Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

???

Iridescent.

That was the best way to describe this dream.

It has to be a dream, right? I’ve never seen anything like this.

Snapshots flashed through Ren’s mind at a blazing speed. He wasn’t able to, couldn’t, hold on to any of them. Flashing bulbs on a slot machine, a city sculpted out of ice and snow, the white sterility of an impossibly large…lab? That felt right. 

Palace…Jail…? 

Ren couldn’t land on specific words to associate with the images before they flitted off as fast as they came. Just faint sensations, echoes of emotions that they evoked. Wherever he was right now felt almost like that? Maybe? Not quite.

He was vaguely aware that he was walking. Or at least, his body was moving and his mind and senses were getting dragged along. He tried to push through the fog and focus on what was around him. Rock underfoot. Rock above, high above. Crystals of various shades, one moment blue, the next violet— 

Sumi?

—the next pink. Crates, ropes. Old. And everywhere iridescent shards floating in the air. Either they were untouchable—

Iwai.

—or he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t really feel anything right now, just the vaguest sense of motion as, hey look at that, his legs are apparently still moving forward, and so was time apparently, because it seemed as if every time he blinked, his eyes took in a new location, similar but different (this is like living through street view images, good one Ren), and WHY CAN’T I FOCUS.

This is like the interrogation room all over again…

And so it went. Ren gradually gave up on the quest for clear-headedness and let himself flow with the dream. He was underground, maybe, and the air felt charged like it did whenever he was doing Phantom Thievery, whatever that was. And there was a tickling at the back of his head, like someone or something was trying to push through, to get him to notice, but it’s just so much easier to not do that thing.

And perhaps a thousand or so eye blinks later, he came across a slime. Or something that looked like a slime, only it didn’t have eyes or a mouth, and it was clearly a lighter shade of green than he was used to (why did he know what a slime was supposed to look like, anyways?). 

After blinking again without his location changing, Ren realized that his legs had stopped, which was probably a bad thing because it seemed like the slime noticed him. That tingling in the back of Ren’s mind was sharper now, more insistent. As the slime moved closer, that tingle became more pronounced, and while it impressed upon him feelings of fear and danger, a large part of Ren’s mind was perfectly okay with doing nothing, because dreams are gonna do what they’re gonna do. 

That part of his mind was winning right up until the slime reared back and struck, and wow, is that pain? Ren found himself on the ground, his brain scrambling to re-contextualize the situation, the tingling now a blaring siren indicating that this is not a dream, call on me NOW. Somehow Ren managed to find himself upright again, and he shouted something in a voice he vaguely recalled as being his own:

“ARSÈNE!!”

And with the Pillager of Twilight's appearance came a brief but welcome moment of clarity. Ren quickly took in the fact that wherever he was was dangerous and that he needed to get out as soon as possible. The presence of the slime-like shadow in front of him meant that he had to be in the Metaverse, even if it didn’t quite feel the same as what he was used to. After taking care of this enemy, he’d have to check his phone for the Metanav or Sophia or anything that could return him to reality, because whatever brought him here also clearly messed with his head. He’d want to take stock of everything someplace a little less murdery.

Deciding against using any curse skill given his current mental state, a quick One-shot Kill was all that it took to eviscerate the slime. Arsène vanished as quickly as he appeared, settling into the back of Ren’s mind along with his other Personae. Still sending feelings of danger, of a need to be cautious.

Ren’s first thought once he was alone again was, It’s probably a bad thing that I couldn’t feel that attack’s cost to me physically. 

His second was, why is the ground getting so close so fast? 

His third was—

Chapter Text

Nord Mines

Will was having a very eventful week.

On Watersday, he survived a handful of cultish Louis supporters, a sheer cliff face, an arid desert, and countless monsters more than capable of ending his short, 18 year life. At least Gallica was nice enough to cast some unusual fairy magic on him, and now he apparently has constant background music to his life, which, neat. He made it to Grand Trad mostly intact, and managed to successfully enlist as a soldier, which was step one in their plan to rescue the Prince.

Why was that plan so hard to remember?

Yesterday, he arrived at the Northern Border Fort, where he and Gallica were supposed to meet up with an embedded resistance operative. It was there that Will got his first taste of combat, as well as his first up close and personal experience with an actual human. The sheer amount of death and carnage left in its wake would likely have been something that stuck with him for a long time, were it not completely overshadowed by what happened at the top of the fort’s highest tower.

He’s still trying to figure out the details, but somehow, right when both he and Strohl were about to die, he awakened to some ancient magic called an Archetype. It involved ripping out his heart—which apparently isn’t even a regular heart anymore but some sort of microphone (what?)—and using magla to transform his entire body into something that can wield magic without an igniter. It was weird and uncomfortable, but it allowed him to kill the human, save Strohl, and avenge the lives of everyone that died there, so all in all Will was grateful.

That night, Will and Gallica met with the resistance member, a rhoag named Grius, and gave him his new mission. Killing Louis Guiabern still sounds like a monumental task to Will, given the man’s martial and magic skill, but Grius seemed ready and willing. 

Then came the dream. After reading his novel by the fireside, Will finally managed to calm down enough to fall asleep, only to immediately wake up in a study owned by a man named More. More not only apparently wrote the novel Will has kept close to him since parting with the Prince, but also seemed to have a good idea of what Archetypes actually are—something about it being the true magic that embodies heroes of old. To be honest, a lot of it went well over Will’s head. But Archetypes are clearly a powerful potential tool, and he needs all the help he can get, so Will made a deal with him to aid in his research. 

He can still remember the ethereal words that echoed in his mind as soon as he forged his bond with the author:

The scholar in search of utopia, More… 

Within him dwells the virtue of the Seeker .

Nurture thy bond with him, and a new power yet slumbering within thee may awaken.

He’s not sure why, but something about that voice was nostalgic…

And today has been just as crazy. After traveling through the wilderness and slaying a handful of very antagonistic soldiers who seemed determined to label them deserters, Will, Gallica, Stroll, and Grius found themselves in the Nord Mines. Grius chose the route as a way to get back to the capital undetected, but apparently the army was one step ahead of them.

Will had already written Captain Klinger off as a fat sack of shit, but even he was surprised to learn that the man willingly sent his entire unit into the fort knowing that a human was already there. Expecting them to die. Not only that, but he ordered any stragglers who managed to escape to be cut down, all in some sick attempt to disgrace the king’s guard and promote Louis.

And so when the group heard that this wasn’t the first time this had happened, that it was the same reason Strohl’s childhood village was razed, well…

Will wasn’t at all surprised when Strohl lost it. He was only marginally less surprised when he too awoke to an archetype. And he went back to being not surprised when they wiped the floor with Klinger and his bodyguards. It was unfortunate that Klinger escaped, but Will gained a brother-in-arms in Strohl out of it, and he couldn’t be happier.

A short trip to Akademeia later, with Gallica in tow this time, and Will now has three strong bonds, three impressive archetypes, and two fellow fighters, each capable of using the same power that he can. Will’s a bit upset that he hasn’t formed a bond with Grius yet, but he’s sure it’ll happen eventually.

And now, Will finds himself deep in the Nord Mines, having just tiptoed past a dragon (he can’t believe those actually exist, you’d have to be crazy to fight one), and is currently running for his life across a dilapidated bridge, trying to outpace a cave-in.

So yeah, an eventful week.

—

Apparently the week wasn’t quite eventful enough, because just as they cleared the bridge, Will heard Strohl cry out and point at a body right between them and the exit to the mines.

“We don’t have time to grab a body, boy! This place is still coming down around us!” Grius yelled over the cacophony of splintering wood and shattering rock.

Strohl shot him a wince. “He could still be alive! I’m not just going to leave him here!”

“You’ll both die if you stop to get him!” Grius shot back, though Will briefly caught the pained look on his face that made it clear that the man was not happy about it. It was the face of a man that was used to making that type of decision, even if it never got any easier.

Will was equal parts relieved and terrified when Strohl promptly ignored the warning and reached down to scoop the man up as they blew by. Surprisingly, the clemar barely had to slow down, and in a moment, the man was safely on his left shoulder opposite Strohl’s claymore. Will belatedly remembered that awakening to the Warrior Archetype likely made Strohl that much more physically capable. Grius merely let out a bark of laughter as he continued to lead the group, now with a determined smirk on his face.

As they continued to run through the exit tunnel, Will tried to get a look at the man (please let him be alive) bouncing on his friend’s shoulder. He seemed relatively young, maybe a little older than himself, with a nest of curly black hair. His position made it hard for Will to get a good look at his face, but there didn’t seem to be any defining physical characteristics that would mark him as belonging to a particular tribe. rhoag maybe, though his skin tone didn’t really match. Will shook his head and stopped focusing on the man—they clearly had more important things to deal with, and they weren’t clear of the cave-in quite yet.

—

As Ren gradually returned to consciousness, he became aware of two things: the warm, almost overwhelming heat of a fire, and voices speaking at a low volume. Three men and a woman, he thought. While Ren could understand the words spoken, there was something about them, and the accents that went with them, that registered to him as distinctly not Japanese.

Ren opened his eyes to the sight of a roaring fire surrounded by three men. As he squinted, pupils adjusting to the light, he gradually took them in. 

The man to his right was clearly the oldest, with white, shoulder-length hair and a matching beard and mustache. He wore an eye patch over his left eye, and had distinct tattoos on his face. He wore metal plate armor, and his left arm was partially covered by a yellow and black banner of some sort. It reminded Ren of heraldry that typically accompanied old European knights.

Directly across the fire from him sat a tall young man, at best guess a similar age to Ren, with shaggy silver hair and short horns above his ears, both pointing forward and tapering to points. He was wearing an old-fashioned yellow jacket, dark pants, brown boots, and what looked to be a white shirt with ruffled sleeves and a matching cravat.

…Okay, maybe they’re cosplayers?

To Ren’s left, opposite the older man, sat a boy with blue hair and a metal headband. He seemed to be both the smallest and youngest at a glance, and wore a white patterned, double breasted coat, black pants, and…where those spats? 

Definitely cosplayers.

Most noticeable though were his eyes. Heterochromatic, the left a vibrant blue and the right an almost luminescent yellow. For some reason, the combination of hair, headband, and eyes reminded Ren of someone, but he couldn’t put a finger on who.

He wasn’t sure where the woman’s voice he heard came from, but he assumed that the other three voices belonged to this group. As Ren started to shift, the horned man caught the movement, and all three turned to face him.

“Back in the land of the living, I see. How are you feeling, friend?” Horned-Guy said. His voice was full of a surprising amount of compassion. Again, Ren noticed that the language he was speaking was not probably not Japanese nor any other language he recognized, but he couldn’t explain how he could tell or why he understood it anyways. It almost sounded like the words were warping as they came out, sound waves twisting into Japanese, but with the original phonemes still echoing like white-noise beneath.

Both Blue-Hair and Horned-Guy were looking at him with equal parts concern and curiosity, while Tattoos’ gaze held an edge of… wariness, Ren guessed. Fair, he didn’t exactly know what was going on either.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Ren mumbled, becoming aware of a massive headache that he had managed to ignore until now. He sat up slowly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to soothe away some of the pressure.

“Uhhh… what?” 

Ren’s eyes snapped back open. That voice was definitely a girl’s, and he was ninety-five percent sure that it didn’t come from any of them. The three men(?) were now looking at him with some level of confusion, confusion that was probably mirrored in Ren’s face.

Just as Ren opened his mouth to respond, his eyes located the source of the voice. There, on a crate between Tattoos and Horned-Guy, sat a pixie.

…

…

Okay, definitely not cosplayers.

Ren shut his mouth and stared, willing his brain to reboot.

“First time seeing a fairy?” the winged girl huffed. The tone and her facial expression made it clear that she was teasing more than actually upset.

As Ren’s hand went to the back of his head in a practiced motion to hopefully convey embarrassment rather than panic, his brain went into overdrive, trying to piece together all these odd observations and clues into something resembling an explanation of what the fuck was going on.

Three men and a pixie—no, a fairy. They looked like cosplayers, but the fairy invalidates that. Tattoos’ armor looks real, and Ren clocks an equally real looking sword laying next to Blue-Hair. So not playing pretend, definitely armed and dangerous, and apparently not human. A fairy means the Metaverse most likely. That would explain the feeling he had, both now and back when he was in his dreamlike, possibly drug-induced haze. Like he was somehow halfway between reality and the cognitive realm. Like the Meta-Nav had just begun navigation, but he hadn’t made it quite to the other side yet. That would also explain why he could summon Arsène, and maybe why, looking back on it, his other self somehow seemed…weaker that he remembered? Either that or he’d read too many of Futaba’s light novels and actually got isekai’d.

…Oh god, did I actually get hit by a truck?

Okay so he’s in some sort of cognitive realm, that’s nothing new. It would also explain, maybe, why he could understand them despite them not speaking Japa—OHHH! And he clearly answered in Japanese, which might explain, maybe, why they couldn’t understand him. Realizing he was taking too long to say anything, and that the people in front of him were growing concerned and/or suspicious, Ren focused on his thoughts. 

Thoughts are given form in the cognitive realm. He was able to be a master thief, all acrobatic and whatnot, because he believed he was, he leaned into the imagination of it all. Toy guns shot real bullets because shadows believed they were real guns. So if he really, truly believed he could make them understand Japanese just like he defaulted to believing he’d be able to understand them when they were speaking… whatever they spoke, then just maybe…

“Sorry, um… I’m fine, I think. Bad headache, but otherwise I’m in one piece.” Ren said each word slower than he normally would, really focusing on the intent and meaning behind them. To his surprise, his ears picked up on the same warping quality he heard underpinning the other language. Hopefully that would go away as he got used to speaking and listening—it wasn’t the most comfortable sound.

“Ah, that’s good. Likely got hit in the head trying to escape the mine cave-in, eh?” Horned-Guy said with a smile. If he noticed the cognitive-translation-hand-wavy-magic stuff, he made no indication.

“Probably,” Ren said with a half-hearted smile.

Cave-in? I was in a mine? Do they think I’m a miner? Why would there be a mine in the cognitive realm? Do they not realize they’re in the cognitive realm? Why are they just hanging out with a pixie?

“Um, how did I end up here with you guys, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ren continued.

Blue-Hair responded this time. “The dragon in the mine got a little angry and I guess decided to cause a cave-in? We were running for the exit when Strohl” – he gestured to Horned-Guy – “noticed you unconscious on the ground. He picked you up and carried you out with us.”

Blue-Hair’s voice was pretty youthful, and had an open and innocent quality to it, like he wasn’t used to lying or capable of guile. Of course, this wasn’t really something Ren picked up on, having decided to focus on the whole dragon thing. He continued to look at Blue-Hair after he finished, waiting for the upturned lip or gleam in the eye that usually accompanies jokes. But Blue-Hair kept his face open and honest, devoid of humor. Tattoo, Fairy, and Strohl likewise didn’t react with any trace of levity.

…Okay so… that isekai theory is gaining some traction.

Chapter Text

Outside Nord Mines (Grand Trad Exit)

Okay calm down. Take stock.

“Wow, I owe you my life sir, thank you…” Ren bowed his head slightly in thanks. He hoped that was a recognizable gesture to these people. “Sorry, it’s just… my mind is all jumbled. I’m having a hard time... you know.” He gestured to his head. 

Strohl smiled understandingly. “Of course, take your time.”

Ren smiled graciously before hunching over and staring into the fire. 

First question: how did I get here?

He cast his mind back, hoping to stitch together the order of events that brought him here. He vaguely remembered waking up in his and Makoto’s shared apartment, needing to get to an early class. Was that this morning? No it couldn’t have been, the university has been closed for a while because…

Ren physically winced, his mind running up against some headache inducing barrier that only grew more thorny the harder he tried pushing past it.Regardless, he couldn’t find any explanation for waking up… wherever this was.

Second question: where the hell is here?

