to get far more complicated than necessary.

“You—” he began.

“Oh, get the stick out of your ass, Dais,” Sekhmet interrupted.

“Bet you’re just scared,” Kale said slyly. 

Dais frowned and barely kept himself from showing his annoyance.  Doing that would only gratify them.  “Me?  Scared?”

Kale smirked.  “Why else wouldn’t you want to go into the Human World?  We still have our armor—who can touch us?”

“The Ronin seem to have entered a kind of…retirement.  They won’t be a problem even if something does happen,” Sekhmet added as his nails pried loose tightly stitched threads in the pillow he sat on.

“But it won’t be that easy to blend into the Human world,” Dais said.  “You two have faces that aren’t exactly forgettable, and it’s been over 400 years since any of us lived in the human world.  You saw how much it has changed since we agreed to serve the Dynasty—all the stone and metal and glass.  The strange vehicles, accents, clothing, social system...need I go on?”

Sekhmet and Kale shared a look and Dais barely kept himself from sighing.  “You’re set on this, aren’t you?”

“See, that’s the fun,” Sekhmet said cheerfully, the rip of fabric loud in the soft quiet.  “We’ll be so in over our heads that it’ll be a challenge worthy of a Dynasty Warlord!”

“Then go. Why bother telling me?”

“Because we thought you’d have the balls to join us,” Kale replied.

“I have the gonads to be responsible, unlike you two,” Dais drawled.  “I give you two weeks before you come back.”

“I think you’ll be surprised, Dais,” Sekhmet said as he pushed himself out of the pile of pillows, leaving one with stuffing spilling out of holes he had clawed into the fabric.  “I think we’ll be seeing you in the Human World.  One month, tops.”

“One month?  One week,” Kale said and shook his head condescendingly. 

“Try not to get killed,” Dais retorted.  “That’d be embarrassing.”

Kale rolled his eyes as Sekhmet snickered. 

“Bye-bye, Miss Dais,” Sekhmet cooed and barely evaded a knife Dais threw at him.  Sekhmet cackled his way down the hallway as Kale gave Dais a mocking salute before leaving the room as well.

Dais ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily.  I’m not sure if I’m glad that they’re out of my hair or not.

“What had Sekhmet so cheerful?” Kayura asked as she entered, her gaze turned towards where the other two warlords had exited.

 “He insulted me and is going to inflict himself on the unsuspecting human world,” Dais drawled and looked to the map that detailed the activity throughout the Dynasty. 

“He’s going to the Human World,” Kayura repeated slowly.

“Not as a warlord,” Dais said as the girl as she came up beside him.  “As a human.  Or as close to human as the lunatic can come.”

“And Kale is going with him?”

“He is.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dais gestured to the map before them.  “Because of this. I’d like to keep things as under control as possible.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, warlord,” Kayura said with a small, slightly mocking smile.

Dais barely kept a frown off his face.  “The Dynasty isn’t a small place.  While your abilities as the last of the Ancients might give you sway over much of it, you’re not all-powerful.  Smaller warlords could band together and attempt to seize control of everything with an army not even you could stop.”

“I’m surprised that you care so much,” Kayura said, leaning on the Staff of the Ancients. 

 “Should I not care?”

“Oh, no.  Feel free to care.  I’ll take any help I can get.”

Dais had the strong urge to rub his eye in frustration.  Why does everyone delight in insulting me?

“How long do you think they’ll last out there?”

“I have no idea,” Dais said and watched a figure representing one of the more vicious warlords that had popped up move to encompass the army of a weaker-willed one.  “The novelty of it will wear off on them quickly, I suspect.”

Kayura hummed in acknowledgement.  “Kale or Sekhmet first?”

“Kale,” Dais answered after a moment’s thought.  “Sekhmet will find ways to entertain himself for much longer.”

“Really? I would think he’d get bored more quickly.”

“The Human World is larger than the Dynasty, I believe.  I’m sure he’ll be wanted for some crime in every country that exists there before he decides to come back.”

Kayura snickered.

Dais frowned as he watched the pieces dance across the board.  “A battle is brewing.” 

“Oh?”

Dais nodded.  “Look.” He pointed to a banner that was quickly overtaking the northern part of the map.  “He’s gaining power.  Too much, too quickly.  I know him—I’ve had spies watching him for decades.  He can’t be left alone to accrue a following.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kayura said.  “You just hold down everything here.”

Dais was about to protest, but Kayura had left before he could utter even a sound.

“I hate that woman,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his eye.  Dais pushed away from the map and walked out of the room towards his quarters.  He sidestepped a poison trap Sekhmet had left for him as he thought.

What will it be like without them here? Dais mused.  Certainly quieter.

He reached his quarters and changed out of his subarmor into more casual clothing, his shoulders falling slightly as the cloth settled on him.

He sat down before his low desk and took out a rather guilty pleasure of his—reading up on the Human World.  Once things in the Dynasty had settled down slightly, Dais had become interested in what he had missed from the time that he had fallen in with Talpa.

Over 400 years had changed many things.  Devices had been developed that Dais would never have even fathomed during his time as a human, wars had been fought that cost countless lives, weapons of destruction on an unimaginable scale had been unleashed.  Diseases that would have caused swaths of death had cures, the environment had changed, the roles of women and men had shifted, there was contact with all sorts of bizarre cultures…it was bewildering. 

Still, he was happier staying in the Dynasty and reading up on the insanity that was the human world than being there.  It was almost like a novel that way. 

He was perusing a history book he had retrieved during a secret foray into the realm of the Ronin Warriors when the door slid open to reveal a rather satisfied-looking Kayura. 

“Back already?” Dais asked blandly. 

“It was nothing you needed to wor—really, Dais?”

Dais looked at the technology manual detailing ‘computers’ and ‘cell phones’ and all sorts of devices that made his head spin that was lying on the floor beside him and barely kept his face from flushing. He settled for giving her a haughty glare that she shrugged off.

“You seem more interested in the human world than they,” Kayura said as she stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her.  “Why don’t you go there?”

“Knowing about the human world is one thing,” Dais said.  “Actually surviving there is another.”

“So you’re scared?”

Dais snorted and shook his head.  “Why does everyone mistake caution for fear?”

“Go, Dais,” Kayura said as she sat beside him and plucked the history book out of his hands.  “Live a little.”

Dais looked at the small library he had scattered around him and heaved an inward sigh.  He was more prepared than the other warlords were to exist in human society as he had correct expectations of the human world.  He just needed ‘money’, but, from what he had read, anything from the Dynasty would be considered a ‘historical artifact’ and therefore of interest to collectors. 

It was tempting, but he would hate to prove Kale and Sekhmet right.

“Just so you know, if you go to, hm, Japan, which is where the Gates have traditionally opened into, you won’t come across the other warlords,” Kayura said ‘absently’.  “However, you will run into the Ronin Warriors.”

Dais tapped his fingers against his knees and looked at the technical manuals before him.  “No.”

“Why?”

“I’m not like the two fools who go charging off at whim,” Dais drawled.  “I need to know some things first, plan a little.”

“That’s just reasons to not go because you’re lazy or scared.”

“I am not scared,” Dais hissed, temper waxing.  “I’m prudent.  I don’t have the same fallbacks as when we went into the human world before.  I want to be prepared.”

“You and your plans,” Kayura said as she rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Stall all you want.  Just be helpful like you said you would.”

Dais glared at the doorway once she left.  Now I want to stay here just to irk her.  Bitch.

Dais looked at the tomes surrounding him and ran a finger along the band that held his eyepatch in place.

If there was one thing that would distinguish him, it would be the lack of one of his eyes.  He needed to figure out how to work around that if he wanted to blend in at all.  He had a feeling that not many humans wore eyepatches.  At least, he hadn’t seen many among the humans that they had captured.

Then there was that problem.  He didn’t think of himself as human, even though he technically was.  He had left his humanity behind over 400 years ago.  Perhaps he didn’t even know how to be human.

Dais closed the technological manual before him and brooded at the tatami floor. 

What did it mean, anyway, to be human?  Was it a language?  A way of acting?  A certain perspective on the world?  He had been divorced from his humanity for so long that he felt that only his appearance could be called ‘human.’  What was history for the human world had been his present.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to reconcile himself with the situation that had evolved.  He was, almost literally, stuck in the past.

He was surprised that it was the clothing that bothered him the most.  Cars and computers and cell phones were things he could deal with—they were just tools, albeit confusing and complicated ones.  How buildings were constructed didn’t perturb him much, and he was actually glad that it would take a whole lot more to bring them down than a fire.  He was even okay with the gender roles—Kayura had proved on multiple occasions that women were far from weak.  The clothing baffled him, though.

And if I want to blend in, I have to wear it, he thought with distaste as he flipped through a ‘fashion magazine’ that he had acquired.

However, the idea of seeing Kale and Sekhmet thus attired made him snicker. 

I would bet that they get it wrong at first, he thought with a small feral grin. 

He closed the strange, thin, paper-book and closed his eyes.

He was more torn about going to the Human World than he would like to admit.  Of course his duty to the Dynasty came first, but that didn’t mean that the prospect of something different wasn’t exciting in its own way.

The option, now that it had been suggested, bothered him unduly.  He transformed back into his subarmor and left his room, walking towards the training grounds for the sake of movement.  He had no intention of training—he wasn’t in the mood, and Kale wasn’t around to provide target practice—but it would be someplace outside of the palace halls, and that would be welcome.

He had a feeling that being stuck alone with Kayura all the time would also wear on him and drive him either insane or into the human world sooner rather than later.

Dais stepped out into the courtyard, ignored the soldiers that sparred in the rings, and looked up at the sky. 

He remembered the eclipse clearly, even though he had been trapped, powerless, inside a tower meant to help merge the Dynasty with the Human World.  It had left him burning with shame at his own incompetence, and the feeling was magnified by the fact that the Ronins managed to not only escape, but also defeated Talpa. 

It did make him wonder, however, how things would have been had Talpa succeeded in the merger. 

He let his mind wander as he watched the soldiers practicing and the tension in his shoulders slowly notched up. 

Sure, things had calmed down from the first few turbulent months, but the power void left all the warlords in the Dynasty seeking domination.  That he had also heard whispers of non-Dynasty entities in the Netherworld made him uneasy.  Perhaps the partial-merger had alerted other Netherworld-like civilizations that they existed and were powerful enough to force their presence into the Human World. 

Dais bit back and sigh and schooled his face into an expressionless mask.

The Dynasty was his home, anymore.  He had fought too hard to keep it under Talpa’s regime for it to be anything but.  He knew he had a myriad of enemies and kept tabs on all of them.  He didn’t want to leave the Dynasty, didn’t want to leave it defenseless, since he and the other warlords had been its defense.

 Still, it might be a pleasant diversion to figure out the logistics of existing in the Human World. 

Dais turned and faded into the shadows, his mind already leaping ahead to what he might have to do to worm his way into mortal society.

Chapter Text

Dais had decided that if he wanted to live in the human world he had to anesthetize himself to what had changed in the centuries since he had been away, so that he wasn’t so obviously out-of-place, or, perhaps, out-of-time.  On his previous trips into Tokyo he had used some of the Dynasty’s influence to drive the humans out of the surrounding area and make the ‘electronics’ cease working.  However, he was now planning on going into the human world without the buffer of the Dynasty, and it made him oddly nervous.

Stop it, he chided himself as he looked at the portal that opened to a side-alley that would lead into the bustling streets of Tokyo.  You’re a warlord of the Dynasty.  Reticence in the face of a challenge is unbecoming.

He looked at himself and grimaced.  The first order of business would be to get appropriate clothing.  Getting it wouldn’t be too difficult, especially with his illusions, but it was a matter of how long he could sustain a particular illusion and move around quietly in his armor.  While it was true that something inherent in the armor made his movement nearly silent, his weapons tended to increase his size significantly.

He sighed, called on his armor, and stepped through the portal, wrapping ‘invisibility’ around himself (in reality, it was a simple trick on a person’s mind—make them look slightlyto the side, ignoring his presence).

Before, because of the Dynasty’s presence, the throb of life had been silenced, but without invoking the darker power, the cacophony immediately assaulted Dais.  The chatter of humans.  The deep thrum of ‘subways’ moving beneath his feet, the clatter of above-ground ‘trains’, the honks of ‘cars’ and the revving of ‘bus’ engines.  ‘Planes’ roared overhead, music was pumped out of ground-level stores, ‘phones’ rang incessantly, and ‘bicycle’ bells sounded out to warn pedestrians.  High-heeled shoes clacked against the concrete as ‘sneakers’ created dead thuds at each step.  Dais could barely hear himself breathe.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to breathe.  The air was tainted with a miasma of smoke, exhaust, garbage, the putrid human-scent, unknown food, perfumes and colognes…it was overwhelming.  He was glad he had his mask down—it saved him from the assault slightly.

Dais walked silently to the end of the alley, sidestepping someone passed out against the side of a building that seemed to touch the dome of the sky.

Oh, he had known how many humans they had taken into the Dynasty when they invaded, but he had been distant from it.  Afterall, they were nothing more than cattle, a resource for the Dynasty and nothing more.  But now, there was no distance and the press of bodies was suffocating.

Dais took a few quick steps back.  He hadn’t seen so many people anywhere but on the battlefield—no, perhaps there were even more here.  That they seemed to ignore each other completely was absolutely astonishing.  To be surrounded with so much life and to be able to treat the overcrowding like it was nothing!

He cautiously approached the edge of the darkness again.

There was so much color, too. Over-bright colors, some that he had no name for, were sported on human bodies, spelled out foreign words on buildings, reflected against windows and metal.  Bizarre patterns covered countless surfaces, morphed lines and stylized flowers, materials that shimmered and glittered and moved in manners that made Dais dizzy. 

There were foreigners in the mass of humans, people that seemed bleached compared to his countrymen.  Perhaps the sun was weaker where they lived, and the deeper darkness made them pale.   Or maybe it was so bright that it leeched all the color from them.  But, then, what of the people with deep brown skin?  Where would they come from?  Sure, he had seen the diversity of humanity in pictures, had seen names of countries thrown around, but he couldn’t begin to figure out how to place them in his world-view. 

The human world was much more manageable when under the Dynasty’s influence than when they were allowed to run it on their own.

Dais took a deep breath and closed his eye.  This feeling of weakness wasn’t him.  He would center himself and move on—he needed the clothes to blend in, and once he had them he could desensitize himself to being surrounded by such a volume of humans.

He slunk out into the crowd and stuck to the edges, people unconsciously moving around his cloaked form.  The moment he recognized a department store, he shadowed a gaggle of girls in before the door could close behind them.  He moved slowly to the ‘Men’s’ section and lightly touched a pair of ‘jeans’.  He wanted to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.  He had no idea what ‘size’ he would be, and wasn’t entirely sure what was appropriate for the age-range he looked like. 

Dais heaved a silent sigh and looked at a posed fake man nearby.  Surely it was modeling the latest ‘fashion’, and would therefore give him an idea.

Dais eventually chose a few pants and jeans that appeared like they would fit him, picked up a few shirts, and ‘underwear’.  He had no idea what he would look like when all was said and done, but he figured it would be an…experience. 

He extended the illusion to the clothes he had bundled over his arms and quickly vanished back into a Dynasty portal he opened.  It was an acute relief once he was back in the comfortable quiet of the castle and he let his armor fall away, leaving him in his subarmor with human clothing balled in his arms. 

He was walking back to his suite when Kayura turned a corner.  “There you are Dais, I’ve been—what are those?”

Dais kept his face impassive.  “The beginning steps in a plan.”

“Right,” Kayura said slowly and fingered the cloth before Dais jerked it away.  “Steps in a plan.”

“Is there something you need?” Dais drawled.  “I thought that you had everything in control.”

“Don’t be fresh with me, warlord,” Kayura responded sweetly.  “If I truly needed your help, I would ask for it.”

“Then why were you looking for me?” Dais asked and shifted the bundle of clothing in his arms. 

Kayura let out a long, low breath and said, “Was wondering if you had gone to join the others already.”

Dais shook his head and shifted the clothes again.  “If you should ever need help, I’ll be in my suite,” Dais drawled and passed her—his arms were getting tired.

He was relieved when he could dump his clothes on his futon.  They had been heavier than anticipated, even with the strength gifted him by his armor. 

Dais shifted to his non-combat clothing and knelt down beside his bedding.  He carefully laid out each piece and examined it, poking at the buttons and zippers, figuring out how everything worked together.  He figured that it would be easier to determine if the shirts fit or not, and so shrugged off his haori and pushed the top of his kimono down so his chest and arms were bare.  He picked up what the magazines called a T-Shirt and tried to pull it on over his head, fumbling to get his arms and head through the appropriate holes.  He decided that it was too tight and so tossed it away from the pile of yet-to-be-tried-on pieces. 

The first button-down shirt he retrieved did fit, although he personally thought it was too much effort and looked slightly silly.  Still, it was a muted color and that was important—he didn’t need to be wearing the ultra-bright colors he saw some humans wearing; that just seemed obnoxious for the sake of being obnoxious.  He found two T-shirts that fit him and made mental note of the size on the ‘tag’ on the back of the fabric. 

He put the button-down shirt back on before untying his obi and letting the hakama and the rest of his kimono fall to the floor.  He picked up the ‘underwear’ package and, after fighting with the packaging, managed to get a pair free.  The underwear felt very strange, but he figured that it would be better than letting his junk be rubbed raw by the unfamiliar fabric of modern pants. 

The pants were much harder to figure out than the shirts, and Dais was glad that he had chosen a broader range of pant sizes than shirt sizes.  Out of the pants pile, he managed to find two that fit relatively comfortably. 

At least I have something to go off of now, he thought and looked at himself, pulling at the waistband of the jeans in discomfort.  And I can attempt to interact and move within that hive.

Dais tossed all the clothing that didn’t fit him into his closet, deciding to figure out what to do with it later.  Perhaps it would fit Sekhmet or Kale.  Or Kayura. 

Dais ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers caught on the band of his eyepatch. 

Sunglasses? He wondered.  They would hide his eyes and protect his one remaining good eye, so were probably worth consideration.  And I suppose I can dye my hair, he thought, pulling a white strand into his vision. 

All this for what? He wondered as he suppressed a scowl.  Do I really want to live in the human world?  I wasn’t fond of humans when I was one—400 years will not be long enough to change human nature.

Dais looked at himself again and shook his head.  I shouldn’t allow those three to put ideas in my head.  This is nonsense. 

Dais changed out of the modern clothes and tossed them into his closet as well before he closed the sliding door with finality.  He put his usual garments back on and smoothed the cloth over his chest as a frown pulled at his lips.

Part of him wanted to go to the Human World.  Part of him said he was an idiot to even contemplate it.  He wasn’t human—not anymore.  Maybe never again. 

There was also the disconcerting idea that he might become so steeped in the illusion he sought to create that it would slowly become his reality. But wouldn’t that be a crowning achievement in his craft? He was, if anything, very thorough in his work (which was why it had taken Sekhmet three years to find his way out of a rather vindictive illusion Dais had crafted).  If he could convince those he interacted with that he hadn’t spent the last 400-plus years thinking of them as nothing more than an expendable resource without using his armor…well, it would say something both about humanity and him.

Still, he’d hate to prove Kale and Sekhmet right.  Anyway, his duty was to the Dynasty and there were more than enough problems that demanded his attention—Kayura was good at putting down insurrections, but Dais tried to stop any conflicts before they came to fruition.  It would also be gratifying to see them come crawling back to the Dynasty so he could shove a smug ‘I told you so’ in their faces.

In truth, it wouldn’t be too difficult to resist going to the human world.  Yes, it was now a preoccupation, but if there was one thing Dais had mastery over, it was his own mind—he refused to allow anyone to ensnare the Master of Illusion in one.  Therefore, he’d be able to starve off his curiosity to something manageable. 

He went over to his desk and picked up a scroll, breaking the seal after taking a moment to make sure that there was no trap attached to it—yes, Sekhmet wasn’t around anymore, but that didn’t mean that Dais’ life was safe.

Dais sat down, took out the key to the code, and began to slowly work his way through the report.

He had a feeling that none of the warlords or Kayura really understood what his position in the Dynasty hierarchy really was.  He was a Warlord, yes, but he had also served as Talpa’s spymaster.  The Dynasty was very large and full of mostly stupid but greedy beings, and someone needed to keep tabs on it all.  As Talpa didn’t trust very well, he had assigned Dais, his Warlord of Illusion—and the person who had served him longest—to make sure that everything in the Dynasty ran smoothly and according to Talpa’s designs.

It had been an interesting logistical problem, initially.  The turnover on the lower tiers of power was swift, and humanity was constantly expanding the Dynasty with their negative emotions, which meant that Dais had to work very hard to find stable places to attach the beginning of his network. Then, it was a matter of coercing people to become his minions and finding ways to ensure their loyalty. 

It had taken the better part of a century and a half to finally establish his web, but since then it had simply been a matter of tugging on the feelers and making sure the minions remembered whom they served. 

His web had undergone a significant upheaval and unraveling due to Talpa’s defeat and the subsequent surge in petty warlords grasping at the power void.  He had regained most of his moorings, but some of them didn’t sink as deep as he would have liked, and that made him both displeased and nervous.

He had also lost many spies in the chaos, but those were obviously the less skilled ones.  There were always more minions to be had.

He looked at the decoded report and frowned.  Aggression between most of the smaller warlords had diminished, primarily because the Netherworld was split between four ruling powers (five if Dais included himself and Kayura).   This wasn’t a good development.  Yes, it gave him fewer targets he had to keep an eye on, but it meant that he would have to work harder at it. 

Life was easier when the petty power-mongers could keep each other occupied—now that factions had coalesced, he had to pay even closer attention.

It meant that he would have to go and infiltrate the ranks on his own, if just to find dissenters who would be willing to work for him just to cause the downfall of the faction they were unwillingly a part of.

Dais destroyed the decoded report and stood with a sigh.  He wouldn’t bother telling Kayura where he was going, just in case.  It was better for his movements to be known only to himself, especially in a delicate matter such as the one he was about to attend to.

Dais summoned his armor and his good eye narrowed.  Slowly, the structure and color of it shifted until it appeared to be nothing more than a typical Dynasty soldier’s.  He left his room and stalked through the palace corridors, pleased that no-one looked his way—and was even more amused how Kayura just walked past him without throwing even a second glance his way.

He left into the courtyard, summoned a horse, and took off towards where the first faction’s base of operations was.

--

A leader who ruled through fear was only the leader as long as the fear didn't turn to anger.  Talpa had initially ruled through fear alone, but the ruthless slaughter of his enemies had convinced most of the Dynasty that following him was better than being dead—that Talpa had also gained the support of the Netherspirits had solidified his hold on the Dynasty.  Along with the superior strength of his warlords, he had ruled without question, although not without challenge. 

Sekhmet had very much enjoyed taking care of any and all challengers.

Dais was both amused and annoyed that the most of the different factions decided to use grandiose titles to distinguish themselves, and he knew that he’d eventually develop a code for each of them.  This entailed using names that he usually reserved for Sekhmet, but the man wasn’t around to protest such.

The first faction called themselves the Devil’s Children.

The second faction called themselves the Ogres.

The third faction called themselves the Shadow Clans.

The fourth faction called themselves the Army of the Rising Sun.

Each of them occupied particular terrain that helped to define what strengths and weaknesses in resources and manpower that they would suffer from; who would seek territory for materials, who would have the most to lose if caught unprepared, who would conquer for manpower, who had the most to lose overall, and who had the least. 

He already had contacts among the Children, Ogres, and Clans but found himself woefully uninformed about the Army.  Nonetheless, he needed to pay the spies in the other factions a visit and to generate new ones to make sure his older ones behaved. 

The Devil’s Children faction controlled a steady source of ore and water, but had limited access to other supplies.  Dais had entered their ranks in the guise of a captured soldier, and an unremarkable one at that.  He had discovered that most proud warriors didn’t watch their tongues around perceived weaker opponents, since they were sure of their superiority.  

According to idle gossiping, Dais learned that they had either recruited or dragooned some of the best warriors, armorers, and weaponsmiths into their fold.  The head of the Children was presumptuous enough to dub himself Akuma, and controlled his troops primarily through intimidation and sheer strength.  However, no warrior was invincible, so Dais was sure that it would take only pressure in the right places for the Children to collapse into internal strife that would tear the faction apart; however, doing so would disperse the warriors to the other factions, and Dais didn’t mind having martial power concentrated in one place.  Admittedly, strength of arms wasn’t everything, and that would also be the downfall of the Children.  It was simply a waiting game.  Hopefully there would be conflicts between the other groups that would cull the weaker warriors for him.  Dais always preferred that he not have to do any work. 

The Shadow Clans were guided by an entity that Dais hadn’t unearthed a name for, although he had a suspicion that the true power was elsewhere.  However, one could generate only so many figureheads.  Encouraging subversive behavior within the ranks would help hasten the demise of the faction, and Dais had found at least 9 peons willing to betray their faction.  Getting rid of all the brains, which the faction seemed built upon, would leave them without the tactical advantage that they needed.  They had, fortunately for Dais, chosen an area that wasn’t easily protected, although it did afford them more resources than any of the other factions.  Still, get rid of the intelligence that kept the Clans a step ahead and they would fall victim to the others who lusted after their position.

The Ogres were more worrisome than the others due to the presence of a bureaucracy that suggested a sophisticated level of organization.  Admittedly, that was needed since they had picked a well-protected area that was, however, scarce on the things needed to sustain an army.  If given a chance, the Ogres might be able to build a country, a civilization, and Dais very much wanted to avoid that.  To his delight, bureaucracy left a great many loopholes and opportunities to plant seeds of confusion and doubt.  Tangle the red tape enough and frustrate the soldiers and citizens…well, it would take longer and he’d probably have to give them more ground than the others, but he could bring them down, too.

The Army was the faction that made Dais wary.  The Army appeared to be the ‘smallest’ faction, but Dais was almost entirely certain that was a lie.  The ‘soldiers’ were far too well-equipped to be simple grunts, the few structures that were built were built to last, and they watched everything, watched him, too carefully.  What was presented was a small force meant to simply assert a presence in Dynasty politics, but it was a carefully constructed lie that only the truly observant would see through.  They were sitting on a pile of resources that the other three would discount, they had spies in the other factions, they were aggressively recruiting, and they were cunning, careful.  The leader was never referred to directly, and the way that they danced around even mentioning the person made Dais itch.  There was something familiar about everything, Dais felt he could almost see a shadow of his tactics in what they were doing.  He knew he had no chance to find any spy in the Army, as it was likely that any one who he recruited would instead go back to their boss, whomever he or she was, and tell them about Dais’ attempt, and he’d rather keep any advantage he had. 

Although he wasn’t sure he even had any advantage.  He had no sources, his web somehow didn’t permeate into the Army.  He’d have to contact one of his best spies and have her be “recruited” into the fourth faction.  He hated to take her away from her current assignment, but he had two others keeping track of movement between the Dynasty and the other Nether-realms that were now intertwining.

She’ll probably be happier with this assignment anyway, he thought and turned his horse in the direction of her post.  It’s even higher stakes.

As Dais rode through the undulating terrain of the Dynasty he couldn’t help the small smile that quirked at his lips.  There was something to be said about being out in the field instead of waiting at the center of his web.  Sure, he’d have a pile of reports waiting for him when he got back, and a likely smug Kayura, who would incorrectly assume that he had left for the Human World, but it was worth it.

The off-hand reminder of the Human World nagged him as he rode, no matter how much he tried to shove it out of his head.  His duty was to the Dynasty first, himself second.  The Human World could wait until he resolved the issue at hand.

He wasn’t sure how long that would take.

He could tell that he was coming close to the boundary from how the environment seemed caught in flux, unable to clearly decide whether it wanted to continue to be the Dynasty or become something different.  He passed a few bizarre corpses that his horse shied away from, even though he stopped at each of them.

Some were human-looking.  Others Dais couldn’t find a shred of something in his experience that he could apply.  Each wore different armor, if it had armor; used different weapons, if it used weapons; had different faces, limbs, and Dais only wished he could find out what language they spoke, how they thought, how dangerous they were.  His curiosity had to wait, however, and he had a feeling he would end up encountering at least one kind in his progress through the Dynasty.  It was inevitable.

Dais brought his horse up to a stop at the base of a small hill and tied it to a tree before climbing up the pile of rocks that were actually cleverly disguised stairs he had made.  He reached the apex and let out a long, low whistle, not as a signal, but out of surprise.

It was easy to see how the Dynasty interacted with the other Nether-realms that sought to impinge on it—the bunches and whorls and desolation caused by the friction.  Half-corpses of both Dynasty soldiers and other things littered the area even more densely, and the acrid tang on Nether-spirit magic hung in the air.

Dais felt his spy behind him and smiled faintly.  Dais only barely avoided a strike to his left and immediately blocked the follow-up attack.  He caught the woman’s ankle before she could bring her leg back down from her kick and let his illusion fall away.

Dais let the woman’s ankle go and she dropped to one knee, a fist going over her heart, although he could tell she was annoyed.

“I should have known,” she said in a faintly echoing alto.

“You’re getting bored.”

She stood and looked out at the quasi-battlefield.  “I don’t know if bored is the right word.”

“The Dynasty’s been broken into five pieces.”

“Oh?”

“Kayura and I retain most of the control, and two of the other four pieces are going to fold soon anyway.”

“And the other two?”

“I already have agents in one.  I need you to infiltrate the other.”

Tano stood, her eyes glowing gold beneath the deep shadow of her helm.  “You think it’s a worthy challenge?”

Dais crossed his arms.  “Would I be asking you if I didn’t?”

She inclined her head slightly and the golden glow faded.  She clicked the claws that tipped her gauntlets together and said, “So?”

“What is here is only the surface of a much larger organization.  Find out what that larger organization is: what they want, their structure, their leadership, the extent of their power, the danger level that they pose.  You should know what to look for.”

“I could die.”

“You always could.”

“Contact the same as usual?”

“This is where you’ll find them,” Dais said and handed her a small scroll.  “There are a few details there, too, mostly about the structure and recruitment processes I observed.  It’s not much, but you’re smart.”

She took it with the pads of her fingers and hummed.

“I leave this to you,” Dais said and let his illusion reform.

Tano vanished and Dais waited for a few minutes, watching the barriers clash and whirl around each other.  Once he felt her finally leave, he sighed softly. 

She was reliable and extremely thorough, yes, but her loyalty was always conditional, as were most of his spies.  If she sensed any weakness in him…well, their relationship would come to a quick and bloody end.

He walked back down the stairs and mounted his horse.  He turned it back towards the palace and began the return journey by way of the rest of the Dynasty he hadn’t checked out recently.

While most of the Dynasty was, indeed, soldiers and nether-spirits, there were more way than that to manifest negative emotion than just those, which was why he passed homesteads tended by creatures that most Japanese would consider mythological. 

The Dynasty, where not in conflict, could actually be quite scenic—certainly more beautiful than the Human World.  The golds and deep blues, the richness of the land, the clarity in the air were all far superior to the place that humans had polluted.

He was about to return to a straight path to the palace when he was forced to skid to a stop to avoid running into a group of unfamiliar soldiers.

He immediately unhitched his scythes and lashed out, sinking the blades into the surrounding environment.  Webbing shot out from the impact points and enveloped the soldiers, thus binding them.  Dais smiled smugly beneath his mask at how they fought against his web.  It was always satisfying to see how much faster they were captured when they struggled.

Once well ensnared, Dais wove an illusion into the spider-thread and all five froze, caught in the nightmare he had conjured.

Dais returned his weapon to its holster and stepped down, patting his horse on her shoulder before approaching the warriors.

Every so often one would twitch, probably from running into some creature or another that their own mind conjured for them to combat.  He turned the web clear and frowned.  They were a mixed sex group, and seemed to have use of the technology that the Dynasty’s mystical nature rendered useless.  From how the guns were stowed away, however, Dais deduced that even coming from another Netherworld, they were forced to behave according to the Dynasty’s rules.  Although that they made it through without undue harm was worrisome. 

Dais killed four of them and disposed of the bodies before returning to the chosen survivor.  He took away the man’s weapons, armor, and valuables and tossed them into a pack on his horse.  Better to deal with someone who couldn’t hurt him at all than someone who was desperate and armed.

Dais dropped the illusion of anonymity and took off his helmet so that the man would see that Dais was, too, a human—whatever that might count for—before releasing the soldier’s body from the web casing and his mind from the illusion.

The man gasped, jerked, and fell to his knees, panting.

“Are you hurt?” Dais asked, weaving concern into his voice.  He made sure it seemed that he was only in his subarmor, since being in full armor would probably not allow him to get any answers.

The man’s head snapped up and he stared at Dais. 

“Are you hurt?” Dais repeated slowly and the man’s shoulders tensed.

“You can speak?” the man asked in a scratchy bass. 

“As can you,” Dais replied and the man blinked before a laugh forced its way out of him.

Dais could tell the man was about to ask something when he noticed the lack of his comrades, followed by the absence of everything else he had brought with him.

Dais held up his hands in pacification and easily dodged when the man lunged at him.

“Hey!” he protested, doing his best to sound hurt.

“Where is everyone?  Where’s my stuff?”

Dais frowned.  “You were the only one here when I arrived.”

The man balked, although obviously didn’t trust Dais. 

“You’re not from here.”

“I am—was—part of a recon team,” he said, surprised at the truthfulness in the statement.  The man’s mind was disorganized, which meant Dais could nudge him into telling the truth.

“From another Netherworld than this one,” Dais prompted.

“I don’t know.  I just know that suddenly this place suddenly appeared with the others,” the man said, and a look of horror was slowly blooming on his face at the information he was giving away.

“The others.”

“I’ve been to them, we know them—but this one is new.  Theory is that it has been held apart by some kind of ‘mystical’ force.”  The man was starting to try and figure out why he was saying so much, but Dais had a firm grip on his mind.

Dais hummed.  “How many other places are there than here?”

The man shrugged.  “A lot.  This is the first new one we’ve found in…centuries, though.”

“Aha.  And travel between the worlds is easy?”

“Not easy, but doable.”  Dais was having more trouble forcing answers out of him, and decided that he had nearly gotten enough to start.  He didn’t feel like torturing the man, and didn’t have the correct equipment anyway.

“So there might be more of you coming?” Dais asked.

“Who are you?”

Dais shook his head and caught the man’s mind in another illusion, causing the soldier to freeze and tremble in place.

Dais let the illusion cloaking himself to switch to the grunt-image before he killed the last man and tossed him into the same grave as his comrades. 

So.  There are many worlds, who will be able to travel between here and there without much difficulty. 

Dais mounted his horse and kicked it into a gallop, heading straight for the palace.  This…does not bode well.  An impending war—multiple wars, even—combined with invasion from outside Netherworlds.  And, of course, Kale and Sekhmet decided to leave just before this all came to light.  My luck.

He shed his illusion only once he was back in the palace, his mind in too many places to maintain it for much longer anyway.  He reached his quarters and immediately tugged on the string that released the hatch where his reports collected and he cast off his armor onto the stand beside his desk and sat down in his subarmor, picking up the first report.

There was much to do and no time to do it in.

He was working through the fourth of fifteen reports when he heard his door slide aside.  He wasn’t expecting the interruption, so instinctively cast an illusion, albeit a clumsy one.

He debated letting Kayura stay a little longer in the hasty illusion he had crafted, but decided that it was probably best to let her have her mind.  He released Kayura and turned to face her as she shook the metaphorical cobwebs from her mind.

“Dais,” she said, reproach in her voice.

“I’m busy,” Dais snapped.

“Oh?  You weren’t in the Human World?”

Dais snorted and shook his head.  “We have visitors.”

“Visitors.”

“When Talpa tried to merge the two worlds, the Netherworld came into contact with other Netherworlds, and now denizens from the other worlds are finding ways in.”

Kayura’s eyebrows rose slightly.  “When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Dais responded.  “I’m sure you know about the factions, however.”

Kayura shrugged.  “They’re nothing.”

“Of course,” Dais drawled.  “You keep on focusing on making yourself a target to keep everyone occupied.”