Ren shot a quick glance at his saviors again. They seemed content to return to whatever they were talking about, and only Tattoos seemed to be even the slightest bit cautious about him. On closer examination, he seemed to have pointed, elf-like ears, and his skin tone almost seemed… reddish? It was hard to be certain with the light of the fire covering everything in the vicinity in warmer tones. None of them acted like they were “in character” or otherwise dressing up for fun, and with the way they effortlessly interacted with the fairy, he was becoming more and more certain that at least Tattoos and Strohl weren’t human.

Was he in the Metaverse? He didn’t think so. If he focused, he knew he could summon his mask and by extension his personae. But he wasn’t currently in his Phantom Thief garb, and didn’t think he could summon that if he wanted to. Nor could he access his inter-dimensional Bag of Holding, as Futaba called it. So that meant no access to weapons, armor, consumables, etc., and he’s never not been able to reach in there while in the cognitive realm.

So probably not the Metaverse, but definitely somewhere that felt similar, if weaker. Maybe a place where actual humans—well, people—could live, but still access the effects given by the Metaverse. It would explain why that fairy girl could exist here.

Either way, definitely not his world.

Third question: If this isn’t my world, how do I get back?

That… was an excellent question. Meta-Nav? Ren went to check the front right pocket of his pants that he usually kept his phone in, only to realize that he didn’t seem to have his phone. He also didn’t seem to have pockets?

Ren finally took a good look at what he was wearing and got even more confused. His pants were a light gray, but without pockets, a zipper, or buttons of any kind. He would have called them sweatpants, but they were fitted and far less comfortable. His t-shirt was black and also fitted, almost like a compression shirt. And both pieces of clothing were made of some lightweight, stretchable synthetic fabric that felt somehow tough at the same time. Ren was positive he didn’t have clothes like this in his wardrobe, but when he tried to remember where he got them, he ran into the same painful mental barrier as before.

What Ren did know is that if this was another world, he was definitely not dressed like he belonged there. And he was most certainly not dressed like a miner, if that was the assumption the other people around the fire had. That could explain Tattoos’ barely perceptible wariness.

With no immediate idea on how to return to his world, Ren fought down the rising panic by trying to come up with an actionable plan. He didn’t know where he was or what the rules were here. Futaba had forced (sure Ren, forced) him into reading and watching enough isekai to know that immediately saying you were from another world was usually a bad idea, especially when the first people you find are both armed and of an unknown disposition. For all he knew, these were people with a vastly different moral and ethical rule set, and saying or doing the wrong thing could place him in hot water.

So. Lie. At least until he could get his bearings. That’s doable. Ren had a decent amount of experience hiding his true self.

—

The man that Strohl saved seemed nice enough, if a little out of it. The group had already decided while he was still unconscious that they would table any talk of their plan until they went their separate ways. Will thought that was prudent—plotting assassinations isn’t something you usually do in the presence of strangers.

He was very curious about the newcomer. Elda are exceedingly rare even within major cities, so finding one inside an abandoned mine was nothing short of a statistical impossibility. Then there were his clothes. Whoever this person was, he definitely wasn’t mining in them. They looked brand new, and definitely not like something you’d find illegal miners wearing. So they had an elda, in a mine, but he wasn’t mining there.

And then the most important point. After setting up camp, Gallica informed the group that she could sense some sort of magla signature from him. Something similar to what she sensed from Will, Strohl, and Grius since they gained the power of Archetypes, but not quite the same. Two days ago, Will would have been more freaked out about that. But of late, people around him don’t seem to exactly be playing by the established magical rule set. Plus there is the rumor that the Elda tribe carries dangerous magic damned by Sanctism, so maybe that’s what she’s sensing.

All of these facts together made for a rather interesting John Doe. Grius was understandably determined to remain wary, but Will and Gallica were more intrigued than anything. Strohl seemed to not care, focusing first and foremost on the man’s well-being, which Will was learning was a very “Strohl” thing to do.

The group, which had been making small talk, finally turned to the unknown Elda as he straightened up and looked at each of them in turn, apparently having gotten his thoughts in order. Or at least in as much order as one can get them after being knocked unconscious by falling rocks.

“Okay, so. Thanks again for saving me back there. I don’t remember what knocked me out, but I’m assuming I’d be dead if you hadn’t stopped to grab me. I don’t know how to repay you all, but I could at least start with an introduction. My name is Ren.” 

Ren’s voice was deep and even, and he spoke with an ease and confidence that Will wasn’t used to hearing from someone so young, and definitely never from a member of one of the lower tribes. But rather than putting him off, it made Will feel comfortable.

“Hi Ren, I’m Will.” He found himself saying with a smile. “And I think we’d all agree there’s no need for repayment.”

“Leon Strohl. Just Strohl is fine,” his new brother-in-arms said. “Will’s right. We had the opportunity to save you and we did so. Your thanks is appreciated, but repayment is unnecessary.”

“Grius.” The older man stated gruffly. “I’m glad the lad here was able to pull you out of there.”

Ren nodded his thanks to each of them in turn with an easy smile that conveyed his gratitude.

“And I’m Gallica.” The fairy rose off the crate she was perched on and floated closer to Ren to let him see her more clearly. “You didn’t answer my earlier question. First time seeing a fairy?”

Ren took her in for a second or two. Then his lip twitched upwards for a brief moment before he answered. “No, I’ve seen fairies before. First time having a conversation with one though. It’s nice to meet you.”

Gallica nodded and smiled before flying over to Will. “He doesn’t seem too bad. Though I’m still curious about that magic I’m sensing. I haven’t felt anything quite like it,” she whispered for only him to hear.

“So.” Grius started, leaning forward. “What was someone like you doing in the mines? Those clothes you’re wearing, I’ve never seen a miner wear anything like them.”

Ren froze for a moment, as if he were trying to remember. Maybe that hit to the head really did a number on his memory.

“No, you’re right, I’m not a miner. I was just passing through. Figured going through the mines would be faster,” he said after a while. His face was impassive, but his eyes showed a hint of uncertainty.

“Ah, on your way to the capital?” Strohl offered. “It’s definitely the route you’d want to take to avoid… complications. Especially for an Elda like yourself.”

Ren cocked his head slightly, like he didn’t quite catch something Strohl said. Then he smiled. “Yes, that’s where I’m headed. And you’re right, complications are the last thing I need right now,” he said with a chuckle. 

Will exchanged a glance with the other three. Sadly, it made sense. An Elda would want to avoid military checkpoints almost as much as a criminal or deserter would, and Grius himself mentioned that this was the best way to bypass them. Likely Ren had made it into the mines before Klinger had set up his ambush, luckily for him.

Ren continued. “I’m assuming that’s where you’re headed as well?”

Will nodded. “We’re on our way to the king’s funeral. We’re hoping to catch a ride so we can get there in time.”

“Ah. If it’s not too much trouble, would you let me accompany you?” Ren asked, making sure he made eye contact with each of them as he spoke. “Not to place myself even further in your debt, but I seem to have lost my weapon, and I’d rather not travel alone.” He finished by rubbing the back of his head, apparently embarrassed to be imposing upon them further. 

One more round of eye contact with his team. Will was okay with it. Sure, it meant that they wouldn’t be able to discuss their mission, but seeing as they were looking to catch a ride on a public carriage, he doubted they’d be able to do that anyways. And on the off chance that Ren was dangerous, he would be both outnumbered and at the mercy of this new power the three men shared. 

After learning what happened to Strohl’s parents and his views on what it truly meant to be noble, Will had no doubt as to the clemar’s opinion. Gallica had a look of determination, indicating she too thought it was something that they had an obligation to do. All three turned to Grius.

If anyone would need convincing, it would be the veteran mercenary. The man was cautious by nature, and for good reason considering all he lived through. Hell, he didn’t trust Strohl until the younger man awakened to his Archetype. As expected, there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. 

But after a moment or two, he sighed and shrugged. “Aye, why not. Wouldn’t do to leave you unarmed in the wilderness, after all. Don’t want all the effort Strohl went through saving you to go to waste.”

Will could see the tension leave Ren’s shoulders. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if you said no, though I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. After all, you don’t know me.”

“No problem!” Gallica chirped. “There will be plenty of time to fix that on the way to Grand Trad. But for now, how bout we get some sleep. I can take first watch.”

Nord Mines → Royal Capital Grand Trad

Two different versions of the former leader of the Phantom Thieves made the trip to Grand Trad, stuffed in the back of a horse drawn carriage they managed to track down shortly after breaking camp.

The first, Joker, was ever present and ever alert. The one thing Joker desperately needed was information. How this world worked, what races and factions were present, names of countries and their relations to each other. Any bit of common knowledge Joker didn’t have could potentially draw unhealthy amounts of suspicion, and if he wanted to live long enough to make it home, he’d have to learn quickly how to act like he belonged.

The second, Amamiya Ren, was a mess. One moment a hair’s breadth away from a panic attack, the next spiraling into depression, overwhelmed by both the world he found himself in, and the sense of loss he felt for what he left behind. His personae tried to be a stabilizing influence, but whether it was because of the weird half-Metaverse nature of this world or the sheer level of unfamiliarity Ren was surrounded with, they couldn’t help much.

Joker carefully asked questions designed to let him glean bits of knowledge through osmosis and context clues. He learned that he was currently headed to Grad Trad, the capital of the Kingdom of Euchronia. It was a continent-spanning united nation of allied kingdoms—Euchronia and two others it held sovereignty over. Many people were currently making their way to the royal capital to attend the funeral of King Hythlodaeus V, who just recently was murdered. Joker couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though the assassination was somewhat surprising, not because of the approval rating the king currently held, but because of the method by which it was carried out. Something about royal magic making such a murder impossible.

Ren kept to himself. Long bouts of silence where his mind was going a mile a minute, trying desperately to keep himself above water. He had no idea where he was, no idea how to get back. What if he was…what if he couldn’t? What if he never saw his dad again, never got to walk into Leblanc and put on an apron again, never got to bond while working the coffee grinder or the stove on a particularly slow day again?

What if he never saw his sister again? Memories of sitting on the couch with her, bundled up in the middle of the night, watching some trash anime and not caring that it was terrible because he was with her and he was loved and this was all he needed. Family—real family—was something that was still relatively new to Ren, and the thought of losing Sojiro or Futaba gutted him, leaving him almost physically unable to take a breath.

Joker participated in conversations and picked up that apparently he and Will were elda, which as far as Joker could tell just meant human. He learned that being an elda was apparently not a great thing, and that he should be ready to be an outcast, ostracized and looked upon as lesser than. Which was honestly nothing new. He’d be able to handle it.

Strohl was a clemar, a race easily identified by their horns, while Grius was a rhoag, recognizable by their darker skin tone, lighter hair, and facial markings. Joker wasn’t sure whether or not those markings were something they were born with or whether it was some sort of symbolic tattoo or makeup. 

And Gallica was clearly a fairy, which Joker gathered were uncommon but not unheard of. Apparently Gallica was somewhat unique in her relative humanity, and it was more likely to encounter fairies that were less intelligent and self-aware, if you ever managed to encounter one at all.

Ren huddled into the corner of the carriage when conversation died down, torn between the comfort that came from remembering his girlfriend and the nausea that roiled up in his stomach when his mind started entertaining the idea that she was forever lost to him. 

Niijima Makoto occupied a lot of roles in the four years since Ren had first met her. 

She was the picture perfect student, well read and always ready to remind you of the importance of studying. 

She was the team mom, able to instill the fear of god into his idiot friends just as easily as she was able to raise their confidence and spirits with earnest and heartfelt praise. 

She was the scared and lost girl, trying to navigate her life without the benefit of parents, and with a sister who at first was uncaring and now was supportive but always busy. Makoto still found herself fighting against her low sense of self-worth, and while those fights were coming far less often than they used to, it still broke his heart that she couldn’t see herself the way he saw her sometimes.

And most importantly to Ren, Makoto was his rock. Every bad day, every low test score, every snide comment about his record, every calling card, every nightmare, every cognitive deity, every everything. She was there. She never let him go through anything alone, even when he tried to keep her at arms length. She was a constant in his life, his partner in the truest sense of the word. He loved her more than he previously knew it was possible to love somebody.

And she wasn’t here.

Joker tried to come up with a backstory, something that would explain his gaps in knowledge once they reached the capital and he was on his own. He settled on being a traveler from Ligno, a small village outside of the capital. He hoped that would explain his lack of understanding about the ways of the world at large—it seemed like this was a world where it was common for people to live out their entire lives never traveling more than a day from the town they grew up in.

Ren couldn’t stop picturing his friends. What did they think happened to him? Was he a missing person, or had he maybe died, and this was some sort of weird afterlife? He imagined Ann and Ryuji canvasing Shibuya, maybe handing out missing person posters. Maybe Haru was throwing around her money in an effort to locate him. Maybe Yusuke and Sumire were reaching out to his confidants. They’d done it three years ago when he was stuck in juvie, and they’d actually managed to clear his record, something he assumed was an impossibility. If they could somehow get in contact with Igor and Lavenza, was it too much to hope that they might collectively figure out a way to bring him back? 

Probably.

And so it went. Ren staved off panic attacks by rallying to action, handing off the baton to Joker, who learned and planned and learned some more. When it became too much, when the strangeness of it all started overwhelming him, the baton passed back to Ren, and he spiraled. 

Rinse and repeat.

All the while the carriage pressed on until finally, Grand Trad became visible on the horizon.

The royal funeral draws ever closer… 1 day remains.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

Grand Trad was an overwhelming mix of the familiar and bizarre. Ren and company arrived on Idlesday night (Ren assumed by the name that it was akin to Sunday), and he immediately proceeded to take in as much as he could.

The streets of the capital were extremely wide, though that might just indicate main thoroughfares. On both sides of the street were tall apartment buildings, between five and eight stories, jammed together with barely any space between. There were lampposts lining the street, strange ones that rotated around and seemed to float. Based on the lack of flickering coming from the various light sources in the city, Ren guessed they were powered either by electricity or magic—magla, Gallica called it. 

The architectural style of the city and the technology he spotted made Ren think that this world would line up with the later half of the industrial revolution back home, though with the presence of magic, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were way off. There were a handful of things he saw that made no sense to him either. There was some sort of animatronic flying contraption in the air, the purpose of which Ren couldn’t guess. There were also tall contraptions on the sidewalks that looked like they were sucking up magla shards. Power generators maybe? And on a nearby street corner, he spied what could best be described as a metal structure consisting of multiple vertical tubes that opened at the end, like a bouquet of horns. Ren wondered if it was some sort of loudspeaker.

But the most noticeable thing of all was the almost impossibly large building rising in the distance. Regalith Grand Cathedral was massive, visible from miles outside the city, and up close seemed to completely dominate the horizon. It looked like an upside-down tetrahedron that would seem more at home in a sci-fi movie than anywhere else, three arms jutting out from the center at 130 degree intervals. The fact that it was a religious building made it very clear to Ren that whatever religion it belonged to was a major power in this country.

After exiting the carriage, but before proceeding into the heart of the city, Grius threw a robe at Ren.

“Elda may be more common in the city,” Gruis explained, “but they’re still rare. And with those clothes, you’ll draw attention that none of us want right now.”

Curious phrasing, but Ren acquiesced, quickly throwing the robe over his clothes and bringing the hood up to partially hide his face. Though he grumbled as he did so, “Right, because Will doesn’t stand out at all.”

Grius and Strohl chuckled. “Exactly my point,” the old man shot back. “He’ll already put enough of a spotlight on us, but at least he’s dressed like he belongs here. No need to add you into the mix as well.”

As they walked, Ren noticed that the streets were noticeably busy for this time of night, and there was an edge in the air, as if the whole city was tensing up, waiting for something. He caught snippets of conversations here and there, worries about whether or not soldiers would be able to keep the peace, concerns about what would happen now that the king had died without leaving behind an heir. It wasn’t panic, but Ren realized that there was a current of fear running through most of the citizens.

The group stopped at an intersection as Grius turned around to speak to the group. “There’s a hostelry tucked at the back of Sunshade Row.” He indicated a smaller street behind him. “The Hushed Honeybee Inn. It’s a decent enough place to stay for the night.”

Ren pushed down a surge of fear, realizing that he was on his own from here. The other four had their own business here, and he had already far overstayed his welcome.

“Well then, I guess this is where we part ways. Again, thank you for helping me when you were under no obligation—”

“What are you on about lad, you’re coming too,” Grius interrupted.

“But I—”

“You don’t have any coin on you, right? Lost it along with your weapon in the mine? What were you planning to do for lodging?”

Ren froze. He figured he’d have to spend at least one night on the streets. Maybe he could look for work and a place to board tomorrow.

“That’s what I thought,” Grius continued with a shake of his head. “Come on, I can put you up for at least a night.” He turned around without another word and started walking ahead.

The rest hurried to catch up. “Thank you… truly,” Ren said in a low tone. Grius reminded him of Sojiro, gruff but kind, and Ren was having trouble keeping emotion out of his voice. He noticed the other three smiling, either at Grius’ kindness or at his own flawed assumption that they’d just leave him alone without money or a place to stay.

Continuing on, Ren started to understand what the others meant about elda and their place in society. Ren kept his eyes down, face hidden in his hood, but Will was exposed, and Ren could hear the not so quiet whispers.

“Why is there an elda in this sacred capital…?”

“An elda. How pitiful.”

“Don’t get too close to him.”

Ren glanced at Will, but the boy didn’t seem to pay the comments much mind. Maybe he was used to them. Ren couldn’t help but draw parallels to his first couple of months at Shujin.

The steps down to Sunshade Row  were a clear delineation separating the public face of the city from what could only be called its slums. The width of the streets in this section of the city was drastically reduced and there was refuse everywhere. Buildings were worn down or outright dilapidated, and the people on the streets kept to themselves, eyes always vigilant, always on the lookout for the next danger. What that danger could entail, Ren could only imagine.

Ren took everything in as they continued along. As they exited into a small square, his eyes were immediately drawn to a gallows platform. It wasn’t currently…in use, thank god, but its presence forced Ren to re-contextualize this world. Public hangings in a city square meant that death was likely a common occurrence here, and that perhaps he should entertain the notion that if he wanted to survive, he might have to throw away some of the ethics that came with a more modern society.

He also started really paying attention to the other people on the street. Conversations in the carriage ride taught him that there were other tribes than elda, rhoag, and clemar, and he was seeing some now. 

There were a significant number of people with animal-like ears and tails, usually either canine or feline in nature. Paripus, he thinks they’re called. He’d consumed enough anime and video games to not be too thrown by the concept of cat-boys and dog-girls, although he never thought in a million years he’d be in a scenario where they were real and right in front of him.

He also saw some people with wings (he doesn’t think he caught the name of that tribe), a few with very long elf-like ears (roussaintes), and one man sitting at a nearby table had almost neon blue hair that shifted color subtly as it caught the light. Ren would have assumed it was just a really cool dye job if it weren’t for his eyes, which had massive irises that were similarly iridescent but of a deeper shade of blue.

Most concerning of all were the handful of catatonic people they walked by. Leaned up against the sides of buildings or just lying in the street, they were surrounded by dark magla shards that seemed to almost stick to their skin, consuming them starting from their heads. The amount of consumption varied, but all of them had the same eyes, pinpricks of unsettling light in a face of blackness. It unnerved Ren greatly, but he stayed silent and kept pace with the others.

As they walked further down the street, Ren noticed more and more people looking at Grius with recognition. Upon noticing him, most of them even made gestures of respect or admiration. The man was clearly well known around here.

Finally the street terminated in a cul-de-sac. The building they were headed straight for had large lanterns on either side of a central door. Ren guessed the sign above the door read The Hushed Honeybee Inn, but he couldn’t read the script—apparently his cognitive translation magic didn’t work with writing. 

“Here we are,” Grius stated matter-of-factly, and without any further ado led the rest of the party into the inn.

The ground floor of the inn was small but radiated comfort and smelled heavenly. There were a number of tables occupied with people eating and drinking contentedly, and a heath on the right under the stairs, as well as a separate room in the back—a kitchen maybe—behind a bar.

“You’re back.”

…Whoa. Ren had to force himself not to stare. The voice belonged to a paripus woman with ash blonde hair, fox-like ears, and deep golden eyes. She wore a sleek black dress with lace sleeves patterned with flowers and vines and a draped opening in the back for her bushy tail. She was stunning, and it took a second for his mind to restart.

“Papa! Welcome home!”

Only for it to start racing as he noticed the young girl running up to stand next to the woman. She wore a patchwork dress and had short hair of a similar shade, and gray eyes. She had an adorable wreath of flowers on her head.

This is Grius’ daughter? Is he married to the hottie? Way to go Grius! Wait, this girl has wings. Neither of them have wings, is she adopted?

“Well hello, my Maria. I trust you’ve been staying out of trouble?” Grius rubbed her head as the girl smiled happily. He looked at the papirus woman as he continued. “These two are… new recruits. Just enlisted. And this one we picked up on the way. Lost his belongings on the road.”

Ren gave an embarrassed smile.

“So young… It’s good to meet you. I’m Fabienne. This inn is my business and my home,” Fabienne introduced herself with a smile before looking at the girl. “Manners, Maria.”

“Um… Welcome,” Maria said with an embarrassed blush. Adorable.

Grius got Ren's attention. “Sorry lad, but I had some things I wanted to go over with these boys and Fabienne. Fabienne, you wouldn’t mind putting Ren up for the night, would you?”

“Of course not. Maria, would you mind showing… Ren was it?… Ren up to the free room?”

“Okay!” Maria looked at Ren bashfully and quietly continued. “Please follow me, mister.”

Ren nodded to the others before smiling at Maria in a way that hopefully eased her nervousness. “Of course, lead the way.”

Ren followed Maria upstairs, and she led him to a small room on the right with a few beds and not much else. She stopped at the door and Ren walked past her into the room.

“Um, I can come get you when supper is ready if you’d like?” Maria asked from the doorway. 

“That’d be great, thanks Maria.” Ren gave her an easy smile. She gave a toothy grin before nodding and closing the door. He could hear her light footfalls quickly going down the stairs.

And for the first time in a few days, Ren was alone. 

It was time to make a plan. Any moment his mind spent idle was an opportunity for Ren to remember what was ripped from him, and he… he couldn’t deal with that, not right now. Not when Maria or the others could come in any minute. 

If Ren was going to survive here, the first thing he’d need was money. Maybe tomorrow he’d ask the others if they could think of any work for someone who had no identification, no references, no command of the written language, and no knowledge of the world in general. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Then he’d need to start getting the lay of the land. He had no idea how he was going to get home, but he had to start somewhere. He wasn’t sure how receptive people would be to an Elda asking questions, but he could always eavesdrop. Maybe there was some place that studied magic and they’d know about cross-world summoning or something… okay, that might be too much wishful thinking. Ren had a feeling he’d be stuck here for a while, and knowledge was the best weapon he had right now.

Ren spent some time going over what he had learned so far and weighing his various options until Maria showed up and informed him that dinner was ready. Ren wasn’t quite sure what he was eating—the meat was chicken-like and vegetables looked sort of like tomatoes—but it was delicious. Flavorful with a surprising amount of spice. He wondered if he could recreate it back home. Maybe he could ask Fabienne about the recipe.

Ren enjoyed it so much that when Fabienne asked if he’d like seconds, he couldn’t help but say yes. Will and company went up to their room first, and after savoring a second plate of what Fabienne told him was “Redgrass-roasted Bidou,” he followed them. Footsteps still naturally light from his thieving days, Ren made it to the door without making noise, and he was just about to open it when the voices on the other side made him stop and listen.

“...risked a lot to shelter me, and to help the Resistance. I owe her more than I can say.” That was Grius, likely talking about Fabienne. What’s this about a resistance?

Then Strohl. “You’d said we were short-handed, but are we really the only ones?”

“I know we’ve plenty of independent agents, fighting in their own ways… but it seems none could avail themselves to us,” Grius replied. “...Which means we’re the only ones who can do this."

Ren had a sinking feeling as he quickly checked behind him, making sure nobody was going to catch him listening in. Strohl proved that feeling right immediately. 

“Still, killing Louis… That’s not going to be an easy feat.”

…Shit.

Ren’s mind raced. They’d told him a little about this “Louis Guiabern” during the ride. How he was a high ranking member of the military, a genius in combat, strategy, and the use of magic. And it was a loosely guarded rumor that he had a hand in the king’s death. Ren got the feeling that they really didn’t like the man. Strohl especially held a barely concealed rage when they had discussed him, though he had quickly schooled his features when he noticed Ren was looking his way. 

From what Ren could gather, it wasn’t surprising that there were people who wanted Louis dead. But a whole resistance? And Ren happened to stumble upon the four individuals tasked with carrying out an assassination. 

Lovely. He thought he had finally distanced himself from his preternatural ability to stumble face first into trouble.

But these four had not only saved his life, they had let him travel with them, and Grius had even brought him to a place he could sleep free of charge, at least for one night. Ren got the feeling that level of altruism was rare in this world, and despite their short time together he was convinced that these were good people. Ren’s gut was rarely wrong when it came to reading people.

So how bad was this Louis Guiabern that such good people were willing to do something so terrible?

Ren backed away quietly and went back downstairs. He wasn’t sure what they’d do if they knew he was listening in. They had no idea what his allegiances were, and it wasn’t hard to believe they’d elect to silence him rather than risk their plan getting out.

“Oh? I know my cooking is good, but thirds?” Fabienne teased as she saw Ren come off the stairs.

“Believe me, if I could fit anything else in my stomach, I’d take you up on it,” Ren replied with a charming smile. “No, I just realized I was too restless to turn in for the night. Mind if I hang out down here and people watch?”

Fabienne raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You’re my guest here tonight, make yourself at home. I doubt anyone that’s made a favorable impression on Grius would cause me trouble.”

“Favorable impression?”

Fabienne smiled. “Grius doesn’t make it a habit of helping random people on the road, much less bring them here and ask me to give them room and board. He must see something in you.”

“Huh…” Ren gave a sheepish half smile and took a seat at the nearest table. For the next twenty or so minutes, he faded into the background, taking in bits of conversation from other customers, making small talk with Maria when she wasn’t busy serving tables, and nursing some ale Fabienne brought him, “On the house.”

Eventually Will and Gallica came back down alone, their assassination strategy session apparently finished. He walked up to Maria, who was currently free of waitressing duties.

“Did you need something?” She said when she noticed them.

“I was thinking we could play a game?” Will responded.

“Play a game? But it’s already night-time.” Maria tilted her head, confused, before her eyes widened in realization. “…Oh, I just remembered. Papa said you have a strange book, and that I should ask to see it.”

“You like books, huh?” Gallica asked.

“Well, I haven’t ever seen one before… So I was wondering what they’re like.”

Will smiled at the girl. “Wanna read it together?” Ren smiled into his ale—his gut was definitely right, Will was a good person.

Maria’s face lit up as she bounced with excitement. “Really!? Oh, but I still have work to do…”

“Don’t worry, Maria,” Fabienne called from behind the bar. “I can handle this crowd. You have fun reading upstairs.”

“...Really?”

“Yes. You did a very good job today,” Fabienne said with a motherly smile. Ren again wondered how she, Maria, and Grius were related.

“Let’s read then!” Maria said. She then turned to Ren. “Are you coming too? I bet it’ll be more fun if we all read together.”

Ren fought off his instinctive desire to clutch his heart, and settled on a warm smile. “Sure Maria, that sounds fun.” Will and Gallica, who likewise seemed to be recovering from the girl’s weaponized sweetness, gave him a nod and they all went back up to the room Will, Strohl, and Ren were sharing. Strohl was already sleeping, and Grius was nowhere to be seen.

Will led Maria over to a chest at the foot of Strohl’s bed and got out the book Ren always saw on him. He treated it with great care, bordering on reverence. Ren took a seat on a free bed, content to listen, as Will opened the book and angled it so Maria could see.

“There’s so many pictures! Are all books like this?”

Will chuckled. “Not all, but I prefer books like this. Pictures help you imagine what’s happening in the story better, don’t you think?”

Maria nodded in agreement. “Miss Fabienne taught me how to read a little. She said it helps with keeping the inn running.”

Okay, not her mom, Ren thought. Family friend maybe? They’re awfully close. He briefly wondered where Maria’s mom was.

“Do you help out every day?” Will asked.

“Mhm. It’s lots and lots of work, but it’s fun too. Plus, I like when people say I’m clever, so I’ve gotta work really, really hard.” Maria’s face took on a solemn expression and stared at the floor as she continued. “Papa always says not to go into his room, so I wait for him a lot. I’m good at waiting.”

Ren, Will, and Gallica frowned slightly. Will responded first. 

“Are you sure you’re doing alright?”

Maria brightened again. “Yes. Papa’s always like this when he comes home. But I’m happy he’s here.” She turned to look at Will directly. “...Thank you for caring. It’s fun talking to you.”

“Then we'll have to do this again sometime,” Will responded with a grin.

“Really? You don’t mind talking to me?” Will shook his head, and Maria beamed before holding out her pinky finger. “Then it’s a promise! …You’re helping Papa with his job, aren’t you? So… be safe. I’ve heard his job can be really dangerous.”

Will shot Ren a quick glance, likely worried that Ren would have questions about this dangerous job, but Ren made no indication that he cared, so Will looked back at Maria and reached out with his pinky to seal the promise.

And when their pinkies locked, there was a pulse. Like there was a ripple in the fabric of reality originating from their joined fingers. Ren’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked at Gallica and Maria. Neither seemed to notice it. And Will… Will had a faraway look, as if… as if there was something only he could see, something only he could hear, and he was paying attention to it rather than what was happening around him.

Ren schooled his face into a mask of impassivity, but inside, he was freaking out. Because he recognized that pulse. He knew that faraway stare, knew it was an expression he wore himself a not insignificant number of times. 

No way. No fucking way. 

Was Will a Wild Card? Were personas a thing in this world too? Ren tried to keep the rising hope in his chest tempered. If Will really was establishing a confidant right now, that meant he was a Wild Card, and that meant the Velvet Room existed here. And if that was true, he’d be able to talk to Igor and Lavenza. If anyone knew what happened to him, knew of a way to get back to where he belonged, it would be them.

It was too good to be true, and part of his mind cautioned him about jumping to conclusions that would crush him if they turned out to be incorrect. But it was so hard to listen, not when this could turn out to be a very real way to get home. 

Maria’s voice pulled him back into the room.

“I wonder if Papa will stay for longer this time? It’d be sad if he had to leave right away…” she continued, unaware of what likely just happened (please, please let that be what happened).

Will responded that he’d see if he could get Grius to stay, and then Maria settled in to try and read Will’s book as he held it open.

“In this country, the en… enli… the something king hears the voices of the… citi… and protects their way of life. Um, what’s this say?”

Gallica helped her out. “Society’s purpose is to protect its citizens. This is a basic principle of this utopia. All are equal, all live in safety, and the rich and poor are as one. With no gaps, no conflict. All are friends, deserving of help.”

If there are rich and poor, how can there be no gaps, Ren wondered.

“Basically,” Gallica continued, “it’s a place where there’s no fighting, and everyone always gets along.”

“Wow… Where is this place? No one gets left alone there, right? I wish I could go…” Maria mumbled.

As Maria continued reading, Ren continued listening. And the more he listened, the more curious he got about this book. Parts of it sounded almost like his world. An incredibly idealized version of his world, but still. The forms of governance, the social programs, the interplay between different social strata—it was like someone took the constitutions of various nations on earth and combined the best parts of each into this flowery amalgam. 

“Do you mind if I took a look at that book while Maria continues?” Ren ventured once his curiosity was sufficiently piqued. Will smiled and shook his head, scooching over so Ren could sit down on the chest.

Ren sat down and peered over Will’s shoulder. As expected, he couldn’t make sense of any of the writing, but the pictures gave him a start.