Kayura chuckled.  “What are you scared of, warlord?”

Dais tapped his fingers impatiently against his desk.  “I’m not scared,” Dais said calmly.  “I’m acting in the interests of the Dynasty.  You don’t wish to see it overrun by foreigners, do you?”

Kayura leaned on her staff and watched him.  Dais returned her gaze.

Dais wasn’t sure how long they had the silent battle of wills—her requesting information, he unwilling to give it—but it stretched long enough that Dais’ attention had started to wander to what new problem could possibly be on the fifth scroll.

“Fine,” Kayura eventually said.  “This is what you did, wasn’t it?”

Dais shrugged.

“It’s why I never saw you much before the Ronin Warriors,” she said slowly. 

“Close the door or leave.”

“I trust that you’ll tell me anything important you discover.”

“You are not my Master.”

“But I am the Master of the Netherworld.”

Dais wanted to tack on a “for now” but figured that it might bring calamity on them sooner than later and he wanted time to make sure the damage was minimal.

“Do you need anything else?” Dais asked mildly.

“Keep me appraised, Warlord.”

Dais gave her a dismissive wave and turned to the fifth scroll, feeling a small amount of pleasure at the scowl she directed at him and how the rice-paper door closed perhaps a tad too hard behind her.

Her statement gave him food for thought, though.  Dais was still acting as if he were the spymaster of the Dynasty, but Talpa was no longer in charge.  There was technically no true head of the Dynasty.  The remaining Warlords and Kayura had assumed the responsibility of taking care of the world, but did that make them the actual rulers?  Was Kayura really the head of the Dynasty?

The very thought was horrifying.

Still, she could and had wiped the floor with all of them on multiple occasions, and she was the last of the Ancient’s clan, so she was the strongest in the Dynasty, as far as he knew, and was cunning in her own right.

Dais huffed and unsealed the fifth scroll.  Seems like I am working for her.  Damn.

Every scroll brought him new and troubling information, and a headache was forming behind his eyes and at the base of his skull.  Kale and Sekhmet weren’t around to thrash anymore and he had an image to uphold in the absence of both of them, so he wasn’t quite sure how he’d deal with the tension.

The reminder of their absence, followed by the thought as to where they were at that time gave him an idea.

Perhaps being in the Human World—where he would be nobody—would be a relief.  He was still curious about it, anyway, and had at least some tools that would help him at least navigate the streets of Tokyo.  Probably with the proficiency of a foreigner, but he wasn’t aiming high given his level of exhaustion.

He looked at his armor, then shook his head.  No, no armor.  The mystical power had limits and he had pushed them for the last few days. 

He stood, cracked his back, and walked to the closet where all the clothes from the human world lay.  He picked up the ones he knew fit him and ran his fingers along the rough texture of the jeans.

They had outfits made of materials like this.  Perhaps the different Netherworlds also connect across time. 

His headache worsened.

He cloaked his armor in an illusion and put on the modern day clothing.  It still felt odd and awkward, but it was different and lighter-weight, which put less strain on his body.

He opened a portal to the mortal realm and hesitated.

Dais looked down at his outfit.  He figured that it would pass well enough, based on the magazines he had browed.  Still, he felt oddly apprehensive, even though he knew he was more than prepared for a short foray.

He stepped through the portal.

The noise assaulting him made him have to skip a step to keep his balance.  He knew that there were other places that weren’t so overwhelmingly noisy, but it seemed to him that humanity was noisy, so might as well jump right into the fray.

He walked cautiously out of the alley and was about to attempt to melt into the herd when someone speaking caught him up short.

He knew it was Japanese.  He knew it was Japanese.  And yet, somehow, it…wasn’t. 

Four hundred years has changed many things, he thought.  He had seen the differences in magazines and books, yes, but written word was easy to puzzle out.  Now he found himself immersed in the difference and it was…well, it didn’t help his headache.

He had received more than a few covert dirty looks for his abrupt stop in the middle of mortal traffic, but they were nothing compared to what he was used to, so he ignored them. 

Then, why could I understand it before? He wondered as he walked slowly by shops advertising everything that Dais had seen in his stolen literature. 

He turned into a pedestrian mall, which had slightly less foot traffic due to the plethora of stores, and found a place to sit down.

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced.  He could pick up words and phrases here and there as passers-by chattered at each other, but he was certain that he would sound extremely archaic if he tried to converse.  Unfortunately, the only way to definitively learn the ‘new’ Japanese would be to consistently listen to it and then try to speak it.

Ever since he had become a warrior, he had taken pride in his expansive knowledge, and that pride had always been justified and backed-up by sheer power.  But now…now he found himself at a loss.  His pride wouldn’t let him stoop to asking for help, but his intellectual curiosity about how things had changed, how they had really changed, was ensnared. 

He supposed it was down to a matter of cost-benefit analysis.  Would he gain anything by knowing the new iteration of Japanese?  Would the knowledge of contemporary culture and behavioral expectations aid him in any way?

The answer to both was clearly ‘no.’  Not when he had a job to do in his home, where he was more than capable of communicating and behaving in.

He walked into a place that was marked as a bathroom, created a portal to the Dynasty, and stepped back through.

The silence was almost as deafening as the cacophony he had endured.

He changed out of his mortal clothes, and back into his usual, traditional kimono and haori, the cut and feel comforting.  He had spent very little time in the mortal realm, an almost offensively short amount.  But, he had endured days without real rest or food and had a large, explosive puzzle dumped in his lap, and the last thing he needed was to feel stupid and inept at the hands of people he could easily kill.

Dais looked at the pile of books that he had on his low desk and scowled.  He’d have to get rid of them or, at least, hide them so that he wasn’t tempted again to venture into the mortal world.  It simply wasn’t worth his effort, especially given the trouble that was brewing in the Netherworld.  He needed to be there, to be in the Dynasty, so that the situation remained under his and Kayura’s control, or as much as possible.  He’d let Sekhmet and Kale have their fun running around and being fools—he had always been the responsible one, afterall. 

A part of them did wish they were around, though, just so he could throw them at the factions and find out just how dangerous the waters actually were.  Maybe he should travel into the Human World just to drag the two asses back to the Dynasty.

He rubbed his temples.  Perhaps I just need some rest.  When was the last time I slept?

Dais secured his rooms before passing out on his futon.

The books remained on the table.

Chapter Text

Dais stood before the map in the empty War Room and rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease at least some of the pain of the constant, low-grade headache he had been suffering from. 

Two days after he had returned to the Castle and had begun to organize the Dynasty’s forces, the Children had attacked one of the Clan’s holdings.  From all accounts, it had been quite the bloodbath.

That was a week ago.

Dais hadn’t had a moment of rest since. 

A wave of his hand brought the positions of the different clans onto the map in front of him.

The reports he received from his spies were conflicting but enlightening.  They gave him conflicting death tolls, tactics, and leaders—at least his new spies.

Misha and Argen’s (who were embedded in the Children and Clans respectively) reports were more trustworthy—it was how he knew that it was the Children who made the move that had sparked what would surely turn into a Netherworld-wide war. 

Misha’s report told him that the Children had been moving around resources for some time and that the warriors had become antsy.  It was either attack or face a rebellion.  They chose the Clan, given that they had the best resources and the Children were growing short on food.  They had recruited Kobalt to develop strategies so the Children didn’t simply ‘attack, rape, pillage—rinse and repeat’.  Misha had also thrown at Dais the names of some strong and well-known warlords, which didn’t worry Dais at all.  Most warlords worked very poorly with each other (as evidenced with he and his unhappy co-workers), so he was certain that different prides would come into conflict with each other and split the faction into internal factions.  Dais was now entirely certain that unless something remarkable happened, the Children would be the first to break apart and ally themselves with other clans.

This was not something he entirely approved of.  He liked having all the strongest warriors in one place.  He would have to find some way to strengthen the bond that kept them all tied loosely together. 

Maybe uniting them in hate for the other factions?  Right now it’s mostly bloodlust and conquest for the sake of it, but if I make them feel that something more than their amusement is at stake, I might manage to keep them together long enough to suit my purposes.

A soft snap sent the tiny marks on the board into movement and a pull of his hand back zoomed in to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Misha’s report had said that the Clan’s casualties were overall worse than the Children’s, which was expected.  However, the Children had lost commanders, warlords, those who lead the armies of grunts—the Clans had lost soldiers. Soldiers were replaceable; commanders often were not.  Misha’s report gave him broad details of the movements and battle tactics that had happened on the field. 

Given that the Children had more powerful battle-hardened warriors, it was no surprise at the massive losses incurred by the Clans. 

A portion of the map turned red, signifying new territory that the Children had taken since his last reports and Dais grimaced. 

Argen’s report gave a better glimpse into the internal workings of the Clans.  The Clan knew that they were in an enviable and profitable position, and thus had been expecting an attack from one of the other factions; however, both the Ogres and Children had been gearing up, so the Clans had been torn as to whom to protect against.  This lead to forces being divided, which, of course, was a terrible tactical decision.

It seemed that the Clans were good at getting information, but were bad at figuring out how to put their intelligence into effect—which, of course, could be a front, and thus something Dais would have to watch carefully. Still, the Clans had spies and assassins on the move, which was how they took down so many of the Children’s officers; Argen’s report also indicated that there had been failed attempts on Akuma’s life.

That might be good for me, Dais thought grimly as he maneuvered the Clans’ pieces.  It will make Akuma more observant and smarter, and that might make him a more capable leader.  Perhaps I’ll encourage more assassination attempts. 

The Clans had expected to lose some ground to the Children, but the ground they had lost was apparently of no value to them and thus they had strewn the nearby fields with salt and did some slash-and-burn to prevent the Children from getting anything out of the land.  Admittedly, it also put the Clans at a disadvantage to do that, but they had much more resources still at hand.  Better to distract the Children with frustration than attempt to protect everything.  Especially when the Ogres were moving against them, as well—not in collusion with the Children, though, as Dais doubted that the Children as a faction would work well with anyone beside themselves.  There would be no alliances when whole: conquest or death were the only options.  That would change after the segmentation that was inevitable, but Dais could wait for that before taking his pick of which warlords he desired to have beneath the Dynasty banner.

Dais zoomed into the lands that the Clans controlled and his good eye narrowed.  Argen had indicated that there was a movement of supplies that he couldn’t entirely pin down, that they seemed to be stockpiling; however, he couldn’t locate where or why they would be doing such. 

Then again, Argen had also indicated that multiple Netherworlds had made forays into the gentle and lush lands that the Clans controlled.  The Clans were, apparently, fighting on three fronts, one of which was semi-internal.  Argen’s reports on the different Netherworlds that the Clans had run up against were disturbingly fascinating.  It appeared that the majority making their way through were hostile, which further depleted the Clans’ reserve of warriors.  Argen also reported that civilians were being abducted, so the Clan had retaliated by capturing, killing, and torturing some of the creatures that came through.  Most, when they could be made to talk and understood, indicated that they were: 1) looking for a new place to siphon off excess population, 2) looking for a new source of resources, 3) looking for conquest; Argen included sketches of the beings when he could.

I doubt there is anything I can do to extend their existence as a faction, Dais thought and added black pockets to where there had been conflicts with beings from other Netherworlds in Clans’ lands.  I can do nothing for them except decide by whom they are destroyed.  Pity.

Aya had sent him word from the Ogres about the reaction to the hostilities, while also including details about the power structure within the Ogres.  It was, apparently, deliberately confusing so to keep everyone in line. The Ogres had a surprisingly large civilian population, and were driven by that more than the presence of military might to seek new territory.  Their numbers were growing faster than their resources could sustain.

The structure of the Ogres was meant to keep the people stuck in the station they were born into—there was little chance for social mobility, and that bred some discontent, which was also why the Ogres were looking for territory.  The hierarchy was extensive, elaborate, and oppressive, and Aya indicated that he had to work very hard to keep undercover.  The Ogres were more cautious than either the Children or Clans, and Aya had been unable to get even close to the tactical meetings through normal means (he was no ninja and didn’t have the minor illusory gift that Tano possessed). Aya suggested that they were attempting to influence how the Clans and Children’s conflict was playing out while making some tactical moves of their own, but had completely avoided the Army.  Aya speculated that the higher-ups believed that as long as they didn’t venture into Army territory, the Army wouldn’t bother them.

Aya gave him a better sense of the popular opinion than tactics, but Dais knew that would be how he undermined the Ogres.  If and when he decided to—he had a feeling that the Ogres would be much more easily contained than the Army, and were less sneaky, too.   Still, given how they were more a civilian nation than martial one, Dais felt he could make the threat of the Army loom much larger than it might actually be and cause them to turn to him, to the Dynasty, for help, since they were a known evil and a well-documented stronghold.

The report about the Army of the Rising Sun that he received from Tano was three lines long. It was unlike her to be able to gather such little information, and that worried him.  Tano was one of the best spies the Dynasty had to offer—he had trained her himself.  All he had managed to get from her cryptic message was that the Army was much larger than it looked, it had a single, male leader, and they were in touch with another warlord from another Netherworld.  She couldn’t find out the names of either the leader of the Army or the foreigner, and the jagged edge to the written words of that confession betrayed her frustration. 

Dais tapped his fingers together as he glared at the map. 

The question is—should I make a move?

He didn’t want to make hasty decisions.  The conflict had just begun, and he could afford to wait.  He was certain that no-one would attack the Dynasty outright—not with he and Kayura holding the reins.  The reputation he had crafted for them both kept most of the Netherworld holding their collective breaths and walking softly around them.  True, Skehmet was the most feared due to his poison and unpredictability, but Dais had casually mentioned that the Warlord of Poison had left the Castle—which, of course, most people interpreted as having gone abroad in the Dynasty.  

Dais pressed his fingers together before nodding slightly. 

I’ll see about escalating the conflict between the Children and Clan.  The Ogres are more stable and perhaps can be bargained with and bullied into behaving and becoming part of the Dynasty.  Best to conserve resources for when the Army starts to tip their hand.

Dais twitched on a communication line and one of the Dynasty-loyal warlords came in, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“You need something?” the warrior asked in a grating monotone.

Dais inclined his head slightly and pulled another thread, which brought a upper-echelon Netherspirit to him. 

Dais turned to the Netherspirit.  “You and your kin can create a portal to behind the walls of the Children’s Keep?”

The Netherspirit nodded.

Dais looked at the Warlord, Jackal.  “You and your troops are going to use the portals the Netherspirits generate to storm the Children’s Keep, and then destroy everything.”

“Everything?” the warlord asked, anticipatory curiosity creeping into his voice.

“Everything,” Dais affirmed.  “I want there to be nothing for them to return to. Make it look like the Clans did it.”

“As you will, sire,” the warlord said and bowed deeply before leaving.  The Netherspirit vanished without a word, and Dais rubbed his good eye.

I can’t afford implication in the attack.  I have to make sure it looks like the Clans did it, or else I’ll be drawn in much sooner than I want.

Dais tugged on another connection, and one of the assassins Dais “employed” appeared.

“Follow Jackal and his men,” Dais commanded.  “Make sure nothing that belongs to or is aligned with the Children leaves that village.  There will be no survivors from the Children.   Understood?”

“Make sure that nothing but the Dynasty is left in the village once attacked,” the assassin replied before vanishing again.

Another contact brought a unassuming young woman to him, who gave him an inquisitive look.

“I’ve ordered an attack on the Children’s Keep.  Make sure that it looks like the Clans did it.  You may kill some of the Dynasty soldiers if you need to.”

She smiled, bowed, and left.

Dais looked at the map again.  It was a chancy move, but he had a feeling everything would play out the way he desired.

Not that he couldn’t backpedal quickly enough to denounce Jackal and his men and have them executed.  That might even be a wise move—if anyone in his faction acted out of line, what would he do if someone else attacked him?

Dais looked up from the map as Kayura walked in, and Dais hated her all over again for the easy confidence in her step.

“You’re still up?” she asked, the rings on her staff jingling as she came to a stop.

Dais shrugged.

“The factions?” Kayura asked, intrigued by the detailed map that Dais had created. 

“Among other things,” he replied.

“Any updates that you’ve neglected to tell me?”

Dais kept himself from sighing.  “I’m getting reports as I go along. If I ever have something that I can’t handle on my own, I’ll get in touch with you.”

“I appreciate your consideration, warlord, but I do like being involved in protecting my Dynasty.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“You don’t trust me either.”

Dais didn’t bother to refute the statement, since it was true.

“I’ve sent out orders to make sure that the Children are orphans,” Dais eventually said.

“I had no idea you were so vicious, warlord.”

Dais frowned.  “It’s not viciousness, it’s war.”

Kayura shrugged delicately. 

Dais struggled with himself, then said, “I’m worried about the Army of the Rising Sun.”

Kayura gave him a look.

Dais spun the map to focus in on the territory that the Army claimed as theirs. 

“I have my best spy there and she’s unable to dredge up much information, and what she can communicate is heavily encoded.  I can’t see what’s going on and that has me uneasy.”

Kayura looked at the map.  “Why don’t we just attack and smoke them out of their hole?  A decisive move might be best.”

Dais hesitated.  “An offensive move might show my distrust of them,” he said slowly,  “which could be interpreted as fear, and would give them a reason to attack us.  My spy has indicated that they are working with a warlord from another realm—I’d like to have information on that before I do anything.”

“You’re sure that your caution isn’t cowardice?”

Dais didn’t rise to the bait—Kayura was young, impulsive, and had never actually lead.  He had dealt with antsy warriors before, and could outlast their impatience.  Such would never change, so he ignored Kayura’s insult and idly turned the map. 

“I want the conflict between the Children and Clans to tear each other apart for me.  I’d like to ‘peaceably’ convince the Ogres to side with us so I can use them and whatever survives of the Clans and Children to wipe out the Army.”

“A process you intend to expedite.”

Dais inclined his head.  “It never hurts.”

Kayura fell silent, so Dais tugged on the line that brought a warlord and his lieutenant—Yami and Taro—to him.

The two gave Kayura deep and respectful bows before turning their attention to Dais. 

“Your troops have run into foreigners,” Dais said without preamble, and from the look that briefly passed between the two soldiers, Dais knew that Taro was wondering how he knew.

Yami had told him.  He was one of Dais’ most loyal warlords, one that he had personally groomed for leadership.  Not that such was advertised—Talpa would have had him executed if he knew that Dais was building a power base for himself.

“I want you to go out and hunt for these…visitors,” Dais continued.  “You can kill them, just leave one alive and send he or she to me.  I’d like to have a discussion with the survivor.”

The soldiers nodded, the glowing narrowed slits that served as eyes betraying their bloodlust and amusement at Dais’ order. 

“I’ve heard that the Clan has had some trouble with the foreigners,” Dais said ‘off-handed’ as he turned back to the map.  “Perhaps you’d like to help them out.”

“Yes, sire,” they said in unison as Dais dismissed them. 

“You know, Dais, I can believe now that you killed your best friend and lord.”

“He was a stepping stone,” Dais replied evenly.

“Of course,” Kayura drawled.  “Warlord, you’ve been on your feet for, what, days, now?”

Dais ignored the question, amused by the reminder of his former life.

“Go rest before I make you,” Kayura said and gave him a pointed look.

“I’m immortal,” Dais drawled, “and you know as well as I do that whatever Talpa did to us has removed the need for creature comforts.”

Well, very little of a need, Dais amended as his vision blurred for a second.

“That doesn’t mean that your mind doesn’t become exhausted, and I need you at your best, Warlord,” Kayura countered.  “If you refuse to sleep, at least do something else.  Go…I don’t know, go to the Human World, just come back.”

Dais frowned at the floor.  The Human World had made him feel like a fool, but perhaps that ignorance would be refreshing.  He didn’t have to know everything that was going on.

“No,” he heard himself say.  “Any time away from here leaves the Dynasty vulnerable.  I can’t afford—”

“Dais, I’m here.  If anything truly pressing arises, I can handle it, along with some of the warlords we employ.  I’m sure they’d be happy to indulge in a battle or two.”

“But—”

“Trust me.”

“I cant!” Dais snapped.  “A leader must—”

“Dais.  Even the best leaders sleep.  As you won’t, go to the Human World or join them out there in the hunt.”

Dais sighed.  “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, deliberately leaving his decision vague. 

“Two.”

“No.”

“I can keep the door shut until I feel you can come back.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m strong enough to do that.  Go.”

Dais glared at the last of the Ancients, but could tell she was more than willing to out-stubborn him.

Dais sighed.  “Fine.  Don’t burn down the Castle while I’m away.”

“Yes, mother,” Kayura drawled as Dais left the War Room, his steps heavier than he would have liked.

Still, he had appearances to keep up, so managed somehow to get to his room without collapsing.  Once safely inside, he removed his armor and cloaked it in an illusion.  He felt lighter without it and the responsibility it represented.  He rummaged through his closet until he found the human clothes that he remembered fitting him.

Everything was slightly looser, and it made Dais wonder when he had eaten last, then decided that wasn’t important.  He opened a portal, attached a thread between it and he that would alert him when an hour had passed, and stepped into Tokyo.

He flinched at the usual bombardment of sound and light and life of the city, but he didn’t have the same kind of minor unease that had popped up before.  He walked out of the public mall bathroom and into an outdoor, expansive, bustling area.  The sound of modern Japanese irked him, but he pushed his annoyance to the side.  He didn’t have to communicate, so he wouldn’t try.  He was in Tokyo to avoid responsibility. 

He walked out of the mall and stopped to let the insanity of the mortal world wash over him.

Lights that dictated the flow of horse-less vehicles; people talking to others across the country by a small device made of materials more delicate and complex than Dais could grasp; music recorded onto small discs that could be replayed in various other electronic devices—electricity in general.  Everything was moved and powered by a force he couldn’t see, and that was dangerous to touch.  The night was as bright as the day thanks to electric lights, allowed giant metal snakes to transport hundreds of people across a city riddled with tall buildings that people worked and lived in.  Thousands of people pressed in on him, all talking in a dialect he could barely understand. 

It was both frustrating and distastefully humbling.  He hadn’t felt so young and naive in centuries.

He made a left, settled into a leisurely walk, and couldn’t help but fall into observing the humans that populated the city.

The majority of faces were those kin to those he had seen throughout his childhood and slightly into his adult years.  400 years had changed many things, yes, but the changes in Japanese appearance were so slight as to be non-existent.  He knew that he was the one who looked foreign.  It was the clothing that both intrigued and annoyed him, as always.  It was just so different…

He was, to his chagrin, more scandalized than interested by how much skin women were allowed to show, especially foreign ones; he supposed that it took either great confidence or excessive foolishness to leave so much of their body unprotected, and it didn’t seem as if those who bared themselves were hookers.  He could only imagine the kind of trouble a modern woman would encounter if transported back to his time.  The women were easily pushed aside, however—he supposed it was because of how willing they were to flaunt what assets they possessed that was a turn-off.

He was embarrassed at how much guilty pleasure he took in how men, too, were allowed to leave less to the imagination regarding their bodies.  It was not nearly of the same extent, but he did appreciate how jeans and shirts clung closer to many a man’s skin.  Admittedly, there were some—both male and female—that he thought should rethink what they wore, but who was he to judge when the only way he really knew how to dress was a fashion from 400 years in the past?

Still, it reminded him about how long he hadn’t seen another person besides the warlords and Kayura, which was more or less equal to the amount of time it had been since he had sex (what he had done to the other warlords didn’t count).

He figured that people were oblivious enough that he could appraise physical appearances and not face any consequences.  He found a convenient storefront that allowed him ample view of passers-by and settled against the unfamiliar building material.  What better way to learn about acceptable and expected human appearance, at least?  He might even be able to get a sense of how the genders and ages interacted with each other, and it required no effort on his part.

His eyes were always inevitably drawn to the foreigners, since they stuck out so badly in the midst of the more-or-less homogenous Japanese crowd.  They looked almost comical to Dais.  He wondered if there were any amongst the foreigners who made their home in Japan, or if they were all simply visiting.

Admittedly, Dais was a full-blooded Japanese, yet looked completely foreign, so perhaps it wasn't his place to comment.

As during his first glance at the hive of humanity, he was struck by the bleached whiteness of some of the people wandering around, but the darker-skinned ones were rarer, and, therefore, even more remarkable.  Part of him wanted to seduce one into the Dynasty, pull he or she away from the city and world that they knew just so he could examine them at his leisure. 

Normally, he would.  However, during a time of war, any distraction could be fatal.  The visits that he was planning to indulge in could mean the end of the Dynasty’s control of the Netherworld. 

Kayura was powerful, but she could still be defeated.

The paler-skinned were interesting for their hair and eye color variation, but hair color could be changed without much difficulty, so that meant little.  That he saw other people with the same colored eyes as he was the most interesting that he observed in the white people around him. 

There were also tan people among the crowd, with dark hair and eyes as he was used to, but with a different face-shape that marked them as not Japanese, Chinese, or Korean.  Their facial features tended closer to the white people in the crowd, which made him wonder if they lived closer to each other than the white to the black.  Perhaps proximity bred similarity.

Maybe some of those that Yami and Taro capture will be different shades of human.  I’d love to figure out what the differences are, should there be any.

He wondered what the variety would be like in other parts of the world, places outside of Japan, then decided that would be too large of a project to tackle while also navigating a war.

The clothing also seemed to vary by age—an increase in age seemed to mean an increase in modesty.  Of course, that was probably a very large generalization, but it would be consistent with his previous experience.  Youth seemed to allow for a wider and more obnoxious range of fabrics, colors, and cuts—all ways of expressing personality or identity or some such nonsense. 

He wondered if he should spend some more time in a clothing store, since some of the fabrics he saw worn begged to be touched.

It seemed as good an idea as any, but as he turned to go back to the pedestrian mall, he found his eye caught by an individual, which was unusual.  Dais was very picky, so most men fell short of his standards, and while the young man waiting impatiently at the bus station across the street didn’t entirely satisfy, he came pleasantly close.

The young man had strength in him that was evident even through his lose T-shirt—it was in how the cloth tugged at his shoulders, the definition in his arms.  Beneath the impatience, he stood with a warrior’s confidence, his posture straight and weight perfectly balanced.  His entire body was expressive, although his face and eyes obviously the most so.  He was likely a man who felt everything, experienced life with an intensity most couldn’t imagine.  He was probably nearly entirely transparent emotionally, although there did seem to be a tiny bit of opacity—probably brought on by some sort of traumatic experience.  Dark hair, dark eyes, but a face too broad to be purely Japanese—there was some Chinese heritage in him, most likely.  Dais was certain that the physical definition that was visible extended to the rest of his body. 

Dais felt strangely rooted to the spot, intrigued by the young man more than he would like.  Still, he was enjoying watching the man’s thoughts manifest in his face and body, so amused himself by trying to imagine what the young man would look without the obstruction of clothes, an exercise he hadn’t participated in for centuries. 

He wouldn’t have a prominent collarbone, but enough definition to indicate the pull of the muscle attached to it.  Perhaps some chest hair, but not a fur coat.

The young man didn’t look like the sort who would train excessively, just enough to make sure that his body was in peak condition, so there would be some curves and dips that outlined the musculature of his torso.  His back and shoulders were likely tight from the training put into them, slightly toughened skin over a dense, deep strength.  There would be no feeling bone—it would all be well hidden.

He traced the curve of the young man’s hip, imagining removing the jeans that hugged his waist.  Dais could almost feel the tension that his touch would cause, how the young man’s butt cheeks would tighten as if in preparation for a fight.  His thighs would have the same subtle definition as his arms; the same roughened skin over steely muscle would extend to his calves, and Dais was sure the young man had calluses from practicing one kind of hand-to-hand technique or another.

The young man he was objectifying must have felt his stare, since his head whipped around.  Dais saw the young man search for his eyes beneath the sunglasses, and Dais gave him an unapologetically salacious smile that seemed to throw the young man even more than Dais’ mental undressing of him. The young man’s face flushed and he looked away in disgust.

Dais snickered and turned, figuring that a retreat would only unnerve his victim more, since he wouldn’t have someone to point out when he complained to the friend he was waiting for.  Anyway, there was a tug on his mind that told him his hour was up.  Dais found a blind corner and disappeared back into the Dynasty. 

As he was changing out of his human clothes and back into his subarmor, he couldn’t help but think: I wonder who that was.  He seemed…familiar.

Dais felt better for his minor mental game and went back to the pile of reports that were waiting for him, feeling strangely refreshed.

Chapter Text

Dais knew the Army of the Rising Sun was on the move, but he couldn’t prove it. Nonetheless, his instincts had very rarely proven wrong (the Ronin being the odd exception), so he had traps and fortifications set up in the villages and lands that supplied the Dynasty, while also bolstering the capital’s defenses.

When they finally attacked, Dais would show them what it meant to take on the power that had ruled the Netherworld for over one thousand years.

Kayura, naturally, found his caution excessive, but supported and helped to enforce Dais’ precautions.

Such support was at the expense of badgering him about his foray into the Human World, but Dais’ virtue had served him well throughout four hundred years of Sekhmet, Kale, and Anubis—dealing with only Kayura was nothing in comparison.

“Well?” she asked with all the curiosity of the twelve-year-old she actually was.

“Well what?” Dais asked, trying and failing to play dumb as he oversaw the reinforcing of a barricade.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Dais.”

“What?”

“Stop it!”

Dais refused to face her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

“Where’d you…nevermind, probably Sekhmet.”

“You, actually,” Kayura said slyly.  

Dais twitched.

“If you’re so eager to know about it, go see for yourself,” Dais replied as he wove an illusion over the barricade the grunts had finished refurbishing, hoping that anyone attacking would find themselves impaled by the spikes and the pressure of those coming up behind them.

It was also strangely satisfying to see soldiers realize that they were climbing on the bodies of their comrades to achieve their goal. It was demoralizing for mortal soldiers, but he doubted it would stop Netherworld warriors for long. Still, it would slow them down, which would give the Dynasty archers more time to pick the attackers off.

Kayura huffed, but did not reply.

Then again, I wouldn’t want to inflict her alone on the Human World. She would probably attract people who meant her no good and then things would go very bad very quickly.

Dais barely resisted the urge to rub his temples.

“It’s noisy,” Dais eventually said.

He could feel Kayura’s stare as he moved to check on another security measure.

“And there are more people than you see even on a battlefield, and they all ignore each other,” he continued.

Kayura’s gaze became incredulous as she fell into step beside him. “Even a Dynasty army?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…a lot of people.”

Dais shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Really? That’s everything?”

“I’ve only been there once, two weeks ago. Protecting the Dynasty is more important than satisfying my curiosity over something I willingly gave up over four hundred years ago.”
Kayura gave him a thoughtful look before saying: “You know, now that you’re not under Talpa’s control, you fit your virtue.”

Dais frowned. “Hardly important right now, don’t you think?”

There were many more things to ponder then whether or not he fit what the Ancient arbitrarily decided would be the ‘virtue’ for his armor. To Dais, the very concept was ridiculous. Kale was very far from obedient, and Dais doubted that Sekhmet had a philanthropic bone in his body; how they had ended up with the armor they wielded was subject more to Talpa’s whims than their actual personalities.

Since his brief vacation in the human world, Dais had been carefully watching the conflict between the Clans and Children, and was annoyed by the stalemate they had reached. Both sides were too stubborn to entirely fold, and now that they had been reduced to their strongest and most loyal parts…well, it made them formidable.

It didn’t help that a door was to other worlds was open. He hadn’t sent any troops past the thinning barrier, although other lesser warlords and stupider entities had explored where the Gates now led, which had helped deplete Akuma’s soldiery. According to a report from Argen, Akuma’s troops had brought back corpses, artifacts, and information from the forays that returned (his spy had managed to uncover most of what had been discovered and promised to send the information in subsequent reports).

It appeared that what Dais thought of as the Netherworld was a smaller subset of a much greater Netherworld. The Netherworld appeared to be the mirror of the Human World, and most were separate and distinct to their region, built off of the culture and history of the area it was tied to. In more than one place, it was simple a ‘here there be monsters’ where the humans’ disbelief dumped cosmic beings and things of legend. However, Akuma’s troops had brought back someone from a realm similar to the Dynasty, in that it used the same kind of technology, mystical power, and feudal structure (although that was where the similarities ended, according to Argen). Argen had managed to be stationed outside the torture room, but the report was disappointing. Apparently, the language spoken was completely foreign, although Argen had managed to extract the name of the faction the man was from the babble: Kuruseida. It was a clumsy word, although Dais was sure it was more easily said in the native tongue.

It was the first name he had to apply to a foreign world, and it left him uneasy. He couldn’t say why, but it made him want to find out how Akuma had gotten into the foreign world and find a way to slam the door shut.

A report he had received from Tano had left him with a low-grade headache. According to her, the warlord who ran the Army had been in contact with beings from another of the Netherworlds. That a warlord of the Netherealm was forming an alliance with something from somewhere else was…troubling. Tano’s report indicated that there was frequent communication and an exchange of forces, resources, and information across the boundary that was unseen expect by those deep in the power structure. Dais supposed that there were weak places in the barrier of that protected the Dynasty, and that this warlord was making use on one. His own experience as well as the details given to him said that willingly allowing another Netherworld into the Dynasty was sure to turn into an invasion, regardless of how much the warlord thought he was in control.

The only saving grace Dais found in the situation was that the Army would probably be the first to bear the brunt of their poor judgment, and their internal strife would leave them ripe for Dais to kick both them and the foreigners out of the Netherworld.

“How do you do it, Warlord?”

Dais looked over to Kayura as he pushed open the door to the War Room. “Do what, Lady?”

“Think so hard all the time.”

Dais said nothing and turned to face the generals he had gathered. Talpa would have had him tortured and killed if he had known that Dais had been accruing a small power base for himself beneath his armored nose, but Dais believed in planning for contingencies—one being Talpa’s downfall.

The two generals he had called to him, Mayuri and Kurosuke, were two that he had groomed from the moment that they made an appearance in the ranks of the Dynasty. Non-grunts were difficult to come by, especially ones with any kind of intellectual capacity, so Dais had a tendency to either grab them immediately or destroy them before they could become a threat.

The two generals bowed deeply and Dais waved a hand over the map, bringing it to life.

“The Army is working with a foreign force,” Dais said calmly, and he was proud at how well his generals hid their astonishment. “Which I need information on. Finding anything out will likely require a loss of life, as we will need to pull the Army into making a rash move and revealing with whom they are working.”

Mayuri pointed to a river delta on the map. “There is a small force there.”

Dais inclined his head.

“They are gathering resources, hoarding what they can pull from the area.”

“Attacking them there will ruin our chances for capital gains from there, too,” Kurosuke said. “We can’t risk Dynasty lands.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Mayuri replied calmly. “Just make them think that something upstream in the mountains is more profitable than what they currently control.”

Dais looked at the terrain. Lure them into a blind chase and then eradicate them.

“Kurosuke, would you mind bringing Jackal’s new lieutenant—Reimu, I believe—here?”

Kurosuke was obviously curious at the non sequitur, but left with a polite bow.

“My Lord?” Mayuri asked.

“One of the guards stationed outside the door will be following Kurosuke,” Dais replied as he turned the map. “Kurosuke will kill the soldier when they try to kill him. If I am right, prior to his death, the soldier will then implicate Reimu, who will be forced into a corner and will either confess to being a spy or commit suicide. I strongly suggest that the remaining soldier reconsider where his allegiance lay.”

Kayura stared at him and Mayuri was obviously amused.

“Care to tell me your real plan now, Mayuri?” Dais asked once he was sure there were no eavesdroppers.

Mayuri chuckled, astonishment in her voice. “One day you must tell me how you do it.”

“The master never gives away his secrets,” Dais replied. “Now, tell me.”

“The Army moves only in small cavalry units, and the remnants of the Children have allied with them.” Mayuri pointed to a different place on the map. “This is the last remaining true Children outpost and where Akuma is hiding.”

Dais hummed.

“Army units move in and out constantly, so if we either wipe out for conscript what remains of the Children there, we can either capture or destroy Army soldiers. I have a force a day’s march from there. Part will drive them from the village and into the mountains, where the other part of my force will decimate them.”

“Fly your own banner,” Dais said, which was permission enough for Mayuri, who bowed and left, passing Kurosuke on her way out.

Kurosuke looked between her and Dais before entering.

“Sire, with all due respect, I do not appreciate being used like a fishing lure,” the general said, and Kayura snickered.

“Next time I will ask Mayuri, then, since you believe yourself unworthy to serve the Dynasty by ridding it of the spies that seek its downfall,” Dais said languidly.

Kurosuke balked. “I didn’t mean—Sire, please…”

“I understand your impatience, general,” Dais said, “but your forces are some of the best I have and I cannot waste your men on petty skirmishes. You will be flying the Dynasty’s banner—your forces will declare our commitment to the destruction of the other factions.”

“My men need action.”

“Then send them to kill or capture the warlords who remain stubbornly unaligned; just make certain that they cannot be traced back to the Dynasty—I will have them executed if any connection can be made.”

“Sire,” Kurosuke said and bowed deeply before leaving perhaps more quickly than would be polite.

“Do you really kill those who doesn't follow your orders?”

“Of course,” Dais replied as he shifted pieces indicating his forces. “Empty threats garner no respect.”

“And I thought Anubis had worn the armor of Cruelty.”

Dais snorted. “Lady Kayura, Anubis knew how to motivate his men only through Cruelty, just as Sekhmet only knew how to lead through the threat of agony.”

“And you do otherwise?”

“I was an advisor to a shogun, my lady. You win as many hearts through generosity as fear.”

“I’ve never seen you award anyone.”

“Because you and I never interacted before the Talpa tried to take over the Human World and ran up against the Ronin. When Thalus returns with the leaders of the Clans in tow, he will be raised to one of my generals.”

“Thalus? Isn’t he—”

“A very minor, low-ranking warlord who I have been guiding and teaching, albeit without his knowledge. He has immense potential, and I want him where I can mold him.”

“That’s an enormous leap in station.”

“An intentional and motivational one.”

“Kurosuke will resent it.”

“Kurosuke will have his glorious battles once I discover who the Army is working with.”

“Wait, how do you know Thalus will bring the Clan’s leaders back and not just kill them?”

“Thalus is more kin to Yami than Mayuri or Kurosuke. He recognizes the need to demoralize, not just massacre.”

Kayura hummed.

“How long has it been since Kale and Sekhmet went to the Human World?” Dais asked.

“A month, I think,” Kayura replied, frowning at the jump in topic.

“I’ll give them one more week before I send someone looking for them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re needed here.”

“You think they will return willingly?”

“Whether or not they are willing isn’t my concern,” Dais said smoothly as his fingers traced the pieces that signified his fellow Dark Warlords. “They need to be here.”

“What, you’re too weak to handle this on your own?”

Dais grit his teeth, but refused to rise to the bait. “Go make yourself a target,” Dais said drolly. “Maybe we can force the Ogres or Army into action if you grandstand and step on a few toes.”

Kayura laughed and shook her head, her long hair fluttering behind her as she left the War Room.

Dais took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh.

Running a campaign is a pain in the ass, he muttered. He locked the War Room with an illusion that only he, Kayura, and his generals could see through, then proceeded to his chambers.

Five reports waited for him on his desk when he entered and Dais sent his armor to rest on the stand nearby, but stayed in his subarmor.
He sat down in front of the desk, but found that his mind was racing too quickly to focus on decoding the pieces of parchment in front of him.

There was too much to do, too much to organize, and he felt that he had a less comprehensive picture than he needed to be able to plan correctly.

It all rests on the Army. I can paralyze and terrorize the Ogres and my men will happily mop up the tattered remnants of Children and Clans.

He pushed aside some clutter on his desk to make room for a report when something clattered to the floor.

Dais tensed and looked over, and his shoulders dropped a notch when he recognized the sunglasses he had worn into the Human World.

He picked up the headgear and turned them over in his hands.

I have done what I can, and Kayura will happily make a mess of things and create a smokescreen for me to take advantage of later. For now, though…

“Kayura, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said over the connection between he and Kayura that allowed for instant communication (which he never really used, because both he and Kayura had their respective pride).

“Have fun, Warlord,” she replied, distracted.

Dais put on a different outfit than the one he had worn on his previous trip, cloaked his armor in invisibility and set a small trap around it so no-one made the mistake of attempting to steal it, and stepped through a portal he made.

He was proud that the change from Netherworld to Human World jarred him less, although there remained a small amount of disorientation. He looked around the bustling hive and his eye fell on a train that wound about the city on an elevated platform.

Perhaps…I’ve studied much of the human population, maybe it would be best to learn the geography and layout of the city.

Dais decided that the best way to learn the layout of modern day Tokyo was to take public transit around, and, after consulting with a map of the city for a few minutes, decided to take the Yamanote-sen, which was an above-ground train that would take him in a large circle around Tokyo. It would hit all the major districts in Tokyo, so he decided that, after riding the Yamanote-sen for one circuit, he’d get off at a random station and see what he discovered.

It was plan, albeit not a very good one. Then again, he was trying hard not to plan, and was obviously failing terribly.

I suppose four hundred years of habits are hard to break.

He meandered to what was marked as Tokyo Station and entered the large structure. A multitude of humans crisscrossed the tiled floor, some at a run, others at a languid stroll. He saw families, businessmen, and teenagers all occupying the same space and couldn't stop himself from shaking his head in amazement.

He wondered how many people Sekhmet had killed inadvertently due to the sheer population density of the modern world.

He wondered how he would get to the trains, then noticed signs hanging from the ceilings or plastered to the walls that pointed him in the correct direction. He reached a junction where the arrows pointed to him needing to make his way through strange sliding panes of plastic, and Dais had a feeling that they couldn’t be tricked like a human could. So he stood back, rested against a wall, and watched.

It took him a minute, but he eventually deduced that the humans were using a small card to make the panes of glass move aside without them pushing or pulling. It was a quick, reflexive action for many of them, but Dais eventually figured that they placed the small card into a slot, and then the card was spat out on the other side of the panes. He didn’t want to figure out how the machines worked, what happened internally to make the panes slide apart without any effort, he simply wanted to know what he needed to do to make them perform their function.  

Once he was sure that he was correct in what needed to be done to get the panes to move, he wondered where the humans were getting the cards and how they were getting them. Dais saw humans standing in front of other machines and sighed.

Do they use machines for everything?

He moved and loitered close to the new machines, projecting the feeling that he was waiting for someone, when he was in truth carefully observing the humans’ interaction with the latest contraption. It appeared that one pressed the screen, which did something, there was money involved, and then one of the cards appeared out of a slot.

Dais wanted to rub his temples. I’m not sure which place is more confusing—the Netherworld or here.

It appeared that, above all else, he had to figure out how to interact with technology. It was one thing to see it and understand it intellectually, from out of a manual or magazine—it was entirely different when one was forced to use it.

Dais pushed away from the wall, idly pick-pocketed someone who came too close to him, and then went and stood before an unoccupied machine. He set up a small illusion that convinced those who looked his way that he wasn’t there and that the machine was broken. He was glad that he was at least literate in modern Japanese, even if he couldn't speak it.

There were a great deal of buttons before him, and the screen itself seemed to possess “buttons” of some sort, which made no sense to Dais, but it appeared such was the case.

He spent some time deliberately making mistakes, both to see how the machine would react and to figure out how it worked. There was no real consequence to him messing up, so he made use of negative as well as positive results to work out how he was supposed to use the thing before him.

Once he felt he had a working knowledge of the machine, he rifled through the wallet he had lifted and took an appropriate amount of money out. He pressed a few buttons that corresponded to the amount he wanted to have the card record, cautiously fed it to the machine, and startled when the paper bill was sucked quickly into it. There were a few bizarre whirls and buzzes and a card similar to what the other humans were using popped out of a slot. He cautiously took it, and turned it over, examining it as he walked away from the machine, slipping the stolen wallet into his back pocket.

How does this have value attached to it? he wondered as he allowed himself to be carried along with the crowd. His ears were beginning to ache from both human chatter and the announcements by a disembodied voice that everyone was ignoring (Dais followed the general example and paid it no mind—not that he could understand what was being said anyway).

Dais mimicked what he saw the other humans doing to pass the barrier of glass and was proud at how he didn’t stare when the barriers slid aside simply because he inserted the piece of paper—and then at how the ticket was spit back out on the other side. Dais quickly stepped through, and wandered towards where he believed the Yamanote-sen’s platforms to be.

Maybe getting used to modern technology will be harder than I thought, he mused. It looked complicating on paper, yes, but I hadn’t thought it would be so…strange.

Dais spent his idle time trying to work out what the unseen person was saying when the train arrived.

And somehow people trust this thing, Dais thought as he watched the metal tube come to a stop and the doors open without anyone actively pushing them.

Perhaps I distrust electricity more than technology, Dais thought unhappily as he watched the crowd disembark.  

Dais stepped on the train and made his way to the opposite side that the doors opened on. It would probably be easiest for him to: 1) observe the ebb and flow of people, 2) learn how the train worked, 3) discover where he traveled to, and 4) continue to acclimate himself to near suffocating overcrowding. That it also would give him a decent escape route wasn’t a bad thing either.

He did object to the smell of the train—although that was probably the result of hundreds to thousands of bodies that passed in and out constantly.
The speed with which they traveled was fascinating while also occasionally making his heart skip a beat or five. The train traveled much faster than any horse could, and seeing the buildings fly by was disconcerting. He held onto a nearby pole with perhaps too strong a grip, but he felt it necessary to keep himself grounded.

People only looked at him twice because of his coloring, not because of his obvious apprehension at riding the train—it was probable that he wasn’t the only person in the Human world who hated trains; still, he didn’t want to show weakness, even if he wasn’t in a position or place where people would care. He cared, and that was what mattered.

He stayed on the train long past the one circuit he had initially promised himself, since no-one made him disembark, and it was interesting to catalog which stops brought on the most people, which ones let them off, and then attaching the names of the stations to them, along with the buildings and signs he passed. It was a crude map, but it was the beginning of one.

I come to Tokyo, to the Human World, because I’m ignorant of it and want to get lost in it, and instead I find myself learning about it. I didn’t think I had any space in my mind for more information, let alone the ability to focus on something other than the headache waiting for me at home, he mused as he watched a group of girls dressed in oddly frilly dresses board the train.

The train progressively grew more crowded and Dais found himself pushed further back onto the train door, a situation he disliked. Yes, he could clear the crowd quickly and easily if he wanted to, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t come to the Human World to pick fights. He was avoiding them.

When a particularly large influx of humans occurred, Dais turned his body so that a person could slide in and grab a hold of the pole that he was holding on to. The train jerked to a start before the person had a good grip, so Dais ended up catching him, the inertia of the multitude of bodies pressing them close. Once the ride smoothed out and people separated slightly, Dais finally got a good look at the person he had been supporting.

Dais’ good eyebrow rose slightly, he recognizing the young man he had been ogling the previous time he had been in Tokyo, and the young man he had objectified, surprisingly, recognized him as well. Dais could tell that the young man was about to yell at him, so Dais, on impulse, quickly covered the irate young man’s mouth with his hand. Dais shook his head, unsure how to say, “Not here and not now,” in modern Japanese. The young man’s eyes were furious, and Dais couldn’t entirely help the smirk that quirked at his lips. He had always taken pleasure in angering his fellow warlords past the point of them forming coherent revenge plans, and it seemed as if the young man before him had a hair-trigger of a temper.

Up close, the young man smelled like he had just stepped out of a kitchen, spices clinging to his hair and skin, and the physique Dais had guessed at was more clearly visible. Dais decided that the young man’s face wasn’t handsome, but that wasn’t entirely his allure, if it could be called that. No, it was something else...there was a sense of power to him, and, to Dais, that was more seductive than anything else.

The train came to a stop and Dais uncovered the young man’s mouth, briefly brushing the young man’s lips with the tips of his fingers. Dais allowed himself to be carried away with the tide of travelers, and while he hadn’t decided that the stop they had arrived at was the one he wanted, he felt it would be best to keep his molestations brief and innocuous so as to avoid trouble.

His interest had been piqued, however—Tokyo was a city of more people than Dais could wrap his mind around, so to run into the same person twice, especially since the encounters had been in different parts of the city, after an amount of time had passed was…remarkable, too much so to be mere coincidence.

Dais frowned at the floor as he followed to tide of humanity down into the streets, wandering lazily until the tug on his gut told him that his time in the Human World had come to an end.

The sense of familiarity upon seeing the young man again had only grown, and Dais found himself preoccupied with the puzzle of the youth in spite of all the trouble he had on his hands upon returning to the Dynasty.

Chapter Text

Dais was annoyed to have his concentration broken when he had finally gotten into the swing of slogging through the latest batch of intelligence that had appeared on his desk, but he recognized one of Kayura’s handpicked guards as the soldier who knelt in front of him.

“Where is she?” he asked as he called on his armor, standing.

“The throne room, my Lord.”

“Dismissed,” Dais said and the guard left, returning to wherever Kayura had summoned it from.

This had better be good.

Thalus had returned five days prior, and all of Dais’ time had been consumed by interrogation and negotiations with the leadership of the Clans.  He felt he just needed one more angle, one more piece, and then the Clans would turn themselves over to him willingly and he was fairly certain that the final twist would have to do with the Army.

When Dais entered the throne room, he found Kayura lounging in the chair, an unfamiliar form on its knees before her.  She looked up when she felt Dais enter and gave him a cold smile that Dais knew meant trouble.  Nonetheless, he kept his pace unhurried, which didn’t seem to bother her.  He stood beside her to reveal a soldier from the Children—unbound and unharmed, but heavily guarded.

“I have someone for you to have a conversation with,” she murmured too softly for anyone but he to hear.

She turned her attention back to the soldier.  “I am sure you are acquainted with the Warlord of Illusion,” she drawled, and the soldier’s softly glowing emerald eyes darted over to Dais.  “I’m a busy woman,” Kayura said and stood.  “My Demon General will speak with you in my stead.”

Kayura walked out, her handpicked guard flanking her, leaving Dais with the soldier and three guards.

“You must be an emissary, otherwise you are a terrible assassin or spy,” Dais drawled and a small gesture compelled the soldier to stand, and the lightest touch of suggestion made the soldier perceive the throne room as larger, darker, with unfriendly things whispering in the deep shadows.

The soldier coughed nervously, then said, “The Children have been wholly defeated. As I will not join either the Ogres, I petition you for sanctuary and offer my knowledge and skills.”

Dais crossed his arms.  “I know you, Youmu,” Dais said.  “Don’t look so surprised that I know your real name,” Dais drawled.  “I keep track of the enemies of the Dynasty.  You’re coming here as a last resort.  I’m guessing that’s why you are unarmed and unprotected, hm?”

Youmu’s fists tightened in anger and shame at the reminder of lack of armor and weaponry.  “The soldiers of the Army are cowards and weaklings.”

“Cowards and weaklings who defeated you.”

“If it had not been for the foreigners, I would have won!”

“That is perhaps even worse, then, losing to foreigners.”

“These weren’t just any foreigners, Dark Warlord!” Youmu protested.  “Their strength might match your own.”

Dais shook his head slowly.  “Excuses for your own weakness.”

“One of them had armor kin to yours, Dark Warlord,” Youmu said, and that tidbit caught Dais’ attention.

“Kin to mine,” Dais repeated.

Youmu nodded briskly.  “There were some obvious—”

“Similarities,” Dais finished for him.  “And differences, I imagine.”

Dais was silent for a long moment as he observed Youmu before coming to a decision.  “Come.”

Youmu was clearly suspicious, but Dais compelled the soldier to follow him.  The slightest touch on the soldier’s mind made Youmu blind to his surroundings, pulled along only by Dais’ will.

They reached a room that Dais kept for non-violent interrogations, and Dais finally let the fog lift on the soldier’s mind.

Youmu blinked and shifted uncomfortably at the seemingly abrupt change in scenery.

“Akuma is dead,” Dais stated and Youmu nodded.

“Few are not,” Youmu said. “All of us—well, everyone but the traitors—were forced to fight to survive.   Nonetheless, the battle was swinging in our favor when the foreigners we had heard whispers of appeared.  The weaponry they wielded, the armor that they wore, was not of any make we had seen before.”

“Meaning…?”

“The armor seemed to be made of solid planes and was, from how they moved, heavy.  Every movement was loud and clanging and stilted, but the increased protection allowed it to weather more of our attacks.  Still, they were just mortal, Dark Warlord, as defeatable as any other enemy.  It wasn’t until their version of a Dark Warlord showed up that the tide turned against us.”

Dais gestured for Youmu to sit down, which the soldier reluctantly did.

“Tell me about this warrior.”

“The warrior was male,” Youmu began.

Youmu had, apparently, not gotten a very good look at the foreign warrior, which was probably why he was sitting before Dais and not carrion like the rest of the Children.  Now that even one special warrior had been shown, Dais was sure that he would quickly become intimately familiar with the armor and its bearer.  However, the mention of special abilities made Dais pay attention.

“Your weapons turned against you,” Dais repeated.

Youmu nodded earnestly.  “The metal of my sword changed ,” he slightly-clarified.  “Something the stranger did made it morph and twist from a strong, straight blade into a wavy mess that was easily shattered.  I saw my comrades’ weapons behaving the same way—as long as there was metal in the weapon, its structure became brittle and breakable.”

“And your armor?”

“Was fine.  The straps grew a little uncomfortable, but nothing drastic.”

“And that happened only once?”

“Once was enough,” Youmu spat.  

“How did the warrior appear after having turned your weapons?”

Youmu was silent for a long moment.  “Exhausted.  The warrior was exhausted.  I saw him unconscious on the ground.”

“And you made use of that distraction.”

Youmu nodded, glowering at the floor.

“A wise move.”

Youmu’s head snapped up and the soldier stared at Dais.

“As is coming to me,” Dais said.  “What say you about being one of the Dynasty’s lieutenants?”

Youmu stared.  “What?”

“I know you to be a capable soldier, and you have now proved to be observant and intelligent,” Dais said, “which are qualities I value in my soldiers.”

You are also the only warrior I know to have met one of these other ‘warlords’.  

“Tell me, did you hear what the foreigners called themselves?” Dais asked.

Youmu paused.  “The Army warriors referred to the warlord as a naito and the foreign soldiers as kuruseida. ”

Dais turned the word over in his mind.  

“Walk with me, Lieutenant.  While I could simply drag the knowledge from your mind, I would prefer if you provided intelligence to me willingly.”

He heard the hitch in Youmu’s breathing and Dais smirked, nudging the warrior to follow. 

A gesture of generosity followed by a reminder that I am the one in complete control.

When Dais and his new soldier entered the war room, Kayura was about to say something, but her mouth shut when she saw Dais towing Youmu behind him.

Dais gestured Youmu forward and activated the ever-evolving map in the room.

“Youmu has confirmed for me that Akuma is dead,” Dais lied—it was actually the first he had heard of the Children’s leader’s demise.  Youmu seemed to take the statement as truth, however, as it earned him a stare from Youmu at the word confirmed . “Youmu is now a lieutenant in the Dynasty armies.  I will ensure that you forget no detail, Youmu, but provide us with all the information that you have accumulated during your time with both the Children and interaction with the Army.”

Youmu shifted nervously before reaching out to the map and beginning to maneuver pieces around.

Dais was glad that most of the information he received from his spies was correct regarding the Children, and it was only once Youmu began to describe the Children’s interaction with the Army that he turned his full attention to what was being reported.

The Army had arrived at the remaining Children stronghold and had tossed Akuma’s head at the feet of Akuma’s Warlord, Brutus.  The action naturally enraged him.  A conflict ensued with heavy losses on both sides, brute force meeting brute force.  The battle ended in the Army retreating—although Youmu had speculated it to be a feint.  Still, some of the Children had, apparently, recognized a losing battle when they saw it, and had chosen to defect to the Army.  Youmu had not been one of those to do so, out of both pride and caution.  Youmu’s caution served the soldier well, as the following day, a scout reported that the heads of all those who had defected to the Army were perched on spikes in front of the Army encampment.  

The remaining warriors had decided that survival was the better part of valor, and were all planning on petitioning the Dynasty for sanctuary when the Army attacked again.  This time, foreign warriors were included among the netherworld soldiers, and Dais made sure that Youmu took great care in describing that battle.

“I suppose they were sure in their victory,” Youmu said bitterly, “taking us on when we were all rested, our injuries tended to, our weapons and armor in prime condition, and our position fortified.  

They announced their attack by catapulting the bodies of the fallen—both theirs and ours—onto our defenses.  I’m sure that the foreigners in their midst thought that would dishearten us, but we all had done the same thing before.  It was annoying, but it meant that we had extra weapons and protection.  

I believe that they thought our archers would run out of arrows, as they sent the fodder up first.  The ones that got close we tossed the corpses on, which sent them and those behind them tumbling.  When whomever was commanding the troops realized that no, we wouldn’t run out of arrows, they sent up the foreigners.  

It took just a little too long for our archers to figure out where the joints and weaknesses in the armor of the foreigners were, and they had to retreat or be cut down or shot by enemy arrows.  We let them have the walls, although our fastest and most nimble warriors remained up there to cut down those they could, the archers having reported where the weaknesses in the armor were.  The weight of the armor also slowed them and allowed us more time to observe these new foes.  

They initially seemed to be made of only metal, but once we saw they could be wounded, that they could bleed, they became creatures.  They carried weapons that we didn't quite have names for, but one injury, one death, showed the rest of us the damage that could be done—how deep the cuts were, how long a motion took, the degree of accuracy and power, the fortitude necessary for adept handling.  They had fought against our weapons before, but never against those with our skill.  Unfortunately, their armor was both their weakness and strength.  It could withstand more damage, and what should have wounded only inconvenienced them.  It was a battle of speed and stamina, strength and protection.  

They had thrown strong, skilled warriors against us, but we are—were, I suppose—some of the best the Netherworld has to offer.  We were going to win.  One warrior with great skill can take down dozens of unskilled opponents.  We were going to be just enough.  Barely, but we would survive.

Until their naito showed up.”

Youmu’s hands balled into fists.  “He had, has, probably, immense strength.  He bore the armor that his comrades struggled with with an ease and grace that was envious.  He punched a hole in our stone wall like one would poke a hole through rice paper.  His armor and weapon seemed extensions of his body, any attack made against him sliding harmlessly away.  His weapon flashed and cut as if it were alive, as if he controlled it with his will and not his body.  

Nonetheless, the Children’s warriors were nothing if adaptable, and we used his own men against him, slowing him down as he tried to not harm those he commanded.  He must have become frustrated, since that was when our own weapons failed us.  My sword warped in my hands, and it is through luck that I wasn’t killed by the warrior I was fighting, he simply shattering my weapon instead of dealing me a fatal blow.  I knocked my opponent unconscious and escaped.  I checked back the next day to find the bodies of the warriors who had attempted the final defense hanging from the gates.  The Army has claimed the territory that the Children had not lost to the Ogres or the Dynasty.”  Youmu fell silent and glared at the area of the map that shifted color from the one Dais had assigned to the Children to that of the Army’s.  “That is everything I have for you my Lord, my Lady.”

Dais nodded slowly.  “Your information is welcome, as is your skill,” Dais replied smoothly and gestured for a pair of guards.  “My men will take you to your new quarters.  Rest, and I will give you an assignment tomorrow.”

Dais watched as Youmu was guided out of the War Room, and sighed once both Dynasty soldiery and his new lieutenant were out of hearing range.

“Well, well.  Quite lucky for you, don’t you think?  Assuming he’s not lying.”

“He isn’t,” Dais said and moved the piece signifying Youmu out of the Children’s pile and into the Dynasty while taking the remaining Children out of play.  Dais hesitated, then slowly put together a piece signifying the new kind of warrior that Youmu had run into and placed it in the ranks of the Army.

Kayura looked between it and Dais.  “Who’s that?”

“Our new enemy,” Dais said grimly.  “One whom I must figure out a defense around.”

“What has you afraid?” Kayura asked, cocky defiance in her posture.

“Afraid?  I suppose.  While this warrior’s ability to manipulate metal is apparently a once-per-battle thing, it is still dangerous—imagine how crippling it could be.  I, admittedly, do not trust all the details, because Youmu was fighting and occupied with another warrior.  Nonetheless, it is the first appearance of a truly dangerous force that the Army has made a pact with.  I’ll have to have Tano look into these new warriors.”

“Should they actually exist.”

“Which her results will either prove or deny,” Dais replied smoothly.  Dais tapped his fingers together and said “Think you can control the Castle for a few days?”

Kayura frowned.  “What, you’re going out into the field?”

Dais nodded.

“Dais, you’re fairly recognizable,” Kayura drawled.  “You’ll be a walking target.”

Dais smirked.  “Assuming that they do recognize me.  Try to keep the Capital safe in my absence, will you?”

Kayura rolled her eyes, but the tightening of her fingers on her hips betrayed her nervousness.

“We’ll be in contact,” Dais reminded her.

“I can’t afford to lose you too, Warlord,” she said after a long moment of struggling with herself.

“It will take more than you think to kill me, my Lady.  I’m also going to be traveling with one of Kurosuke’s troops.”

“They won’t resent your presence?”

“Every so often, I send an… emissary among the troops of the warlords who are loyal to me,” Dais said.  “Someone to check in on how the troops are being treated, what they are encountering, the state of their gear, and so on.”

“And the emissary is really you.”

“Precisely,” Dais replied.  “Admittedly, it takes most of my armor’s power to sustain the comprehensive illusion, but I’m an adept fighter regardless of the powers my armor gifts me with.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dais smiled smugly.  “Then don’t blink.”

It was a particular pattern, a special illusion that Dais had tucked away in his mind, woven into his armor.  It wasn’t easy to invoke, and it did leave him without any power but that of his own—which was still more than most.  He activated it and felt the illusion snap to life.  

Seeing Kayura’s incredulity melt into hastily concealed astonishment was strangely gratifying.

Dais had taken great pains to make sure he looked like any other Dynasty warrior, except the trim that indicated rank was the same dark pink as his armor, a color that no other soldier shared, and a small, faint spider insignia was imprinted over his heart.

“I will be traveling with Kurosuke’s lieutenant, Jade.  They are in the Capital now and due to head out within the hour.  Kira will take care of my correspondence and hand over information that my spies uncover to you.”

“Who is…” Kayura paused as a diminutive assassin appeared at Dais’ left.  

“Keep me up to date and I will keep you up to date,” Dais said to Kayura before looking at Kira.  The assassin bowed deeply to them both before vanishing.

“Just how much of the Dynasty do you control?” Kayura asked carefully.

“How much of the Dynasty, or how much of the power structure?”

“Does it matter?”

Dais smiled faintly.  “Point.  Not as much as it seems.  I just have one to five warriors loyal to me in the various holdings and troops of different warlords.  It keeps me aware and has thwarted more than one assassination and a few rebellions.”

Kayura shook her head ruefully.  “What use were the other Warlords?”

Dais shrugged.  “I’m not a commanding presence on the field of battle, my armor can’t do massive amounts of structural damage, and I find physical torture abhorrent.”

Kayura hummed.

“Keep in touch, my Lady,” Dais said with the smallest of bows.  He sent messengers to Thalus, Yami, Kurosuke, and Mayuri, directing that they report anything pressing to Kayura—otherwise, he trusted them to be able to do their jobs.  He neglected to tell Kurosuke that he would be traveling with one of his lieutenants, however, as he didn’t want any word to reach said lieutenant.  

He made sure his quarters and other miscellaneous affairs were in order, then left the Castle, an odd mixture of apprehension and relief running through him.  It would be nice to not have to juggle everything for a few days, but he didn’t trust anyone else to do his job.  It was a regrettable consequence of his pride.

He reached the troop before they headed out and wove through the ranks, searching for the lieutenant.  He received a few curious glances, but there was an excitement of the hunt buzzing through the ranks.  

Dais eventually found Jade, and caught his attention.

“Lieutenant Jade, I presume,” Dais said, his voice modulated slightly.  He was distinguished and recognized by his armor and his voice more than anything else, so he was careful to change his voice as well.

“I am he,” Jade replied, still slightly distracted with preparations.

“My name is Rajura,” Dais introduced himself, and Jade’s attention shifted abruptly to him.  Rajura was a familiar name among those troops loyal to Dais, although no-one quite knew who he was.  The only thing that most were sure of was that Rajura was another soldier under Dais’ command.  How and where he stood was a dangerous unknown.

“Welcome, Rajura,” Jade said with such excessive politeness that Dais laughed.

“At ease, lieutenant.  I have been ordered to follow your command—my skills are yours for the duration of your mission.”

Jade’s shoulders fell slightly as he was able to slot “Rajura” comfortably beneath him in station.

“Then I shall treat you no differently than my men,” Jade said, falling back into his normal mode of address.

Dais bowed.  “As my lord wishes,” he replied, just polite enough to not be insubordinate.

Dais happily settled into the midst of the troops, and while his armor earned him more than a few suspicious looks, his ability to avoid small, testing tricks and traps earned him respect and mild acceptance—which was, really, all he needed.

For all his distinctive coloring, Dais was very good at blending into the crowd.  In Dais’ opinion, it was as good to have information on one’s friends as one’s enemies.  Especially one who was starting to chomp at the bit.

Dais knew that he would be bored if he didn’t have to pay attention to every detail.  The journey to the battle was boring—the battle itself was a moment of sheer energy, gone very quickly, to be replaced with clean-up that was almost as tedious as the travel.

Still, even the travel taught him about the mental state and command capabilities of those present in Jade’s troops.

They were going to address the problem of some Ogre troops that had been picking at Dynasty lands, but were more an annoyance than an actual problem.  Still, they needed to be dealt with, if only to prove that no incursion, no matter how small, would be tolerated.  It was a laudable and useful action, but Dais disapproved of the way they were approaching the area.  Admittedly, his caution often was his downfall on the battlefield, so he decided to see how someone with a more aggressive stance handled a confrontation.

There was sporadic conversation, since most Dynasty soldiers had very little free will and imagination, but Dais took note of what gear the troops did—and did not—possess.  He worked his way from the back of the ranks, where the supplies were carried, slowly towards the front, where Jade was proudly riding point.  Dais hung around the higher-functioning commanders who guided the troops from the back, but they had nothing particularly interesting to say, and showed no true signs of dissatisfaction. 

For the most part, the Dynasty grunts were happy to be lead, and even happier to be unleashed upon an enemy that was designated for them.  It was only once Dais reached Jade and his commanders that he overheard interesting a relevant dialogue.

“You said Rajura was traveling with us?” one of Jade’s commanders said.

Jade nodded.  “I’d heard he was the Dark Warlord of Illusion’s right hand, but I am…unimpressed.”

Dais smirked slightly.

“I wouldn’t judge too quickly,” the commander said.  “Not if he belongs to that particular Dark Warlord.”  

Jade hummed.  “We’ll see.”

The terrain undulated slowly beneath them as they marched on tirelessly, Dynasty soldiers needing neither rest nor food; Dais was glad that whatever immortality Talpa had bestowed upon him almost eradicated the need for creature comforts.

Dais would have never marched during the night, regardless of how deep they were in Dynasty territory, but, again, he was a cautious commander.

He nonetheless usurped a horse for himself, giving his legs rest.  He was a spider, not a wolf or ogre—he waited, he didn’t actively go out and hunt, so the travel was annoying.

It still gave him the chance to observe how Dynasty lands were faring and how Jade interacted with his more mentally-agile underlings.

Dais saw the signs of battle before scouts reported there being an Ogre encampment not far ahead.  There was a ripple of anticipation through the soldiers, but Dais frowned. 

The Ogres are many things, but they’re not foolhardy, Dais thought.  We’re still deep in Dynasty territory, and nowhere near where the battles have been taking place.  To be this far in and for me not to receive word…

“Army,” Dais breathed and brought his horse up to where Jade was about to lead the charge, forcing him to stop.

“Who—Rajura, what is the meaning of this?”

“You are facing Army,” Dais said calmly.  “Not Ogres.”

Dais felt disapproval washing off of Jade.  “There’s no way you can know that.”

“Where are we, lieutenant?” Dais said dryly.  “Still two day’s march away from the last reported point of conflict.  The Ogres don’t have the resources that would allow them to travel so far so quickly without someone noticing, and the Clan and Children are both under Dynasty jurisdiction.”

Jade sat back in his saddle, glowing jade-colored eyes narrowed.  “Army or Ogre, they will not be expecting our attack.”

“I simply offer a warning,” Dais said and moved aside.  “You will not be fighting the opponent you expect and on disadvantageous terrain.  You, however, are the leader of this fight, not I.  Chose to do what you will.”

Dais met the lieutenant’s glare easily.  You can’t scare me.  You haven’t survived 400 years with the other Warlords.

Jade was the first to look away.  “Swing south-south east.  We will trap their retreat against the Shirogawa.”

Assuming they retreat—I do know they won’t surrender, Dais thought as he watched the troop move almost as one unit.

“I thought you weren’t here to usurp my command,” Jade said, stopping his horse beside Dais’.  

Dais looked at Jade sidelong. “I did not,” Dais replied.  “I advised.”

“You made me look foolish.”

Dais turned to face the lieutant fully.  “Would you rather be known to listen to wise council when offered or for leading your troops rashly into battle?”

Jade’s hands clenched around his horse’s reins.

Dais sighed.  “Lieutenant, I meant no disrespect.  I have inherited my Lord’s cautious nature and do not wish to see resources or men wasted, to experience a loss that could have been avoided.  I would see you further your reputation as a capable commander.”

In truth, Dais was rethinking Jade’s assignment and position, but the battle that was to come would give him a better idea of how capable a commander Jade was in actuality.

It wasn’t a terribly complicated maneuver and no Dynasty forces were supposed to be in the area, so it had a decent chance at working—it was sometimes the simpler tactics that achieved the best results.

Jade gave Dais a dismissive salute and Dais gave a polite bow. Sometimes, the best way to make an enemy was to figuratively kill them with kindness and respect.  

Dais wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the rapidity that they descended on the Army camp—the Army, who were clearly just getting ready to leave, or the Dynasty, who hadn’t expected the troops to be so close.

Jade seemed to be a warrior of opportunity and speed, since he immediately ordered a charge.

Dais happily stayed out of the way.  He hadn’t come to fight himself, and was thus glad to let other people do the hard work for him.

The battle that unfolded was brief and brutal.  The Dynasty had been the quicker of the two to react, and it seemed as if some of the Army soldiers were hampered by the pre-dawn dimness.  

Jade appeared to be a capable on the field, a strong warrior and adept at thinking on his feet.  Dais surveyed the battlefield and frowned at the supply carts.  They were much larger and full than what most Netherworld armies would carry.  Dais trotted over to the area and found that all those who had been tending the area were either dead or had run away.  The forms that he found dead were chained—slaves—and the supply carts carried food that would be appropriate for soldiers, not just horses; such was odd, as the majority of Netherworld denizens needed no sustenance outside of negative human emotions.  Dais dismounted and began to rifle through the carts.

“Get away from there!”

Dais picked up a glaive in the cart and turned in one smooth movement, and the soldier who had been running towards him crumpled, head detaching from its body.

However, no smoke of spirit was released, and the corpse hit the ground with a dull thud.

Strange .

Dais frowned and walked over to the corpse.  He toed it over and blood pooled out from the stump of a neck.  He picked up an arm and stripped it of armor, and blinked in surprise when flesh was revealed—flesh that was stained with tattoos.  

Humans? He thought, wary.  There are modern day humans here?  Why would they be working with the Army?

Dais gestured with his left hand and a crow lighted gently on his arm.  “Sachi.”

The crow’s eyes glowed a violent pink.

“I have an assignment for you: go into the human world.  Stay in Japan.  I have reason to believe that the Army might be making incursions into the modern human world. If they are dragooning humans in their service, that would be a…regrettable situation, and one that would need to be immediately remedied.  Stay in the human world for a fortnight.  If the Army hasn’t shown up in that amount of time, return.  If they show up before then, contact me immediately.  Even if it is just one soldier scouting around, notify me.”