The way the figures were dressed. The buildings in the background. And the people. If Elda were really as despised and rare as it seemed in Euchronia, there was no way someone would make a book where every single person looked like one. These weren’t Elda, they were humans.

They were illustrations of his world. Maybe not the current time period, and maybe not Japan, but there were too many similarities for it to just be a coincidence.

Once more Ren found himself hiding his surprise from the people in the room. Two things in quick succession that suggested a link to earth. 

One thing was for sure. Ren couldn’t afford to part ways with Will now.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

Ren woke up early the following morning. Or at least he thought it was early—he didn’t have his phone anymore and there was no clock in the room he shared with Will, Gallica, and Strohl. (Are there clocks in this world?) But the other three were still asleep, so Ren slipped quietly from the room and made his way downstairs. 

The tavern that made up the ground floor of the inn was empty apart from Grius and Fabienne, who were speaking to each other with voices too low for Ren to pick up. He briefly wondered if his Third Eye worked here, but before he could make a decision on whether or not to violate their privacy by testing it, Grius noticed him. He promptly stopped talking, and both turned to him.

“Good morning, Ren,” Fabienne called out with a smile. “I hope you slept well.”

“As well as I could, considering. You wouldn’t think someone as small as Gallica could snore that loudly,” he answered with a wide grin. Grius snorted and shook his head, while Fabienne giggled softly at the joke. Ren returned to a neutral expression before continuing. “Sorry if I interrupted anything, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be down here. I was planning to walk around a bit. I’ve never been to the capital, and I sort of wanted to get the lay of the land.”

“Not in those clothes you don’t,” Grius said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know where you got them, but they’re clearly expensive, and certain elements won’t take kindly to an elda acting ‘above their station.’ Let me grab you some of my clothes. We’re about the same height.” He quickly made his way past Ren and up the stairs.

“Stick around long enough, and I bet you could get him to adopt you,” Fabienne smirked.

Ren gave a laugh he hoped didn’t come across as too fake. It was getting harder and harder to not see Sojiro in the rhoag mercenary, and the mention of adoption didn’t help. Ren was truly grateful for all Grius had done for him—though he still wasn’t quite sure why the old man had taken to him so quickly—but each act of kindness, hidden behind a facade of gruff practicality, left him with one more stone in the pit of his stomach. He missed his dad so much. The last thing he needed right now was to break down. It would invite too many questions, questions he couldn’t answer.

Grius quickly returned, throwing him a faded red long-sleeve shirt and a pair of rough black pants. The quality was leagues worse than what Ren was used to wearing in Japan, which was perfect. He thanked Grius and went back upstairs to quickly change, leaving his old clothes on the bed. He’d need to invest in some sort of traveling pack to carry things in. 

Ren came back downstairs, and after listening to a few words of warning about keeping his wits about him, especially on Sunshade Row, he exited the Honeybee Inn, letting Fabienne know he’d return after the funeral.

Instead of walking around the city like he said he would, Ren immediately set about finding an out of the way hiding spot where he could have a line of sight to the Honeybee’s entrance. He eventually found something—a small gap between two buildings, obstructed by dilapidated crates. As a welcome surprise, it seemed as though the stealth capabilities he cultivated as a Phantom Thief worked here, although not as effectively. As he settled into his stakeout spot, he could see the unnatural shadow covering his body, shielding him from view, causing any onlooker's eyes to pass over him without truly registering his presence. He wasn’t invisible—if someone looked directly at him, they’d notice he was there. But for anyone just walking down the street not looking for or expecting him, it was as if their mind would purposefully gloss over the fact that he was there. As he settled in, Ren got to thinking. And he had a lot to think about.

First was his cognitive capabilities. Ren had already confirmed he could summon his personas. But they weren’t as strong as he remembered. He had an instinctive understanding of each of his personas strengths, weaknesses, and abilities, and right now it felt like each of them was somehow weakened. Attacks wouldn’t hit as hard and recovery and support abilities wouldn’t be as effective. Elemental resistances were affected too. Repels and drains were now only resistances, and Ren was grateful that none of his personas had weaknesses anymore, because he assumed those would be made even worse.

Apart from his personas’ capabilities, he had just confirmed he retained a weakened version of stealth, and he could also tell that his body perpetually felt stronger than it did in his reality, but still weaker than it was in the Metaverse. It was a bit difficult to get used to the feeling of being enhanced like this the entire day, but it would definitely help him if he got into any trouble here. Though he’d have to find a weapon to defend himself with. Preferably a dagger, for obvious reasons.

Next he tried out his Third Eye. As expected, he could activate it, but unimportant things didn’t fade into the darkness as much, and items of interest were still highlighted in blue, but it was muted, and Ren could easily not notice them if he didn’t really look closely. And the range of his enhanced hearing was also reduced. Again, not ideal, but still a useful tool that he now had outside of the cognitive realm.

In short, he could do everything he was capable of when in the Metaverse, just with reduced effectiveness.

Capabilities now better understood, Ren moved on to the next thing on his mental checklist: making a plan. He was still giddy from the discovery last night—he wasn’t expecting to find a lead so soon, and this was a hell of a lead. But it meant that Ren absolutely could not afford to get separated from Will. Which was a problem, because how was he going to ingratiate himself enough to permanently stick with the younger man? Since meeting them, Will and the others had kept their cards close to their chests, never talking too much about their pasts, or what they were planning to do after the funeral. Ren wasn’t even sure they would stick together. The reason behind their reticence was painfully obvious now, and it limited Ren’s options tremendously.

His first thought was to just be honest with Will. Tell the blue-haired elda that he too was a Wild Card. He was pretty sure that he could trust anybody Igor had chosen to go on the Fool’s Journey, and by opening up to Will, it would hopefully be a simple matter to get in contact with either the long-nosed man or his tiny platinum-haired attendant.

But he threw that out pretty quickly. Sure, if it went smoothly, it would be the fastest way forward. But what if he was wrong? What if Will wasn’t actually a Wild Card, and there was some other mystical magic nonsense going on here? Or what if Will was a Wild Card, but just didn’t trust Ren enough to respond honestly? If Ren took a misstep, it would be near impossible to stick close to Will, and he’d lose his best shot at making it home. No, he couldn’t take the risk unless he was one hundred percent certain.

His other option was to somehow insert himself into this “Resistance” the others were part of, but the idea didn’t appeal to him. Ren was used to combat, used to killing. But that was when he was against Shadows or other cognitive entities. Not real people. Sure, there was a time when he thought he was okay with the idea of taking a person’s life— Kamoshida was a monster in the truest sense of the word, and the possibility of the Thieves ending his life was a much less horrible prospect than knowing that he’d do what he did to Shiho to other girls if he remained unchecked.

But he hadn’t had to kill anyone thankfully, and the one time he thought he did—even accidentally—was almost enough to make him swear off Phantom Thieving forever. He still remembered watching Okumura die, still remembered the blank look on Haru’s face as her life changed forever. Could he really put himself into a situation like that again? Could he contribute, however indirectly, to the taking of a life if it meant getting home again? 

Ren fought the urge to shy away from this line of questioning and approached it logically. His knowledge of Louis was limited to the small snippets he gleaned from the others, and they likely tempered their feelings so as to not arouse suspicion. But what if this Louis was a truly terrible man? What if he was like Shido, or worse? Ren wasn’t sure why the Resistance felt like an assassination was their best option, but what if they were right? Could Ren support them? 

He knew that this world wasn’t like his old one. The rules were different. Crimes carried different weights, and the likelihood of having to kill to survive was higher. But to actively seek killing out? Would he ever consider supporting the Resistance if it wasn’t a potential avenue home?

He honestly wasn’t sure. Though he didn’t like thinking about it, the rage he felt at times during his stint as a Phantom Thief made him know deep down that he was capable of killing. It might psychologically destroy him after the fact, but he could do it. But each time he felt that rage, it was backed up by evidence gathered personally. Ren had a front row seat to some of the worst crimes Tokyo had to offer, saw these criminals’ lack of humanity up close and personal. At times, he was even a recipient of it.

Ren didn’t know Louis Guiabern. He had no idea what crimes the man committed, or why Will and company thought it necessary to kill him. And until he did, Ren could never be comfortable associating with the Resistance.

So I guess the next step is investigation, Ren thought somberly. If he could find enough evidence to support the assassination of Louis, enough to agree that killing him was the best option, then he could start working towards joining Will. But he’d have to work fast. Ren didn’t know how long they would be around, but the snippets of conversation he overheard made him think that whatever the plan was, it would happen soon.

Ren was brought out of his contemplation by the opening of the Honeybee’s door. Grius stepped out and started walking quickly and purposefully towards his destination—wherever that was. Luckily, he didn’t notice Ren as he strode by. Ren briefly thought about following him, but decided against it. His plan was to stalk a different person today.

It was early afternoon when Will, Strohl, and Gallica finally exited the inn. Ren shifted slightly, stretching as much as he could without drawing attention to himself—he’d been sitting there since early morning. The plan was to tail Will and see if he could confirm the elda’s Wild Card status.

The group of three made their way down Sunshade Row in the direction of the square with the gallows. Ren assumed that, like everyone in the city, they were making their way to the funeral in front of the cathedral. He followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows.

At the square, the group stopped briefly before Will made a beeline for a nearby table with empty wine bottles on top, promptly sat down, and opened his book. Ren scrunched up his face in confusion, but neither Gallica nor Strohl were acting like this behavior was strange.

“Focus,” Ren whispered, activating Third Eye. He was hoping to catch some conversation explaining why Will thought this was the optimal time to kick back and read, but it was what he saw that shocked him.

Under the influence of his altered vision, all three people near the table shifted to a dull blue, but Will and Gallica in particular had an added aura surrounding them, almost as if they were giving off a glow. And looking closer he noticed that their eyes were glazed over. Will wasn’t so much looking at his book as staring past it. 

But most surprising was the seat to Will’s left. At first, Ren thought it was empty, and whenever he looked specifically in that direction, there was nothing there. But whenever his eyes drifted back to the other three, or anywhere else in his field of vision, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to make out what it was considering he couldn’t look directly at it, but after trying for a minute or two, Ren almost thought he could make out the silhouette of a person. It was too indistinct to make out anything more than that, but there was definitely something there.

The Phantom Thief canceled Third Eye and considered. Assuming Will was a Wild Card, Ren had an immediate guess as to what was going on. Will was likely visiting the Velvet Room right now. Ren knew from his friends’ explanations in the past that he had a similar faraway stare on his face whenever he visited one of the Velvet Room doors scattered throughout Japan, and that he remained in that catatonic state until his mind returned. Maybe the apparition next to Will was his attendant?

But that raised some questions. If he was visiting Igor, why wasn’t he standing? The Velvet Room could be accessed through a spectral door, but Will was pretending to read a book. And why was Gallica doing the same thing? Were they both Wild Cards? Or was she just visiting with him? Aside from that one time before their fight with Yaldabaoth, Ren was under the impression that non-Wild Cards couldn’t access the room.

But the more he thought about it, the more Ren realized he was jumping to conclusions. He only had his own experience to draw from, and while he knew other people had been guests of the room before him, he had no idea if every individual’s experience was the same. Maybe each Wild Card had a unique way of entering that space between dream and reality, and each had different rules regarding who or what they could take with them.

Regardless, it was yet more evidence that Will had something to do with the Velvet Room, and Ren let his hopes rise a little bit higher.

The two returned shortly, and Ren activated Third Eye again, hoping to catch any mention of personas or attendants or long-nosed, bloodshot-eyed, weird-grin-wearing men in suits. Strohl shot the other two a questioning look as Will stood back up, putting his book away.

“Archetype stuff,” Gallica said in a low tone. “We’ll tell you later.”

Ren frowned. Archetype? He couldn’t ever remember hearing that term back when he made frequent use of the room’s services. Maybe it was a power specific to Will?

The group started up again, not towards the stairs they used the night before, but down another street to the north. Ren followed at a safe distance, passing weapon, armor, and item shops on the way to, he guessed, the king’s funeral.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in a JRPG…

Eventually the group plus their stalker made their way up some stairs and back into the fancy part of the city. Ren could hear bells tolling away at steady intervals, each time slightly louder, slightly closer. Eventually they found their way to an open area, filled with merchant stalls. Ren looked in the direction of the bells and got his first look at Regalith Grand Cathedral up close and unobstructed. It was even more imposing at this distance, and he had a fleeting thought that the religion it was attached to was likely more interested in holding power over its flock than it was in guiding them.

Will, Strohl, and Gallica moved through the marketplace, heading directly for the absolutely massive open grounds in front of the cathedral. That was likely where the funeral would be held—it was definitely large enough to hold a decent amount of the city’s population. Ren fell further back from the group. They were in an open space now with fewer places to hide inconspicuously, and if any of the others happened to turn around and notice him, he could pretend that he was just on his way to the funeral like everyone else. 

As he walked, a splotch of bright pink caught his eye. A paripus woman with tall pointed ears was standing on the street corner near the entrance to the cathedral grounds. Both her skin and hair were pink while her eyes were green, and she had a red cape thrown over her back haphazardly. Her midriff was exposed, and she wore a metal breastplate with matching headgear on her forehead. Both her gloves and boots were different lengths, and she completed the ensemble with mismatched pink thigh high socks and tan shorts. Put all together, she stood out for a number of reasons. But Ren was drawn to her hands, where she wore spiked metal hand guards.

He quickly looked away and took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting to be reminded of Makoto today, and it hit him harder than he thought it would.

Shake it off, Joker, you’re on a mission right now.

And so of course, when Ren returned to his tailing, he realized that he had completely lost sight of his targets. Cursing to himself, he quickly moved past the gates to the cathedral grounds and blended into the growing crowd. As he walked, he tried to ignore all the dirty looks and low mutterings—all variations on the word “elda,” with some disparaging adjective or other stuck in front. He kept to the edges of the open space, knowing that he’d have to rely on his Third Eye to try and find them again in the sea of people. While he waited, he took in his surroundings.

Attached in front of the giant trapezoidal structure that made up most of the cathedral was a smaller, but still huge building. The architectural style was something Ren had never seen before, somehow modern but in a cold, almost brutal way. All sharp lines and hard edges. Definitely not what he imagined when he pictured places of worship. In front of it stood a square dais with a smaller platform on it surrounded by flowers. Ren guessed that’s where the casket would be placed, if funerals here used caskets. The buildings surrounding the open space were similarly designed. Tall and imposing, with curving walls like a quarter-pipe. There were countless balconies on the vertical parts of the buildings, where well dressed people were afforded a clear view of the dais. Nobility, perhaps. There were more seats on the bottom of the quarter-pipe, maybe for people that were important enough not to have to stand, but not important enough to be on the balconies. All of the buildings, as well as the dais, were raised a few stories off the ground, and could be accessed by numerous stairways. Taken in altogether, it reminded Ren of a massive coliseum, with the grounds he was standing in being where gladiators fought.

Ren activated his Third Eye and searched for any hints of blue in the sea of gray. He finally found Will and Strohl, but was surprised to see they were wearing soldier garb now. Gallica was floating between them. He was also surprised to pick out Grius, in a helmet along with his typical gear, standing with similarly dressed soldiers in front of the stairs leading to the dais. All of them looked on edge.

Ren started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. A funeral for a king would have to draw all the bigwigs in the military, including Louis. But no, this was a wide open space in broad daylight. Ren doubted sniper rifles or guns in general existed in Euchronia, but even if they did, none of them was carrying one. Which meant any attempt to kill Louis would have to be done up close and personal. Even if they pulled it off, there’s no way the assassin was getting out of here alive, not with all these soldiers around. There’s no way that was the plan, right? There had to be a million better ways to assassinate someone.

Ren’s attention was drawn to the dais as music started up, piping in from some unseen location. He saw a white casket being carried out of the central building by soldiers acting as pallbearers. The crowd, up until that point droning with thousands of hushed conversations, stilled. Everyone’s eyes were on the funeral proceedings now. The soldiers reverently lowered the casket onto the platform surrounded by white and gold flowers.