The crow nodded solemnly and Dais opened a portal to the Human World. It jumped off Dais’ arm and into the Human World, upon which Dais promptly closed the small gateway.  

I have to make sure that the modern humans were not willingly recruited.  If myself and the other Warlords would willingly hand ourselves over to a demon, why wouldn’t a modern human do that, too?  I doubt it, however—most are too lazy and unskilled to be useful.

Dais made short work of the Army soldiers who attempted to escape the battle, and his wariness grew deeper as most of them were revealed to be modern-era humans.  Dais was careful to ensure that no Army soldiers escaped, Netherworld or human, which Dais was sure Jade wouldn’t see the merit of.  Jade wasn’t a tactician, and certainly not a strategist.  He was a weapon, and Dais would use him as such.  Dais mounted the horse, who had stayed nearby throughout the battle, rode back to where he had last left Jade, and sighed when he saw the lieutenant being treated for some minor injuries.

“Lieutenant.”

Jade looked over to him and his eyes narrowed in anger.  “Where were you?”

“Cleaning up,” Dais replied smoothly.

“Rajura—” Jade began when the earth heaved beneath their feet.

Looks like we’re not in the clear yet.

“Don’t panic,” Jade snarled and Dais eyebrow rose fractionally.  

Perhaps the reason he’s leading is because he has a strong enough will to control the mindless when something unexpected happens.

Dais dodged as a root from one of the trees exploded out of the ground.  It impaled one of the slower grunts, but Jade’s iron will impressed the need for avoidance over all else.  Such was, admittedly, difficult, given how quickly and intricately branches and roots maneuvered.  Dais abandoned the horse so avoid a branch that whipped his way, and the carcass of the animal heaved and twisted desperately on the wood that had impaled it.  

While metal could cut into the wood, it never fully penetrated and the wounds always healed over.  

Dais sighed and idly wished for Sekhemet’s presence.

Dais avoided the attacks nimbly, finding a small amount of fun in swinging between the labyrinth of wood, using his flail and an abandoned kusarigama to maneuver.  The wood was being directed somehow , there was a will behind its movements.  The question was finding out where the will was.  

Dais figured that the best place to start was to find a way to do lasting damage.  There were going to be structural weaknesses, due to wood being imperfect.  Joints, branching points, thin and small branches, successful, biting attempts that bled a strangely red sap.

“Jade crystal hurricane!” Dais heard Jade yell.

Wherever the tiny spheres of jade light hit the wood, the surrounding wood would crystallize then shatter into a sparkling dust, and Dais would have sworn that he heard someone or something screaming.

There is someone controlling this, and they’re somehow connected to what they’re manipulating, Dais thought, good eye narrowing.  Dais ducked under a limb and stepped back into a banked fire.  He smirked.  Let’s see how well you burn.

Dais snapped off a small branch and coaxed a flame to life.  He grabbed a fistful of the embers and tossed them into a pillar of wood that slammed down beside him.

A screech was clearly audible, and Dais finding leaves to set flame to made the wood writhe in agony.  Abruptly, everything returned to its original location, leaving churned ground and revealing a woman standing at the far end of the camp.

She was by no stretch of the imagination beautiful, even beneath the bruises and burn on her face, flat brown eyes and a thin mouth her only visible features.  She was of medium height, stocky, and wore armor similar—and dissimilar—to what Youmu had sketchily described.  She wore a deep-bronze colored helm that had swirling vine-like patterns etched across it in dark green and it protected everything but her face.  The pauldrons on her shoulders were made of interlocking planes of metal that shared the color of her helm; they laid atop sleeves that appeared to be made of tiny interlocking scales that glittered green and ended in handguards of reinforced leather that shared the vine-like pattern imprinted on her helm.  Her elbow joint was protected by the same kind or bronze, as were the greaves that protected her knees and shins (which were also engraved with the swirling plant-like pattern as her helm).  The leg armor that vanishied beneath her greaves was also made of interlacing verdant scales.  The chest piece was a solid pane of bronze, and it seemed that, if it wasn’t in tatters, it would be covered with a green piece of cloth that bore a foreign crest.  The cloth fell from her shoulders to just above her knees and which was cinched at the waist by a brown silk cord.

“I guess you are from the Dynasty, huh?” she said, her voice hoarse, probably from screaming.

Jade stood proudly, his sword still unsheathed, his stance balanced and wary, but didn’t reply.  

My armor can somehow translate her speech—Jade probably only hears gibberish, Dais thought and moved from his hiding spot and stood slightly in front of Jade.

The woman’s eyes darted to him, and her face twisted in rage the still-burning branch in his hand.  Her hand tightened around the shaft of her pole arm.  “ You .  You were the one?  I’ll kill —”

Dais caught her eyes and grinned inside his helmet as he caught her mind and made her see all the remaining soldiers as images of him, every one carrying a burning branch. Her rage abruptly turned to horror and she retreated, melting into the trees.

“Rajura?”

Dais turned and looked at Jade, who had slouched slightly, his injuries obviously paining him more than he wanted to let on—the old ones that had been aggravated and new ones that worried at him.  

“You did well,” Dais said.

“My troops are—”

“In much better shape than if you had been weak-willed and unable to control their surprise and panic,” Dais finished for him.  “There have been losses, yes, but we can claim the victory.”

“What was she?” a commander asked softly, obviously terrified that speaking of her would bring her back.

“An enemy,” Jade asserted.

Dais nodded and looked at the broken landscape.  A powerful enemy.

Dais took quick inventory of their losses and sighed softly.  

“Leiutenant Jade, I advise returning to the Capital.”

Jade nodded unhappily.  “I agree.”

“There may be supplies and loot left,” Dais said.  “Let those well enough check—you need to have your wounds tended to, as do others.”

“You’re taking over command?” Jade asked, weary annoyance in his voice.

“I directly serve the Demon General of Illusion,” Dais said dryly.  “I did not attain my position through luck.”

“How did you escape injury?”

“I repeat my previous statement.”

Jade gave him a long, weighing look before he sighed.  “The Dark Warlord of Illusion would be looking for someone who fought with minimum of effort for maximum effect.  Although…how did you get her to run away?”

“You should rest some, Lieutenant.  Maybe then you’ll stop asking questions with obvious answers.”

Jade momentarily bristled before he came up with a coherent answer that made him shuffle uncomfortably.

“I leave my men to you, Rajura-sama.”

Dais smirked inside the helm.  “Rest, Lieutenant.  Your men are in capable hands.”

As he supervised the activities of the remaining soldiers, he was given time to process the battle.  

So, he thought as objects necessary for living humans were thrown away, I believe I have met one of these naito.  She seemed…human.  An interesting development, perhaps more than her mystical abilities—she was manipulating that wood somehow.  Perhaps that is where they lay?  The Ronin have elemental affiliations…perhaps these naito do as well.

Dais knew that they didn’t have to immediately move—the extent of the devastation would keep scavengers away, and the naito wouldn’t be coming back, regardless of whether or not he had hurt her pride.  Jade’s special attack had done damage, and burns hurt even past time of infliction.

The appearance of the naito nagged at him, however—why would someone so powerful be somewhere so innocuous?  The coincidence was too great; there was forethought behind the action.

‘Kayura,’ he said over their unhappy connection.

‘What?’ she snapped back.

Dais smiled smugly. ‘Responsibility sucks, doesn't it?’

‘It’s not polite to gloat.’

‘I ran into one of the new warriors.’

‘Funny, I’ve had reports of two of our holdings closer to Army territory having run into them as well.’

‘They left survivors?’

‘Yes.’

‘Foolish.’

‘Not everyone is as cold as you.’

‘Not everyone is as good a strategist as me either.’

‘When will you be coming back?’

‘As soon as Jade and his men get their feet under them.’

‘Don’t dally too long, Warlord.’

Dais tapped his fingers against the crooks of his elbows.  ‘What did the reports say?’

‘Come back and look at them yourself.  They’re encoded in your cipher.’

Dais was tempted to ask which one, but figured that he could rub Kayura’s face in her incompetence better in person than at a distance.

Dais looked out over the landscape and began to delicately pick his way through the carnage.  He turned over the corpses of Army soldiers, and his eyebrows rose slightly as he uncovered one that was wearing unfamiliar armor.

Dais pushed debris off of the body to reveal it.  Parts of the body were at odd angles, and Dais could see a dark stain leaking out from beneath an armpit.

Lucky strike, Dais thought as he pulled the limp arm up.  It was difficult to kill someone by piercing their heart through their armpit, but it was doable.  Just difficult.

I wonder who did that—it’s too perceise a strike to be made by Jade. 

Dais removed the soldier’s helmet and frowned.  

Human.

The human looked like one of the pale ones that he had seen while meandering Tokyo.  That meant that it was probably some kind of equivalent to something from wherever the paler people hailed.  

I have some research to do.

He left the foreign  body behind to help with attending to the remains of Dynasty troops. He supervised the looting and distribution of the goods found, made sure the wounded were being attended to, and set up some kagemushi to alert him of anything hostile coming towards them.  

‘Are there any other troops near where we are?’ Dais asked.

There was a brief, surly silence on the other end of the connection before Kayura replied: ‘Mayuri’s general Natsumoto.  To your north and west.’

Dais paused and ran through the patrol routes he knew before nodding.  A small flick of his fingers brought another crow to him, the bird alighting on his arm.  “Aya, go tell Natsumoto that Jade’s forces will be joining them.  Tell them Rajura sent them, and that their numbers are small because they defeated a naito .”

The crow seemed to nod before taking off, and Dais sighed softly.  

Once the Dynasty warriors were settling in for a brief respite, Dais approached Jade, who was pouring over a map of the area.

“Leiutenant.”

Jade’s head snapped up and he painfully saluted Dais.  “Rajura-sama.”

Dais good eyebrow rose slightly.  I wonder what changed his mind.

“Meet up with some of Mayuri’s troops,” Dais commanded.  “Natsumoto is on patrol in the north-north-west near the intersection of Shirogawa and the Great Road.  I have sent a messenger alerting them of your impending arrival.”

“But, Rajura-sama…”

“I need to get back to the Capital as soon as possible,” Dais cut in.  “I know Natsumoto.  If anyone gives you trouble for the state of your troops, include that in the report that you will give to Kurosuke.  My Lord will hear of it and the actions will be dealt with.”

Jade stared, then bowed.  “Understood, Rajura-sama.”

Dais smirked inside his helm.  “Stay safe, Lieutenant.  Your experience is invaluable.”

He turned and walked away, waiting until he was a distance away before making a portal into the Human World and slipping through it.  Once through, he shed the illusion on his armor, although that also caused the armor itself to be taken off, leaving him in a yukata, the mystical energy that powered the Armor of Illusion depleted.  Dais sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

I won’t be terribly out of time, Dais thought as he exited from the public bathroom, just a little unusual.

He was proud at how he didn’t even flinch at the mass of humanity, although he could also attribute that to exhaustion.  

Distance and time were different in the Human World and Netherworld, so Dais was capable of covering great distances in a relatively short amount of time by taking a short cut through the Human World.

Dais wove through the populace with less agility than he would have liked, but he was thinking too hard to really care about those he bumped shoulders with.

I’m going to have a pile of reports on my desk, Dais thought and grimaced.  He stopped in at a crosswalk and tugged at a loose thread on his yukata’s sleeve.  I wonder what abilities these other naito will have, since the one we fought was able to control wood.  

Dais sighed softly and looked up, checking to see whether or not the light had changed.  That abruptly stopped mattering when his eye met a familiar pair.

This isn’t possible, Dais thought as the young man he had met twice before met his gaze with equal incredulous astonishment.

Dais had read that there were roughly 6 billion people in the world, and that Tokyo alone contained 25 million souls.  Meeting one person was chance; meeting them twice in the same place was improbable; meeting them three times in the same city was unfathomably rare.  True, many people looked alike, but Dais knew, just knew , that the young man he had locked eyes with was the same. Without the barrier of his sunglasses, the young man could finally get a good look at his face, and was obviously puzzled by what he saw. The moment stretched out longer than Dais thought was possible, and some part of him said that both he and the young man were committing each other to memory.  Perhaps not consciously, but there was an imprint, a mark in their minds that would always belong to the strange person they kept on meeting.  

Dais wanted to make certain he never got a name.  It was just easier on his sanity if the young man remained nameless.

Dais broke their staring match by giving the young man a lusty wink and blowing him a kiss, which made the young man balk and scowl.

Dais decided that there were other ways that would bring him just as close to the War Room as he wanted—just a room or two down in the other direction.

Dais created a portal on a blind corner and stepped through, his armor immediately reforming on him.

His arrival in the War Room made Kayura frown.  “That was fast, Warlord.”

“This matter is urgent, Lady,” Dais replied.  

Kayura nodded.  “Since I talked to you, 2 more reports came in regarding attacks on Dynasty lands, and I think that they all have the same theme.”

Dais nodded and held out his hand, wherein Kayura dumped a number of scrolls.  

“So we know of six naito ,” Dais said simply.  Which means that there are more of them than the Ronin.  Interesting…and unfortunate.

“Have the Clans caved?”

“Youmu’s story and your treatment somehow reached them, and they decided that siding with the Dynasty was better than siding with someone who would turn against their allies like that.”

Dais hummed.  They obviously don’t know the Dynasty.

“Oddly, the Army only attacked places that are of little concern,” Kayura said, frowning.  “But they did destroy them entirely.”

Dais shook his head.  “If everything is destroyed, it’s because of orders.”

Kayura’s head snapped to him.  “What?”

“They’re standing orders,” Dais replied to her accusing gaze.  “Talpa’s.  He wanted to make sure that no enemy got anything out of our holdings.  Resources can be recovered, and making any attack unprofitable was an attempt at deterrence.”

“Right,” Kayura said slowly.  “And you haven’t changed them.”

“So, where are these reports?  What have you learned in my absence?”

Chapter Text

Tokyo was a sprawling, crowded city and Dais decided that it was potentially hazardous to his health to go everywhere on foot.  However, there were more than just trains as means of travel, so he decided to work out the bus system as well.  It would give him a ground-level view of the city and was also slightly cheaper.  

He found a bus station, waited in line, convinced the driver he had paid, and found an innocuous seat in a back corner, the seat slightly elevated, which allowed him unobstructed view of the passengers.

The bus traveled only slower than the train (although not by much), which meant he was given more time to observe Tokyo.

Store fronts were brightly lit, the names of the products and the store itself flowing through colored panes.  Placards cluttered the sidewalks, advertising menus, services, and entertainment; giant images were plastered to windows, and some fluctuated and glittered across buildings.  Foreign stores wedged themselves into the cityscape, and lights tenuously suspended midair directed the traffic of both humans and machines.  

Dais was in the human world in an attempt to slow his mind down from its frantic processing of all the trouble that was streaming continuously in from his spies’ reports.  Since he couldn’t get any sleep from how much he had to do, he figured that removing himself from the source of stress might help replenish his dangerously low reserves.  He was pretty sure that since his battle with the wood naito 2 weeks prior, he had managed to get 5 hours of sleep total and only a mouthful of rice here and there.

He had a bad feeling it was intentional.  Whomever was his enemy, knew of his presence in the Dynasty hierarchy and how much of an interest he would take in its running.

The bus’ interior was quiet, most conversations either short or quiet (sometimes both), so his shoulders were relaxing from around his ears.  The jostling of the bus and his lack of understanding of modern Japanese were both strangely soothing.  He wasn’t going to fall asleep, not when surrounded by strangers, but it was relaxing in its own way, and that was what he needed.

Along with the woman naito he had fought, intelligence had revealed that there were eight other naito, who could all control a different elemental energy.  He had only himself and Kayura as mystical warriors to counter them, since he didn’t know where his two fellow warlords were, to combat nine .  

Still, the Army and the foreign power that they had allied themselves with had made their move.  That was actually a good thing.

I suppose they got tired of waiting for me to make mine, Dais thought idly as he watched humans race about their small, pathetic, meaningless daily lives.

The foreigners had shown their hand, which had the potential to be a fatal oversight.  Now that the naito were an active presence, they could be countered.  

Dais propped his chin in his hand as the bus made its jerky circuit through the city.

Maybe I can enlist the help of the Ronin, he thought, the prospect oddly amusing.  I might be able to appeal to them to protect the Human World.  That’s their job anyway, protecting humanity and the Human World.  How to find them and convince them that I’m on their side, though…?  While I was on their side during the final battle against Talpa, who’s to say that I just took his place in the scheme of taking over the world?

Dais was drawn out of his lazy ponderings when a particularly boisterous voice boarded the bus.  Dais instinctively looked over, mildly annoyed by the intrusion.

It was a testament to his exhaustion that he immediately recognized and dismissed the presence of the person whom he had encountered every time he was in Tokyo.  While it appeared that something was pushing him towards interacting with the young man, Dais wanted nothing to do with him.  He had more than enough problems as it was, he didn’t need the Human World throwing one at him, too.

He returned to looking out the window.  

However, the young man seemed to have noticed his presence as well and to have other ideas regarding their interaction, given how he sat deliberately next to Dais—yes, the bus was crowded, but there were other seats.

Dais looked over after readjusting his sunglasses.  

A hostile silence filled the space between them, the young man obviously struggling to find the right words and Dais wanting to be left alone.  Just as the young man opened his mouth to speak, the bus came to a sudden stop, and Dais turned to find Army soldiers surrounding the vehicle.  

And, of course, I can’t access my armor, Dais groused.  He drained the armor of its energy by wearing it, and he had never encountered anything that he would have needed it for in the human world previously, so he had left it, carefully concealed and guarded, in his rooms at the Castle.  

However, he was far from helpless, and he managed to escape the bus with little effort; unfortunately, it was harder to escape the press of humanity that was being herded towards a gate that was not far away.  An idea dawned on him as he dodged spears and swords as well as frantically flailing humans.

This will take me deep into Army territory, maybe even to one of their strongholds.  I don’t have my armor and look like nothing other than another modern human.  This is…a priceless opportunity, even if I do risk being killed.   

Dais allowed himself to be pushed along, and caught the briefest glimpse of the energy that he recognized as belonging to Halo’s special move before the doors of the gate were slammed shut.

His surroundings were immediately dissimilar from where the Dynasty had herded humans, since they had simply wanted the energy that human despair generated.  Where he found himself was still meant to intimidate, but it seemed a mimicry of a cattle-shoot.  They were forcefully guided down different forks, and Dais was amused to find that he had somehow been guided into a group comprised primarily of human elders.  

Netherworld soldiers aren’t the brightest .

Dais slipped away from the guards, his natural abilities augmented by being back in the Netherworld.  While he was too far away to call his armor to him, it was closer at hand than in the Mortal world.  Anyway, if everything fell apart, he could still escape into the Human World—portals were easy to make.  

He ambushed one of the Netherworld soldiers and strapped on the empty armor—it was a little large, but not by much.  He wasn’t looking to fight in it, anyway.  It was a disguise, and nothing more.   He kept watch where he had killed the guard until he was relieved, whereupon he walked in the opposite direction that his relief had come from—it only made sense.  

His surroundings were not dissimilar from what he was used to.  Of course, such shouldn’t be otherwise, given that he was still in the Dynasty, and Army soldiers were kin to Dynasty ones, if what he had observed and fought was anything to go off of.  He came to what he assumed was his next post and relieved the guard there.  Behind him, modern day humans were being stripped of their clothes and shoved into often ill-fitting armor, handed a weapon, and then shoved out into another hallway.  All the humans’ ages seemed to range from young teens to probably in late thirties, the general span of time that most would consider a person to be in prime fighting shape.  Still, it was odd that no human was killed—they were all simply given different kinds of work to do.

Dais patrolled all the holding areas, growing increasingly annoyed.  

Surely some warrior has to come and gloat or congratulate himself on a job well done, Dais thought.  He knew that he would likely get nowhere being marked as a grunt, so figured out what ranks colors or badges denoted, and granted himself a promotion that would allow him to walk about more easily and with less suspicion.  

Deeper in from where the humans were being processed, it became obvious that two forces were uneasily mingling.  While those guarding the humans had been obviously Netherworld make, he began to see foreigners.  Their armor was plain, and their human nature was obvious.

I wonder, then, what rationale they are given to condone the use of modern humans as canon-fodder or bait.

There were a thousand reasons that Dais could think of off-cuff, but discarded those musings for a later time.  

Wherever he was had nightingale floors, which was grating under the stomping of so many armored feet.  He turned a corner, and reflexively stepped back and against the wall, and mimicked the salute he had been given—respectfully by the Netherworld soldiers, insolently by the foreigners.

It was the best way that he could think of to hide the mixture of emotions that roiled through him.

A naito—the one who controlled darkness, if his livery meant anything—gave him an absent nod, but it was the figure walking beside him that had Dais’ stomach knotted.

He can’t be alive, Dais thought as he watched Anubis walk down the hallway.  He watched the person until his form was no longer discernible.  

Anyone can mimic another’s appearance, Dais chided himself.  But that face, combined with the armor he was wearing…

For although it had been Anubis’ appearance, the armor he wore was unmistakably Talpa’s.

We never did know what happened to either of their bodies. Dais cursed his oversight and his stride had a subdued urgency.  

He exited the structure and immediately looked up.  The Netherworld had a semi-twilight that never fully became night nor day, and the stars were always out enough for Dais to determine where he was.

Dais’ jaw clenched when he finally figured out his place in the Netherworld.  This place must be hidden.  Now that I know where it is, though…

Dais returned to the building, found a blind corner, and stepped back through into the Human World.  He tossed off his stolen armor, still in his human clothing, and melted into the populace.  He heard frantic whispers, which said that the attack on Tokyo was new, but not unheard of.  

I don’t care if they don’t trust me, I’m finding the Ronin, Dais thought grimly.  He found his way to where a portal would drop him into the Castle, stepped through, and immediately called on his armor.  He gestured, and Sachi lighted on his forearm.  

“I know that the Army is attacking the Human world,” he told the tengu.  “I want you, Marisa, and Kotoku to map out the Netherworld for me.  My maps are obviously incomplete, since there is an Army base uncomfortably close to the Capital and I didn’t know it until now.  You can see through the invisibility and can go places where people can’t or daren’t.  Go .”

Sachi cawed and pushed off Dais’ armored forearm, and Dais finished stalking his way to the War Room.  He opened the doors to find Yami, Kayura, and Thalus heatedly debating, tactics, mostly, from a first guess, the naitos’ abilities.

Dais took a look at the pile of reports on a nearby table, then at the three before him.  

“It is time we made our move,” Dais said more calmly than he felt.

The three heads whipped around to face him.

“Sire?” Yami asked tentatively.  Yami knew what Dais was capable of when he was pushed to offensive action.

“There is an Army holding just to the south of the Kuroyama on the western plains.  It is there that they are capturing and processing humans that they steal from the mortal world—or, at least, one place where they are doing so.   Kurosuke has troops there that are itching for a battle.  He can lead them into battle there.  I want everyone there dead, everything burned to the ground, I don’t care if I’m losing intelligence.  This attack is to prove a point, not to gather important resources.”

The three stared at him.  Dais knew that it was uncharacteristic, such a bold move, but he wanted to find out just what Talpa could do, if he was indeed inhabiting the corpse of Anubis.  Even if he had left by the time they attacked, the naito of darkness might still be there.

“Kayura,” he said, and Kayura’s attention focused entirely on him.  “The naito of darkness might still be there if you move quickly.”

If Kayura nodded grimly, her lips thinning into a tight line.  “I’m going to spearhead this attack, Warlord,” she said, her voice carefully controlled and professional.  “Send Kurosuke and Yuuka after me.”

Kayura pointed to a small troop of Dynasty soldiers not too far south from where the Army holding was.  “Yuuka will listen to your orders if you send one of your tengu.  She finds them funny.”

Kayura walked quickly out of the War Room, and Dais did as Kayura asked, sending another of the tengu flock he held sway over to the position that Kayura indicated on the map.

“Sire, if I may…?” Thalus started, anxiety evident in how he intently examined one of the figurines.

Dais’ silence was prompting.

“Why Kurosuke?”

The unspoken question was ‘Why not me ?’

Dais felt there was no need for deception in this matter, not with a general he knew would always remain his and another who needed to understand who he served.

“I need him dead.”

They stared at him.

“A glorious death in battle would not be suspicious,” Yami murmured thoughtfully.

Thalus looked uneasy, but Dais knew the man had enough ambition to really not care if Kurosuke died.  “I can have one of my men finish him off if he is not killed in battle,” he offered.

“No, a foreigner or an enemy needs to kill him for there to be any effect,” Dais replied.  Silence fell as Dais examined the map.  “Thalus.”

“Yes, sire?”

“When I send you out into the field, I need you to capture one of the foreigners.  Don’t try for a naito, but the higher in rank the better.  Do you know how their ranking system works?”

“We’ve been given a rough idea,” Yami said and gestured towards the reports.  “But some of those were…undecipherable.  If my lord could look them over and decode them, our offensive would greatly benefit.”

Dais smiled tightly inside his helm.

“Thalus, be prepared to move out.  Yami, send out a messenger to Mayuri, tell her to return to the Capital.”

Both generals saluted to him and Dais sighed softly.  

Wonderful , he thought darkly and gathered up the undeciphered reports in his arms before walking briskly to his quarters.  Hopefully a report from Tano will be in these.  I need more than what I briefly saw.

Dais returned his armor to it rack, dragged out his code-keys, and sat down.  

Another long night in a series of long nights, he thought bitterly as he turned his attention to the reports left for him.

—

Dais stood on top of one of the high-rises in Tokyo, arms crossed as he waited for the Army to make its move.  

He had been grimly pleased by the initial results of his offensive. While Talpa hadn’t been in the stronghold that Kayura attacked, she severely injured the naito of darkness and gathered important information on his skills.  They had released all the humans in the holding and shoved them back into their world, and Kayura seemed to have taken great pleasure in razing the area.

Kurosuke, unfortunately, had survived.  However, based on a report from his spy in Kurosuke’s personal guard, Dais’ suspicions of duplicity were not unfounded.  His general was having second thoughts about his service to Dais and the Dynasty.  He needed to be disposed of, but it couldn’t be a task obviously meant to kill him.

Dais closed his eyes and tried to focus on the currents of energy that were the barrier between the human and netherworld, waiting for the tear that would tell him where the Army was making its move.

Dais had decided, after intense internal debate, that he would petition the Ronin for help, and there was no way they wouldn’t show up if the Army did.

He felt a fluctuation in the boundary between the Netherworld and Human World and latched onto the energy barrier.  He scowled when he felt the opening on the opposite side of the city, and quickly leapt between rooftops, the smallest of illusions keeping him from observation.  He reached his destination quickly and looked over the ledge.  Hundreds of Army soldiers were shepherding humans towards a familiar gateway.

Dais jumped off the ledge.  

The impact with the ground would sting, yes, but he hoped to catch three goons to break his fall.  He knew that, when they appeared, the Ronin wouldn’t immediately trust him, but it wasn’t as if he had shown up lately, and he would be happily tearing through the ranks as well—not with the same kind of efficiency as they, but he wasn’t an offensive fighter.  

Dais managed to land on four goons, and immediately lashed out with his flail, clearing some space for himself.  He unhitched his scythes and raked those in front of him, sending the energy powering the soldiers back into nothingness.  He embedded each scythe in the ground and the sticky webbing shot out, binding those around him, which allowed him to cloak himself and vanish into the crowd.

Fighting against spirits was harder than fighting against humanoid opponents, since they didn’t have the same manners of perception.  Still, most of the soldiers in the Dynasty were spirits in some manner, so he had learned how to influence their perception as well.

Dais’ scythes latched into the shoulders of two goons, and as he knelt he pulled them over his shoulders, sending them into the soldiers behind him.  A swipe of his flail caught the legs of a few others, making them sprawl into those near them.  Dais sprang up from his hunch and his nunchaku knocked more than a few heads off.  

Dais tried to stay in constant motion as he hindered the movement of his opponents with his illusions and webbing—if he was moving, they couldn’t get as good a hold on him, regardless of how large his armor was.  

He worked his way slowly through the throng and was brought up short only by the appearance of Hardrock—or, rather, a warrior who he supposed was Hardrock.  The armor was drastically different, but he would recognize the obnoxious orange anywhere, and the crest was the same.  

“ Dais?!   What are—” Hardrock began, and Dais lashed out with his flail, hitting the soldier that had been creeping up on Hardrock.

“We will talk later, Ronin,” Dais sneered.  “We have a battle to win.”

They were joined by a warrior who Dais eventually decided was Torrent—there was no one else he could be, regardless of the new and different armor that he wore; Sekhmet had bitched about Torrent’s signature move often enough for Dais to be able to recognize it. 

The battle, such as it was, was over relatively quickly once the Ronin decided to throw in their abilities alongside Dais; Dais would ensnare the soldiers, and then Hardrock or Torrent would take them out for him.  It was wonderfully efficient, and Dais mused at just how easy victory would be if the Warlords and Ronin teamed up against the Army—or any enemy, really.  There would be no contest, even with the addition of the foreigners.  Their abilities simply complimented each other far too well.

It would be nice to have them on his side in the Netherworld, but it would be a hard sell to have them abandon the human world to get involved in Netherworld politics.  Such was why he wasn’t planning on trying.

Once the last Army soldier had been sent back to the Netherworld, the humans returned, and the portal closed, the two Ronin looked at Dais, and the warlord could almost feel the mistrust oozing from them.

“Those soldiers weren’t from the Dynasty,” Dais said as he hooked the scythes back on his back.

“Funny, looked that way to me,” Hardrock riposted.  

Dais crossed his arms, doing his best to loom, even though both Ronin were close to his height.  “I’m not surprised you’re unable to differentiate,” he drawled.  “But, I’m not here to pick a fight with you.  I need your help.”

Both Hardrock and Torrent stared at him.

“With what?” Torrent asked slowly.  

“The Netherworld is at war,” Dais replied.  “Those soldiers you fought off are from the Army of the Rising Sun, which is seeking Netherworld domination.  They are making forays into the Human World to…dragoon humans into their service, as both slaves and soldiers.  It is in both my interest and yours that you take care of any incursions the Army might make.  You are protecting humanity and you are giving me one less headache.”

“I thought that the Dynasty was the Netherworld,” Hardrock said.

“You are wrong,” Dais said smoothly.  “I am busy with a war right now to ensure continued Dynasty supremacy, and I cannot have the Army getting soldiers from multiple sources.  You have seen that I’m not lying, so if you would be so kind as to protect humanity…?”

Dais waited patiently for his request to sink in before Torrent said: “Multiple sources?”

“I’m too busy to worry about both the Human and Netherworlds,” Dais drawled.  “Their emotions already generate Netherworld soldiers and spirits—keeping humans out of it will be to both our benefit.”

Surprisingly, it was Hardrock who sheathed his weapon.  “We do our job, you do yours.”

“Precisely,” Dais affirmed.  

“Where are Sekhmet and Kale?” Torrent asked.

“Are you going to help me—no, help humanity —or not?” Dais asked, ignoring Torrent’s question.

Hardrock scowled at him, and there was something familiar in the expression, something that made him smirk.  “Answer before the humans return.”

“Of course we’re going to help humanity,” Hardrock snapped.  “That we’re helping you, too, is just lucky for you.”

Dais shook his head derisively.  “See that you keep your humans safe, Hardrock, Torrent.”

Dais turned and cloaked himself, taking only a few steps away, wanting to see the two Ronin’s reactions.

There was a long silence before Hardrock sighed gustily.  “He hasn’t changed a bit,” Hardrock groused.

“He’s a Warlord of the Dynasty,” Torrent replied with a shrug.  “They don’t seem the kind of people to change easily.”

Dais nearly lost control of his illusion when the two Ronin transformed out of their armor.

Well, shit, Dais thought as he saw the young man whom he had encountered every single time he was in the human world revealed from beneath the armor of Hardrock.  

He’s grown up nicely, Dais mused.  Physically, at least.

“Think he was lyin’?” Hardrock asked.  

Torrent shrugged.  “Not sure, but I don’t think so.  The armor of the goons was slightly different, and he did help us.”

“He’s the Warlord of Illusion.   He could be playin’ us!”

Torrent hesitated.  “It was suspicious when none of the Warlords showed up when the soldiers were attacking, right?  And none of them made any mention regarding Talpa, or the warlords.  And he is a Warlord—do you think he would honestly ask a Ronin Warrior for help unless he had no other option?  Especially him ?” 

“It’s not like we were gonna do otherwise anyway,” Hardrock grumbled.  

“But it does clear up a few things,” Torrent pointed out.  “We should tell the guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardrock said dismissively.  

Dais followed them silently as they walked away, towards a train station.  

“How long has it been since we saw any of them?” Torrent mused.

Hardrock shrugged.  “Not long enough for me to forget how much of an ass Dais was.  Is.”  Hardrock scratched the back of his neck.

“It was still strange.”

“Yeah.  I haven’t thought about him, them , since we defeated Talpa.”

Because you don’t think much to start with, Dais thought.

When the conversation turned mundane and riddled with pop culture references that Dais didn’t get, Dais slunk away and returned to the Dynasty.

Dais entered his chambers and sent his armor onto the rack that waited for it in the corner.

Hopefully that will stem the tide of grunt labor, Dais thought as he picked up the report that sat on his desk.  With my recent luck , it will likely do little.

Still, Dais had won battles where he was drastically outnumbered and (to borrow a modern saying) outgunned.  As he had done then, so he would do in the present circumstance.

And this is when Sekhmet and Kale would have been incredibly useful , he thought bitterly as he slowly worked through the code.  Speaking of the morons…

Dais tugged on a particular mental line and what appeared to be a human stood just inside his doorway.  Sanosuke was his most human-looking spy, and one that he had used on multiple occasions when Talpa was planning his return to the Human World.  Sanosuke could speak most of the major human languages, and had charisma in spades.

He was also second to none in tracking capabilities.

“I need you to find Kale and Sekhmet for me,” Dais told him.  “They will return to the Netherworld, and you are allowed to knock them unconscious and drag them back here if necessary—just make sure that they’re intact.  I need them to be able to fight.”

Sanosuke’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile.  “Yes, sire.”

Dais conjured a portal for him and it snapped shut behind Sanosuke.  Those two have had their fun long enough.  It’s time they stopped being children and started being the murderous bastards they actually are.

Dais took a deep breath and returned to the missive before him.  As he read, his eyebrow slowly rose.  

Well, well, well. Look at that.

Tano had finally scraped together enough information to send him a decent report, and what was contained within was fascinating.  

Upon the reveal of the naito’s presence, they had become a pervasive and visible force in the Army’s forces.  Admittedly, not everyone was pleased by such a state of affairs, but the naito were powerful enough that the Army’s generals kept quiet.

“There are a few soldiers here who would happily defect to the Dynasty if they knew that they would get that far—fear of the Army keeps them all on a tight leash.”

Tano also provided him with more details on the naito than he had managed to gather from his and Kayura’s encounters with them.

They all, indeed, commanded a different element: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Wood, Metal, Dark, Light and “Spirit—I’ll give you more details on what that means once I’ve figured it out.”  

Air, wood, and fire were female—the rest were men.  Their armors were stylized, yes, but it seemed that it was the colors that distinguished them more than the armor structure.  

Fire had, predictably, a red color scheme; wood had been green; earth was obviously brown; water was blue; metal was silver-white; air was a pale yellow; light was gold; dark was black; and the last element was purple.  Each naito had a name, but they were clumsy to Tano, who did her best to reproduce them phonetically, so Dais decided to refer to the naito by their element instead of by name.  The armors themselves were named after their element, anyway, so it wouldn’t be unusual.

Spirit seemed to be the leader among them; there was contention within the ranks, the most bitter being between wind and earth.  Darkness and light were twins; water and wood were romantically involved, etc.  

Tano is, if anything, thorough.  Gossip is as useful to her as empirical evidence, Dais mused.  

The addition of their personalities had actually made it easier for Tano to hide, and she provided a comprehensive sketch of how the foreigners organized their military ( “They have been referred to as kuruseida, although I wouldn’t put money on that name”) .

Dais finished translating the report, then rolled it up and put it in a secret compartment, where he kept all his most sensitive material that he had yet to memorize.

Dais let out a long, low sigh, finally allowing himself to ponder the realization that the young man he had been “flirting” with was none other than Kento of Hardrock.

It was, perhaps, less distressing and more entertaining.  To think that, even after years, he was still somehow entangled with the Ronin Warriors, more specifically him .  

It was still strange that he met Hardrock every time .

It will be hilarious if he ever discovers who I am, Dais thought as he penned orders to other lieutenants and commanders that he had in the field.  Now that he was moving soldiers and resources aggressively, he would attempt to put continuous pressure on these kuruseida and the Army.  

I hope Yami gets me my captive soon.  I look forward to the discussion.

Chapter Text

 “I have a guest for you waiting in the south-eastern wing.”

Dais knew who had written the note, even though it was not signed.  He smiled grimly and burned the note, innocuous as it was.  

It took him longer than I expected, but I suppose such was unavoidable.  Most Dynasty soldiers are taught to kill first, ask questions later. Still, five days is a long time…  

“Let’s meet this guest, ” Dais murmured and stood. It was a comparatively short walk to the prison block when one knew all the secret corridors.  He met Yami outside one of the maximum-security cells, and his general gave him a sharp salute.  

“What rank is he?” Dais asked.  

“Colonel or Lieutenant.  I didn’t have the badges memorized, but the soldiers were listening to his orders, so I figured that he was important in the command chain.”

“A good enough assumption,” Dais murmured.

“He is mostly unharmed,” Yami commented.  “We broke his legs and wrists, but they aren’t complex breaks.  He should be able to answer any questions my lord poses.”

Dais nodded slightly, then opened the cell door to reveal his prisoner.

The man stared defiantly back, and the briefest touch on his mind revealed a fact that made Dais sigh softly.  “Take him to the torture chamber.”

“Sire?”

“He won’t answer any questions willingly.”

Sekhmet was usually the one charged with torture and interrogation, and he was good at it.  However, the more stubborn ones, the ones who wouldn’t bend to strictly physical torture, those were the ones Dais was called upon to break.  It gave him no pleasure like it did Sekhmet.  It was simply a distasteful aspect of a job that he was adept at, and was occasionally necessary (for information and to remind the other warlords that he could be just as sadistic as they).  

Dais walked away from the cell and heard the kuruseida being hauled up and dragged behind him.  They reached the torture chamber and Dais let the guards fling the man into the middle of the floor, near the grate that allowed the water that was occasionally used to clean the blood-caked equipment to drain.  

Dais gestured his armor onto a nearby rack, leaving him in his normal ‘civilian’ clothes.  They were easier to clean or burn than trying to clean his armor, as he had recently tended to the armor and didn’t feel like getting more blood out of the grooves.  

The kuruseida seemed surprised that Dais was a man.  

“You have two options available to you, kuruseida,” Dais said as he rifled through the equipment for his particular box of specialized implements.  “Well, three.  You tell me what I want to know without me harming you.  You tell me what I want after I physically torture you.  Or you can give me the information I need after I break your mind and shatter your will.”

The kuruseida stared.

“You’re human ?” the man exclaimed, and Dais was amused to find that he understood the soldier.  Perhaps the armor’s influence was more extensive than he thought.

Dais quirked his good eyebrow.  “As are you.”

“But, that’s…that’s not possible.”

“Why not?” Dais asked as he found his toolkit.

The man had obviously been about to say something, but training or fear kept him quiet after his initial outburst.

“So, which option will you choose?” Dais asked as he stood over the partly-supine form.  

“You’ll kill me no matter what I do.”

Dais shrugged.  “Let’s say I let you go.  How far will you get with your legs broken?  Even if I tell my men not to hurt you, or even take you outside the Capital gates, how far will you get?  Will you be able to hunt?  Contact your allies?  The death I give you will be gentle compared to starvation, illness, or wildlife.”

The kuruseida looked away.  “I will tell you nothing.  Pain is an illusion.”

Dais disagreed, but didn't bother with a reply.  Pain was how Sekhmet had pried information out of prisoners very effectively.  Nonetheless, Dais had found he received many more truthful answers if he mixed pain with pleasure as he wore away his prisoners’ mental resistance.  

Over the centuries, he had discovered that the majority of heterosexual men he had tortured found anal sex degrading, but stimulation in the right area pulled some of the most intense orgasms out of their bodies, unwilling though it may be.  The perceived humiliation also coaxed information from unwilling tongues.

Not all illusions needed to be based in negative emotions.

Dais stomped on the man’s shoulders, dislocating each of them, then pulled the man along behind him by one of his limp arms.  Dais threw him up onto a slab of metal, maneuvered him so he was spread-eagle, and secured him still with shackles.  

“It doesn’t matter what you do to me.  I won’t say anything,” the man affirmed, but it was more for his own benefit than Dais’, who was ignoring him.

He left the man as he rifled through his private box of torture devices before choosing a dildo he thought might pry what he wanted out of the man.  It was one of the larger ones he owned, covered in retractable spikes that were sharp enough to leave scratches, but not quite tear the skin, and were spaced far enough apart that if Dais twisted the dildo, it would wound new areas.  

“What will that do?” the man asked, a tinge of nervousness coloring his voice.  

Dais kept his face expressionless and failed to reply.  He placed the dildo at the man’s hip, and ripped down the man’s pants and what served as underwear, bearing the man’s lower body.  The kuruseida seemed to be forming an inkling of what Dais was going to do and flailed weakly (Dais including a small amount of Sekhmet’s paralyzing poison in the shackles—he didn’t like his prey to struggle like Sekhmet did).

“One more chance to give me the information I want without lying,” Dais said.

The man swallowed and looked away.

Dais sighed.

Dais decided that blood would be lubrication enough, and took a moment to debate on whether he wanted to penetrate the man entirely in one thrust or take his time at it, twisting along the way.

Slow would be better on this one, Dais decided when he heard the man whispering an incantation that was surely a prayer of some sort.  

Dais retracted the spikes, figuring that the size and the lack of preparation and lubrication would be initially unpleasant enough.  The man wasn’t going to be one of his harder cases—he’d bend once Dais found the right place to put pressure. Dais spread the man’s legs, maneuvered the kuruseida’s hips, and then had shackles clamp down to keep him in the position Dais wanted.

Dais began to push the dildo in, and the man made a choked sound of pain.  Dais leaned over the man and forced the kuruseida to look at him, catching and holding his deep blue eyes.  

“Why are you foreigners here?”

“I don’t know,” the man choked out.  

Dais pushed the dildo in farther, never breaking eye contact.  “Why are the kuruseida here?”

“I don’t know.”

Dais continued slowly forward.  “What made you invade the Netherworld?”

The discomfort seemed to push his pain threshold far enough that the kuruseida said: “We were promised.”

“Promised?”

The man grimaced and tried to twitch his hips away from the invasion, which didn’t aid in relieving the discomfort at all.  

“What were you promised?”

Dais released the spikes just slightly and pressed the dildo in farther, which made the man gasp and try to flinch away from the increased discomfort.

“Salvation.”

Dais hummed and gingerly picked at the kuruseida’s surface thoughts.  Most of them were about humiliation and the discomfort, but Dais felt a simmering conviction of sorts beneath it.

“Why were you surprised to discover that I am human?” Dais asked, beginning to work his way underneath the kuruseida’s mental guards.

The question caught the kuruseida off-guard.  “Because the Dynasty is made of monsters.”

“Who told you that?”

“Arago.”

Dais hummed, pushed the dildo in farther, and managed to find the right distance and angle that pressed against the kuruseida’s prostate.

“Who were you going to save?  The monsters…or yourself?” Dais asked and moved the dildo gently and carefully, making sure to drag out the moments of pleasure and the cessation into simply discomfort and pain.

“We were promised salvation,” the man said through gritted teeth, an erection very slowly forming (Dais had discovered it was possible to force an orgasm even without arousal by appropriate stimulation).  “If we followed the High Commander, if we purged the new land of evil, we would find our place in heaven.”

Dais hummed and the kuruseida flinched in shame at the sensations Dais was provoking.

The only mind that was easier to break into than an exhausted one was one that was caught in pleasure.  

Kuruseida was Crusader.  

Naito was Knight.  

They had discovered a portal into the Netherworld on accident, and had been approached by a man named Arago—who was Talpa wearing Anubis’ face, which was the strangest thing—who had convinced them that they could save the Netherworld.  The Dynasty in control of it was a source of evil, depravity, godlessness, and but Arago couldn’t defeat them on his own.  He wanted the Crusaders to help cleanse the Netherworld and bring light and life and order to it again.  Reclaim it from monsters and demons and devils, as it were.  Not only were the Crusaders provided with a righteous cause, but also a foreign place to prove themselves and wipe away all sin.  Some of the Knights had resisted, but their oaths prevented them from outright disobedience.  

Dais had gained a rather mythical status amongst the ranks of the Crusaders, as he was physically never seen but his touch was easily recognized in certain battles and troops.  More people wanted to see him captured than killed.  Death would be too good for him, since he was blamed with everything from a lost shoe to a massacre.  

It was flattering.

To Dais’ dismay, at least Kale had been captured through unknown means and subdued by the Knight of Spirit.  He refused to give up his armor, but the merciless assertion of obedience kept him ruthlessly under control.  

Dais almost felt bad for the warlord of darkness.

Almost.

No-one trusted Arago fully, but he was charismatic and attractively human enough to put most misgivings to the side.  He was giving them a chance at greatness, anyway, and they had more firepower than he did, even with his “army,” so they didn’t feel threatened.

The crusader couldn’t tell Dais, or wouldn’t tell him, much about the Crusader’s strategies or tactics, and Dais only get a sketchy idea of where hidden hold-outs were, given that he’d have to go over a map and try to match up the crusader’s description to what he knew.  

Dais allowed the man to orgasm once he felt he had enough information, and then promptly shattered his prisoner’s mind.

He pondered what to do with the drooling husk as he cleaned the dildo.

Send him back to his people as a warning or would that provoke them to “righteous” attack?  Or would me sending him back, broken as he is, be seen as both a mocking and twisted mercy?  Give him back to them for them to bury instead of letting him become carrion?  Dais put his tool away and closed the box with a quiet click of latches.  I can use their righteous anger against them.  Guide them as to who, when, and where to attack and then slaughter them all.

“What do you think?” he asked the body behind him, who gurgled nonsense.  

He gestured a guard over and said, “Clothe him in whatever you can find, tie him to a horse, and send him towards the eastern mountains, along the Morigawa.”  

The soldier saluted and went to gather the required materials as Dais carefully heated up an iron poker.

“I have never been known for my drawing skills, but I’m sure they’ll get the message,” Dais told the Crusader before branding a rudimentary spider design on the man’s chest.  

When the soldier returned, Dais had called his armor back on, and left the man in the grunt’s dubious care.  He had much to think on, and precious little time to process it in.  

--

Dais was pleased at the immediate response to his insult.  The blind rage at the desecration of their comrade had spread his name and reputation further, and had resulted in a number of decisive Dynasty victories.  The defeat of the Knights of Air, Light, and Water had also contributed to a decrease in Crusader morale.  Overall, things were looking up, which made Dais cautious.

Dais was steadily becoming more concerned over Kurosuke.  His general seemed more and more apt to interpret Dais’ orders very loosely, and some of his actions in the field were causing Dais to consider requesting Yami to murder Kurosuke.  

The two had never liked each other, so Dais felt Yami would get no small amount of pleasure from knowing one of his men had been the instrument of the General’s demise.

Dais was surprised, then, when he received a written request from the High Commander of the Crusaders to parlay.

“It’s a trap,” Yami said flatly when he showed the request to Kayura, Yami, and Mayuri.

“It’s too obvious,” Kayura said as she examined the letter.  “They’re not Dais-smart, but they’re not Sekhmet-stupid, either.”

“They want to see my Lord,” Mayuri said, giving Dais a glance.  “To prove that you exist physically, and aren’t just some manifestation of their fear and uncertainty.”

Kayura snorted.  “They assume that you’re the leader of the Dynasty, Dais.  Cute.”

Yami gave off a sense of disapproval that Kayura ignored.

“You’re planning on going?” Kayura half-asked.

Dais paused and said: “Maybe.  If this request is honest, the High Commander will be attending, which would mean that a Knight or two will come with him, which will at least take two Knights out of play,” Dais looked at Kayura, weighing his options.

 Dais generally believed that a show of confidence was all that was needed to disarm most enemies.  Such was why he always agreed to meet his enemies in their own territory, if he met them at all.  The advantage to that was three fold, in reality.  It gave him a sense of their physical defenses and strength (most liked to parade such in front of foreign hostile nations), the state of their citizenry, and the psychological profile of the leaders.  They were in their own territory—they were safe, or so the rationale went.

Dais often went alone or with only one other person.  Such a small entourage begged numerous questions: was he dangerously overconfident?  Or did he have an army waiting in the wings?  Maybe he suffered from an excess of pride.  Maybe he had reason to be so confident.  His armor made reading his face impossible and he had long ago learned to control his posture and voice.  

It kept his enemies guessing and unstable.  

He didn’t trust any of the other warlords to not muck up a political meeting, but since most of the time Netherworld politics equated to curb-stomping someone, they usually fit the bill perfectly fine.  It was a rare occasion for actual diplomacy to be required. 

However, a meeting with the Crusaders required tact and superior perceptive abilities.  

Yami and Thalus were his two most perceptive generals, but Thalus was in the field and he would need someone he trusted implicitly to stay behind in the Capital and make sure it didn’t all fall apart in his absence, so Yami wouldn’t be coming with him, if he went. 

He wouldn’t bring Kurosuke along even if he had been the only choice.  He was a sledgehammer, not the stiletto he needed.  

Mayuri rivaled Kayura in strength, skill, and speed, and had the benefit of extensive tactical education.  While Dais would have been leery of such in any other commander, he knew that he had Mayuri’s devotion.  She loved him as a superior officer and as a man.  If he would bring anyone, it would be she.  

Dais picked up Kurosuke’s piece and twirled it slowly in his fingers.  

“Yami.”
“Yes, sire.”

“Do you still have that pact with the kagebito?”

“Yes.”

“I know that they’re good at intelligence gathering.  How adept are they at murder?”

Yami’s eyes narrowed in pleasure.  “I know one or two who can rival your assassins, sire.”

“Kurosuke is about to come into conflict with the Knight of Darkness, and will be itching for a rematch,” Dais said and put the figurine Kurosuke back where he had taken it.  

“Yes, my lord.”

Yami saluted, then walked away to pass on orders.

Mayuri hesitated, then said, “I do not think you should attend.  So much— too much—could go wrong. Right now, you are the only thing keeping the Dynasty offensive moving.”  Her glowing eyes darted quickly over to Kayura as she said, “Lady Kayura wins battles and keeps morale up, but you are the ghost in the machine, the oil that makes everything move smoothly and efficiently.  Losing you would be a blow I don’t think the Dynasty could recover from.”

Dais smiled faintly. 

“Warlord.”

Dais turned to face Kayura, who was looking remarkable impassive.

“Yes?”

“Your general is right.  You should stay here.”

“Concerned for my safety, Lady?” Dais drawled as he formed a new piece for the man who called himself Arago. 

Kayura picked the figurine out of his fingers just before he was about to put it down in Army territory.  “Who is this?”

“The Army’s leader.”

Kayura gave him a sidelong look.  “It’s Anubis.”

“It’s Talpa wearing Anubis’ body.”

Revulsion crossed Kayura’s face and she shoved the figure back at him.  “How is that possible?  What the Ronin did should have purified the evil in Talpa’s spirit, or, better, destroy him all together.”

“It apparently didn’t work,” Dais replied dryly.

Kayura watched him put Talpa down in Army territory, then repeated: “You’re definitely not going now.”

“I haven’t sent out a reply yet.”

“Don’t reply at all.  Piss them off some more.  And it’s not like they’re going to agree to any kind of tentative peace agreement.”

Dais nodded.  The Crusaders weren’t the kind who would settle for anything but complete victory.

“Are the guards still watching our messenger?” Dais asked.

“Think so, unless he killed them, and I don’t think he would.  Seems like the kind of man who has a sense of self-preservation.”

Dais paused.  He wanted to see the Crusader’s commander very badly, but that could be stemming from the desire to rub his nose in his loses.  He could, naturally, force conditions upon the meeting, but that would require multiple communications back and forth, which he had no time for.  It could also be a tactic meant to divert their attention at a key moment.

Dais sighed.  “Part of me wants to kill the messenger and send his head back as a reply, but that wouldn’t achieve anything.”

“I never knew you were so ruthless.”

“Before Talpa’s fall, I was inconsequential to you and you were just another piece on the board for me to move,” Dais drawled.  Dais tugged on a line and a guard appeared at the door.  “Refit the Army’s messenger with Dynaty armor and give him one of the oldest horses in our stables to ride back to his master.  Tell him that the Dynasty does not need meaningless gestures of peace when the Crusaders seek to take over the Netherworld.  They will accept no result other than complete victory, and the Dynasty will not hand the world over to them.  Repeat that to me.” 

Once Dais was sure the soldier had the spirit of the message, if not the actual wording itself, right, he sent him away.  

“Why the armor?” Kayura asked.

“As an insult,” Dais replied.  “You have troops near the town they indicated?”

“Mmhm.”

“Tell them to do some scouting.  I want to know why there.”

There was a surprisingly comfortable pause before Kayura said: “They’d be useful right now, wouldn’t they?”

Dais immediately knew who they were.  “Normally I’d throw them at the Army and see what survived.”

Kayura snickered.

“Unfortunately, Talpa has managed to get his hands on Kale.”

Mayuri looked at him sharply as Kayura sighed.

 “Well, we both have experience defeating them.  I wouldn’t worry too much about them.”

“Defeating them isn’t hard—it’s a matter of how much information the Army gets out of them.”

Kayura pursed her lips and looked at the map.  “I…why hasn’t Talpa done anything against the Capital directly ?”

“Repairs take resources and time,” Dais replied.  “Although now that you’ve mentioned it, he’ll probably attack.”

Kayura laughed, but there was tension in the sound.  “I’m going to go check on the defenses, then.”

“Take Mayuri with you,” Dais said, looking to his general.  “Her troops are the ones who make up the majority of the guard, since my other generals are abroad.”

Kayura gave him a dismissive wave and Mayuri followed the Lady after giving Dais a reverent bow, and left him alone in the War Room.

Dais clasped his hands behind his back and let out a long, weary sigh.

For the first time in his long career as a warrior and strategist, he wondered: How am I going to win this war?

A foreign army with nine mystical warriors who could turn the elemental energies against him, the armor of Darkness against him and Sekhmet at large, his old master returned and with a new army at his command… 

The final battleground will be here, Dais thought as he picked up his own piece.  And all my former victories will be meaningless if I lose the Capital.  

A small smirk formed on his face.  Until that battle, though, I will run the Crusaders ragged.  The Ronin seem to be upholding their end of the bargain, anyway—none of my men have reported seeing modern humans in the Army’s forces since I petitioned the Ronin for help.

A small patch of solid ground in a quagmire of problems.

Chapter Text

Dais stared fixedly at the map, his jaw clenched.  Things were going well, for the most part, which made him nervous.  

There’s something I’m missing, I know it.

“You’re thinking so hard I can almost hear it.”

Dais looked over to Kayura.  “I need a spy in the Crusaders.”

“You already have one.”

“No, Tano is a spy in the Army.  She’s good, but she can’t get as close as I need her to be—she isn’t the same kind of creature as the Crusaders.”

“So capture a Crusader, break him, and make him yours,” Kayura said. 

Dais shook his head slightly.  “That requires a great deal of energy, concentration, and time to do thoroughly and well.”

“But you’d do it.”

“Of course.  But, then there’s the problem of communication.”

“You think only of everything that can go wrong.”

“So that when it goes right I’m pleasantly surprised.”

Kayura snorted and rolled her eyes.

Dais looked at the section that indicated the remnants of the Ogres and tapped his fingertips together in thought.  “The Ogres have been quiet lately.”

“Well, they are the ones the Crusaders beat on when they get tired of getting their teeth cracked by the Dynasty.”

“Which means the Ogres will hate them,” Dais murmured.  “I can use that hate.”

“They don’t like the Dynasty much either.”

“Between the two of us, they hate the Army more,” Dais said, “and their ‘hidden base’ just happens to be in the middle of Army territory.”

“So—” Kayura began when a portal opened in the War Room, and Dais couldn’t stop his heavy sigh at the sight of the figure who preceded Sanosuke.

“Well done,” Dais told Sanosuke, who gave him a deep bow before vanishing.

“Got to admit, Dais, you have some first-rate minions,” Sekhmet said as he got to his feet.  

Dais wasn’t certain how the man could move comfortably in seven-inch stiletto heels and a tight, green, sparkling mini-skirt, but quickly decided he didn’t want to know—the gaudy, loose blouse Sekhmet wore was already making his eternal headache worse.

“You had fun, I take it?” Dais drawled.  

“Oh, yes,” Sekhmet said with a slightly-fanged grin.

“You still have your armor.”

Sekhmet buffed his inch-long nails on his shirt and said, “Of course I do.  Now, what do you want?”

“I want you to stop being a child and start being a Warlord again.”

Sekhmet frowned and his eyes narrowed.  “Oh, really.”

The inflection in his voice wasn’t the ‘I’m going to hurt you’ one, but the ‘I’m going to get to murder someone, aren’t I?’ tone.  

Dais pointed to the map, which drew Sekhmet’s attention.  

“What’s Anubis doing there?” Sekhmet asked after a moment of examining it.

“It’s not Anubis.  It’s Talpa in Anubis’ body.”

Sekhmet looked to Dais sharply.  “Bullshit.”

“Nope,” Kayura said, wedging herself into the conversation.  “And he’s leading the Army of the Rising Sun.”

“The army of the what?”

“Brief summary: Talpa’s back and he wants the Netherworld for his own again.  He’s recruited a foreign power, which has warriors who can harness elemental energies,” Kayura stated and gestured to each Knight.  “He’s been fighting the Dynasty ever since.  We’ve made him pay for it.”

Sekhmet hummed, a grin tugging at his lips.  “Oh, this is going to be fun .  Where’s the puppy?  I’m sure he’s enjoying grinding them into the dirt.”

“Kale has been captured,” Dais said mildly.  

Sekhmet frowned.  “Captured?  

Dais nodded.

“Could you use Kale as a spy if you managed to get in touch with him?” Kayura asked.

Sekhmet laughed as Dais shook his head.

“The puppy might be the Warlord of Darkness, but he’s completely not subtle,” Sekhmet said with a slightly malevolent grin.  “Easy target.”

“Kale is observant, but brash,” Dais said.

“And dumb,” Sekhmet added.

“And dumb,” Dais agreed.

“Not as dumb as Anubis was.”

“You’re still bitter about that?” Dais mused.

“What?”

“Better if you don’t remember it.”

“Wait, what?  Dais, what do you—”

Dais ignored him as one of his (Dais’) messengers entered the room with a deep bow.  “My Lords.  My Lady.  An emissary from the Ogres wishes to speak with you.”

Dais felt a quick spike of paranoia at the Ogres having arrived so soon after he had been speaking about them, but shoved the thought aside. 

“Take him to the largest audience hall we have.  Make sure he is uncomfortable.”

The messenger bowed and made his exit.  

“Speaking of the Ogres,” Kayura murmured.  

“You’ll both be coming with me,” Dais said as he pulled his armor on him.  

“But politics is boring ,” Sekhmet whined.

“You’re there to stop the Army attack that will happen,” he told Sekhmet.

“Army attack?” Sekhmet repeated, his armor forming on him.

“Army attack.”

“What, are you gonna stage one?”

“No,” Dais said.  “They are already here.  They probably entered with the Ogre ambassador.”

“And you just let them walk in?” Kayura asked, the Ancient’s staff jingling annoyingly.  

“Afraid, Lady Kayura?” Sekhmet sneered.

Dais actually couldn’t believe his luck—he couldn’t’ve arranged the situation any better himself.  In the largest, most open audience hall, there were few places to hide, and the ambassador would be on edge himself, waiting for the Dynasty to attack or imprison him.  Instead, Dais would turn the assassination attempt on his (Dais’) or Kayura’s life into an attempt on the ambassador’s.

He loved it when other people did the work for him and he didn’t have to nudge any pieces into place.

“Will you be wearing your armor or the Ogre armor, Lady?” Dais asked.

“There’s some irony in meeting the Ogres while wearing the armor of the Ogre,” Kayura said as the armor settled on her body, the Ancient’s staff remaining in her hand.

 “You’re using me as intimidation, aren’t you?” Sekhmet asked.

“Would you prefer I use the Lady instead?”

“I’d probably be the better choice anyway,” Kayura said haughtily.

Sekhmet bristled.  “How could a little girl like you be intimidating? ”

Dais knew he shouldn’t take such quiet pleasure in playing the two against each other, but it had been a while since he had had the opportunity.  Admittedly, division in the ranks might be seen as undesirable by the Ogre ambassador, but anyone who knew anything about the Dynasty knew that the Warlords didn’t get along.  It was part of what kept the Netherworld in the thrall of the Dynasty—fear of what would happen if the Warlords decided to actually work together.  They were devastating on their own, what would it be like if they banded together?

I suppose this test will show what we’re capable of as a group, Dais thought, finding irony in the thought.

Dais stopped in front of the door to the audience chamber and looked at the two guards waiting there. They were both ones that Dais recognized, and a brief glance across their minds told him that they weren’t traitors, and would answer his call if he needed them.

Not that he would.  Not with Sekhmet back.

He pushed open one door and gestured that Kayura preceded them.  As the last of the Ancient’s Clan, she was technically the leader of the Dynasty, and with Sekhmet and Dais flanking her…they were an impressively intimidating ensemble: Sekhmet with his swords, Dais with his scythes, and Kayura with the Staff of the Ancients—all potent symbols of power.

Kayura took a seat in the chair situated at the front of the room, he and Sekhmet flanking her on either side.

The ambassador was keeping his composure, although just barely.  Sekhmet’s lips spread into a threatening, indolent grin, he having scented the ambassador’s anxiety as quickly as Dais had.  

The ambassador’s glowing, violet eyes fixated on the ground.  “My Lady.  My Lords.  I come on behalf of—”

“Get to the point,” Kayura said, her voice laced with disdainful boredom.  

The ambassador cleared his throat before saying: “We are tired of getting caught in the crossfire between the Dynasty and the Army of the Rising Sun, and the damage has become extensive enough that we are forced to choose a side.  The Dynasty does not ransack our villages and bases and have helped evacuate a few before a battle between them and the Army.  The Army has not been so…kind.” 

Dais heard the softest of exhales from seemingly empty space, and his eye narrowed.  

They cannot win against the Warlord of Illusion using illusions, he thought.  Especially when the illusions are not made by the person themselves.

Sekhmet’s casual threats and Kayura’s indifference had the ambassador chattering, which gave Dais the time he needed to set himself up. 

The moment Kayura’s eyes glazed over with boredom, the assassins—four of them—attacked.  

Dais’ power broke all of the talismans simultaneously, and the surprise was promptly lost.  Sekhmet jumped into the fray immediately, his swords sliding effortlessly out of their scabbards.  Kayura was also on her feet, the Ancient’s staff deflecting knives sent her way.  Dais strolled over to the terrified ambassador, gave him the smallest of polite nods, and then dragged him out of the way of the battle, covering them both with an illusion until they were in a safe spot.

“I would hope those aren’t yours,” Dais said mildly, looking down at the shaken ambassador.

“No,” he said emphatically.  “The armor is wrong—that’s Army make.”

“The Army must see you as a threat to attempt to kill you in a Dynasty stronghold.”

“The Army has no sense of honor.”

Dais hummed.  “And we protect you, even if you are still technically an enemy of the Dynasty.”

The ambassador watched the fight progress and Dais leaned down to whisper in his ear.  “I will give you the Dynasty’s full cooperation…as long as I would be able to expect the same.”

The ambassador looked at him sharply.  “The Lady—”

“ I am the Warlord of Illusion,” Dais told him mildly.  “Now, I will allow you to keep your autonomy.  You won’t have to fly the Dynasty banner, but you are…honor-bound…to assist us.  Of course, we will help you if you call as well.”  Dais looked to Kayura and Sekhmet who were having too much fun thrashing the assassins.  “Lady Kayura and the Warlord of Venom are demonstrating their strength for you, and I’m sure you’ve heard of me.  We can each take on a Knight and win, and our Generals have held their own against the foreign warriors…as I’m sure you know.”  Dais’ voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.  “I will even lend you some of my brightest commanders to train your troops to repel Army invasions.” 

Dais knew the last would be the hook—and it was.  Everyone in the Dynasty hated being beholden to another, even more than being used as a punching bag.  

Dais would actually be planting some of his most loyal commanders to report back to him on everything happening within the Ogres, but the Ogres were desperate, and the desperate tended to overlook details—like how allowing enemy soldiers into their strongholds could be a bad thing.

“Do we have an agreement?” Dais purred, turning the ambassador’s head so he could watch the battle again, Kayura shoving the butt of the Ancient’s staff through the chest of one of the assassins, the staff coming out soaked with blood, the assassin dropping to the ground as blood oozed out of the wound.

The ambassador was silent for a moment longer, until an assassins’ head rolled to a stop at his foot.

“Yes.”

The last desperate death cry of one of the assassins made Dais look to Sekhmet, who was extracting one of his swords from the throat of a Crusader.  Kayura was glowing with adrenaline and the high of murder, and Sekhmet’s armor was liberally splattered with blood.  Each of them had two assassins to  their count.

Well, I’m glad they enjoyed themselves.

“I’ll have someone find you supplies and send you on your way—with some protection, of course, to make sure you arrive safely at your destination.”

Dais handed the ambassador off to an escort of three soldiers, all of whom Dais knew.  He wanted to take no chances when it came to the ‘alliance’ he had forged.

The best part was that none of it was in writing so Dais could ignore it if it became…inconvenient.

“Where were you?” Sekhmet asked, the smallest of sneers in his voice.

“Killing becomes you, Lady,” Dais drawled as he brushed past Sekhmet.  “I have a harder target to test your fangs on, Sekhmet.”

“You better.  Those two were worthless.   What were these Army people thinking, sending such weaklings?” Sekhmet whined.  

Dais’ step hitched as one of his alarms in the catacombs tripped and he paused.  “Actually, do you care to slither through the catacombs for me?  I think you’ll find some mice to devour.”

“What am I, just some hired muscle?”

“So you don't want to paint the walls red with the blood of our enemies?”

Sekhmet seemed torn between the desire to go against what Dais wanted and his love of mass murder, then eventually snapped: “There had better be more than just one.”

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty to sink your fangs into.”

Sekhmet vanished into the recesses of the Castle, and Kayura turned to look at Dais. 

“How would they get into the catacombs?” 

Dais crossed his arms.  “I have a few guesses.”

And I don’t like any of them.

“What did you do with the ambassador? Kill him?”

Dais shook his head and started off towards the War Room.  “Worse.”

“Worse?”

Dais smirked inside his helm.  “Yes.”

“What could be worse than death ?”

“How did it feel, being controlled body and soul by Batamon?”

Kayura’s lips thinned out in anger.  “Did you—”

“Humans control each other without any supernatural power all the time,” Dais said.  “It takes no effort.”

Dais stopped at an intersection.  “Stay sharp, Lady.  The Army is trying to actively get at you now.  Don’t make it easy for them.”

He turned and finished his trip to the War Room, slipping inside and lighting only three candles.  He stopped in front of the map and pressed his fingers against Ogre territory—it quickly turned the shade that indicated Dynasty possession.  

Let them think they’re free.  If they like the chains, they won’t rebel, Dais thought, slightly smug. 

Dais quickly drafted letters to two of his  most trustworthy captains, giving them instructions that were explicit enough to leave no doubt as to what to do, but which included room for interpretation and expansion.  Orders to be followed both to the letter and in the spirit of.  He handed the orders off, then turned his attention back to the map.

The Army will know of our ‘alliance’ soon enough.

Dais picked up Kale’s piece and turned the likeness of the Warlord of Darkness between his fingers.  How would I react?

Dais sighed softly and placed Kale’s piece next to the Knight of Spirit.  I’d wipe out the Ogres and hope to get some of the Dynasty along with it.  Preferably using Kale just for spite.  Pairing him with the Knight of Light would be a good way to keep him in check, too.

Dais was decoding a report marked ‘urgent’ when Sekhmet entered the room, reeking of blood and destruction.

“Enjoy yourself?” Dais asked absently.

“How did Kale get captured?”

Dais looked to Sekhmet when the warlord of venom came up beside him, the man’s beady eyes oddly solemn.

“My spy is not deep enough into the organization to know, but she indicated that Kale has particular animosity towards the Knight of Spirit, so I think that his capture has something to do with whatever power Spirit commands.”

“It’s not like you to not have all the answers.”

“Did you do anything in the Human World besides cause havoc?”

“The Ronin have grown up nicely.”

Dais looked to Sekhmet, who shrugged.  “What?  They have .  And they’re still fun.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know what your idea of ‘fun’ is,” Dais drawled.  “Do you know the story behind the new armor?”

“New ar—how do you know about that?” Sekhemt’s expression became slightly gleeful.  “You went into the Human World, didn’t you?  I knew you would.”

“I had to stem the tide of modern-human grunt labor somehow .”

“Liar,” Sekhemt said, drawing out the word.

“Well?”

Sekhmet pouted when Dais didn’t rise to the bait, and said, “No clue, but I like their old armor better.”

Dais hummed.

“So, what was this harder target you wanted me to test my fangs on?  The catacombs were a nice warm-up.”

“How much clean up are the grunts going to have to do?”
Sekhmet chuckled darkly.

“The Knight of Fire is getting uncomfortably close to the Capital.  Care to drive her away?  Do try to not die or be captured.”

“I just got back and you’re throwing me at the heavy hitters?”

“Are you afraid?”

“ What? ”

“Kayura and I can both defeat Knights.  I want to make sure you’re not going to hold back the offensive I’m planning.”

“Your caution has always been the thing holding us back,” Sekhmet snarled.  He took a swift look at the map, then stalked away, muttering darkly.

Dais sighed once Sekhmet was gone.

Dais moved the Knight of Light beside Kale, and regarded the two pieces critically.

So…when I finally throw Sekhmet against you, do I ask him to capture you or kill you?

Chapter Text

For the first time since the war with the Army had started, Dais allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope that he would actually win .  Even when outnumbered 3 to 1 in terms of mystical armor, and with one of his Warlords coerced into working for the enemy, he was still doing really well.  The Ogres were his, any mercenary warriors had signed on with him, Kurosuke was dead and replaced with a new General, Tasuku, that Dais hand picked, and he had the Army back to the size of their original holdings.  

Sekhmet had almost managed to kill the Knight of Air, and the Warlord was Very Upset when he saw her on the battlefield again.  That had caused a spike in sorties, as Sekhmet was determined to actually kill one of the Knights, so the Army and Crusaders had always walked away the worse for the fight.

For all the headaches Sekhmet made, he solved just as many.  

Kayura had taken the Knight of Darkness out of commission for a good while, which had made their animosity only deepen.  Kayura had also been annoyed that the Knight had survived, but was more content since the Knight would always carry with him that he had been steamrolled by a girl .  

All the while, Dais had been orchestrating the Dynasty’s war machine.  Doing that well wouldn’t earn him the same reputation as leaving a field of corpses in his wake, but it also decreased the possibility of him dying, and he had signed on to be Talpa’s vassal because of the immortality-unless-you-go-out-of-your-way-to-die clause.

It wasn’t like the Army was oblivious to the fact that it was his doing, either, so while they feared Kayura and Sekhmet in battle, they were terrified of ever coming into contact with him.  It was gratifying and part of why he kept his faceguard up whenever he stepped outside the War Room.

The less people knew of him, the more power he had over them.

He was writing out orders when a familiar presence joined him.  He spared a glance for Tano, but kept her kneeling as he finished the order he had been working on.  He dismissed the peon and said, “Why are you here?”