Ren wasn’t sure what typically came next in this religion’s funeral services, but he doubted it was what happened this time. Hearing a loud, mechanical noise in the sky, Ren looked up and felt his jaw drop.

An airship. A massive, red airship unlike anything he’d ever seen, clearly flying by means of magical technology. It had four leg-like appendages attached to its hull—maybe for landing?—and each of them was holding massive chains that were connected to an equally massive tarp on the other end. It was clear that the airship was transporting something inside the tarp, and based on the shocked looks of the funeral goers and the shifting of the soldiers into ready stances, this wasn’t a planned event.

And because things weren’t strange enough, a clemar man in white military regalia jumped from the nose of the ship and floated down onto the dais. The assembled clergy and nobles were clearly not happy to see him. He had long, wavy blonde hair and piercing, almost angry icy blue eyes, and wore an ornate golden breastplate over his uniform and a cape around his neck. Without preamble, the man turned around and spoke in a loud voice, easily heard by all that were in attendance.

“Your fool of a king is dead!”

There were several shocked gasps, and a roussainte near Ren muttered, “So Louis would even stoop this low…” Ren hyper-focused on the man—now confirmed to be the assassination target of his acquaintances—as he continued.

“Disillusioned by vain aristocrats and simpering clergy, he withered and died under his own weakness!” 

Voices in the crowd were louder now, raising their objections to this clear act of disrespect. But Ren picked up on other voices too, voices agreeing with Louis’s words, blaming the nobility for the king’s death.

“But open your eyes, and you will see the crisis in our nation! I will show you truth. The truth of reality!” Louis shouted, and then dramatically drew his sword, pointing it at the airship.

Suddenly, the clawed appendages attached to the ship released the chains they were holding, allowing the tarp and its contents to start falling to the ground. People directly under the tarp scrambled, getting away just in time as something massive impacted the center of the grounds, kicking up large amounts of dust.

“You’ve all been sheltered,” Louis continued. “Blinded by walls of stone. Behold a human corpse!” 

What. 

“They are no mere rumor! They lurk and nest… across the very land that you call home!”

The smoke cleared, and what Ren saw was… well, he wasn’t quite sure how to describe what he saw. It was massive, and took up much of the center of the octagonal grounds. Parts of it were human-ish, he guessed. The giant head, definitely. There were also white appendages that resembled arms where the arms would be on a human, though there were no hands. But the rest of it, at least what Ren could see from his vantage point, was decidedly not human. The body looked like a giant chicken egg, the same shade of white as the appendages. The shell was broken in two places, one on the creature’s back with what looked to be a heart-like organ poking through, and one at the opposite end from the head, where giant tree branches were growing out.

The corpse was so surreal that Ren was actually frozen for a few seconds, unable to accept what he was seeing—and he’d seen a lot of weird shit. Just… not this weird, and definitely not in reality. And why did Louis call this a human? Any one of the many tribes on this world were far more human than this thing. Was it just a coincidence? Maybe the word just happened to also exist in the Euchronian language but meant something different, and the translation magic wasn’t working on it because there just… wasn’t a word for something this eerie in Japanese.

“A fortress at the border was razed by a human mere days ago.” Ren’s attention was drawn back to Louis, and he frowned as he continued to listen. “How long before we’re overrun? You can only blame your king’s weakness. And thus, who deserves his crown? A man of proven strength!”

Ren scoffed. This was blatant fear mongering. Introduce an enemy that the current administration was powerless against, and claim to be the only feasible solution. Let the fear of the populace raise you up, never mind all the stress and anxiety you put them under in the process. The parallels to Shido almost made him laugh out loud, and he started to understand exactly why assassination was considered a viable strategy against this man. 

A nobleman on the dais said something that drew Louis’s attention, but Ren couldn’t hear it from where he was. Eventually he continued.

“Let your late king’s soul bear witness! Let Louis Guiabern be named… the true and rightful ruler of Euchronia!”

The crowd was deadly silent, likely in shock. But the silence didn’t last long, because apparently this world wasn’t done throwing batshit insane things at Ren today. The land trembled briefly, and then a pillar of light shot out of the ground behind the cathedral.

Before anyone could question it, the column of light exploded, growing in diameter as a wave of air and pressure swept over the funeral. Ren had to squint, both against the stunning radiance and to keep dust out of his eyes. After a few seconds, he could make out something rising inside the column, something massive. As the light disappeared, Ren gave up on making sense of things for the foreseeable future.

A giant palace was now floating in the air behind the cathedral. It was as if some giant had scooped the land surrounding the palace and lifted both it and the building into the sky, where it hung suspended. After a few moments, the floating island started drifting forward, slowly moving over the cathedral. As it got closer, Ren realized that the underside of the island had a giant face on it, because of course it did.

The eyes of the giant face glowed with an aetherial brilliance. It looked like fire or magma pouring out of the earth and rapidly dissipating as it hit the air. While the left eye looked like a human’s—er, person’s—the right looked like its socket was full of a bunch of nondescript faces. If Ren had any doubts as to the magical nature of this world before, they were gone now.

A booming, almost deafening voice erupted from the face-island.

“I am Hythlodaeus V… The people of my land desire a new king… and I shall provide.”

The assembled citizens immediately erupted into a frenzy of outbursts and comments.

“Did he just say Hythlodaeus V?”

“That face… It can’t be! His Majesty!?”

“Is this the royal magic, do ya think?”

“Is it him!?”

“But he was dead! Why!?”

This went on for a while before one of the nobility, standing in front of the coffin, raised his hand and spoke with a loud voice. “Be silent! Let him say his piece!”

“Heed me, O kingless. Time is finite before my soul departs this benighted world… In four moons and one year of life past death, there shall come a reckoning—a Day of the Hero. Upon that day, whosoever hath truly earned the greatest faith of the citizenry… shall ascend to throne and crown by right of kings. From the lofty heavens shall my unfading soul look down upon thee, and from the whispered hopes of thine anxious hearts… Shall those to whom thine allegiances lie be laid bare!”

Ren was startled out of his listening by the appearance of a floating orange eye-shaped mark in front of his forehead. Looking quickly around, he saw that they were showing up for everyone without exception. Hythlodaeus V’s rocky eyes briefly flashed with power, and suddenly beams of light shot out from each orange mark, traveling directly to the floating island, where the light was absorbed. It didn’t hurt, so Ren fought down his growing panic, but a not insignificant portion of the audience was understandably freaking out.

“I hear thy voices ring out in clarion truth. Here and now, witness the faces of those most desired to become king…”

Hythlodaeus V’s right eye suddenly started shuddering, as if it were undergoing its own localized earthquake. As quickly as it started, it stopped, only now, instead of nondescript faces, there were faces that were clearly modeled after actual people.

“It’s Forden!” Ren heard someone say. He didn’t recognize the name.

“Count Louis! Count Louis is there too!” someone else shouted.

“Ha! What glorious spectacle!” the man in question said as he threw his arms wide, gazing up at the rock-king.

I bet he would have been a theater kid if he existed in my world, Ren thought sardonically.

“The mantle of king is mine by right and providence!”

An old rhoag man near Louis spoke up now. By his robes and staff, Ren guessed he was a member of the state religion. He’d have to find out the name of the religion soon—it was clearly influential.

“You go too far, Louis! We gather to mourn His Majesty, and you desecrate it! You would befoul the throne, blackguard!” He accentuated the last word by slamming his staff on the ground.

“Hmph. So be it. Shall we test that?” Suddenly Louis was behind the man, when just a moment before they were face to face at a reasonable distance. 

How the hell did he do that?

“Good people!” There went his hands again, thrown wide like he was Moses parting the Red Sea. “Is Forden truly fit to be king!?”

So the rhoag man is Forden, okay.

“Or, shall you cast off the shackles of blind faith!? We need not be chained to birth or tribe. In my world, we are a people equal and united! I shall be your shield from the human menace. Together, peace is within our grasp!”

He was a good orator, Ren would give him that. Much better than Shido. He could hear pockets of the crowd starting to be swayed by his promises. The effect was mirrored in the king’s right eye as Louis’ face grew larger in relation to Forden’s.

“Louis… You’ve led the people’s hearts astray!” Forden growled with unsheathed anger.

Louis ignored him and continued his speech. “No future exists without the power to eliminate the human crisis! Those who stand at my side, who oppose the powers that be, my protection is yours! Or refuse my hand and perish! I will lead us over your corpses.”

Well, that was an inspirational speech until that last part. Ren gritted his teeth. Here was a man willing to throw anyone who didn’t fall in line behind him to the wolves. It was appalling to think of someone like that being in charge of anything, let alone an entire country.

“You mean… just as you killed the king!?” Forden accused. It wasn’t really a question. Louis turned his head to look back at him.

“A country is heavier than a crown, and he could not bear it. Retribution past due,” he stated matter-of-factly. As if he wasn’t essentially confirming he committed regicide in front of an entire city’s worth of people.

“You vile…!” Forden hissed.

“Damn you Louis!” Ren’s head swung as he recognized Strohl’s voice in the crowd. “You think you truly deserve the crown!? You’d doom us all! I won’t stand for it!”

His words stirred a large number of people in the crowd. Those that were particularly incensed by Louis’ confession started getting violent, pushing against the soldiers that separated the crowd from the funeral dais. Ren made sure to keep out of the way of the slowly expanding riot.

And that’s when Ren caught the movement. A soldier, running low and fast, keeping out of sight of the rest of the guards as they were focused on keeping the crowd back.

No, Ren thought with a near-crippling sense of dread. Not here, not now. Please.

He immediately started moving, slipping through the crowd with a preternatural grace. Some part of him knew he wouldn’t make it in time to stop Grius, but it was being drowned out by the very real panic growing in his chest.

He had rapidly crossed half the distance from where he was to the stairs leading onto the dais when he saw Grius leap in the air, impossibly high and definitely magic assisted.

He could only watch in horror as Grius came down at Louis, dagger out. Could only stare as, from out of nowhere, golden glowing chains wrapped around the rhoag, immobilizing him in midair, inches from his target.

“I shall not suffer the defiance of my people’s will,” the king bellowed. “In my name art thou punished.” 

Ren started moving again, using his Third Eye to try and find an optimal path to try and get to Grius. The king obviously didn’t like anybody trying to kill a contender for the throne, but everyone was a contender, weren’t they? That meant that Louis couldn’t retaliate, right?

“Punished?” Ren heard Louis’ voice, unique among the sea of shouts and cries he was filtering out. He sounded almost amused. 

Ren had almost made it to the guards. He lowered his head and booked it. It’d be simple to slip by them and reach the stairs.

“Impressive. One of the royal family’s dogs?” Ren heard the unsheathing of a sword. 

“Rather poetic I suppose.” Almost there.

“See how he has rewarded your loyalty.” Past the guards, foot on the steps.

And then a sound he’d never heard before. Like a chef’s knife cutting through meat, but indescribably worse. Followed by liquid splashing on the ground. Followed by a body. Ren stopped briefly, tears forming in his eyes, blood pounding in his ears. He vaguely registered gasps coming from the crowd.

“I warned you,” Louis’s voice cut through, calm and even. Like he hadn’t just murdered one of the only people to show Ren kindness since he arrived in this godforsaken shithole of a world. “This is the price of defiance. Though I hadn’t expected the king’s own magic on my side! ...So be it! Rally behind me! I will shield you from injustice! Rise above birth and circumstance, for they mean nothing!”

Ren was in a stupor, barely recognizing that a guard had noticed him and was moving to drag him back behind the line of soldiers.

“Upon the Day of the Hero, whosoever has most earned my people’s faith shall ascend upon my throne to rule… according to my judgement,” the king intoned, impassive and uncaring. “Be thou criminal, pauper, or noble… Thy claim is decided not by stature or tribe. I shall bear witness. From this heavenly seat I am nigh omnipotent. Look to the faces carved upon this rock, and see thou the faces of the chosen. I shall brook no sabotage or obstruction of this trial! Let all hear me and obey!”

Ren barely registered what the king was saying. He didn’t even realize the rock had finally stopped talking. But he snapped back to reality as a loud explosion came from Louis’ airship. An artillery shell rocketed into the cathedral building behind the dais, and time started flowing again. 

It was chaos. The line of soldiers broke, and citizens started openly fighting them. Screams went up. And Ren slipped the guard trying to grab him and ran up the stairs.

“Ren!? What the hell are you doing here!?” He could hear Strohl’s surprised voice maybe twenty paces behind him, but he didn’t slow down, didn’t look back. 

When he made it to the dais, Louis was nowhere to be seen. Just Grius, motionless on the ground, a pool of blood around him and his dagger dropped nearby. Ren ran right up to him, sliding to a kneeling position, not thinking about the blood soaking into his pants.

He knew it was too late. He could see the gash in Grius’s throat, how much blood was on the ground, how it was no longer pulsing out of the wound in time with a heartbeat. Knew the man was gone.

It shouldn’t have hit him this hard. Not the physical aspect—he knew seeing someone die right in front of him would be a shock. No, it was the emotional aspect he wasn’t ready for. He didn’t know Grius, not really. Sure, the man was nice to him, but they’d only met each other four days ago.

And yet, as he looked at Grius lying there, only vaguely aware of Will, Strohl, and Gallica coming up behind him, he couldn’t help but think of Sojiro. Of how much it would hurt to lose him, of how much it did hurt to have lost him, even temporarily. He thought about having to tell Maria that her father was dead—of how utterly impossible it would be for him to tell Futaba that their dad wasn’t coming home.

Something solidified inside Ren. A conviction maybe, a shift in perspective. Uncertainty washed away. He could analyze it later. But right now, he had an idea.

It was stupid. 

They were in a wide open space. Anybody could see. Hell, he knew there were three people right behind him. This was not the logical play, and there was a very good chance he was dooming himself, possibly to die, possibly to never make it home. 

It probably wouldn’t even work.

…Fuck it.

He reached up for the mask he felt forming over his eyes.

“Persona.”

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

Will felt guilt wash over him. He had had a bad feeling about this plan since Grius laid it out yesterday evening. He should have objected more, should have demanded that they sit down and try to think of a better plan. Simply causing a distraction and letting Grius handle it? Terrible.

As he and Strohl raced for the stairs, Gallica flying just behind, Will was stuck inside his own head. He tried thinking of all the ways that he could have convinced the older man to come up with something better. He thought about having to tell Fabienne and Maria. He thought about how in the hell we’re supposed to kill Louis now that some omnipotent rock-king is apparently protecting him. He didn’t even notice who beat them to the stairs until he heard Strohl call out.

“Ren!? What the hell are you doing here!?”

Sure enough, the raven-haired young man was at the bottom step of the stairs. He didn’t turn around, didn’t even acknowledge that he had heard. He just blasted up the stairs.

Will was stunned. Ren was fast. Almost as fast as Louis was earlier when he moved past Forden during his nauseating speech. He had to be casting some sort of enhancement magic, but Will saw no igniter. Not for the first time, he wondered who this guy really was. 

The three chased after him, desperate to get to Grius, praying it wasn’t too late. But when they finally got to the top of the stairs and saw Ren kneeling motionless next to the body, they knew. A fresh wave of guilt washed over Will, this time accompanied by a sadness far more profound than he expected. I guess I grew more attached to him than I realized, bond or no.

“Damn it…” Strohl muttered, almost too quiet to make out. 

Will heard footsteps from behind him and turned his head to see a roussainte with vivid red hair. She wore dark blue knight’s armor and had a beautiful halberd strapped to her back. She gasped when she saw the body, then whispered, “Alces…”

“Uh, guys? Are you feeling this?” 

Gallica’s question made Will look back at Grius and Ren. Something was different. There was a subtle shift in air pressure, like a small vacuum was forming centered on Ren, and air was gently rushing towards him. And there was something on his face, spectral at first, but gradually solidifying.

A mask. A white domino mask with black markings around the eyes.