“I found what the Knight of Spirit’s power is,” Tano said to the floor, still not looking up at Dais.

Dais hummed and said, “Why didn’t you send a written report?”

“It…was no longer safe for me to be there.  I’ve learned too much and with the success of your offensive, they’re tightening the ranks.”

“Stand and report, then.”

Tano stood, her hands clasping behind her as she began: “The Knight of Spirit might also be called the Knight of Will.  He has the ability to…inspire troops in battle.  Influence thought.  And, in the case of the Warlord of Darkness, the Knight was able to… enforce …the virtue of ‘Obedience.’”

Dais hummed.  “Which is how he was captured and brought to heel.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Dais picked up the piece that marked the Knight of Spirit.  “Tell me about this man.  Leave nothing out.”

Tano took a deep breath, and launched into a wonderfully long and detailed description of the Knight, from his speech patterns to his eating habits.

“I believe…Arago…has him convinced that he is calling the shots,” Tano wrapped up, “but he is not actually the one in control.”

“No, Arago is,” Dais said as he turned the Knight of Spirit’s figurine over in his hand.  

“Yes,” Tano agreed, not even a hint of surprise coloring her voice.  

Dais picked the figurine for the Knight of Spirit up and said, “How has Kale fit into all this?”

“He is unwilling, and fights the control to the extent that he can.  He is very stubborn.  He is more of a hostage than an asset, as they have not allowed him to fight for fear that extended time away from the Knight of Spirit will allow him to break free.”

“Have they been able to get information about the Dynasty out of him?”

Tano’s eyes glowed a little brighter and she said, “The information has never been entirely correct.  He contradicts himself constantly.  I believe he enjoys it.”

“Then enforcing obedience is not complete control,” Dais murmured.  “Interesting.”  He put down the Knight of Spirit.  “When are they planning on attacking?”
“Sire?”

“They must have some information, what with Arago knowing what he does and Kale their prisoner.  Do you know when they plan to attack?  How much they know about the Capital?”

Tano paused, then answered: “There is unrest.  Many Crusaders are talking of returning back to their home realm, but the Knight Commander has invested too much of his pride in this venture to retreat.  While the Crusaders who are killed don’t actually die, they are merely sent back to their home realm, it still takes a psychological toll.  They think they should be dead, but somehow aren’t.  If they are ever going to attack the Capital, it will be soon.”

Dais picked up the figure of the Knight Commander and turned it over slowly in his armored fingers.  “If you had to leave, that means you were discovered.  They should attack any day, and they will turn all the Knights on us at once.”

Which I am not entirely sure that we will survive.  Sekhmet, for some bizarre reason, has an armor that has the virtue of Filial Piety and the Ogre armor has Loyalty.  I might lose the others to the Knight of Spirit, depending on how adept he is at controlling others’ minds.

Dais put down the Knight Commander’s piece.  Well, then.  If they’re going to attack, might as well flank them.  I just wish I knew how they plan on getting here.

“My Lord?”

Dais looked to Tano.  “If the Army and Crusaders throw everything they have at us, that will include 9 elemental armors against our 3.  We are strong, but I don’t think we can withstand that.  I don’t want you to die in the battle—you’re going to be the pain in their collective asses once the dust settles.  Well, you and hopefully a few others.  I know that the Netherworld will not take kindly to being under foreign rule.”

“You really think you may lose?”

Dais looked back to the map.  “The odds are not in my favor if they concentrate all the Knights on attacking the Capital.”

“The Ronin…”

“Will not help a Warlord of the Dynasty in Netherworld politics.  I got them to work for me because I appealed to their need to protect humanity.  They won’t involve themselves in this, no matter how politely I ask.  It is, quite bluntly, not their problem.”

“So, then, what will you do, my Lord?”

“I have no plans to die,” Dais said.  “But, for now, we prepare.  Stay here.  I have orders for some of my generals in the field.  You will act as my messenger and then watch.  Wait.  See how the dust settles.  Am I understood?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good.”

Dais took out a brush and ink and set about writing his orders.  After a half hour, he sealed each and handed them over to Tano.

“Go.  And do not return unless I call for you.”

Tano took the missives, bowed, and then vanished.

Dais sighed heavily, and called Mayuri to him.  Neither Kayura nor Sekhmet were in the Capital at the time, so he called two Tengu to him.

The Tengu arrived first.

“Tell Lady Kayura and Sekhmet that the Army will likely be attacking the Capital within the next few days.  They can either return here, or wait for the Army to attack and then come at them from behind.  The decision is theirs.  Repeat that back to me.”

The Tengu parroted back the message flawlessly, then left in a flurry of feathers.

“You called for me, my Lord?”  Mayuri asked as she entered the War Room.

“We are as prepared as possible for an attack from within or without of the Capital, correct?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good.  The Army should be attacking within the week.  They will be desperate and in all probability will have recalled all the Knights from there other positions to attack the Capital together.”

“We will make them work for it, my lord.”

Dais smiled tightly inside his helmet.  

“I do not want you to die.”

“Sire?”

“I have passed on the same message to Yami.  If it looks like we are going to lose, I want you and whatever remains of your troops to withdraw.”

“But, sire—”

“I refuse to let the Dynasty fester in the hands of foreigners,” Dais snapped.  “I am counting on you and Yami to make their lives hell while they remain here.”

“I will not leave your side,” Mayuri responded heatedly.

“I do not intend to die or be captured by the Crusaders.”

“Are you going to run away?” Mayuri asked, curious.

“No,” Dais replied.  “I will fight them for as long as I can and to the best of my ability, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing me dead or in their hands.  I will retreat, but I will return and we will take the Netherworld back from them.”

“You plan to go to the human world, then?”

“Only if defeat is certain,” Dais said.  “But you must tell no one.”

“Even under torture, I will not tell.”

“Good.  Prepare your troops.  The battle will be a hard one.”

“We will break them,” Mayuri said confidently.  “For you, my lord, and for the Dynasty!”

Dais inclined his head as Mayuri left, his general already barking out orders as she disappeared down the hall.

Sekhmet abruptly dropped into the War Room, reeking of blood, smoke, and poison.

“They’re really going to try to defeat us, huh?  In our stronghold?”

“You forget that Talpa leads them,” Dais said mildly.  “Sekhmet.”

“What?”

“The Knight of Spirit has leashed Kale by forcing him to hold to his armor’s virtue.  Yours is filial piety.  Kayura’s is loyalty.  Do try to resist, since he will surely be at the battle.”

Sekhmet scoffed.  “I owe my allegiance to no one, and I certainly don’t see Kale as my brother or Talpa as my father.  I killed my father figures.”

“Yes, well, be careful nonetheless.  I can survive your fangs, but the normal grunts won’t.”

Sekhmet snorted.  “Right.  When do you think they’ll attack?”

“Tomorrow, maybe the day after at latest.  We may not even see them coming.”

“Because of Kale and Talpa creating portals, right?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.  Well, it wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t a challenge.”

“Of course,” Dais drawled.  “What’s your virtue, Dais?”

“Endurance.  You need not worry about me.”

Sekhemt cackled.  “Oh, won’t that be fun.  Thinking he’s trying to control you will only make you fight him harder!”

Sekhmet wandered out of the War Room, and Dais felt a polite but emphatic tug on the connection he shared with Kayura.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I will be arriving from the south,” Kayura said.  “When they attack, I will be waiting.”

After that, the connection snapped, and Dais was left alone with his thoughts again, until a familiar form coalesced out of shadows in front of him.

“Yami,” he acknowledged, and his general bowed deeply.

“My Lord.  You wanted me?”

“I want you by my side throughout the battle that is to come.  When it inevitably turns against us, I want it to look like you’ve killed me.  I will give you my armor to make it more convincing.”

“Sire!”

“We will be fighting against nine mystical armors as well as Kale, and I have no doubt that at some point during the battle both Kayura and Sekhmet will be turned against us.  I refuse to give the Crusaders the satisfaction of killing or capturing me.  I will retreat, but I will return, and we will wrest control of the Netherworld back from the foreigners.”

 “Of course, my lord.  But, will they trust me?  Believe me?”

“That is why I’m going to give you my armor.  Arago doesn’t care whether or not the man who wears the armor lives, he just wants the armor.  He will not look harder than that, and so neither will the Crusaders.”

“You are certain?”
“Absolutely.  If it looks like they are going to try to kill you anyway, retreat.  There is no shame in living to fight another day, and with your skills, you will be quite the annoyance to them.  We will drive them back to the world they came from, it will just take time.”

“And what if we win?”

“Then we decorate the fields before the Capital with their corpses.”

Yami’s eyes brightened slightly at that before they dimmed back to a more somber glow.  “I understand, my lord, and I will do my best.”

“I trust you, Yami.  Do not betray my trust.”

“Never, Lord Dais.”

“Go prepare.  The battle will come soon enough.”

Yami bowed deeply again and departed with a flourish of his cape.

Dais returned to his rooms and put together a small pack of essentials for passing as human in modern Japan, folding some gold into the clothing before packing it and sunglasses into a bag.  

He looked at the package and sighed softly.

What will come will come.  Now, all I have to do is wait.

--

Dais stood on the highest rampart of the Capital and looked down at the chaos that was unfolding below.

Without the Knights in battle, the Dynasty was winning.  The Crusaders and the Army were being repelled, and the very human screams of the Crusaders wafted up to Dais.  Dais closed his eye and took a deep breath.  

This first wave is a test.  They want to see if they can win through just their normal soldiers first.  They will see they are wrong, and then they will come at us with the Knights, probably leaving the normal soldiers back to lick their wounds.  I am ready for them.

Dais knew when Kayura joined the fray by her signature violet light.  The wails of the dying crescendoed as she tore through the ranks of the Crusaders.

Wasting her energy on the footsoldiers, Dais thought with a sigh.  And she could have surprised the Knights.  Oh, well. Perhaps she thinks that mass murder will intimidate them.  It’s probably only going to anger them.

Dais jumped down a level, then another, until he was standing on the first layer of the main building’s roof.

Come, Knights, try to find me. You will cut each other down for me long before you do.

Dais had instructed his generals to let the grunts tire themselves out with the normal soldiers and to preserve their power for the Knights, when they arrived.  The Knight of Metal and the Knight of Wood were to be their priorities, followed by the Knight of Fire.  Dais felt that the Knight of Spirit would not involve himself in dirtying his hands unless things looked grim.  

Dais had a very special game to play with him, should he ever appear.

“Their will to fight will be broken soon,” Yami reported, appearing at Dais’ side.  “We have weathered their first assault.”

“Tell the other Generals to expect the Knights to show up and ready Sekhmet’s berserkers.  Kayura’s generals are all prepared, as well?”

“You are sure they will show?”

“I have no doubt,” Dais said.  “Tell me when you see the Knight of Metal.  I have a…surprise planned for him.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed in expectation.  “Of course, my lord.”

The wind that had been more or less constant abruptly stilled.

“They are here,” Dais murmured and stepped back, seeming to melt into the wood of the pagoda, and he could feel Yami step into the shadow next to him.

Dais closed his eyes and extended his awareness to all the traps and alarms that he had placed throughout the Capital.

“Release the berserkers along the western canal.  In the secret entrance beneath the statue of Kannon is the Knight of Water.”

He distantly heard Yami pass on the information, but his mind was elsewhere.  

He felt the wind pick up to a howl, then calmed to the same level it had been before.

“Kayura has found the Knights of Wind and Wood,” he murmured absently.  

“Shall I send someone to help her?”
“They would only get in the way,” Dais responded. “The Knight of Earth is at the Eastern gate.  Dispatch Mayuri to meet him.  Sekhmet has found the Knight of Fire.”

“Can you tell where the Knights of Light and Dark are?”

“The Knights of Light and Dark aren’t in the Capital proper right now.  They are likely hanging back with the Knight of Spirit in their camp.”

Yami grunted, seemingly discontent.  

“You will get your chance soon enough,” Dais said, and Yami murmured and apology.

There was a loud, wrenching sound from the South gate, and Dais smiled wryly.  “And there is the Knight of Metal.”

Dais jumped down onto the roof of one of the hallways, then swung in through an open door.  He sped through the corridor, Yami sticking close to him.  He slowed as he reached a point where he could look out onto the South gate, and saw the Knight of Metal making easy work of the grunts.

Dais took his flail from its position, wound it up, and then landed a precise hit on the helmet of the Knight, catching his attention.

They locked eyes, and that was all Dais needed to slip beneath flimsy mental shields and catch him in an illusion.  The Knight’s broadsword fell from his hands, his eyes becoming glassy and unfocused.

“Kill him,” Dais told Yami, and his General darted out from the hall and neatly sliced the man’s head off with a strike from his shadow sword.

The body began to fall to the ground, but evaporated in a plume of smoke before it hit, as always happened to a fallen Crusader.  From what Dais could tell, they didn’t really die, but were instead taken back to whatever realm they originated from.

It will take him a while to recover, Dais thought and slid back into the hallway, Yami back at his side.

“Well done, General,” Dais said.

“It was my honor,” Yami responded.  “I believe that will draw attention, though.”

“The other Knights will likely be able to tell that he ‘died’,” Dais agreed.  “But I don’t think the Knight of Spirit will make a move until all other options are exhausted.  You will have your match with the Knight of Dark.”

Yami’s eyes glowed brighter in pleasure.

“Go,” Dais said.  “I will be watching and you will likely find the Knight of Dark before I do.”

“Yes, my lord,” Yami said before slipping into the shadows that lined the corridor.

Dais returned to his perch on the top of the main building, and watched the new battle pulse beneath him, elemental energies writhing and clashing.

Multiple geysers sprung up out of the canal, which told Dais that Sekhmet’s berserkers had lost.

Although I can’t imagine that they didn’t do substantial damage, he thought as he made his way over to where the Knight of Water was directing the geysers, ripping open the hallways near him.  From his jerky, frantic movements and the blood that seeped between chinks in his armor and covered his face and tabard, Dais felt confident in assuming that the poison in Sekhemt’s berserkers’ weapons and blood was taking its toll.

Dais coiled himself and them bounded forward when there was a space between two geysers.  He and the Knight went flying into a wall, and Dais made sure to angle them just right that the Knight was impaled on a piece of broken wood that had resulted from the Knight’s reckless destruction.

The man coughed in pain, and Dais pushed him further onto the wood until the man stilled and vanished in a plume of acrid smoke.

Dais heard a high-pitched whistle behind him, and managed to dodge a volley of arrows, darting into the area of the hallway that was still intact.

“You can’t hide from me!” the Knight of Air yelled.

Dais smirked faintly and slid underneath a hidden panel in the floor.  He heard the Knight running down the hallway, and just as she passed over him, Dais surged out from the floor and threw her up to the ceiling.  She cried out in surprise, but her control of air put a cushion between her and the wood.  Dais unhooked his scythes and raked them across the ceiling, but she pushed herself out of the way and down the hall at the last moment.  She fired a volley of arrows at him, but Dais knocked them casually aside before flinging his scythes out.  The sticky webbing shot out and wrapped around her limbs, holding her in place.  

She thrashed against the bonds and Dais appeared before her, grabbing her by the face and making her make eye contact with him.  

It was a different comprehensive illusion, and Dais had only one more of such illusions left in his armor before he would be forced to use only cantrips.  He released her face and her expression changed to one of puzzlement.  

“David?  I thought I saw—”

Dais shook his head and pointed down a corridor, towards the sounds of where Sekhmet was battling the Knight of Fire.  “That way.  Come on.”

 She nodded and took off.

Dais watched her go, impressed by her speed, before following at a more sedate pace.  He knew it was ill advised to gloat, but he just had to in this situation.  It would be too satisfying.

When he reached the scene of the battle, he chuckled darkly.

It was clear that the Knight of Fire hadn’t counted on one of her comrades turning against her.  Sekhemet caught sight of him, and gave him a wide, fanged grin and a jaunty salute before darting in to engage the Knight of Fire again.

Although, I do wonder…why did the Knight of Air manage to break away from Lady Kayura?  Did the Knight of Wood prove more difficult than she anticipated?  Or, perhaps the Knight of Spirit has already made his move.

The earth heaved and trembled beneath Dais as he trotted away, and it wasn’t long until he came to where Mayuri and the Knight of Earth had clearly fought to a stalemate.  Both were wounded, but Mayuri had the strength of the never-living keeping her going.  She would not tire.  The very human Knight would.

Dais released his scythes and lashed out with them, the blades impacting the area around the Knight.

The Knight jumped in surprise as the sticky tendrils shot up and wrapped tight around his throat, bound one of his arms to his leg, and yanked the other so it was hyperextended.  

Mayuri took the opening and lopped off one of his arms with her sword before slicing deep into his neck and chest with her off-hand short sword.

Mayuri was breathing hard, and bowed deeply to Dais.

“Leave,” Dais commanded.  

“What?  But, sire—”

“Take your best soldiers, whatever is left of your contingent, and leave the Capital.  If all goes well, you can clean up what is left of the Army and Crusaders.  If all goes poorly, you will be able to start stirring up dissent and rebellion.”

Mayuri took a breath as if to protest, then her shoulders dropped and she simply bowed again, sheathing her swords.  “Good luck, my lord.  I—”

“You did well, General.  Congratulations,” Dais said before turning away.  The daylight was becoming almost unbearably bright, so much that it hurt his eye.

Well, it looks like Light and Dark are finally being put into play.  Leave no place to hide in the shadows, hm?

Before Dais could re-enter the hallway, Sekhmet and the Knights of Fire landed not too far from him.  The Knight of Fire was clearly hurting, his poison wrecking havoc on her body.

Dais finished the kill, his flail wrapping around her neck and yanking back so her neck snapped.

Sekhmet gave him a feral grin.  “Haven’t seen Metal around.”

“It seems that decapitation is harder to recover from,” Dais said smoothly.  

“Damn, it’s bright out,” Sekhmet murmured before both he and Dais had to dodge pillars of sunlight that slammed into the ground where they had once stood.

“Yami,” Dais murmured.  Immediately he was swathed in shadows, and pulled into the cooler confines of a nearby hallway.  

Sekhmet’s maniacal laugh rang out through the courtyard and Dais heard the clash of metal on metal.

The shadowed halls were growing darker, and Yami’s touch on his arm brought the light levels back to normal.  Dais mind skittered along the traps and alarms he had set in the Castle and he found the Knight of Dark walking not too far from them.  

I have one more illusion left, Dais thought.  It will be worth it to use it on him.

Dais melted into the wall, Yami vanishing into a crack in the floorboards.  

The Knight of Dark approached, his steps cautious and soft.  The nightingale floors gave away his position anyway, and Dais heard him curse softly.  Once the Knight was parallel to him, Dais pushed away from the wall, bodyslammed the Knight, and knocked the air out of him.  Before the Knight could pull his weapon, Dais forced him to lock eyes.  After a brief internal struggle, Dais captured the Knight’s mind, and the man froze in place.  

Dais tore out the Knight’s throat with his hand and snapped the Knight’s neck for good measure.   

Outside, the battle had died down, which meant Sekhmet was either dead or captured.  

Dais slunk along the interior, Yami matching his steps as his shadow.  The castle interior was mostly intact, so he made his way quickly to a vantage point on the roof.

There was no more destruction than when they had battled the Ronin, which was gratifying.  His footsoldiers were driving the remaining human and Crusader grunts away, and he could only feel on Knight on the edge of his web.  However, Kayura was approaching him quickly, which made him wary.  

Perhaps I have finally forced the Knight of Spirit out of hiding, Dais thought.  And perhaps he went after Kayura first.

“Be prepared,” Dais told Yami and braced himself.

Kayura finally came into his vision, and the kanji for loyalty burned bright gold on her forehead.  

Well, shit.

Dais barely dodged the light of Kayura’s Star Scream swords, the light obliterating some of the castle behind him.  He jumped from roof to roof, forcing Kayura to keep moving.  However, as she wasn’t using the kusarigama that came with the Ogre armor, nothing was available to slow him down.

She was, however, faster than him, and closed the distance between them quickly.  Dais deflected her swords with his spinning scythes, and the torment and fury in Kayura’s expression was slightly gratifying.  Although she was being made to attack him, she wasn’t taking any pleasure from it.  That at least meant that she was mostly in control of her thoughts and actions, and that she was angrier with Talpa than anything else.

Dais had danced with the Lady enough times to know her skills and how to best avoid them, so he wasn’t doing half bad, considering Kayura herself was also being deliberately sloppy.  She was doing more damage to the castle itself than to Dais.  It would force the Army to divert resources to fixing the castle, since Talpa wouldn’t allow his Capital to be a smoldering ruin.

Sekhmet abruptly joined the battle, and not on Dais’ side.  He swung his snake fang swords towards Dais, but was slow enough that Dais could step aside.  The venom that coated the weapons was flung onto Kayura’s armor instead of his, and Kayura hissed in annoyance.

A brief touch against Sekhmet’s mind said that there was no way Dais was going to break the hold the Knight of Spirit had on him, which, while unfortunate, wasn’t entirely unexpected.  Kayura and Sekhmet deliberately got in each other’s way until they were more fighting each other than Dais.

Dais could feel the new Knight along with familiar ones approaching from the outside, and Dais sighed.  He knew they would recover quickly, but had hoped that it would take at least a day .  However, he had no more tricks except basic illusions, and he wasn’t liking his odds.

I can’t fall to them too easily, he thought as Kayura and Sekhmet took each other out of the battle.  

A high-pitched whistle heralded the arrival of the Knight of Air, and Dais knocked the arrows away from him.  He was forced to dodge grasping wooden hands, dancing lightly along the rooftops and on top of the semi-sentient wood.  The two warrior came into view in front of him, and Dais was forced to dodge an attack from behind, fire scorching the area next to him.  He heard Wood yell and Fire to watch where she was shooting, but Dais was more concerned with how Air’s arrows were suddenly imbued with searing light.  Earth came charging along the roof, two-handed sword at the ready, and with a battle cry lunged at Dais.  Dais ducked beneath the attack and swiped the man’s legs out from beneath him with his scythes.  Dais rolled down the roof, but had dragged his scythes behind him, so they left a trap of webbing where they had traveled.  Strands also sprang out to wrap around the arms and legs of Earth and Fire, who had closed in on him. 

Dais dropped into a nearby courtyard and was hit with a geyser of water to his chest.  He was flung into a wall, but moved with the momentum deeper into the Castle.  He shook his head to clear it of water and disorientation, and had to dodge a halberd attack from Water.

Dais was not enjoying playing cat and mouse with the Knights, but had little other choice.  

He dropped into a secret passageway and, with Yami’s help, melted into the dark corners, appearing only briefly as he sprinted along the earthen tunnels.  He didn’t stay under for long, and ran up two flights of stairs and out onto a rooftop overlooking the marshalling yard.  

The Knight of Darkness was waiting for him.

Dais deflected his first attacks, and taunted his out onto a nearby rooftop, where there were no real shadowed places except underneath them both, and, as Yami was his shadow, Dais’ shadow could not be used against him.

Light and Air arrived along with Fire, and Dais found himself flanked on all sides.  He still wasn’t ready to give up.

He knew how to play the others against each other too well, knew when to disappear and how to position himself that they risked hitting each other with their attacks.

He didn’t come away unscathed, but had battled them to a stalemate when the Knight of Spirit arrived.  Dais felt him skittering along the edges of his mind, and Dais smirked as he felt new strength infuse his body.  

Stubbornness was a much maligned quality, but it would serve him well.  He dredged up resources he hadn’t known he had, and managed to knock Air unconscious and seriously injure Light when the Knight of Spirit said, “Enough!”

The other Knights backed away and stood down, leaving Dais exposed and alone.  All the Knights had congregated in a loose semi-circle around Dais, and Dais knew that the battle was over.  There was no way he could win against such odds.

Dais had lost, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was defeated.  Afterall, Yami still lurked in his shadow.  

The Knight of Spirit was talking, but Dais wasn’t listening.  They had blocked every exit except the canal behind him, which they assumed he wouldn’t use because of the Knight of Water.  However, it would give him enough cover to use a portal—for some reason, the water in the Dynasty canals didn’t listen as it should to the Knight of Water’s commands.  Perhaps it had something to do with the different realms.  Perhaps it was as much a part of the Dynasty as any of the warriors. 

Dais looked at each Knight’s face, committing them to memory.  One day, he would return, and when he did, he would make them regret ever stepping foot into the Dynasty.

The smallest gesture communicated his and Yami’s previously agreed-upon plan, and Yami formed out of the shadow that stretched in front of Dais.  The cries of surprise—and hatred—that came from the other Knights were inconsequential, as Yami drew his shadow sword and slashed, then stabbed Dais.

Yami was an exceptional warrior with an uncanny amount of control over his abilities.  While the injury hurt and likely looked bad, it was far from fatal.  Dais would recover, given time, and if he really needed to, it wouldn’t slow him down too much in a fight.

However, the wound was only one part of the charade.

Dais staggered back towards the edge of the roof while Yami withdrew his sword, his General yanking the blade free with a carefully placed kick to Dais’ chest.  Dais made it seem like the injury and attack pulled the armor off of him, and he projeceted the armor on Yami himself.  

It was very strange to see his armor on someone else’s body.

Dais took two more steps back before his foot hit air.

It was a long fall, and it would hurt to land in the water, but Dais knew he’d survive—he had, after all, fallen from greater heights and lived to tell the tale.

It was odd, though, seeing the Dynasty, the castle, his home, upside down.  His blood soaked the cloth of the T-shirt he wore beneath the yukata, but no one had eyes sharp enough or was near enough to tell that he had modern human clothes on underneath the more traditional garments.  

When will I see the Dynasty again? He wondered as the wind whistled in his ears.  Will they lock me out?  How long will it take me to recover without the armor?  Do I really have any better of a chance in the human world than I would have sticking it out here?

The last question had an obvious answer—of course.  Humans were easily manipulated and there were billions of them.  It would take time and resources to find Dais, which the Army did not have in excess.

He hit the water, and the shock of cold and wet on his body would have made a less disciplined man gasp in surprise.

Dais turned in the water and put his hand out in front of him.  

Let’s just hope I don’t end up dropping into the middle of traffic, he thought fleetingly before opening a portal to the human world.

He fell through is a rush of light and liquid and landed on a person, knocking them to the ground as he slid through the breach in realms.  The portal sealed on its own.

There were gasps of shock and a few screams, which Dais figured stemmed from the fact that he was bleeding and fairly beaten up by being forced to have head on encounters with multiple Knights.  Appearing from midair probably hadn’t helped any.

He was glad that he had landed on another person instead of asphalt, since it meant that another body had taken some of the force of his fall.

People were speaking quickly around him in modern Japanese, and while he could comprehend bits and pieces of it, he was pretty sure he had a mild concussion that was making focusing and thinking difficult.

He sat back, his head going to his hands as the world spun, before a cry of anger and surprise came from the person who he had landed on.

The voice was exceedingly familiar.

Dais let his hands fall and opened his eye to see the person cushioning him, and couldn’t help but laugh.

It wasn’t his usual smug, superior laugh. It was closer to a panicked disbelief.  

Of course.  Every time I come to the human world, I run into him.  Why would this time be any different?

Laughing aggravated his wounds and ribs, however, and his laughter dissolved into coughing, which only made things hurt even more until he was shivering in inarticulate pain, eye screwed shut against the agony.

Dais heard Torrent speak, and he felt the man’s slighter hands rest on his shoulders from behind.  Dais wanted to shrug off the Ronin’s concern, but the inky blackness of unconsciousness was nibbling at his awareness, and he had to focus all his energy on pushing that back.

They probably can understand me—I will sound old fashioned and a little strange, but modern Japanese came from my time’s Japanese.  Torrent may have studied it.

“Stop complaining, I’m not that heavy,” he snapped at a squirming Hardrock as he opened his good eye again.  He slowly tilted forward until he was no longer sitting on the Ronin, balanced on the balls of his feet, and he reached blindly for a support.

He was surprised when another hand took his and he looked up, half expecting to need to turn the grip into a throw.

But, no.  It was just Torrent and, for the moment at least, the Ronin was the least of his concerns.

He was surprised by the young man’s strength, but managed to get his feet solidly planted under him.  He was oddly aware of when Hardrock stood, the Ronin’s fingers absently, thoughtlessly, brushing against his (Dais’) side.

Dais was leaning more on Torrent’s strength than he would have liked, but exhaustion and a keen sense of lack had pounced on him, stealing his strength.

The last time I was without my armor was 400 years ago.

It felt as real a wound as anything inflicted on his body.  It was a gaping absence, and while his natural illusory powers remained, they were feeble compared to what the Armor of Illusion had bolstered them to.  He felt naked.  Exposed.

It was distasteful.

“We need to move,” Torrent told him.  His archaic Japanese, while not flawless, was certainly better than anything Dais had expected.

“Yes,” Dais agreed.

Hardrock was clearly beginning to complain when the sky darkened and a Gate sprung up nearby.

Torrent looked between Dais and the Gate, clearly torn.  The accusatory tone in Hardorck’s voice said that he rightly blamed Dais for their appearance.

Dead men don’t sink.   I hope Yami survived.

Dais let go of Torrent’s hand and took a few steps backwards until he was standing on his own.

“Go,” Dais said.  “I will not die.”

Torrent grimaced, but Hardrock calling his (Torrent’s) name made him (Torrent) turn and call on the new, fancy armor.

Dais hadn’t expected the white hot jealousy that surged through him, but he tamed the emotion quickly.  He would never be able to effectively wear the armor of Torrent, and the Armor of Illusion was superior anyway, so there was no need for jealousy.

The Gate opened, divulging Dynasty and Army soldiers along with a few Crusaders.

Only the Army soldiers and the Crusaders attacked, however, the Dynasty contingent holding back, weapons either not drawn or held nonthreateningly.  They were disheartened and unmotivated. Unless directly overseen by Talpa or a Knight, Dais doubted that they would do much besides take up space.

The Ronin easily cut through the Army grunts, although they had a slightly harder time with the Crusaders.

It is because they are clearly human and they bleed.  All the attacks against the Crusaders are non-lethal.

Dais watched, and pressed his hand against his wound.  His hand came in contact with tacky, damp fabric, but the cloth was already stiffening, which meant that he had at least stopped bleeding.  He was less dizzy and nauseous, and his headache had lessened slightly, which was good.  Strains and sprains and fractures would heal in time, he just needed food and rest.

When was the last time I really got either of those? He mused as he watched the Ronin fight.  He caught a quick shimmer of copper, and stepped to the side and caught the strike from clawed hands before it could hit him, and while it hurt to torque his body, he pivoted and threw his opponent to the ground before twisting their arm behind them and placing one foot at the base of their spine.

“Running is cowardly,” Tano spat.

“It is a tactical retreat,” Dais replied smoothly.  “I refuse to work for them, and I am far too attached to my life to die needlessly.  I will find a way to recruit the Ronin—hopefully the Crusaders will make my job easier—and then I will wrest the Netherworld back from them.  I imagine that rumors of my survival will only piss them off further and make them sloppy.”

Tano sighed heavily, then laughed.

Dais let go of her wrist and stepped back so she could roll into kneeling before him.  

“You will have to be careful in your sedition, but I know you are skilled.  Work with Yami or Mayuri.  Yami will eat away at them from the inside while Mayuri will be nibbling the edges of their control.”

“So he wounded you under your orders?”  Tano sounded impressed.

“He still lives?”

“For now.”

“Good.  Go.  I will return, do not doubt that.”

Tano stood, bowed, then left him, following the sullen Dynasty forces back through the Gate.

Dais couldn’t quite help the smile that formed on his face.

Talpa may have won the battle, but I will win the war.

Chapter Text

For some unfathomable reason, the Ronin brought him to Hardrock’s home and seemed prepared to allow Dais to stay with them while he recovered from his near-death experience.  Although it was most likely a temporary arrangement, it still made Dais both suspicious and relieved.

Suspicious that someone could trust another person so easily, particularly when clearly an enemy of theirs.

Relieved that they had not recognized him for who he was.  

Then again, he always had been the most secretive of the warlords, and doubted that the one glimpse they may have had of his face when they had been enemies made much of an impression.  His armor had also modulated his voice, which further aided his disguise.

Dais had spent the time traveling with them listening intently while feigning disorientation. It was harder to accomplish without his armor, but he slowly picked up on the inflections and differences that made it difficult for him to fully parse modern Japanese.  He likely wouldn’t be able to speak it, but he at least understood most of what they were saying.  That mismatch of skills would most likely prove useful, anyway.

Hardrock’s abode was a bit cramped, but Dais had grown up in and around palaces, so he imagined that most places in modern Japan would feel cramped to him.  There were more windows than he would have liked, but it seemed to have all the modern amenities.  He was intrigued by the television and would examine it later.  At the moment, he wanted to get his dried blood off of him.

“I’m not bleeding anymore, but I would like to wash it off,” Dais said to Torrent.  “Do I have to go to the bathhouse I saw down the street?”  He didn’t want to, but he’d do it if necessary.

“No, there is one in-unit.  The bathroom is down the hall to the left.  There should be a clean towel there that you can use,” Torrent told him in halting archaic Japanese.  “I can explain what all the dials do if you—”

“I will figure it out, don’t worry,” Dais replied as he let go of Torrent’s arm.  He wasn’t nearly weak or woozy enough to need the support, but acting like he did had earned him sympathy and made him appear less threatening.  

Dais found his way to the aforementioned room and stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him.  He looked around the small room, and dredged up what he remembered from the idle readings he had been forced to give up once everything in his life had exploded.  He left his blood-soaked clothes on the floor, although compulsively folded them.  The yukata at least was still serviceable—the modern clothes he had worn beneath it were less so.

After figuring out the shower and washing away the exhaustion, blood, and grime, soaking in the bath felt heavenly.

How long has it been since I could relax? Dais wondered as he brushed aside a strand of wet hair.  How long has it been since I didn’t have to worry about not having my armor on?

The reminder of the absence of his armor sent a pang of anger through him.  It felt like he had lost a limb, maybe something even more fundamental.  The fact that a mere thought couldn’t bring it to him, that he wouldn’t have the power and strength it brought, was physically painful.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  

I’m not completely helpless, he reminded himself.  I still have some illusory abilities.  I’ll just have to return to the level of prowess I had prior to taking up Talpa’s offer.  I can’t afford to be lazy or careless.

“Hello?  Are you okay?” Torrent asked through door after a polite knock.

Dais saw no harm in telling the truth for once.

“I have been fighting all my life,” he drawled.  “Let me enjoy not having to worry about someone trying to kill me.”  

That earned him an awkward pause.  

“I’m leaving some clothes outside the door for you,” Torrent said.  “They should fit well enough.”

Shortly after, Dais heard footsteps retreating.

Dais smirked and rolled his shoulders.  Still, if Torrent had come looking for him, that likely meant he had been soaking for too long.  

Out of a desire for cleanliness and a place to stay for longer than one night, Dais cleaned everything up and in accordance with what he remembered from the books and magazines and general politeness.  Outside the bathroom door was a pile of modern clothing.  Dais recognized a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which made sense—the loose clothing could fit a range of sizes.  The lack of underwear made him smirk, although he didn’t mind, as the reason was understandable.  He wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing Hardrock’s underwear.  

Hopefully the gold I brought with me will help cover any purchases I need to make, Dais thought.  Although I do have to wonder why they would help me in the first place.  

The Ronin’s voices drifted to him from the kitchen area, hushed enough that Dais couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying.

Now that I’ve survived, what is my next step?  Courting the Ronin?  And just how exactly am I going to accomplish that?  They may not recognize me as the Dark Warlord of Illusion, but there is no chance they don’t know me as a Dynasty soldier.  Well, might as well play to expectations.  In this case, perhaps being honest isn’t a bad thing.  My tale might stir some sympathy in them.

Dais fished his sunglasses out of the small bag he had hidden on his person prior to the fight and slipped them on.  The tint and dimming of the world was frustrating, but eye patches in the modern era made one noticeable and, for a while, he would have to avoid that. He placed his small bag in one of the sweatpants’ pockets—no need to leave his belongings lying around—and threw his old clothes in the garbage.  Even the yukata wasn’t worth salvaging upon second look.

Now fully dressed, Dais made his way to the kitchen where the Ronin were waiting.

Torrent and Hardrock were clearly at a stalemate, both men looking frustrated as they glared at each other.  

After a moment of debating being polite, Dais said: “Do you have anything to eat?  It’s been some time since I had something.”

His voice startled them out of their sullen glaring match.

“Pardon?” Torrent asked.

Hardrock’s face flushed red, his expression dark.

“It is him,” he growled to Torrent.  “The weirdo I’ve been seeing for basically the past year .”

“Hush,” Torrent scolded before turning his attention back to Dais.  “What did you do to make the Dynasty hunt you into the Human World?”

Dais shrugged.  “It was not the Dynasty hunting me, but the Crusaders.”

“Crusaders?” Torrent parroted back.

“The ones who bled,” Dais said as he wandered over to the kitchen.  “They are the Crusaders.”

“He better not break anything,” Hardrock grumbled, and Dais barley contained a smirk.

“And the Crusaders wanted you dead?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t past tense quite yet,” Dais said as he opened cupboards looking for glasses.

“Tell him to stop looking through my stuff!” Hardrock hissed.

“What’s the worst he can do?  All your dishes and glasses are plastic ,” Torrent said.  “And I doubt he’s much of a threat.  He’s unarmed and even if he does try something, look at how frail he is—you can probably take him down without resorting to your armor.”

Dais’ jaw clenched as he found a glass for himself, and turned the plasticware in his hand.  

“You think they’ll keep on going after you?” Torrent asked in his halting archaic Japanese.

“No,” Dais said and turned on the faucet, and watched the water run for a moment before filling the glass.  “They will not be actively searching for me anymore, but that does not mean I’m not on their Most Wanted list.”  Dais turned to face the Ronin.  “Why did you help me?  Why bring me here?  I am a Dynasty warrior.  Your enemy.”

Torrent hesitated.  “You were hurt.”

“Then why not kill me?”

Torrent stared, so Hardrock nudged him.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Hardrock asked, flashing Dais a dirty look.

“He asked why we didn’t kill him,” Torrent responded.

“Uh, because we’re not evil ?” Hardrock drawled.  “Although I still think we should’ve left him alone.  Anyone who has people chasing him out of the Netherworld and into the Human World is dangerous.”

Dais took a sip of water to keep himself from smirking.  

The phone ringing made Dais startle, but walking about Tokyo had at least inured him to that particular sound.

“I’ll get it,” Hardrock grumbled and pushed away from the kitchen table.  

“If you know we are the Ronin Warriors, then you know that we won’t randomly kill someone,” Torrent said.

“You killed more than enough Dynasty soldiers when you assaulted the Keep,” Dais pointed out.  “Or do they not count, as they are embodied spirits and not flesh and blood?”

Torrent shifted in his seat.  “It has been a number of years since our last visit to the Netherworld.  We have…changed.”

Dais tilted his head slightly.  “That still does not explain why you would help an enemy to the point of bringing him someplace safe to recover.”

“You were bleeding .”

“All the less effort to kill, then.”

Torrent rubbed his temples and muttered in modern Japanese, “Dynasty warrior.  Right.”

Exhaustion promptly pounced on Dais, and he had to lean heavily against the counter behind him.  His vision had gone grey, and the glass had nearly slipped from his grip.

Right.  Clean, with at least something in my stomach.  Given how much Torrent is fighting against my argument, then maybe…

“Do you have somewhere I can rest?” Dais asked, his voice betraying his state.  “Anything will do.”

Torrent seemed surprised and said, “The couch is available—”

Torrent mentioning the furniture was enough permission, so Dais set the glass down on the counter, walked over to the couch, and after a moment of discomfort and internal grumbling about Western furniture, was dragged down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

--

Dais did not expect to see White Blaze inches from his face upon waking up.  The two of them stared at each other, unmoving.  Dais wasn’t sure he could move faster than the tiger without his armor, and the beast’s teeth would tear straight through fabric and muscle if Dais couldn’t.  He eventually decided that it wasn’t worth the risk.

Well, if the tiger is here, that means Wildfire is present, Dais thought as they continued to stare at each other.  I wonder how many of them are here and why.  Perhaps to question me?  How can they insure I don’t lie to them?

“Shoo,” he eventually told the tiger.

White Blaze’s growl seemed somehow amused and he walked away.

Dais stretched on the couch and winced as his joints popped and muscles twinged.  

“Guess he’s finally awake, huh?” Dais heard Wildfire say, as White Blaze had joined his master.  “I’m amazed he slept through everyone arriving.”

“He mentioned that he had been fighting all his life and this was the first time he didn’t have to be constantly alert for people trying to kill him,” Torrent commented.  “I suppose that means that he doesn’t consider us a threat.”

“You did basically save his life,” Strata said.  “Although even I don’t sleep that deeply.  Do I?”

“You do,” Halo said, his voice wry. 

Dais had gone from groggy to completely awake upon finding out that every Ronin was in the apartment.  Even if Torrent or Hardrock didn’t recognize him, there was a chance Halo or Strata could, and wouldn’t that ruin everything?

Then again, they likely wouldn’t be this relaxed if they did recognize me, he thought as he sat up.  He looked around, and found his sunglasses wedged into the cushion of the couch.  They were, thankfully, unharmed, and he slid them on.  He pushed himself standing and turned to face the Ronin.

All of them had aged nicely.  No longer were they boys, but young men.  There was strength in their bodies, and they seemed less inclined to attack first and ask questions later.

Let us hope they matured emotionally as well as physically, Dais thought, but didn’t move towards them. He liked having the couch between them.  The last fight he had had with the odds stacked against him had landed him in this very situation, and he had no fall back plans.

The silence stretched until a woman—Mia, he believed her name was—came into the kitchen area.  Dais felt a twinge of annoyance at her appearance, as he hadn’t forgotten how often she had ruined their plans.  

But, now…she may prove useful .

“You can understand me, can you not?” Dais asked, looking at her directly.  “Torrent does an admirable job, but his skill has its limits.”

Mia coughed in an attempt to smother a laugh, then said, “I understand you, yes.”

“Good.  I was getting tired of simplifying my sentences.  I felt like I was talking to a five year old.”

Mia actually did laugh then, and Dais caught Torrent giving him a nasty look.  Halo seemed amused, which meant that he probably had a little skill as well.

That, oddly enough, broke some of the tension in the room.  

 “So, you recognize them as the Ronin Warriors?” Mia asked, taking a seat at the table, although her gaze never left Dais.  From her expression, Dais had a feeling that she would, once again, be the most dangerous among the Ronin Warriors.  She and the young boy had seen his face longer when he confronted Anubis over his defection.

“Everyone in the Netherworld knows who they are,” Dais said.  “It would be more surprising if I didn’t know who they were.”

“And we know nothing about you,” Mia said.  “I didn’t know that the Dynasty employed human warriors outside of the Dark Warlords.”

“Who require lieutenants of their own,” Dais said.  “As Netherworld soldiers are not the most creative thinkers, where do you think they would turn for competent help?”

“Then why weren’t you at the Capital when the Ronin went to stop Talpa?”

“The Netherworld is a very large place,” Dais said.  “And the Ronin were merely five human children .  Why would my help be required?  There were other matters to contend with.”

“And yet you recognize them.”

“Torrent, Halo, and Hardrock were at the tender mercies of the Dynasty’s hospitality for quite some time.  It is not a stretch to identify the other two here as Wildfire and Strata.”

Mia nodded, seemingly convinced.  “And what should we call you?”
“Rajura,” Dais immediately answered.  It was a name he was used to responding to, and the role he was describing was the role he played when masquerading as Rajura.

“If you’re just a lieutenant of the Warlords, why bother chasing you into the Human world?” Torrent asked.  “And why weren’t you wearing your arms and armor?”

“I will answer that question when you tell me why you played dumb when I mentioned the Crusaders,” Dais riposted.  “I was informed that you had been told about them.”

Torrent’s face flushed slightly.

“When can you guys start speaking normally ?” Hardrock complained.  “I hate not knowing what’s goin’ on.”

“Cye’s question is valid, however.  Why chase a lieutenant into the Human World, especially one that is unarmed?” Mia said, ignoring Hardrock.

“What makes you think I wasn’t merely exiled and that it was a rogue contingent that decided I should die instead?”

“From the battle that Cye and Kento described, it seems like you are more an escapee than an exile,” Halo murmured.

Dais shrugged, declining to answer.

“Whatever the case, we are now at an important juncture,” Mia said, looking to Dais.  “You seem to know about the Crusaders, while I haven’t been able to turn up anything.”

“What is your point?”

“The Crusaders are causing trouble not just in Japan, but worldwide,” Mia said.  “Scholars are baffled by their appearance.  They seem almost as if brought to life from a fairytale.  No one knows who they are or how to effectively defeat them.”

“And?”

Mia was clearly growing annoyed.  “Any information you provide can help us in driving them away and saving the Human world.”

Dais crossed his arms over his chest.  “What profit is in it for me to tell you what I know?”

There was a long silence after his statement.  

An idea hit Dais, and his lips pulled into a small smirk.  “How about this—I will make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?” Mia asked, wary.

“I will tell you what I know.  I will help you defeat the Crusaders and their leaders here in the Human world.  Once that has been accomplished, the Ronin will come with me and drive the Crusaders out of the Netherworld and back to the realm from which they came.”

Mia’s eyebrows snapped up.  “They’re not native to the Netherworld?”

“It’s a fair trade.  I help you rid this world of the Crusaders, and you will help me dispose of them in the Netherworld.”

“How do we know we can trust you to give us accurate information?”

“Why wouldn’t I?  We have the same goal, and the longer I stall you from disposing of them here, the more time they have to wreck havoc unchecked.”

“Okay, just what the hell are they talking about?” Hardrock snapped.  

“Rajura says he knows about the Crusaders,” Halo said in modern Japanese.  “And is willing to help us defeat them.”

“But?” Strata said.

“But we have to help him get rid of them in the Netherworld once they are gone from the Human world,” Halo responded.

“What?  Hell no!  The Netherworld ain’t our problem,” Hardrock said.   

That started an argument among the Ronin and Mia, so Dais went to the bathroom, got himself a glass of water, and sat back down on a cushioned chair that was angled so he could watch the Ronin interact.

They were talking over, around, and beneath each other quickly and casually, but after a moment of disorientation, Dais gained a better hold on the conversation and the language it was being spoken in.  

By the time the group had come to a conclusion, Dais had a solid grasp on modern Japanese.  It hadn’t been that difficult, it just hadn’t been truly necessary previously, so he had let that aspect of learning how to interact with the modern world slide.  

He would still force them to speak in archaic Japanese just for his amusement and to keep up the charade that he couldn’t speak or understand modern Japanese.  They’d be less close-lipped around him that way.

“Fine,” Mia said to him.  “We’ll help you if you help us.”

“I’m glad you made the correct decision,” Dais said with a small smirk, but remained where he was sitting.  “Why don’t I start with the Knights?  They are the most dangerous fighters amongst the Crusaders.”

“Knights?”

“Surely you have come across them in your battles.  There are nine of them,” Dais said.  “Highly stylized armor, each able to tap into an elemental energy.  Well, eight of the nine.  The ninth requires a little more…explanation.”

The Halo and Torrent looked at each other.  “We have seen only one person like that,” Halo commented.

“Most likely because the Dynasty was a slightly tougher fight than was expected.  Humans were mere chattel, a resource.  Obtaining them wasn’t worth their attention, I suspect.  Don’t tell me that you have been having trouble with the footsoldiers?”

“They’re human ,” Torrent murmured, as if that explained everything.  As he was a Ronin, it did.  They were meant to protect humanity.  As the Crusaders appeared human, there was likely some discomfort in hurting them.  He doubted the Ronin had ever killed one.

“They vanish once they’ve ‘died,’” Dais said.  “They are returned to the world they came from, traumatized but unharmed.”

Torrent’s head whipped to Dais.  “ What ?”

“Very well, I’ll tell you about that first, then.”

“Can you come over here?” Mia asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Halo asked.

“I am unarmed and unable to arm myself,” Dais said.  “Each of you has access to a mystical armor.  Try to see it from my point of view.”

“Yelling across the room is inconvenient.”

“Then sit across from me.  There is a table between us that would hinder your progress and I am closer to the door.”

“Gee, paranoid much?” Hardrock said once Dais’ statement was translated for him, Strata, and Wildfire.

“I suppose it’s understandable,” Torrent said as they all stood.  “He is from the Dynasty.  One of the first things he asked me was why we didn’t kill him when he was injured.”

The Ronin, Mia, and White Blaze distributed themselves around the living room, which made Dais sit up straighter.  

“When Talpa attempted to merge the Netherworld and Human World, it also opened up access from other worlds and dimensions as well,” Dais began.  “The Crusaders are from one of these…alternate worlds.  They found their way in, and the leaders saw a chance.  So, they began their invasion.  It didn’t go terribly well until they found an ally in the Netherworld—Talpa.  Admittedly, he is calling himself Arago and walking around wearing Lord Anubis’ body, but it is Talpa nonetheless.”

“I don’t believe you,” Halo said.

“That’s a pretty wild claim,” Mia agreed.

Dais shrugged.  “I saw him myself, and further intelligence gathering confirmed what and who I saw.  I believe that Talpa is manipulating the Crusaders to first take over the Netherworld so he can reclaim power, and then again attempt to overtake the Human world.  As the Crusaders are much more human, there will be less severe retaliation.  It is far easier to justify killing an animated armor than a human.”

After an appropriately dramatic silence, Dais continued: “But while they appear human, they are, in some ways, not.  As the Netherworld spirits return to the Netherworld upon their ‘death’, so, too, do the Crusaders.  Unfortunately, unlike Netherspirits, the Crusaders are capable of learning, which makes them a more effective fighting force; however, they can be dispirited and traumatized, which conversely renders them much less useful.”

“Can’t believe he just said that,” Torrent muttered in modern Japanese.

“Said what?” Hardrock asked.

“That trauma can be used as a tactical tool.”

“Damn.”

“So, any Crusader that is ‘killed’ doesn’t truly die,” Dais said, ignoring Torrent.  “They are merely returned to their home realm.  Naturally, the humans from this world that they dragoon into their service do permanently die.  I assume you have learned to distinguish the two?”

From the looks the Torrent and Halo shared, Dais guessed that they hadn’t.  They had simply assumed that killing a Crusader would result in a dead body, so any and all wounds were non-lethal.  

How inefficient.

“Do you know why they began the invasion at all?” Mia asked.

“It is an outlet for aggression, a way to increase status and power, and a method ‘cleansing’ oneself.  It may also be used as a way to obtain more land for excess population.  Some are part of the invasion for personal gain, others do it out of religious zealotry.  They are ridding the Netherworld of a, ah, demonic taint by removing it from the Dynasty’s control.”

It had taken a combination of Sekhmet and Dais’ unique interrogation abilities to obtain that much detail.  The zealous were wont to let any information slip.

“How do you know so much?  This all seems like highly classified information,” Halo said.

“I am my lord’s right hand,” Dais said.  “I know almost everything he knows.”

“And who exactly was the Warlord you served?”

“Given the current state of affairs in the Dynasty, I am certain that the Crusaders know everything about you —surely you should also get to know everything about them ,” Dais said, not bothering to answer the question.

“Something happened to the Warlords?” Torrent asked.  He actually sounded concerned .  Dais would have to tell Sekhmet once everything was over—the man would pass out from laughing too hard.

“For the moment, the Dynasty has fallen,” Dais replied.

“Fallen?” Halo repeated.  “Even with Kayura?”

A lesser man would have bristled at the implication that Kayura was the only reason the Dynasty had a chance at defeating outside forces, but Dais had better self-control than that.  

“Even with the Lady,” Dais said.  

“Well, I mean, it’s not that surprising, right?” Hardrock said once things were explained to him.  “The Warlords are strong, sure, but not that strong.  If we could beat them as teenagers, why couldn’t they be beaten by an invasion from another world?  Weren’t we basically that?”

Dais’ fingers drummed against the inside of his elbow as he bit his tongue.  He couldn’t let on that he could understand them, and he couldn’t fight them as he was.  

He would remember Hardrock’s words, though, and when he retrieved his armor, the Ronin was going to learn just how strong Dais truly was.

“Still, that means that a buffer between the Crusaders and the Human world is gone,” Mia said.  “I want to know about these Knights Rajura spoke of.  If the Warlords aren’t distracting them anymore and Talpa is guiding them towards taking over the Human world, we’re likely going to come across them shortly.”

“Pft, we’ll be able to take care of them, no worries,” Hardrock said dismissively.  “If the Warlords were able to keep them on their toes, they’re probably pushovers.”

“I’d rather know as much as possible,” Halo said before turning his attention to Dais.  “You spoke of Knights.  Who are they?”

“They are men and women who are skilled at combat.  Their armors each carry an elemental affinity, whose power they can use in inventive ways.”

Dais provided the Ronin with a sketch of each armor’s abilities, but left out major personal details of each Knight.  After what Hardrock had said and how no one had debated how weak the Knights would be because of how ‘weak’ the Warlords were, he felt justified doing so.

There was a long, thoughtful silence from Mia and Halo, as Torrent gave Wildfire, Strata, and Hardrock a summary of what Dais had said.

Dais looked out through the back window of Hardrock’s apartment and frowned.  He had seen movement.  White Blaze apparently detected it, too, as he growled and trotted over to the sliding door.  

“What is it?” Wildfire asked and stood. 

With the Ronin temporarily distracted, Dais had a moment to check on whether or not he was capable of returning to the Netherworld.

Dais closed his eye and found that no matter how he attempted to make contact, the wall that separated the Human world and the Netherworld was completely solid—at least to him.  It felt like he was…caged.  Trapped.  If he needed to escape, the Netherworld was no longer an option.  He was stuck.

Dais opened his good eye and slouched back into the seat.  What kind of Warlord of the Dynasty was he if he couldn’t even get into the Netherworld?  It certainly threw a wrench in his plans.

At least I already know who all the pieces are, Dais thought as he looked at the Ronin.  Strata, Wildfire, Halo, Torrent, Hardrock.  As before the Warlords were my pawns, now are you.  I look forward to getting to know everything about you that you never wanted anyone to know.

“False alarm?” Dais called out.  

“Whatever was there, it’s gone now,” Mia told him.  

Dais returned to perfect posture.  “Can I count on the Ronin to not kill me?”

Halo and Torrent turned to look at him.  

“We didn’t kill you at your most vulnerable,” Torrent pointed out.

“I suppose the question is, then, can I count on you to trust me?  We will be forever looking over each other’s shoulders unless we establish some trust.  You can trust me to look out for my own interests—which, right now, involves helping you.  But, can I trust you ?” 

“What’s he sayin’?” Hardrock asked Torrent.

“He’s asking why he should trust us,” Halo responded.  “He basically said that we can count on him to be selfish, and that will keep him working with us, since our interests are his.  But, what reason does he have to trust us ?”

“Uh, because we’re decent human beings?” Hardrock responded, his voice dry.

“I don’t think that kind of thinking will fly for a Dynasty warrior,” Halo commented.

“Okay, look,” Hardrock said.  “I have the space that none of you do, ‘cept for Mia.  He’s got no place to live right now—he can live with me.  I mean, if that doesn’t show you trust someone, what does?”

No one was more surprised by that statement than Dais.

“What?!” Ryo said, slack-jawed.  “But—”

“Dude, even without my armor I’m stronger than the rest of you,” Hardrock said.  “And I got enough space that it’s entirely possible that we can get through all this crap without strangling each other.”

“But you can’t understand him,” Torrent said.

“And he can’t understand me,” Hardrock shrugged.  “I don’t actually see how that’s a problem .  He’s at least smart enough to figure out some aspects of modern technology, so I won’t have to make sure he doesn’t, like, electrocute himself or something.  Don’t worry, guys!  I got this.  And it’s also incentive to get things over with fast .”

The last sentence made the Ronin chuckle.

Dais tapped his fingers lightly as he thought.  He had never imagined he would end up cohabitating with a Ronin Warrior , let alone Hardrock.  

Should I really be that surprised, though? He wondered.  Something seems intent on throwing us together.  Perhaps it is worthwhile to see how this runs its course.

Mia explained to him what the Ronin had decided, and Dais agreed to it.

After all, what other option did he have?

Chapter Text

Dais was amused to discover that Hardrock hated mornings just as much as he did.  The young man was basically non-verbal until he had his first ‘coffee,’ and Dais was happy to stay out of his way, silently watching.  Hardrock was apparently wise enough to not comment on Dais’ bed-hair, which was particularly bad given that his ‘bed’ had been a sofa.  Either that, or he was pointedly ignoring Dais’ presence.  Either way, the morning went suspiciously well. 

Once Hardrock was gone for the day, Dais was left to his own devices.  The Ronin hadn’t explicitly forbidden him from going anywhere or doing anything, which meant that he had free reign to figure out how to use the electronics; of course, it also meant that he could dig deeper into the Ronin’s life than Hardrock probably wanted.  Still, if Dais left everything as he had found it, how would the young man know?

He didn’t want to use the phone, mostly out of suspicion that his activity would somehow be traceable.  That didn’t stop him from examining it, although he couldn’t quite understand the symbols.  

Probably some kind of foreign script, he thought as he returned it to the position he found it in.  I have a feeling I’m going to need to learn more about foreign societies and countries than I would like.

He poked around the refrigerator, and decided that Hardrock’s apartment either wasn’t large enough for high-end enough to have its own washing machine, dryer, or dishwashing machine.

Dais didn’t entirely care.  He was happy with the in-unit bathroom.  He’d just have to eventually explore the surrounding area for the washing machine and dryer…if he ever managed to get clothes of his own.

Dais tugged at the T-shirt hem and sighed.  

Although that will require traveling outside and converting my gold into modern money.  I’m sure I can…convince…either the Ronin, that woman, or both to assist me.

Dais rifled through the cabinets, examining the spices, herbs, and dry foods.  He recognized enough that he felt he would be able to make himself something,if necessary. A check of the refrigerator--he was pretty sure that was what it was called--showed more food, and of different variety than Dais was entirely familiar with. He put everything back how he found it, then turned his attention to the living area.

If he was going to be spending any amount of time anywhere, he needed to know how people could infiltrate it and how to prevent that from happening.  Thankfully, there weren't too many points of exit/entrance. He played with the locks and latches on the doors and windows, figured out how difficult or easy it was to open them, where they opened onto. 

I suppose the question now is how to secure them properly, Dais mused. Putting an alarm on them is pointless, since if they are already this close, there is no preparing. There are also too many people passing around to set it out further.

As Dais pondered how he could possibly work out something, he meandered into Hardrock's room.

It was cleaner than he expected.

Pictures of friends and family were the main decorations, although there were also trophies and certificates of skill and schooling. Leisurely perusing Hardrock's room gave him more insight than talking to him ever had. That he favored the color orange was slightly obnoxious, but the man himself was slightly obnoxious, so it was fitting. 

He walked out of Hardrock's room and went back to the living room. After some confusion and frustration, he figured out how to turn the tv and pressed buttons on the remote until he found a channel that reported the news. 

He listened to the domestic news, then fiddled until he found an international news station.  That was spoken in a language Dais had never heard before, and the writing on the screen was completely foreign, so he switched back to the national news.  The language was slightly more formal, so it was easier to understand, although it was modern enough to force his brain to work to translate. The news eventually began repeating itself, so he turned to the international news station again.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to understand that language itself, but pictures were at least vaguely universal.

The problem of how to secure the apartment still plagued Dais, and he wasn't able to relax until he had figured out how to prevent forced entry via the windows, although he wasn't sure how he would manage the doors when Hardrock was living with him. Illusions weren't an option, since he would likely be caught every time.

Unless he learns how to see through them. I don't like training an enemy to defeat my particular speciality, but I prefer being safe--and it isn't like once I have my armor back that he'll be able to escape those illusions. Very well. I suppose I will have to start helping him see past my minor illusions so that he'll be able to not get caught when another would be fooled. Well, no time like the present to start training him.

Dais opened the door enough to look at the front, then placed an illusion on it so it looked like the lock and door handle were on the opposite side.

That should not be too difficult, Dais decided. And if it is, well...I know that I have my work cut out for me.

Dais stood and looked around the apartment for a long moment before sighing. I suppose I can use the news to try to figure out where the strikes have been, just so I have at least a starting point when strategizing with the Ronin.

In his exploration of th3 small abode, Dais managed to dredge up a world map, although it was dusty and creased.  It was nonetheless serviceable, and he spread it out on the coffee table.  

Dais paid as close attention as he could to the Japanese news for knowledge of were Crusader strikes had been in Japan, and marked off all the points with a marker he had found. Once he was sure he had a passing understanding of the attacks, he turned to the international news station. Videos and pictures were of some help, but he wished he could understand what was being said as w el for context, and he didn't doubt that he was missing important information.   

Dais grimaced in frustration.  So little to go off of, he grumbled internally.  And if I want to go out into the world, I need a little more than borrowed clothing.  I can’t speak modern Japanese, however, and it is much harder to trick people with what little power I have now.  I have my gold, but the monetary systems are no longer the same—they’d have to be sold and converted into modern money.

He felt helpless, and he hated it.  

I’m at least literate in modern Japanese, he thought and found a pad of paper and a writing device.  It will take longer, but I may be able to communicate with Hardrock enough to stay in communication with that woman.  Damn, I should have asked for her—what’s the word?—phone number.  I would have been able to at least coordinate with her.  That may be the next step, anyway.  All the Ronin seem to trust her implicitly, and she is by far the most intelligent among them.  

Dais was pleased when Hardrock returned with Mia, although the turn of luck made him cautious.  Good luck in the present meant bad luck in the future. Hearing Hard rock struggle a little with Dais illusory lock was oddly gratifying, although he didn't seem to blame it on Dais.

“What the hell is that ?” Hardrock muttered as he caught sight of the map on the coffee table.

“What is the map for?” Mia asked Dais directly.  

“It is meant to assist in decoding the Crusaders’ movements in the Human world,” Dais said.  “Mia—that is your name, correct?—I need you to tell me everything you know.  I cannot help if the exchange of information is not mutual.”

Mia looked between Dais and the map, then said, “I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner.  You just know so much and we know so little, that I may have gotten carried away.”

Dais shrugged.  “We both know different things.  Tell me of the Crusaders’ movements here. Where have they struck?  How were they rebuffed, if at all?  How did various governments respond to them?  What forces were part of the offensive?  Their strikes cannot be random.”

Mia’s eyebrows had slowly crept upward, whether in surprise or some other emotion, Dais didn’t bother to interpret.  

“You’re asking for quite a lot, you know,” she told him.

“Without that information, what do you expect me to do?  If you truly want to defeat the Crusaders, knowing who they are is only the beginning.”

“You have a point,” Mia said after a moment.

“Of course I do,” Dais drawled.  “So, shall we coordinate?”

Mia stared at him for a long moment before nodding, the motion decisive.  “Fine.   As a compromise, you’ll have to learn how to speak modern Japanese.  It will be easier to communicate and coordinate that way.”

“Then give me resources to learn the language that this foreign news channel is using as well.”

Mia frowned and looked at the TV that was still playing in the background.  “English?  You want to learn English? ” she asked, incredulous.

“The more you know the less often you can be taken by surprise,” Dais said.  

That earned him a small, wry smile.  “I’ll see what I resources I can find for you.”

“Good.  Now, tell me.  Is my understanding of at least the Japanese strike points correct?”

Mia looked at the map, then gave him an accusatory look.  “You’re literate in modern Japanese.”

“Am I correct or not?”

She stared at Dais, who merely waited.  He’d had 400 years to learn patience.  A human woman would never be able to outlast him.

“I suppose the symbols haven’t changed that much and that it would be a puzzle to solve,” Mia eventually said, once the conversation lagged for too long.  “Yes, you’re correct.”

“Good.  Now, tell me what I need to know so we can send the Crusaders retreating.  Please.”

Mia smiled faintly at Dais’ attempt at civility and said, “Very well.”

Mia took a seat on the couch next to Dais.  “I work for the United Nations, so I know more than most.  I’d normally ask you to not tell anyone, but I don’t think you’d tell if you could.”

“I understand the need for secrecy and confidentiality,” Dais said.

“Where to start…” Mia murmured in modern Japanese.  “Well, might as well go in depth with the Japanese attacks.  This country has been the focal point of most of the attacks, after all.”

She looked expectantly at Dais, who waited.  He was too smart to be fooled that easily.

“Do you have any information to provide or not?  This ‘United Nations’ sounds important,” Dais said, his voice bland.

“I do,” Mia affirmed, this time in archaic Japanese.  “Japan has been the focal point of most of the attacks, although there have been other sorties throughout the world.  Not all of them are similar to the Dynasty’s usual methods, however.  My hypothesis is that when the Netherworld attempted to merge with the Human world, it thinned the barrier separating the two.”

Dais nodded slightly.  “I think so as well.  Will you be telling me about these other conflicts as well, or will we be focusing on Japan?”

“Japan for now.  There are only a few other spots that have any kind of unusually high supernatural activity.”

Dais gestured to the map.  “If you would.”

“Tokyo has seen the majority of the attacks, but that makes sense—it is the most populace city in Japan.  There have been other conflicts in Yokohama, Osaka, and Nagoya, too, but those are much rarer.  It’s amazing that people still come to Tokyo at all.  Then again, the attacks are spaced out enough that there is probably the selective memory loss of ‘It hasn’t happened in a while, maybe it won’t ever happen again.’”

Dais rolled his eye.  It was a very human sentiment and one of the primary reasons why the Dynasty had been so successful.

“What was government’s reaction?” Dais inquired.  “Did they send troops?  If so, how many?  What kind?  What did the Crusaders and Army do in response?”

“The first time, the government did respond, not much unlike when the Dynasty first attempted to take over.  However, as the world has a slightly better understanding of alternate dimensions from my testimony, the response was slightly more appropriate.”

“In that they didn’t go charging in with, what’s the phrase, guns blazing?”

Mia  chuckled. "Not quite."

As they discussed the presence of the Crusaders and Kinghts in the human world, Dais was careful to play stupid through the few times that Mia attempted to catch him up on his understanding of modern Japanese; Mia was less than opaque with her frustration.  

Once Dais had a full understanding of what the Crusaders had wrought, he looked at Mia and thought: If we had killed her, the Dynasty would be ruling the Human World.

Mia said a phrase in a language Dais didn’t understand, so he waited for her to translate.

“I was asking what you were thinking,” Mia said.

“I do not have to explain myself to you,” Dais said.

Mia frowned.  “What exactly do you plan on doing with all this information?”

Dais traced his fingers across lines of the map, then said, “As I said yesterday—predict the Crusader’s movements and defeat them.”

“And you think you can do that with only what I’ve shared?”

“Have faith in my desire for vengeance.”

Mia’s expression faltered slightly before she nodded.  “Very well.”

Dais looked back at the map.

It likely won’t take long for Talpa to strong-arm them into invading the Human World more aggressively.  The Knights were more occupied with the Dynasty, as we were the more pressing concern.  Now that I am gone, that will change.  I wonder…how they will react to both this world and the Ronin. 

“He’s a bit of a dick, isn’t he?” Hardrock commented.

“He’s not that different from some of the politicians I’ve come across,” Mia said as she stood and walked over to Hardrock, leaving Dais alone.  “He does lack some of their tact, but I suppose that comes from spending time in the Dynasty.  It seems to sap politeness from anyone who lives there.”

I suppose I have to remember some social niceties in order to maneuver in this world , he thought and turned a yen he had been using to demarcate one of the attack points in his fingers.   I am no longer in a position of power, at least for now.   Doable, if annoying.

“I think he’s more than who he says he is,” Mia told Hardrock, which caught Dais’ attention.

“Oh, yeah?  Like, what?  Think he’s actually one of the Warlords or somethin’?”

“Maybe not that,” Mia said.  “He seems too… smart to be a Warlord.”

Her statement stung, but he’d been called much worse than stupid.  

There has to be a pattern, Dais thought, turning his attention back to the map.  Random strikes will only net a random number of humans.  To optimize, they have to know where and when to strike.  If there is a pattern, there has to be an informant.  If there is an informant, who are they and why are they helping? Dais thought as he ran his fingers over the map.  He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes.  I need eyes and ears of my own.  I can’t trust humans to know what to look for when it comes to Netherworld activity.  Damn.

Dais put his sunglasses back on and stared at the map and his notes for a moment longer before an idea slowly formed.  

Just because I can’t get into the Netherworld doesn’t mean I’m incapable of sensing the fluctuation in energy caused by preternatural activity.

Dais sat back in the couch and closed his eyes, blocking out Hardrock and Mia’s idle banter.  

He indeed was able to feel the barrier.  His range was more limited, but he could at least feel Tokyo proper.  Given the high concentration of humanity, it wasn’t surprising that the Crusaders often turned to Tokyo for their resources.  

If I can sense the fluctuations, I can find out where the barrier is weaker, where they would be more likely able to puncture a hole between the two realms.  There is a degree of fluctuation, of course, but nothing that can’t be accounted for.

Dais found one extremely weak spot in Tokyo, and after a brief consultation with the map, determined that it was within Tokyo Station.  He looked at the times and dates of previous attacks, and his eyes narrowed.

Oddly, there seems to be a spike in sorties on Fridays.  He looked at the calendar on the wall nearby and smiled wryly.  Which is tomorrow.  With the extent of the damage done to the Capital as well as the losses in life and resources, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Crusaders turned to the Human World for manpower.

Dais stood with the intent to make his way to Tokyo Station to examine the weak point, but was quickly brought up short when his armor was no longer a thought away.  He swore internally, and ran a hand through his slightly-tangled hair.  He wouldn’t be able to confirm his suspicions on his own anymore.  He’d have to learn how to work with the Ronin, at least temporarily.

“Rajura?” Mia asked.

“If my guess is correct and based off the information u have gathered and analyzed, there is a good possibility that the Crusaders will attack Tokyo either today or tomorrow, with a focal point of Tokyo station,” he said and turned to face her.  “Under normal circumstances, I would go to observe myself; however, I no longer have that capability.  Do you know if any of the Ronin will be or are in the area?”

“How are you so sure?”

Dais struggled with himself.  In order to gain their trust, in order to have them work with me, I need to selectively reveal some secrets.

“I can sense the boundary between the Human and Nether worlds,” Dais said, “and it seems particularly vulnerable in Tokyo station right now.  Given that the Crusaders have a history of attacking on Fridays—which is tomorrow—they might focus there.  They are probably also hurting for resources and manpower right now, and humans are cheap and plentiful labor.  As they might need more humans than usual, they might even send a Knight to ensure that their haul is maximized.”

“You can sense the boundary between the worlds,” Mia said slowly.  

“How do you think we knew where to open Gates?” Dais responded.  

“Point,” Mia conceded.  “Well, I believe Rowen is in the area.  We’ll see if they attack today.  If not, Ryo and I are running errands in Tokyo tomorrow, so we’ll see if you’re right; even if you aren’t, I’ll have gotten something done.”

Dais felt his bag digging at his hip and pulled it out.  “While I strongly appreciate the Ronin providing me with modern clothing and a place to live, I do not like living on another’s charity.  I do have some gold, but my negotiating skills are currently…lacking.”

Mia looked surprised.  “You have gold with you?”

“I plan for contingencies,” Dais said.  

“When the Dynasty attempted to possess the human world, everything seemed to be turned to gold but it was merely glamour,” Mia commented.

“That was due to the Dynasty’s temporary influence.  These, I assure you, are not glamoured stones.”  Dais walked over to her and Hardrock.  He dredged up what little ettiquite he remembered and said, “If possible, I would like to ask a favor.  Could you please exchange this gold for modern currency for me?  You can keep a portion.”

Mia fought a smile, but didn’t succeed.  “Well, I have a better idea.  Why don’t you come with us?”

“Come with you,” Dais repeated slowly.  Is she trying to get me killed so I won’t be a problem?  If the Crusaders do attack, I will be useless.