Before Will could think to pose a question, Ren reached up to his mask while uttering a word Will couldn’t quite catch. And then a much louder word, spoken with so much pain it tore at Will’s heart.

“Maria!!”

Ren tore the mask off and it exploded into blue flames in his hand. And as he did so, something formed behind him.

“What on earth…” Will heard the roussainte woman say. Which was fair. Will had no idea what was happening.

Ren was now backed by a floating…woman? She looked like she was carved out of marble. Her arms were spread out in a welcoming posture, and she was surrounded by carvings of various creatures Will had never seen before, but looked reminiscent of some of the monsters that roamed the wilds. The statue had circular plates of gold both inlaid behind the woman and floating around it. It was like no magic Will had ever seen.

“Holy Benevolence!” Ren called out, and the ghost woman-statue-thing clasped its hands together. Will watched in amazement as a gentle green light enveloped Grius. Tendrils of pure magic grew from the ground and exploded in a blinding radiance. The woman disappeared and the mask reformed on Ren’s face.

When the light finally died down, the blood on the ground was completely gone, and the gash on his neck had disappeared. As if it were never there. Will held his breath. He had no idea what kind of magic Ren made use of, but he could guess the intended effect. Hope sprang up in his chest.

But Grius didn’t move. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t start breathing. And after a few seconds that might as well have been eternities, the hope faded as soon as it came.

“No…” Ren whispered out. His voice was cracking, the emotion palpable. He fell back on his heels, and just stared at Grius’s corpse.

Will wasn’t sure what to say, and by the looks of the others, neither did they. But even if they did, they wouldn’t have had a chance. Just then, a bolt of lighting energy arced through the air and hit the king’s casket a few feet in front of them. It exploded, raining rubble and dust everywhere. Will and the others tensed—Ren stayed motionless, still staring at Grius with empty eyes.

“Intriguing magic you have there, boy. But pointless. The sun sets on old fossils. It is a new dawn, and its light shines upon Lord Louis as king,” a man’s lilting voice announced.

Will looked through the dust and saw someone walking towards them. He had long purple hair and an odd mesh shirt that he wore open, exposing his pale, undefined chest. The mesh was patterned with thorny vines, and he wore low-crotch black pants with heeled boots. A strange half-tailcoat wrapped around the waist to complete the odd look. Most noticeable however was his single horn and closed third eye. Half clemar, half mustari then, Will surmised. Ren still didn’t move.

A contingent of soldiers made it up the steps behind the roussainte woman. “Stand down!” the lead soldier yelled.

The newcomer scratched the back of his head in irritation. “Damned meddlers… So your wish is to die, is it?” His voice gradually picked up in volume as he lifted his right arm in the air. Purple tendrils of dark energy coalesced into an orb around his open palm. “Your bones will be monuments to Lord Louis’s glory!”

He slammed the orb into the ground, creating a pool of dark energy, and out of the pool rose around twenty skeletons. All were outfitted with helmets, and some had swords and shields, while others carried spears. Will took a step back in surprise, while Strohl had the presence of mind to grab Ren by the collar and drag him back. His fellow elda seemed like he was still out of it. 

“No… He defiles the dead!” the roussainte yelled.

“Ah, but Lord Louis has sent me here on an important errand,” the necromancer continued, paying her no mind. He looked back at the cathedral behind him. “It seems I’ll need considerable time to accumulate the magla. Until it’s done, however, I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow the cathedral. The day the king’s mourning ends will become ‘the Day of Calamity’. If you mean to interfere… then die.” He turned back toward the cathedral without a second look as his summoned army started moving towards Will and company.

As the roussainte woman tried to rally the clearly scared soldiers, Will and Strohl drew their swords. Nothing to it but to do it, Will thought wryly. Hopefully the light magic he now had access to through the Healer Archetype would be effective.

Thankfully, it was. Will immediately jumped back and called out to his soul, willing the magla in his body to transform him. As he made the transition, he caught sight of Ren out of the corner of his eye—the young man was looking at him in confusion.

Good, so the feeling is mutual now, Will thought with a grin.

Clad in his Healer raiment, he set to work, throwing out Hama spells as fast as he could, never letting the skeletons get too close. Strohl instead jumped into the fray, his Warrior form slashing through anything in range. 

But twenty reanimated corpses was a lot, especially when none of the soldiers backed them up, likely for fear of the abundance of new magic that was on display. It was fair—even if they were brave enough, Will didn’t want them to get in the way. He was still new to this power, and who knows how much damage a badly aimed spell could do. Gradually Will was pushed back. Strohl, who had been hit with some sort of spell, was now hunched over slightly, eyes wide. He swung his sword wildly in the direction of the soldiers, but otherwise was deaf to Will or Gallica’s pleas to snap out of it.

And then Will felt it again. That shift in air pressure. He spun around to look at the spot Strohl had dragged Ren to. The elda was now on his feet, head bowed, eyes obstructed by his curly hair and mask.

“Enough,” Ren spoke in a flat tone. Despite not raising his voice, the words carried. Drawing the attention of both the soldiers and the skeletons.

And then blue fire started sprouting around him. The same blue fire his mask had turned into earlier.

“Will, whatever he’s doing, it’s drawing in a lot of magla!” Gallica warned.

The fire around Ren grew larger, and Will swore he could see something forming around the man. It was like an apparition flickering in and out of existence. It looked like…some sort of trench coat? The vacuum effect got more pronounced as the fire grew, and when Ren finally looked up, Will froze.

He could see Ren’s face now. Eyes wide with rage, typically gray irises now an unnatural shade of red. He wore a wide, mirthless grin, and stared at the skeletons with a level of hatred that should have scared Will.

But it didn’t. Will should have been worried, or at the very least cautious. Instead, he felt a strange sense of elation. It was as if whatever magic Ren was invoking was calling out to Will on a deep, subconscious level. Wholly new yet at the same time oddly familiar.

Ren raised his hand to his mask again, looking like the personification of vengeance. And vengeance was sounding pretty good to Will right about now.

“KAGUYA! RAVAGE THEM!!” he screamed. A new spirit appeared behind Ren as all the air being sucked toward him now exploded outwards in a rush. It was in the form of a woman in red, with a strange multi-colored mantle floating around her shoulders. She immediately struck a pose, and the sky opened up above the skeletons. Countless beams of light crashed into them in waves, exploding into blinding flashes of energy wherever they made contact. Volley after volley of the light arrows rained down. When it was finally over, not a single skeleton remained. Not even a bone. Everything had been vaporized.

The spirit disappeared back into Ren’s mask, and both the blue fire and flickering coat faded away. His eyes returned to their usual color, and he immediately winced. “Okay, that takes more out of me that it used to,” he mumbled.

“That was like a hundred Hamas all at once,” Gallica breathed out in awe. “What on earth was that?”

“Awesome,” Will responded with a grin. “That was awesome.”

“If we could go a week without discovering some incredibly powerful, unknown magic, that’d be nice,” Strohl said from beside him exasperatedly. Whatever was affecting him, it went away with the enemies. 

Ren finally looked at them with a guilty half-grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I guess we’ve been hiding some stuff from each other, huh?”

Will smiled back while Gallica and Strohl just shook their heads ruefully. “Yeah, seems that way.”

Ren’s expression turned somber as he walked over to Grius’s body. After staring for a few seconds, he reached down and picked up the dead man’s dagger. “I’ll be borrowing this for a bit,” he said in a low tone.

“Where’d that man go?” Strohl seethed, ripping his eyes away from the body.

“Into the cathedral,” Ren answered, looking at the doors. Will noticed that the rage in his eyes was back, but it was now tempered—cold and controlled, ready to be let loose at any moment. “I take it we’re all going after him, right?”

“Yes,” Will responded with a furrowed brow. Even putting aside what Louis did to Grius, the man clearly had some terrible plan in the works, and Will was more determined than ever to see both it and him ended. Strohl gave a firm nod, but Gallica spoke up.

“Before that, you’ve got to tell us what kind of magic that was. I’ve never seen magla move like that, and you weren’t even using an igniter!” She sounded equal parts wary and excited.

“Later, I promise. We have more important things to deal with right now.” Ren replied. His tone wasn’t unkind, but it was definitely firm. He spoke with authority, like he was accustomed to leading people. Gallica nodded, placated for the moment.

Will finally took notice of the red-tressed knight. She was kneeling in front of Grius’s body, a look of pained resignation on her face. The group turned toward her as she spoke to the remaining soldiers. “There should be a mausoleum nearby. Could you take his body there?” When the soldier in charge responded in the affirmative, she closed her eyes again. “Take care with him, please. He was a dear friend. He gave his all for the king… for the royal bloodline. The least he deserves is dignity in death.”

She then stood up and walked over to the others. She was quite tall for a roussainte woman, only slightly shorter than Ren. Will had to tilt his head up to look her in the eyes.

“My name is Hulkenberg. I’ve a question for you. That power you two wield…” she said, looking at Will and Strohl. “‘Tis not something they teach in the army. You are no ordinary soldiers. And you,” she continued, rounding on Ren. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Mayhap this is the old magic of the elda tribe that the church warns of.”

Ren’s face was impassive, betraying nothing. But Strohl heatedly shot back, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “And you? You’re clearly more than a guard captain.”

If Hulkenberg was offended, she didn’t show it. “I am a knight in the crown’s service. Commanding the guard is not my station’s duty, but… these are dire times.

“A knight!?”

“And you pretend at soldiery, but that matter can wait. Alces seemed to know you…”

“Alces?” Ren asked, beating Will to the punch.

“We’ll have time for debate after we apprehend that mage. He’s after the Royal Sceptre, I’m sure of it.”

Before any of them could question her further, they heard a cry for help coming from the direction of the cathedral. A clemar noblewoman ran up to them, dress covered in dust and numerous tears. “Please, help! I’ve still got family inside!”

“Did he trap civilians in the cathedral?” Hulkenberg asked with an edge to her voice. Will noticed Ren’s fist tighten around Grius’s dagger.

“Yes, my family and more!” the woman cried.

“I don’t envy their chances if he finds them helpless…” Strohl winced. Ren simply strode forward past the woman, making for the door.

“Then we shouldn’t be wasting time talking,” he said without looking back. Hulkenberg followed, forcing the other three to catch up.

“You’re not going to complain? Does it not tarnish the royal knights to enlist the aid of strangers?” Strohl asked her. Will wasn’t sure what issue he had with the knights, but he seemed determined to pick a fight with the woman. 

She didn’t take the bait. “I haven’t the luxury of refusing able fighters. And whatever else you three may be, you are most assuredly that.” She picked up her pace and continued after Ren.

Regalith Grand Cathedral

Hulkenberg had a great many questions bouncing around inside her head. Why did Alces try to assassinate Louis Guiabern? What does Louis want with the Royal Sceptre if it can only be used by the current king? Who were these two young men that played soldiers but were clearly much more than that? And that elda that conjured spirits—he clearly knew Alces, but wasn’t dressed as a soldier, and so probably wasn’t a part of whatever fool plan the old man came up with. How did he fit in? It was vexing to know that she could not afford the time needed to get answers, at least not right now.

She caught up to the dark-haired man as he slipped through the cathedral foyer doors. He looked around, clearly unsure of where to go from here. She took the lead and walked up the nearby stairs that were the shortest route to the main cathedral building. She turned at the top and noticed the elda waiting for the others. As they caught up, she called out to them. But before they could follow, another artillery shell from Louis’s damnable airship crashed into the building, collapsing the ceiling above the stairs, effectively separating them.

“Drat… We’ve been separated. I say, are you all right?” When she got nods in the affirmative, she continued. “Seek another path. I shall ascend from here.” The clemar and the blue-haired elda nodded, but the third man just tilted his head slightly. He immediately launched himself at the wall next to the stairs, kicked off of it while maintaining his momentum, and landed next to her. It was an incredible feat of acrobatics, and also incredibly impossible for a normal person to perform.

He caught the look of incredulity on her face, but all he said was, “Even teams are safer.” Without waiting for a response, he looked back down to the others and yelled, “See you on the other side, yeah?” They just nodded, clearly as taken aback as she was. He turned back to her, face incredibly hard to read beneath the mask he wore. “Lead the way.”

Hulkenberg shook off her stupor and took off, the man keeping pace behind her, footsteps incredibly silent.

—

She didn’t know what to make of the man. He’d introduced himself as Ren, but apart from that kept quiet, content to let her lead them through the building. 

Whenever they encountered enemies—more abominations conjured by the necromancer—Ren launched himself forward. He didn’t summon any more of his spirits, but he had no need of them. His dagger was enough. Ren slipped around the skeletons with a level of agility that Hulkenberg had only seen when training with the upper echelon of the Royal Guard. He seemed to be able to anticipate attacks and use his opponents movements against them. He did not need to block or parry—he just wasn’t there whenever they tried to land a blow. Skeleton’s fell one by one to daggers in the skull, red eyes fizzling out as the magic that animated them dissipated. These reanimated bones were not the most agile opponents, to be sure, but it was impressive nonetheless.

And yet she could detect oddities in his movements, and whenever she did, she noticed Ren wince or show frustration. When she asked him about it, he said “I’m just not quite used to fighting at half strength.”

Half strength!? Surely that was a jest. But the more she watched him fight, the more she realized that those oddities came when he was expecting to leap further, turn faster, swing harder. They were the movements of a fighter recovering from injury, whose brain was expecting the body to do something they were not currently capable of.

Incredible martial skills and a unique, powerful magic. Hulkenberg wouldn’t have been surprised if he was an assassin or uber-mercenary. 

But then she caught the look in his eyes when they came upon someone they were too late to save. Fear and pain and incredulity and sadness. Or when they came upon two young children that were hiding, terrified. Then his eyes were full of kindness and relief. She couldn’t reconcile these looks with the profile she’d been building. How could someone so clearly used to combat be so… compassionate? 

They were lucky enough to find a guard who could take care of the children, and they continued on. A few inconsequential fights later, and they found their way back outside, onto a balcony overlooking the cathedral grounds and the human corpse dumped there. Hulkenberg looked at it with distaste. When she noticed Ren moving to push onward, she called out.

“Hold. I would wait for your friends here.”

Ren turned and stared at her. His eyes were equal parts impatience and rage. She’d seen the look before. Soldiers overcome with grief, obsessed with vengeance. Always rushing toward the next fight.

Always looking for a good place to die.

She studied him carefully before continuing. “You are wrought with grief. ‘Tis an emotion I know well. But rushing forward will help nothing. If you wish to avenge Alces, you shall fare better with us than without.”

For a second, Hulkenberg thought Ren would ignore her and push on. People with his skill usually didn’t pay heed to advice on the battlefield. But surprisingly, his eyes softened, and the anger within subsided. He gave her a smile, and goodness, that’s a nice smile.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just…” he struggled for words before sighing. “I’m not used to all this.”

“You certainly could have fooled me.”   

He chuckled. “I mean I’m not used to hu—to human attacks. To people dying in front of me. My experience comes from fighting monsters exclusively.”

Interesting. Another piece to a very confusing puzzle. At least he was amiable. She’d likely be able to get more information from him than that clemar.

They heard the door open behind them. The others jogged up, looking no worse for wear.

“You’re late,” she started. “Were you waylaid by fighting?”

The clemar answered her. “There were people struggling to get away. We couldn’t just abandon them.” 

Her estimations of him rose slightly. “In that case, well done. We managed to find a few ourselves. Still, there are likely more who need assistance that we missed.” She sighed and turned back to look out over the balcony. “To think Louis Guiabern would go so far…”

“That necromancer, you said he was after the Royal Sceptre?” the blue-haired elda asked.

“‘Tis the only thing that makes sense. Nothing else found here would be of use to his master. Though I’m unsure why Louis would want an instrument that can only be wielded by the king of Euchronia.”

“We can ask the goth nightmare when we catch up to him,” Ren said. The others looked at him in confusion. “The clothes he wears. Where I grew up, goth is a… you know what, not important. He has answers, we want answers, yeah?”

Hulkenberg nodded. “Indeed. And whatever reason Louis would have for going after the Sceptre, we mustn't let him have it. This way.”