“Don’t look so suspicious!” Mia laughed.  “It will let you adapt at least a little to modern society, and once we exchange your gold for money, we can go shopping for you and get you a halfway decent wardrobe.”

“You’re sounding suspiciously enthusiastic,” Hardrock commented, a sentiment Dais echoed.

Mia gave Hardrock a smile and responded in modern Japanese:  “He might know a lot about what we’re facing in terms of mystical battles, but he knows next to nothing about the Human World.  And now, I’m going to be dragging him into the middle of Tokyo.”

Hardrock snickered.  “I’m coming along.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Hardrock said.  “I mean, I don’t entirely trust him, either.  I’d rather someone always be with you.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Mia said, smiling.  “I don’t mind having another man to carry my bags.”

Hardrock laughed, although the sound was uncertain.  

 Mia turned to Dais.  “So, come along.  I’m going to pick up Ryo and then we’ll go to Tokyo.”

Dais had lived with Kayura for centuries, so he knew he was willingly walking into a treacherous situation.   Still, what choice did he have?  He needed money, and he needed to blend in.  It would make people look less closely at him, and, given that he didn’t have his armor, such was critical.

“Very well,” Dais said after an uncomfortable silence.  "I am sure that the excursion will be...interesting."

Mia simply smiled. 

--

After riding in a bus and a train, a car was not half as intimidating as it could be. It was slower and far less crowded than the train, and less jerky than the bus.  That he had more space to himself was a relief. It wasn't much, but he felt less claustrophobic, and, after spending a terse, tense evening in close quarters with Hardrock,  privacy, even a faint glimmer of one, was appreciated.

 Hardrock seemed content to keep up a dialogue with Mia, as he took the front seat, delegating Dais to the back.  Dais made himself as comfortable as possible in his seat and listened --he knew about the Ronin, but he didn’t know them.  

After a while, Dais decided that Hardrock wasn’t a particularly interesting human.  He was impulsive, emotional, and stubborn.  He, unsurprisingly, also possessed a strong sense of justice that appeared to guide his actions and decisions.  He was as direct a person as Dais remembered and time hadn’t tempered how his mouth moved before his brain could catch up.  He wasn’t particularly intelligent, nor did he seem to possess any amount of common sense.  He appeared to get through life through a combination of guts, luck, and a bizarre form of charisma. He clearly could be easily manipulated, and while that could prove useful, it would just be too easy.  He might be good practice in refreshing his control of the minor illusions that came to him naturally, but he seemed to forget that Dais was present, even without Dais trying . 

I sincerely hope the other Ronin are more interesting than Hardrock, Dais thought as he watched the scenery pass.  I never truly interacted with any of the others.

Given how frustratingly plebeian Kento was, he turned his attention to Mia. He already knew she was intelligent enough to pose a threat to Dais, but listening to her responses and how she guided the conversation was fascinating. She was older and more mature, even from when he had interacted with her last during his confrontation with Anubis. 

It...might be nice to coordinate a plan of attack with someone who is actually intelligent and competent, Dais mused. It will most certainly be a change of pace.  

Mia pulled up in front of what Dais recognized as an apartment complex.  Wildfire trotted over to the car, and balked when he opened the door to reveal Dais in the back seat. Dais didn't stop himself from sneering at the Robin before dismissing him and turning to look back out the window.

“What’s he doing here?” Wildfire demanded.

Mia looked over the seat and said, “I’m taking him shopping with us.”

Wildfire looked between Dais and Mia and drew out, “Okay.”

After a second’s hesitation, he took a seat next to Dais.  

Dais had to concentrate, but he eventually managed to nudge Wildfire’s mind enough to influence the Ronin to ignore him.  It was a simple trick, one that had saved Dais’ life more often than he would like to admit, particularly before he signed on with Talpa.

Dais eventually concluded that Wildfire was also uninteresting.  He was at least slightly more intelligent than Hardrock, but his mind was just as disorganized.  He possessed a quiet intensity, although it overlaid a remaining childish sense of…not quite entitlement, but a belief that he alone knew what was right.  What charisma he had came more in the form of unflappable conviction than charm.  He had at least learned to keep his mouth shut.

Watching the two Ronin interact without the looming threat of a Dynasty takeover was much more interesting than examining them alone.

Dais’ long life had been full of violence, subterfuge, and suspicion.  He had betrayed the only people he had remotely cared for as a human and given up any chance at redemption by selling his soul to a demon.  He had a consistently antagonistic relationship with the people he was arguably closest to, and regarded his subordinates to be resources more than beings.  So watching Mia, Hardrock, and Wildfire interact was…strange.  He recognized their dynamic on an intellectual level, but simply couldn’t understand .  He watched them anyway out of pure curiosity.  It managed to distract him from how unnerving it was to enter Tokyo via automobile.

How? Dais wondered as the colors swirled around them. How can they simply… he sighed silently and shook his head. It matters not. They are means to an end, nothing more. I shouldn't become too involved.

Tokyo was as overwhelming as he remembered, particularly since he was no longer deathly exhausted.  The noise was even more unbearable now that he could actually understand what was being said; however, the lack of his armor seemed to dull all his senses slightly, which made everything else slightly more tolerable.  

Both Wildfire and Hardrock startled when Dais stepped out of the car with them.

“Damn he’s creepy,” Hardrock grumbled.  “With us the entire time and didn’t say a thing!”

“He probably couldn’t understand us,” Wildfire pointed out.  “And I still don’t get why you brought him along.  How can he possibly be useful shopping ?”

Mia’s gave Dais a suspicious look, but she said, “I wanted to observe him.  He also told me that there is a chance of these ‘Crusaders’ attacking today.  I want to see how he reacts if they do.”

Dais wasn’t surprised by her reasoning.  He was surprised that she had said so out loud where he could hear.

Dais attempted to hang back, but Mia hooked her arm through his and kept him beside her.

“You seem remarkable relaxed for being in a modern city,” Mia commented as they exited the garage and onto street level.  “Particularly given the culture and structure of the Dynasty.”

“Adaptability is necessary for survival,” Dais responded.  “What has you so interested in me?”

“What makes you think I’m interested in you?”

“Why bring me along if you were not?  You could have left me back at Hardrock’s place.”

“You seem remarkably individualized for a Dynasty denizen,” Mia eventually said.  “You’re most definitely not a grunt, and you also seem to be more independent than the other commanders that the Ronin ran across who worked for the Dynasty—even moreso than the Dark Warlords.”

Dais bit his tongue.  Perhaps we were less…cognizant…when we were under Talpa’s direct control.

“That alone would make you interesting,” Mia continued.  “But you are also human.  Not just humanoid, but actually human.”  

Dais declined to comment.  

“And more closed-lipped than any Dynasty warrior I’ve come across!” she laughed.

Her attention shifted quickly from Dais as Strata joined them, although Mia didn’t let him go.  

Strata’s pleasant expression faltered into confusion upon seeing Mia holding on to Dais.

“Uh, hi,” Strata said, looking between Mia and the other Ronin.  “So, he’s…?”

“Coming with us,” Mia said.  “C’mon, I’ve got a number of errands that need running.”

Dais was dragged all across the city, although he didn’t mind—it allowed him to refresh his mental map of Tokyo.  People watching and observing what Mia and Ronin were drawn to or interacted with helped him piece together more of modern Japanese culture.  He was still wary of electricity and technology and how easily modern humans manipulated them, but he was quickly gaining a grasp on the cultural elements.  He knew that time and exposure would injure him to the rest. 

“It’s so weird to see him just chillin’ with us and knowing that he’s from the Dynasty.  Aside from speaking in really old-fashioned Japanese, he seems, I dunno…normal?” Hardrock said when they were all waiting around as Mia browsed a clearance clothing rack in a ‘department store.’ 

Hardrock was already heavily laden with bags from numerous shops, and Wildfire had two bags to carry as well.  Strata had thus far avoided becoming a pack mule, and Dais had transferred off the one bag he had been made to carry onto Hardrock. 

“I know,” Wildfire agreed, giving Dais a quick look. “I don’t like how quiet he is, though.  It makes me nervous.”

“He’s quiet because he literally can’t communicate with us,” Strata pointed out.  “And he seems ‘normal’ because he doesn’t look like he’s from the Dynasty—he just looks like another foreigner.  I guess the Dynasty does weird things to your appearance, since I doubt Talpa would recruit outside of Japan.”

I am going to enjoy grinding all of the Ronin into the dirt once I get my armor back, Dais grumbled internally.

It was only once Mia was done her personal shopping that they got around to exchanging Dais’ gold.

Dais wasn’t stupid and refused to be conned, so while Mia did the talking, Dais cast small illusions that confused the person behind the counter; he received an amount in return that was fairly close to the actual exchange rate.  

Dais was smug as they exited the store, although Mia was suspicious.

“What did you do in there?” Mia demanded.

“What makes you think I did anything?” Dais asked.  “I believe that will be enough for any purchases I will need for some time.”

Mia just watched him for a while before she said, “I mustn’t forget that you’re not human.”

“See that you don’t,” Dais responded, smirking slightly.

Before they could reach a store where Dais could finally get clothes for himself, he felt a shudder in the boundary between the Human and Netherworld.  Shortly after, the air not far from them shimmered, and a Netherworld gate erupted into existence.

“Shit,” Wildfire swore as the humans began to scatter.  “Mia!  Get to safety!”

Mia remained exactly where she was, and Dais didn’t bother to move either.  The three Ronin took off, calling their armor to them.

“I’m not sure to be impressed or suspicious,” Mia told Dais.

Dais shrugged as a combination of Crusaders and Army goons came spilling out of the open gate.  “I’m more interested in seeing if a Knight makes an appearance.”

“You think one will?”

“Perhaps,” Dais murmured.  I have no doubt that they need the resources.

It appeared that all the Ronin had received new armor, and Dais felt a spike of loathing and jealousy run through him.  It didn’t help that they now seemed stronger than they had been before.

I have to recruit them now, Dais thought as he watched them, his jealousy turning into something closer to arousal.  With their strength, it will be easy to drive the Crusaders back to their home world. 

The sheer power in the air took his breath away.  If he could bring that power to heel, if he could mold it and control it…no one and nothing could stand in his way.  Hardrock and Wildfire he wasn’t concerned about.  Strata’s intelligence could be worked around, although Halo possessed far too much poise and aplomb to be easily manipulated.  As for Torrent, well, if he managed to get the other Ronin on board with his plans, it most likely wouldn’t be too hard to seduce him into doing Dais’ bidding.

They will be mine, Dais promised himself.  No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do.   

Two Army peons noticed his and Mia’s presence and ran towards them.  Dais grabbed the chain of the kusurigama that was sent his way, wrapped it around his wrist and yanked on it.  The weapon came flying out of the soldier’s hands and Dais caught it effortlessly.

Sure, it wasn’t his weapon of choice, but it would do.  It also kept the soldiers at a distance, and Dais didn’t want to test how much damage his body could take before death claimed him.

It felt good to have a weapon in his hand, and even better to take down two of the Army soldiers.  They clearly didn’t expect a normal human to be capable of any kind of resistance.  The battle reminded Dais why he had enjoyed occasionally making forays into the field—combat was fun .  While he didn’t have the same kind of speed or strength that his armor afforded him, he was still skilled.  The small illusions that cloaked where the blade actually was helped immensely, particularly when a group of Crusaders came for him and Mia.  

It felt amazing to watch them die, and even better when he got close enough to feel the life drain from them before they vanished in a puff of smoke.  The violence was intoxicating, and the more he fought, the more he remembered how to use what illusions he had left to wreck havoc .  His excellence drew more Army grunts to him, but they were easier to dispatch than the Crusaders, as he already knew where all their weaknesses were. He kept his laughter quiet enough to be concealed by the clash of battle, but couldn't entirely hold it back--the violence was intoxicating.  That he didn’t care what happened to Mia confused the Crusaders long enough for Dais to completely clear the area around them.  

However, the combat came to a halt when five figures stepped out of the Gate.

The Knight of Spirit took point, while Kayura, Sekhmet, and Kale spread out behind him, the Knight of Metal bringing up the rear.  Each armor’s virtue burned brightly on the Warlords' and Kayura’s foreheads, and all of them looked utterly disgusted .

The Ronin came to a stop in front of the group, and Dais could read their suspicion and confusion even from a distance.

“That man in the front—is he a Knight?” Mia asked, although she stood a respectable distance away, as Dais was still lightly twirling the chain of the kusurigama.  

“As is the one in the back,” Dais replied.

“The Warlords…?”

“It will require explanation at a time where we are not a wrong move away from death.”

Dais couldn’t understand what the Knight of Spirit was saying without his armor to translate, and was too far away to catch the Ronin’s half. Still, from how tense and unhappy everyone appeared, Dais doubted it was a pleasant chat.

Kayura caught sight of him, and after a moment’s confusion a tiny, smug smirk formed on her face.  She looked pointedly away from him after that, but the set of her shoulders indicated that she trusted him to make life hell for the Crusaders from the Human World.

And I will, Lady, Dais thought as the Knight of Spirit and his entourage returned to the Netherworld through the Gate, the structure closing behind them with a resounding thud prior to vanishing.  Although I expect you to make life just as difficult now that you know I live.

Once the Ronin were sure the supernatural threat had passed, they all ran over to Mia, although while Wildfire and Strata let go of their armor, Hardrock hadn’t.  He approached Dais while the other two were busy fussing over the woman, who was perfectly unharmed, even if she was watching him closely.

“You’re dangerous,” Hardrock told him, his mein serious and solemn.  “You enjoyed fighting.  Enjoyed killing those soldiers.  But, you also protected Mia, and I think I speak for all the guys when I say we’re at least thankful for that .”

“Do no thank me; she was smart enough to stay out of the way, since I would have had no remorse if she was an accidental casualty," Dais said. Dais knew that the presence of the armor of Hardrock negated the language barrier, and rather enjoyed being able to communicate directly with the Ronin.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Hardrock said, “Look.  Now I know you ain’t lyin’ about these Knights. If he’s managed to get all the…surviving…Warlords under his control, that means he’s both powerful and dangerous.  You know what we’re up against.  And in order to defeat them, we actually do need what you know.”

To Dais’ complete surprise, Hardrock extended a hand to him.  “Based on what he said, I bet you’re mad as a hornet over what happened in the Dynasty.  I believe you now.  And I promise that I’ll help you once you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain.”

Dais looked between Hardrock’s hand and his face, and brushed lightly against his mind.

The Ronin was serious in his offer.  Stranger than that, though, was that he was angry .  A darker part of Hardrock wanted to see the Crusaders crushed in retribution.  

But, for what ? Dais wondered.

Still, the offer of help coming from Hardrock was genuine, and having even one Ronin on his side meant that it would be easier to seduce the rest of them into working for him.

He clasped hands with Hardrock.  “I look forward to you humiliating the Knights.”

“They sound pretty strong, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to humilate them, but I’m looking forward to knocking their heads together, that’s for sure,” Hardrock told Dais with a lop-sided smile.  “Let’s get you some new clothes.  Those are going in the trash as soon as possible.”

Hardrock released Dais’ hand, and with that, the armor dissipated.  After a moment’s hesitation, Hardrock carefully patted Dais’ shoulder before walking past him.

Dais watched him for a moment before tossing the kusurigama aside, which evaporated once it was out of his hands.

Today has been…enlightening, Dais thought as he watched the Ronin and Mia interact.  He made his way leisurely over to the Ronin, mulling over the events of the afternoon as blood dried on his skin.

Chapter Text

Dais wasn’t surprised by the more somber atmosphere in the car as they all traveled back to Hardrock’s home-- after finishing shopping for Dais’ clothing, which served as a delightful, if brief, distraction for the Ronin.

They all seemed to have been entertained by handing him things that they perceived as embarrassing or not appropriate for him. However, Dais saw what others were wearing and had read magazines, so sassed them back by tossing the clothing right back at the respective Ronin, the implication being that they should be the one to wear it, not he. It was more of an excursion than Dais was anticipating, and having the attention of the Ronin and Mia on his fashion sense was oddly unnerving. To have so many people half trying to make a fool of him, half trying to assist him, was new. He was used to obstacles, not well-meaning idiots. 

They had made Dais change as soon as they had purchased new, not blood-soaked clothing. He still had some blood in his hair, but he was otherwise passable in a pair of jeans, a graphic tee, a baseball cap (to cover said blood-caked hair), and sneakers and socks. There had been commentary on Dais’ familiarity with the clothing, of course, but that hadn’t required his input. Let them wonder. It wasn’t his duty to satisfy their curiosity and perhaps they needed the mental exercise of critical thinking.

I wonder what was said to them, Dais mused as he watched the scenery pass by.  From what Hardrock mentioned, the Knight seemed to imply that I am dead.  I know that such was my intent, but it is still...odd...to think that the rest of the Dynasty believes that I have fallen.  Two good things have come of this encounter, however--the Ronin have decided I am not lying to them, and Kayura at least knows that I yet live, which she will communicate to the others eventually.

Strata, Wildfire, Hardrock, and Mia were all in deep discussion about the events at the station. Dais himself was not a topic of conversation and it seemed a bit like a debriefing, where they went over what went well and what went wrong, which Dais understood. After any military maneuver, he had debriefings with his Generals, to assign praise and blame where it was due and to fix anything that hadn’t gone according to plan and address why . He approved, and, again, felt that the Dynasty would have handily won if Mia had not been present to wrangle the Ronin into something approximating a semi-competent fighting force.

Dais allowed his mind to wander among how the Army and Crusaders still seemed to mesh poorly, the choice to bring the Warlords to the human world when confronted with the Ronin, the presence of only the Knight of Spirit and Knight of Metal, and what kind of mess Talpa might be making now that he was back and wearing Anubis’ human face. Untangling his worries was the work of the entire ride, and while he was left with more questions than answers due to him not having his intelligence network at his fingertips, at least he knew what questions needed answering and in what priority. He had been, intentionally, forgotten by almost everyone, so the yells of surprise from everyone except Hardrock was gratifying. He let himself in Hardrock’s apartment first, but waited for the other Ronin they had traveled with to enter before he cast the ‘wrong side’ illusion on the door and closing it.  The remaining Ronin had been contacted and told to meet at Hardrock’s place to discuss the events of the afternoon and should arrive shortly--that would let him know how well his illusions held up even without the boost in power from his armor.

“I just...can’t believe it, y’know?” Dais caught Wildfire saying as he ascended the stairs to the main living area.  “That what Rajura said was true and the Dynasty has fallen.”

Strata nodded thoughtfully, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door and it was opened by Hardrock to admit Torrent and Halo.  Torrent was giving the door a suspicious look as it closed, and Dais barely kept himself from smirking.  

He had known something was off, but couldn’t place it, Dais thought.  Good.  Even that moment of hesitation may be enough to prepare.

“What happened?” Torrent asked, concerned by the feeling in the room and seemingly still wary of Dais’ presence.

“We ran into the Crusaders and Netherworld soldiers today in Tokyo,” Mia said.  “Rajura predicted correctly--there was an attack.”

“Maybe it was a set up?” Halo posited, giving Dais a Look as he meandered to get himself a glass of water.

“No, I don’t think so,” Strata said.  

“Could you tell us what happened?” Torrent asked, concern lacing his voice.

Dais retrieved himself some water, then sat down in front of his map.  He had found a western chess set hidden in a corner of Hardrock’s apartment and took out eight white pawns and a white rook--the Knights and the Knight of Spirit.  The two black rooks were Sekhmet and Kale, while the black queen was Kayura.  

I wish I had a way to know what was happening in the Netherworld, Dais sighed and turned the black king in his fingers--himself, of course.  But, until I find a way around whatever is blocking me--until I have my armor back--I don’t think I have much of a chance.  Damnit, if I could just contact Sanosuke or Sachi…I have never felt so blind.

“Rajura?”

Dais looked up from the map and sat back to find Mia and the Ronin all looking at him.  “What?”

“What do you know about what happened to the Warlords?” Mia asked.

“From my understanding, the Knight of Spirit was able to enforce the virtues that were inherent in the armor.  Lady Kayura with Loyalty.  Lord Sekhmet with Piety.  Lord Kale with Obedience.”

“And what of Dais?”

“With the virtue of Endurance, how well do you think he would be controlled by another?” Dais responded.  “That was why they had him killed--he couldn’t be bent to another’s will.”

Hardrock actually flinched slightly at that, which Dais found baffling.  

Why would he, of all the Ronin, care about what happened to me? Dais wondered.

“So, they weren’t lying?  He is dead?” Mia asked.

Dais shrugged.  “From what I know, there was never a confirmed corpse, but nine mystical warriors versus one are not good odds, even for a Dynasty Warlord of his caliber.”

I made them work for it, though, and that much was gratifying, Dais thought.

“He’s awfully knowledgeable about the Warlords,” Torrent said in modern Japanese.  

Mia nodded, giving Dais a look that he couldn’t quite interpret, so responded with a bland one of his own.  “I know for sure now that he is more than he seems.”

“Yeah,” Hardrock said absently and rubbed the back of his neck.  “But, I mean, is that a bad thing?  He clearly knows what he’s talking about, and he’s a damn good fighter without armor and with a weapon he’s not comfortable with.  When it comes to having someone on our side, we could do a whole lot worse than him.”

Dais barely kept his surprise from showing.

Well, well.  Perhaps he has grown more intelligent with age, Dais mused.  

“You’re not saying that we should trust a warrior from the Dynasty?” Wildfire said, clearly scandalized that Hardrock would be the one advocating such.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Halo murmured.

Mia looked to Dais and sat down pointedly beside him, and only pride kept him from scooting away from her.  She couldn’t harm him, but he still enjoyed a healthy amount of personal space.  His armor had afforded him at least that much by nature of its design.  

“I could tell you were holding back some information yesterday,” Mia said.  “And that made sense--while the enemy of your enemy may be your friend, that doesn’t mean you can trust them.”

Dais’ good eyebrow raised slightly.  This woman truly is dangerous.

“Indeed,” he responded evenly.

“However, if we truly are going to help you drive them out of the Netherworld, you have to give us all the information you have.  I promise that I will share everything and anything that I discover,” Mia said.

After a moment’s consideration, Dais nodded.  “Very well.”

As Halo had said about trusting him, he didn’t have much choice as to whether or not to trust the Ronin. They were to be his instruments of revenge, which meant he needed to trust them to at least be capable . They did defeat him before, after all.

Dais picked up a silver marker he had located and flipped over all the pawns.  He wrote the elemental symbol for each on the felt bottom and said, “I suggest you find something to write with.  I did a great deal of research on each knight and am only going to explain things once.”

Torrent rifled through a drawer and procured a pad of paper and a writing instrument for Mia, who took them and nodded.  “I am listening.”

“The weakest of them all are light and dark.  The most dangerous are wood, metal, and air.  As for the others...”

Dais didn’t like giving away all the intelligence he had gathered on the Knights, but if he was to crush them with the Ronin, the young men couldn’t go in blind. Information frequently won battles, and Dais didn’t like losing . So, he would arm them with what he knew and revel as they broke the spirits of the Knights on his behalf.

Not that they would know that was what he was doing. He was sure ‘crush your enemies totally’ ran up against some kind of moral or another that they held dear.  Dais had to stop halfway through his explanation, however, as his voice was growing hoarse from talking so much, which brought it ever so slightly closer to how his armor modulated it and he didn’t want the Ronin putting together the pieces too quickly.

Mia looked between her notes and Dais as he acquired another glass of water for himself to soothe his parched throat, impressed.  “I...thank you for all this.”

Dais shook his head slowly as he sipped the water.  “It is necessary.”

“Nonetheless,” Mia said.  “This information is invaluable.”

Dais frowned as he saw movement in the window, and White Blaze--who had arrived at some point because Wildfire seemed to have gained some sense along the way to not bring a wild beast into a heavily trafficked and civilized area--tensed and snarled as it got to its feet.  Two ravens with blood-red, glowing eyes settled on a tree not far from the apartment and Dais felt a thrill of smug glee.

I won’t be blind anymore, he thought and looked away, feigning disinterest. He casually gave the ‘stand by’ sign to Sachi and Mayako as the Ronin got to their feet to see what White Blaze was fussing over. Sachi and Mayako both cawed three times in an unusual pattern, which told him they understood and would find him later when he wasn’t surrounded by enemies-turned-pawns, then flew away just as Wildfire opened the sliding door to the deck that would allow White Blaze to chase after them. White Blaze charged out, but his spies were already gone, shadows and mist in the evening breeze. 

“You don’t seem concerned,” Mia observed as the Ronin left to scour the woods to ensure that they hadn’t been followed.

“Should I be?” Dais asked and gestured to the open door. “They seem to have matters under control and are capable of doing much more than I if there is a threat afoot.”

“You don’t think there is,” Mia said, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

Dais didn’t deign to reply and kept drinking his water. 

Mia’s expression turned exasperated and she grumbled, “I liked it much better when the Dynasty goons announced all their plans to us. Where was someone as tight-lipped as you hiding away?”

Dais hid his smirk with a drink of water.

By the time the Ronin returned, Dais voice was back to normal, since Mia had sullenly ignored him in favor of mulling over what he had managed to tell her.

“Did you guys find anything?” Mia asked, standing to greet them--Dais remained sitting, of course.

“No, nothing,” Wildfire sighed. “Whatever White Blaze saw is long gone.”

“It coulda been just a scout or a spy,” Strata commented. “But for which side and who were they lookin’ for?”

“Your apartment might no longer be safe,” Torrent said to Hardrock. “Do you have somewhere else you can stay?”

“Nah, I’m not worried,” Hardrock said with a dismissive wave. “No matter the enemy, I can take them on, no problem!”

“Are you feeling better? I’d like to continue learning about the Knights if you are,” Mia told Dais, who had been enjoying not having to speak. There had been days at a time that he had gone without speaking, so as much interaction as he was receiving was...difficult.  Nonetheless, he couldn’t outright admit to being weary. That would be an admission of weakness, and the last thing he wanted was to appear weak. 

“I suppose,” Dais responded and picked up where he had left off in his explanation of all the details he had gleaned from his campaign against the Crusaders.

Besides Mia, Torrent, Strata, and Halo were the ones who paid the most attention to his debriefing--which made sense, since Torrent and Halo could understand him to a degree and Strata was likely reading the notes that Mia was writing in some form of shorthand. 

By the time he had finished explaining everything he had uncovered about the Crusaders, night had fallen and Hardrock was mucking about in the kitchen, apparently cooking, if the spicy scent that lingered in the air was any indication. 

The three Ronin who had paid attention to him were looking distinctly impressed, which stroked Dais’ ego-- of course he knew as much as he did, he was the Dynasty’s Spymaster and was damn good at his job. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for Wildfire to carefully remove the tokens he had made and the map out of the way and start heaping plate after plate of food on the sturdy low table before him. 

“Oh, Kento didn’t have to make dinner,” Mia said as she stood to help, only to be nudged back down to sitting by Halo. 

“It’s already done, don’t worry,” Wildfire said with an easy smile. “Think Kento took it as a challenge for his culinary skills and it made us both feel more useful to be doing something rather than just waiting around and straining our brains to understand what was going on.”

“Why would he consider it a challenge? His family runs a restaurant business, there’s little he can’t cook,” Strata commented.

“Well, Rajura here probably hasn’t had a piece of processed food in his life, however long it’s been,” Wildfire said. “We figured that it would be excessively mean to give him stomach cramps by feeding him pizza, so tried to figure out what someone from warring-states era Japan would have eaten.”

It was a strangely considerate gesture, and Dais hated how his stomach rumbled in anticipation of actually decent food that he didn’t have to worry about. Thankfully, too many people were talking to hear his body’s reaction, but it was still embarrassing. Food and eating was a luxury, not a necessity since he gained his immortality. 

But, what baffled him more than anything else, was why Hardrock would care . A single fight where he protected Mia and proof that he wasn’t lying about the Dynasty was hardly enough to erase all the torment he had gleefully put the Ronin through. But, something had seemed to have changed as a result of the conversation with the Knight of Spirit, and Dais was wildly curious about what it was.

“The Ronin have avoided discussing what the Knight of Spirit said during the battle earlier today with a rather single-minded intensity,” Dais said, addressing Mia, since neither Halo nor Torrent had been at the battle. “Could you ask them what he told them? I was too far away and could not understand what the Knight was saying anyway. The words a man uses can betray his innermost thoughts.”

“You’re right,” Mia murmured. “That’s…a bit worrying, actually.” She switched to modern Japanese and said, “Ryo, Kento, Rowan. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Mia, what’s up?” Kento said as he brought over the final plate of the spread that he had made while the rest of them were occupied.

“Rajura and I were too far away to hear what you and the Knights were talking about, but it seems to have been…impactful. Are you guys okay? What did he say to you?”

Mia’s questions were like ice water on the mood of Hardrock, Strata, and Wildfire, the effect noticeable enough that both Halo and Torrent were visibly concerned. 

“He came to deliver a warning--and a threat,” Strata eventually said, his voice low and displeased.

“Said that he and his compatriots had conquered the Dynasty and had leashed three of the Warlords to their bidding while killing the fourth,” Ryo added, his tone grim. “They were occupied with the purification of the few remaining pockets of resistance, but that as soon as they were done mopping up the problem areas that they’d be coming for our realm, to claim and cleanse it.”

Kento was visibly seething, but, strangely, kept his mouth shut, instead flopping down onto the floor to begin serving everyone portions of the meal he had made. However, beneath the anger there was a kind of…confused embarrassment that made Dais wish he had access to the power that would let him pry into thoughts deeper than surface-level. 

“Kento accused him of lying and said that Dais wouldn’t be so careless as to get himself killed, that they were covering up the fact he escaped from them, but they produced the helm of the Armor of Illusion and we all knew Dais wouldn’t go anywhere without his armor,” Wildfire said. “There were a few more threats made, we promised to protect the Human Realm, which they insisted was just another demonic realm that needed purification and cleansing, they left.”

Dais had a feeling there was much more that Wildfire was leaving out for the sake of Hardrock and residual wariness of Dais. He’d find out the entirety of what was said eventually, whether the Ronin wanted him to know or not.

In the meantime, he found himself cautiously poking at the food Hardrock had made. It really didn’t seem poisoned--not that he could easily check anymore without the power level provided by his armor--and it smelled wonderful . Everyone else was eating it without a care in the world as they discussed what Dais’ death might mean, how the Knights could have killed someone as crafty as him, and what exactly the Knight meant by trying to purify and cleanse the human world of its demonic taint. So, Dais very cautiously tried a few bites of the first human food he’d had in over 400 years. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he had been expecting, but it wasn’t a vague yet overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Talpa had only cared about his Warlords enough to provide them the nutriment necessary to keep them in peak fighting shape--that didn’t mean the food tasted good, nor that there wasn’t an additive from either Talpa or one of the other Warlords designed to test his perceptiveness and/or potentially kill him. Thus, eating food made by human hands with no agenda against his life was…a rather unique experience, and not an entirely objectionable one.

Conversation quickly drifted away to more mundane things--what Torrent and Halo had been up to during the time of the attack, daily life outside of being Ronin, and other topics that had no value as intelligence, but were still important to pay attention to. For all Dais knew, he was stuck in the modern human world for an indeterminate amount of time, and knowing how people spent their days was useful. 

He also couldn’t quite wrap his head around how easily and completely the Ronin ignored him without him trying . His presence, which was clearly a source of stress, had simply been…accepted, he supposed. They were stuck with him as much as he was stuck with them. He was useful--the gods knew he was useful , even without his armor. He doubted they would ever grow to like him, and he honestly didn’t want them to. He would assist them for however long it took to beat the Crusaders into the ground, then they would part ways. A clean break, from enemies to allies to enemies again. 

It was odd, then, that food that had once been so flavorful now tasted rather bland as he continued to eat and quietly observe the Ronin. 

--

It took ages for the Ronin to finally leave, and he was conscripted into doing dishes alongside Hardrock once the others had left. The proximity allowed him to test out his remaining skill with cantrips and smaller illusions on Hardrock, and while he never deliberately hurt the young man, his frustration was amusing. They worked primarily in silence, broken by Hardrock’s occasional curse when he fell for one of Dais’ tricks or off-tune humming when he was engaged in scrubbing the pots and pans he had used. It was downright domestic and Dais wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

He was also itching to know why Hardrock was upset at his demise, but his chance to ask Hardrock that question directly had passed unless he wanted to write a note. So, the work passed mostly in silence, although Hardrock had a disturbingly thoughtful look on his face once they were finished with the dishes. It took another few hours for Dais to be certain that Hardrock was settled and asleep, and it was only then that he stepped out and extended his arm. Almost immediately, Sachi alighted on his arm and hopped back and forth, the motion somehow communicating relief . 

Dais chuckled and smoothed down some of her feathers. “Did Kayura direct you towards me?”

Sachi’s feathers ruffled slightly--the last descendant of the Ancients’ clan made the tengu nervous--and did two hops on his arm to confirm ‘yes.’

“I see,” Dais murmured. Whatever control the Knight of Spirit has over them must not be exact. Either that, or Kayura feels some kind of loyalty towards me , odd as that seems. She was always the best of us at finding loopholes.

“I saw Mayako here earlier as well,” Dais murmured to Sachi. “Be my eyes; Mayako will be my ears.  Let no-one discover that you have found me, for if they do, you shall die.  I will be here for the time being. Do avoid the Ronin--they are more troublesome and perceptive than they are worth. I look forward to your future reports.”

Sachi dipped her head in acknowledgement, hopped back down Dais’ arm and flew away, silent in the night that still hummed with human activity.

Dais took a deep breath, then exhaled in a sigh. His surviving generals and some of the more untamed, unaffiliated warlords were probably the ‘pockets of resistance’ that needed purification, but the Dynasty was such a large place that even if those entities were handled, the Crusaders would never have a full grasp on the realm. It was simply impossible--even Dais didn’t try to control every actor in the Dynasty. That would take up more of his time than simply monitoring them and making sure they didn’t try anything stupid. It was…intriguing…to learn that the Crusaders also considered the human world to carry a demonic taint. Was that a result of Talpa’s propaganda, or was it something they had come to conclude on their own? That phrasing felt deliberate , which made him think that Talpa saw the Crusaders simply as tools, much as he had seen the Warlords. He would use them to help conquer the human realm and then would discard them, one way or another. 

I could just wait for his inevitable betrayal, Dais thought as he leaned against the balcony railing, eyes not focused on anything in particular as the world continued to move around him. Or, I could attempt to hasten it and expose Talpa for the actual devilish entity he is. That breach of trust would likely throw the campaign into disarray, since Talpa as Arago has been their main ally and support as they tried to overthrow the Dynasty.

Dais took off the baseball cap and scrapped the dried blood off the inside, then meandered to take a bath. If there was one thing he did appreciate about the modern human world, it was the convenience and privacy of individual baths.  

After picking out ‘pajamas’ and some underwear for himself from amongst the purchases from the day, he absconded to the bathroom, which blissfully had a lock . The wash itself was done with brutal efficiency, but Dais let himself soak for a long time, reveling in the quiet that was only broken by intermittent snores from Hardrock’s room. 

I will ask to speak with Mia tomorrow, Dais decided as the warm water loosened his tense muscles. I want to know if the Ronin will be reactive or proactive in regards to the Knights. With all the information I gave her, and them now encountering at least two of them first-hand, she is likely planning, either on her own or with the help of Strata and Halo. I am obviously not trusted enough yet, which is fine. They will not know how I learn of the things I do because as long as Sachi and Mayako are discrete, all will be well. 

Dais rolled his shoulders and sighed as he stood. The war he had been running had not ended, merely changed. He had new pawns and generals, and fewer powers of his own, but he had a good feeling about the power of the Ronins’ new armor and was certain that Kayura would cause as many headaches as she solved henceforth with the knowledge he lived. Now, it was a matter of finding out how the game board was to be initially set up and poking at the Crusaders’ weaknesses while utilizing the Ronins’ strengths. 

It would be interesting, getting to know the Ronin more intimately, and he wondered just how long his secret would hold, given that the years had matured them both mentally and physically.