She led them around the building to a stairway that opened up on a smaller courtyard. Beyond it was the main entrance to the cathedral proper.

“You’ve got to be joking. That thing looks absolutely massive…” the clemar said.

The fairy agreed. “We have to climb that whole way? This is going to take a while…”

“You don’t have to climb anything, Gallica,” Ren quipped.

The fairy—Gallica—shot him a sneer while the other elda laughed.

“Indeed we do,” Hulkenberg said, shaking her head. “The Royal Sceptre Chamber is at the top. Let us make haste.”

They reached the entrance without issue, but upon stepping inside, Hulkenberg froze. “What’s become of this place?” she asked, despair creeping into her voice. She looked around, noting the high concentration of iridescent shards floating in the air. “Is that magla? And in a building like this…”

“Just like the mines,” the clemar said softly.

There was a sudden rumbling sound, and the group noticed dust particles and small rocks streaming down from above.

“The roof’s collapsing! Fall back!” Ren yelled.

—

Well this is indeed unfortunate.

The entrance was now completely blocked by rubble. Thankfully Hulkenberg knew of another way into the cathedral, and she said as much to the others. But before she led them there, she would have answers.

“We must speak of the man Louis executed,” she said, turning to them. She looked each of them in the eyes, willing them to understand that she would brook no argument.

Gallica and the two in uniform looked at each other. Curiously, Ren was not included.

“So… were you a friend to Grius?” the clemar finally asked.

“...Yes. I knew him as Alces. Arvid Alces. He’d been engaged as a tutor to His Royal Highness, teaching him swordsmanship at the king’s behest.”

The young elda replied. “I wouldn’t have expected you to know him.”

“Yes, well, it was back when I myself was serving as one of His Highness’s personal guards.”

This seemed to surprise them. “You’re a personal guard for the prince?” the clemar asked with incredulity.

Hulkenberg felt her stomach twist with a familiar cocktail of negative emotions. “I was. Now, he is lost to me.” She noticed that Ren, though not participating, was listening as intently to her as to them. I wonder how they know each other. Is it just happenstance that brought them together?

She filed away the question for later and continued. “Which brings me to the heart of my concern. I hope you can give me the answer I seek. Why were you trying to kill Louis?”

She waited for their answer, and again noticed that Ren was as interested in it as she was. The other three were silent for a long while.

“...Revenge,” the clemar finally said. “The assassination is for His Highness. To avenge his death.”

Hulkenberg narrowed her eyes. “...Revenge?” 

He continued on, now sounding like someone hoping to convince her, instead of someone telling her the facts. “Not just for the prince. Louis killed the king as well.”

Hulkenberg scoffed inwardly. There’s more to this, to be sure. She replied in an even tone, trying not to let suspicion slip in. Better to let them think she believed them. “Alces was a calculating man. Callous, where softer hearts falter. He was not some wild-eyed revolutionary driven by petty emotion. Why would such a man sacrifice all in the name of revenge…?”

She noted Gallica and the elda boy looking a bit uncomfortable, while Ren just seemed thoughtful, content to let the conversation play out. The clemar however, was stoic.

“...Who knows,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Is that all you wanted to know, then?”

Hulkenberg considered. They clearly were not telling her everything, but she was sadly used to being kept in the dark where Alces was concerned. Regardless, they all wanted the same goal. She could always inquire further at a more opportune time. 

“If nothing else, you were friends of Alces. Once more, I would humbly request your blades at my side.” She made sure to look at Ren as well. He was skilled with both weapons and magic, and she would not lose his aid if she could avoid it.

“I think you’d find surer allies among the guard,” the clemar said tentatively. Must he be so unaccommodating? Still, he had a point. Those men were by and large useless.

“You saw for yourself their failings today. A legion may be easily divided. A squad of few elites, however, moves as one. I’ll have us into the Grand Cathedral. I know the way. I ask again: will you assist me?”

Surprisingly, the clemar responded first. “Naturally.” 

He challenges me at every turn only to say ‘Naturally?’ I cannot pin this man down! 

He turned to the others. “How about you all?”

“Of course,” the blue-haired elda responded with a strong nod.

“Where he goes, I go!” the fairy said, sitting on the elda’s shoulder. They all turned to Ren.

He looked lost in thought. But eventually he spoke. “I’m not going to pretend I understand all of this. But if we don’t stop this necromancer guy from getting the Sceptre, a lot of people are going to die, right?”

Right. He mentioned that he was not used to fighting people. She weighed her words before answering. She wanted his help, and could not afford to say the wrong thing. “I cannot say for certain what Louis wants with the Sceptre. But you have seen for yourself the destruction wrought under his orders. I cannot imagine he would hesitate to wreak similar havoc again to achieve his goals.”

Ren nodded thoughtfully. Then his face and voice took on a darker shade. “And helping you here gets us one step closer to avenging Grius, huh…” It was not a question.

Hulkenberg fought to keep her face impassive. There was a pressure emanating from Ren that she hadn’t felt even when they were fighting together. It wasn’t quite blood lust, but Hulkenberg was certain that whatever Ren’s past was, it had forged in him an iron will. This was not just temporary anger in response to loss, this was the beginning of a vendetta. 

The other three seemed surprised as well, and their faces made it seem like they were reevaluating what they thought of the raven-haired elda.

The darkness passed just as quickly as it appeared, and Ren was smirking. “I’m in.”

Royal Capital Grad Trad

Ren was fighting a losing battle. He had thought that after everything he went through, he’d be used to hardship. But this was a whole new level of hardship.

This was death. So much death. Everywhere. Blood always in his sight line. The smell of iron refusing to dissipate. And Grius. His death in particular. Ren had failed. He wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough. He had let it happen. Again. 

It left Ren adrift on an ocean in a storm, buffeted by anger, hate, guilt, sadness—every negative emotion coming in from every possible angle, without stopping. Ready to drown him.

So he did the one thing he always did when the world was pressing in too much. He put on the mask. He became Joker.

It didn’t help as much as it usually did, but that was understandable given the circumstances. Joker just had to stay afloat long enough for the storm to pass. Then Ren could worry about repairing his bruised psyche. He idly wondered if there were therapists in this world.

Ren slowly followed the group down the stairs to the cathedral grounds. Everywhere he looked there were dead, dying, and injured. Guards and soldiers ran around, trying to clear rubble and perform triage. 

“Pretty chaotic here…” Strohl said with a down-turned face.

“With good reason. I was there, and even I struggle to grasp the situation,” Hulkenberg replied.

“Oh! You’re back!” a voice called out. Ren turned and saw Fabienne running up to them.

I am not ready for this.

“Have you seen Maria!?” she blurted out, panic clear in her voice.

Oh god, please. I can’t…

“Maria? She’s missing!?” Strohl exclaimed.

“She heard the commotion and ran off. She can’t have gotten far…”

Thankfully, whatever god was up there heard Ren’s plea, because a man ran up to tell them that he found Maria. The vice-like grip on Ren’s heart loosened back up a little. They followed the man and found the girl unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

“Don’t move her. She’s suffered a blow to the head,” Hulkenberg warned

Ren immediately got down next to Maria, opposite Fabienne. He gently touched the girl’s forehead and closed his eyes.

“This has to be one of those lucky coincidences, right?” he called out to the ultimate persona of the Faith arcana.

He felt Maria chuckle warmly in his mind. She was happy to help the girl she shared a name with. A brief blue-green glow surrounded his fingertips, and the young girl’s breathing immediately evened out. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, and when they found Fabienne’s, she smiled. She fell asleep immediately.

Fabienne looked at Ren with equal parts wonder and gratitude. “I… how? ...thank you.”

He simply smiled back, desperately hoping it looked real enough to mask the pain.

Fabienne turned to Will. “It’s good to see you all unharmed. And Grius? He’ll be along soon, won’t he…?”

Everybody broke eye contact with her, pain evident on their faces. “I’m sorry…” Will managed to get out. “He’s…”

Fabienne was quiet for a long moment, eyes slowly lowering to the ground. She took a deep breath, and when she finally responded, her voice was shaky. “I was… prepared for the worst. But… Ah…” She couldn’t keep it together any longer and hunched over, crying into her hands. Ren’s heart was torn into pieces all over again watching her. 

—

The other entrance Hulkenberg spoke of was through a mausoleum, and the group currently found themselves in front of it. Anger had once again taken the driver’s seat, and Ren was glad for it—sadness made for a terrible motivator. He made to pull on his gloves, only to realize he wasn’t in his Phantom Thieves attire. He settled for clenching his fists, relishing in the pain of his nails digging into his palms. 

“Are you all prepared? I would end this madness as soon as possible,” Hulkenberg asked, looking over the others. They said no words, simply nodding. After watching Fabienne start to slowly carry Maria back to the inn, her face wracked with grief, any doubts were washed away. They couldn’t let Louis and his subordinate get away with this, nor could they let any more families be torn apart.

The mausoleum was quiet, their echoing footsteps the only sound. They walked forward in formation, alert. A few side passages split off the one they were in, but Hulkenberg paid them no mind. She led them straight to a door flanked by two robed statues, each carrying a lit brazier. Dark magla—similar to what Ren noticed clinging to the catatonic people in Sunshade Row—seeped through the door before dissipating into the air.

Well that’s not concerning at all.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Gallica muttered.

“Hey, what a coincidence,” Ren quipped back humorlessly.

“Safe to say we should be prepared to run into something on the other side of this door,” Will said, voice tense. “Are we ready?” He heard no objections, so he pushed the door slowly open.

Ren wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a giant crystal blocking the inner door onward. The thing looked foreboding. A sickly purple orb encased in organic looking rocklike vines. Eerily, the vines came together in places to resemble faces screaming in agony. It reminded Ren of Will Seeds, and he idly wondered if this is what they’d look like were they allowed to grow. The crystal was the source of the dark magla, spilling out of it in billowing black clouds that swept across the floor of the room.

“What’s going on?” Gallica asked. “We can’t get through the door.”

An unknown voice answered from the doorway behind them. “Strange as he is, that pale fellow’s magic works. Good for rooting out the rats.” 

The group turned, weapons at the ready. A Euchronian soldier stood in the doorway. One of Louis’s men, Ren guessed.

“So that blasted mage set a trap? Not surprising. We knew he was expecting us,” Strohl responded.

The soldier chuckled. “And you still fell for it? Well, at least you’ll be in good company.” He stood aside, and Ren had to fight his brain to retain his grip on Grius’s dagger.

“It can’t be…” Gallica gasped in horror.

Out of the shadows walked Grius, looking very much alive, except for his eyes, which now glowed with the same eerie red light as the skeletons earlier.

It only took Ren a second to get over his shock and piece the clues together, but zombie Grius was on them even faster than that. He dashed forward at an inhuman speed, swinging his sword in clean arcs. Ren watched him jet between himself, Will, and Strohl, and only when Grius was out of his field of vision did he feel the burning sensation in his side that let him know he’d been cut. Ren fell to his knees as the other two collapsed to the ground, also sporting fresh wounds. The corpse rounded on Hulkenberg, the only fighter still standing.

“Alces, stop it!” she yelled, halberd held up defensively. Her eyes were wide, voice shaky. 

Grius, deaf to words, simply rushed forward, bringing his sword down in an overhead arc. She met his blade with the shaft of her halberd, managing to block a few of his strikes, but he eventually pushed through her effective range, and when she couldn’t bring her longer weapon back around, he kicked her chest hard, sending her flying to the ground.

Grius advanced slowly as the knight tried to push herself up. “Why would… Why… would you die for revenge of all things?” she asked, both physical and emotional hurt in her voice. “The man I fought beside was not so ruled by anger and malice!” Grius simply kept walking forward. “Alces! Tell me! Please!”

Grius answered with a brutal upward slash through Hulkenberg’s chest. She fell back to the floor, blood pooling out of her. Ren screamed, and he tried to will Maria to materialize, but between the gash in his side and the swirl of emotions at seeing Grius again, he kept losing the necessary concentration.

“Is this the price of my failure then?” he heard her whisper. “The prince… For having lost him, you too would abandon me? Why did you leave me alone in the dark when you escaped with His Highness? I have sought him for so many years, to no avail… And now… I…” 

There was so much pain in her voice. Ren desperately tried to focus, fighting down the panic in his heart. Flashes of Akechi flew through his mind.

Not again, not like this. I’m not strong enough…

He watched as Grius moved to stand over the redhead, sword poised to finish her off. She looked up at him. “Of course… ‘Tis only just that you be the one to send me to him now.”

“Get up! Fight!” Strohl yelled, on his knees now. Ren tried forcing himself to his feet, a guttural scream spilling out of him as he tried to will his body to obey.

“I’m sorry,” they heard her whisper. “Please forgive me…”

“No, you have it wrong!” Strohl screamed.

But just before Grius reared his sword arm back, a blur of blue and white dashed forward. Will had somehow gotten back on his feet, and rocketed into Hulkenberg, tackling her out of the way just as the zombie plunged his sword down.

“The prince is alive!” Will shouted at her.

Gallica made to stop him from saying more, but Strohl interrupted her. “He’s right. We do hunt Louis, but not for revenge! We mean to lift the prince’s curse!”

Hulkenberg gasped, clinging desperately to Will. “Is that true? His Highness is… still…”

“Yes, he lives! So you have to keep fighting!”

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. “You mean… If that’s true, then I…”

A wave of magic pulsed through the room as Hulkenberg released her grip on Will and slowly stood. Her wound was miraculously gone. 

“It’s happening again. She’s awakening!” Gallica said in awe from next to Strohl.

Grius, finally freeing his sword from the ground, rounded on the roussainte and thrust straight at her heart. But before reaching her, his sword was parried by a wave of overwhelming magical power erupting around her. 

Hulkenberg now stood in the middle of a seething current of energy, all reds and oranges and yellows. It looked like she was wreathed in fire. Glowing orange marks etched themselves like tattoos all over her body and she stood imperiously, looking down at Grius with disdain.

“My name is Eiselin Buchelli Meijal Hulkenberg!” She roared. Well that’s a name. “I am knight, I am commander… And last of the honour guard!” The magical fire pulsed in time with her declarations.

Man, this is weirdly familiar.

Then Hulkenberg unceremoniously drove her right hand into her chest and ripped out her heart with a smirk. Also the heart was metal and robotic.

Okay, so a little less familiar.

She held up her heart to her mouth and spoke into it like it was a microphone. “Once more, I take up arms in my liege’s name!” The last word was punctuated by a giant explosion as the magical energy swirling around her was finally released. When the smoke finally cleared, she had transformed into a knight astride a horse, both clad in armor with the same glowing orange markings.

“Alces!” Hulkenberg’s voice echoed from the knight’s helm. “I will see you freed.”

Ren had no idea what kind of power these three had, but it looked cool as hell. He felt a smirk growing on his face. A group of four people with strange, otherworldly powers, standing against an enemy, fighting for the good of innocent people? Yeah, Ren was in his wheelhouse. He felt his mind stabilize as Joker took over, reveling in the nostalgia.

“Maria, Salvation!” He called out. A wave of healing poured through the four of them as they got in position, ready to make good on Hulkenberg’s promise. “It’s showtime, people.” 

—

Fighting with Will, Strohl, and Hulkenberg took some getting used to. For the most part they retained their human—well, person—form. But whenever they called on their magic, they transformed into much larger beings. Ren had to be more aware of his spacing than he was used to, or else he’d get hit by them when they suddenly grew in size.

Will took the form of a healer that blasted out light magic (he called it Hama, despite it clearly not being an instakill attack) and heals when necessary, allowing Ren to focus on offense.

Strohl was a warrior. Giant sword with giant slashes—pretty simple.

Hulkenberg’s mounted knight form was seemingly tailor made for defense. Grius’ attacks barely phased her, and she was capable of drawing his attention, freeing up the others.

It turns out that four supernatural people ganging up on one zombie was not that strenuous, no matter how skillful said zombie was. Grius had the element of surprise at first, but in a straight fight, he was outclassed. The fight fell into a nice steady rhythm. Hulkenberg would keep Grius’ focus and Strohl would dash in and out with quick hits to keep him off balance, while Will and Ren peppered him with light and bless magic (which, as far as Ren could see, were the same). 

Ren stuck with weaker single target spells for this fight. High level skills like Salvation and Shining Arrows took an inordinate amount out of him, and he made a mental note that he’d have to lay off of them if he wanted to fight for longer than a minute or two without passing out. None of his skills were as strong as he’d like, but he’d make it work.

At one point, Ren saw Strohl feed his power into Hulkenberg, as if they were resonating. She used it to have her horse jump high in the air and throw her giant halberd like a missile at undead Grius. It was like a mini-showtime. Very cool.

Fighting him was easier than Ren thought it would have been, but maybe that was because the real Grius was already gone. This was basically a man-shaped shadow. Ren could work with that.

Grius took a surprising amount of punishment, but he finally slowed down, body clearly spent. Ren pushed down the guilt, knowing that if Grius were still alive, he’d want this. But before one of their party delivered the final blow, Grius spoke.

“His Highness…” It was slow and stilted, but it was definitely Grius. “And Maria’s home… I leave them in your hands…” He looked like he was struggling to get every word out, willing his body to remain still instead of attacking again.

Ren froze, and his mind shooting off in a million different directions trying to connect disparate pieces of information. He recovered enough to turn to the others. “I thought he was dead! I thought this was just a puppet!”

Gallica answered, “It should be! I’ve never heard of a necromancer being able to control a body when the soul was still attached!”

“So this is actually Grius!?” Ren was yelling, pleading now.

“I know it’s painful,” Hulkenberg said, and the tone of her voice made it clear she was feeling that pain. “...but his mind is no longer his own. There is naught we can do for him now, save release him from this suffering.”

“You don’t understand!” Ren said, fighting to keep his hope in check. “He’s still in there, he’s just brainwashed!” They stared at him blankly. “I can do something about brainwashed.”

He turned back to Grius. The man’s mind was still fighting the programming, body shaking but still in place.

Please, please, PLEASE. Let this work.

He raised one hand towards Grius as the other took off his mask. Maria formed behind him, waiting. Ren took a deep breath and spoke clearly. “Amrita Drop.”

Magic washed over Grius, and for a terrifying second, Ren was convinced that it didn’t work. But then the red light disappeared from Grius’s eyes and his body relaxed. He fell to his knees and gave a weak chuckle. 

“Interesting power you got there, lad,” he managed to say in a tired voice before passing out.

Chapter Text

Grand Trad Mausoleum

Ren let out a shaky breath. He could feel tears forming in his eyes as he stared at the unconscious man in front of him. Grius’s breathing was deep and even, and from a cursory examination, it seemed like nothing at all was wrong with him. At least nothing that would indicate that he had died mere hours ago.

“Is he… did you save him?” Gallica asked hesitantly.

Ren let out a relieved laugh, eyes not leaving Grius as he responded. “I think so? I’m not sure, I’ve never exactly done something like this before. I was worried that breaking the brainwashing would just leave him…you know…dead.”

Hulkenberg slowly moved to kneel in front of Grius, placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are there no limits to what your magic can accomplish?” she asked in a low voice. Ren thought maybe she was trying not to cry.

“Plenty of limits,” he answered, before looking at the rest of the group. “I owe you guys some explanations, don’t I?”

“I think it’s safe to say we owe you some as well,” Strohl said. “But not here. We should get Grius back to the Honeybee, yes?” They all nodded.

“Before we leave…” Will trailed off as he walked past Grius and Hulkenberg, unceremoniously drawing his sword. He walked right up to the foreboding crystal and shattered it with a strong diagonal slice. The crystal and rock vines supporting it gradually disintegrated, and after a few seconds, nothing was left to bar the door leading onward.

“Huh,” Ren remarked simply. “You guys should be prepared for a lot of questions.”

Will turned around, sheathing his sword. He smiled at Ren. “I think after all you’ve done for Grius—for us—you’ve earned whatever answers we can give.” He turned to look at Gallica. “Don’t you think?”

“As long as he explains what those spirits that he summons are!” she responded, looking at Ren excitedly.

He flashed the fairy a smirk. “Well then let’s take Strohl’s advice. The sooner we get back to the inn, the sooner we all get some explanations. Strohl?” 

He gestured to Grius, and the clemar nodded. They lifted Grius into a standing position and put his arms over each of their shoulders. Hulkenberg looked on with a worried expression, as if the newly returned sword master would shatter if handled too roughly. Together, the group made their way out of the mausoleum.

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The walk to the Honeybee was made largely in silence. Day was turning to evening, and the streets were unusually empty. Between the sudden appearance of the royal palace in the sky, the human corpse on Regalith’s doorstep, and the occupying of the cathedral proper, it seemed as if the residents of the capital were more than happy to get home early and stay inside.

Still, the group had to be careful. Grius’s head was covered at Hulkenberg’s suggestion. More than a few people were likely to remember the face of the man that tried to assassinate Louis and died for his efforts. If anyone were to recognize him now, it would invite too many questions and too much scrutiny. The last thing they needed was for Louis to be made aware of them. They took side streets back to Sunshade Row, trying their best to stay out of the public eye.

The walk allowed Ren time to think. About how he’d explain to Fabienne and Maria that Grius was still alive. About how he’d explain his powers. About how much he should divulge, and to whom he should divulge it. Personas were something he’d absolutely have to talk about, but the Wild Card stuff was a bit different. There was no real need to tell them about that aspect of his powers, nor was there likely any way they’d find out about it. Maybe he should only tell Will about that, and hope the younger boy kept it in confidence?

And what about the fact that he was from another world entirely? With the prevalence of magic in Euchronia, Ren thought that the group might be receptive to the idea of multiple worlds and travel between them. If they believed him, it would be a lot easier for him to put forth questions and gather information—he could just ask them about anything he didn’t understand.

More than anything though, Ren was tired of keeping secrets. He remembered how stressful it was to keep his Phantom Thievery a secret, how relieved he was when Sojiro found out about them and he didn’t have to keep sneaking around. So what if he just told them everything from the outset?

For as little as he knew them, these people seemed trustworthy. And unlike when he was in high school, he couldn’t really see a downside to sharing—it’s not like they’d turn him in to the police (or the guards in this situation, he guessed). The worst that could happen is that they didn’t believe him, at least about the whole isekai situation. Ren had a pretty good feeling that Will would at least take the whole Wild Card thing seriously.

So yeah, he’d just tell them everything. Roll the dice, see where they may fall. If you couldn’t trust people who helped you essentially bring a man back from the dead, who could you trust?

—

Despite all that had gone wrong today—and a lot had gone wrong—Will couldn’t help being a little bit excited as he led the group up to the front door of The Hushed Honeybee Inn. He couldn’t wait to surprise Fabienne and Maria with the news that Grius was alive, thanks to their… friend? He would call Ren an acquaintance, but that felt like a disservice after what he did.

And speaking of the darker-haired elda, oh man, Will had so many questions. Where did he learn all that amazing magic? Was that summoning stuff why the Sanctist Church condemned their race as evil? If so, did that mean Will could learn how to do it too? 

Was Ren being in the capital a coincidence? Did he really just intend to go to the funeral like he said, or was he on a mission like they were? Somehow he doubted that a person with that kind of skill would just be paying respects to the former king with no ulterior motives.

And for that matter, if he was so skilled, how on earth did he lose his weapons and money? A lone elda with nothing on him made sense when they thought he was just a traveler, but Ren clearly was more than that.

Well, he said he’d give them some explanations, so Will would hopefully have all his questions answered in short order.

He entered the inn a step or two ahead of the others. “Ah, you’re just in time. Maria’s a—” Fabienne cut off immediately as she looked past Will, clearly noticing who Strohl and Ren were carrying between them.

“Yeah, so… some stuff happened,” Will said simply, with a confused smile. He hadn’t really thought about how they would begin explaining to the inn proprietress what had happened.

She made no indication that she had heard Will, simply walking past him and up to Grius in a daze. She looked at Strohl and Ren in turn, eyes flitting between cautious hope and despair.

“He’s alive,” Strohl immediately said, not wanting to keep her in suspense. “It’s a long story, but he should be fine.”

Fabienne immediately started crying tears of relief, raising her hand to cup Grius’s cheek gently.

The group gave her a few moments before Ren quietly suggested they get him to a bed and let Maria know. Excellent suggestions both. Will knew he wasn’t the only one who started tearing up when Maria ran over to her father’s bed and hugged his sleeping form like her life depended on it. Fabienne let Maria stay with Grius on the condition that she try not to wake him, and the rest of the group went downstairs to start what Will assumed would be a long conversation.

“So,” Strohl said as soon as they all got situated on a table nearest the hearth. “Who goes first?”

“I can,” Ren replied. His face was relaxed, but Will caught a slight bit of nervousness in the young man’s voice. “But I have to warn you, a lot of it is probably going to sound made up. I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”

Gallica scoffed. “After what we’ve seen you do today, we’ll probably believe more than you think.” Will nodded in agreement. Besides, Ren definitely earned the benefit of the doubt, regardless of what he told them.

Ren looked around the table at each of them. Met with only openness and curiosity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. So first off… I’m not from here.”

Fabienne furrowed her brow. “You mean you aren’t from Euchronia?”

“No,” he laughed nervously. “I mean I’m not from this…world? Planet?”

He was met with blank stairs, so he continued on hurriedly. “I don’t understand why, but one day—I think it was the day you found me in the mines—I just… woke up here? The world I come from doesn’t have magic, well not exactly. It doesn’t have a lot of the stuff Euchronia has and…” He stopped for breath, trying to come up with something more to say. He finally settled on a less than impressive, “Yeah. Questions?”

Well.

Will was expecting an interesting explanation, but nothing like this. Ren was probably right to be skeptical as to whether they’d believe him or not. The table sat in silence for a bit, while everyone but Ren made eye contact with each other. It was hard for Will to gauge what everybody was thinking. He didn’t think anybody didn’t believe Ren outright, but it was a lot to take in. Explanations were definitely needed.

“Hmm…” Gallica hummed, trying to make sense of her thoughts. “It’s not that I don’t believe you but…”

“But someone saying they’re from a different world is hard to just take on faith, right?” Ren said with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”

“Well…” Gallica abandoned the empty tankard she was sitting on, electing to float over the table, legs crossed. “If the place you’re from doesn’t have magic, then what was all that?” She waved her tiny arms wildly to indicate the that she was referring to.

“All what?” Fabienne asked.

“As Will mentioned when last we spoke, Alces was slain by Louis Guiabern,” Hulkenberg replied. “Unfortunately—or fortunately, I suppose, in hindsight—his body was revived through necromancy by one of Louis’s lackeys. Ren has unique magic, that, among other things, was able to release the necromancer’s hold over Alces, restoring him to us.”

Before Fabienne could respond, Ren jumped in. “I want to be clear that I didn’t bring him back to life, though I did try that. That necromancer was the one that brought him back. All I did was get rid of whatever let him keep control.”

“All you did?” Fabienne looked at Ren with fresh tears in her eyes. “That was all you did? All you did was bring him back to me. To Maria. Please do not sell yourself short. I can never repay you for all you did.” She gave him a bright smile and a little laugh.

Ren smiled back, but broke eye contact with her quickly. Will thought he caught the faintest blush on his cheeks. 

Does he think she’s that pretty, or is he that unused to heartfelt thanks?

“A-Anyways,” Ren continued. “Gallica’s question about my ‘magic’. This might be a bit hard to follow, but bear with me.”

And so Will had a front row seat to what he thought was the weirdest, most fascinating story he’d ever heard. Explanations of another plane of existence called the Metaverse, where people’s truest thoughts and feelings were given form. Where the intentions of the evil and unjust were laid bare. Ren gave examples of such people—a sexual deviant who ruled a castle fashioned after his perverse lust, an artist who mistreated his pupils running a museum wherein those pupils were in fact the pieces on display. A lot of it went over Will’s head, but the gist was that this ‘Metaverse‘ was full of the negative sides of people that, in the real world, stayed hidden away for fear of retribution.

Ren told them that in this Metaverse, he and his friends awoke to the power of Personas. These were the spirits that Ren was summoning earlier in the day, and apparently they were a representation of a person’s ‘will of rebellion’. Anybody who had awoken to a Persona could use them in the Metaverse to cast magic without igniters. And Ren and his friends used this ability to go around the Metaverse challenging those people who were evil and unjust. Apparently by stealing the root of their desires, these Phantom Thieves—as Ren’s team was called—could force them to confess to their crimes, all without ever confronting them in the real world.

It was definitely fanciful. Under most circumstances, Will would have written Ren off as crazy. But after seeing him actually call upon these Personas? After seeing him wipe out that army of skeletons and bring Grius back? Well, it was a bit easier to believe.

Besides, a lot of what Ren said about awakening Personas was strangely familiar, something Strohl was quick to point out.

“You know,” Strohl said after Ren stopped explaining. “Doesn’t this Persona awakening sound awfully similar to what happened to us?”

“It does,” Will responded thoughtfully. “All of us were in an emotionally charged situation when we gained our Archetypes. Well, except for Grius. And you ripping masks off of your face is pretty similar to us ripping our hearts out.”

“Yeah, I’ll stick with the mask thing,” Ren laughed. “But what did you mean by, ‘except for Grius’?”

“Wait, Alces has this power too?” Hulkenberg and Fabienne asked simultaneously.

“Right,” Will chuckled. “I guess it’s my turn to explain.”

And so he did. He recounted his and Strohl’s visit to the Northern Border Fort and their encounter with the human. How, when he and Strohl were about to die, he heard a woman’s voice and was brought to a strange circular room filled with light. How the voice asked him to choose between confronting the threat or dying in obscurity. How he chose the first option and awoke to his first Archetype, the Seeker.

Strohl and Hulkenberg then told of their similar experiences with the voice and the room, before Strohl further explained the circumstances around his own awakening to get Ren all caught up. As they spoke, Ren had a thoughtful look on his face, not once doubting their stories.

“Similar, but definitely not the same,” he said. “What about Grius? Or should we start calling him Alces? I’m a bit confused on that part.”

“We should all call him Grius,” Fabienne responded. “It’s the name he goes by when he’s working covertly, and after what he tried to do, the last thing he needs is us using his real name.”

“Sounds good,” Will said. “And to answer Ren’s question—Grius didn’t have an awakening like us. Apparently he had already studied Archetypes in the past, which let More sort of just… give him the ability to use them without needing to go through what we did.”

“More?” Ren asked.

Will laughed. “Right so, the night after I got this magic, I went to sleep, but woke up in this place called Akademeia. Well, woke up isn’t the right word. I guess I was dreaming, but my consciousness was there.” He shrugged. “Anyways, Akademeia is a giant study, and More is its owner. I guess he was locked in there by the former king, but he’s able to reach out to my mind from there. Also he doesn’t have any memory of why he was locked away in the first place?”

Fabienne and Hulkenberg were looking at him with eyebrows raised, while Strohl, having already learned of More, was fighting to keep a smirk off his face. Ren was just listening, face strangely impassive.

“I know, it’s all really strange,” Will continued. “I don’t understand a lot of it myself. But basically, More studies Archetypes, and he’s able to… unlock? ...the ability to use any Archetype I’ve discovered for anybody that can use the magic. So Strohl is currently using the Warrior Archetype, but More can give him the ability to use Seeker or Healer or Mage. Actually, any of us should be able to use any Archetype we come across. And after visiting More in my dreams the first time, I’ve started being able to visit him while I’m awake. There are these… ghosts of him that I see around sometimes. Only Gallica and I can see them, but if I read my book near them, my mind can travel to Akademeia.”

Ren, face still showing no emotion, asked, “So how do you discover new Archetypes?”

“Well, I sort of… form bonds with people? I get to know someone, and at a certain point—when we trust each other enough, I guess—I hear the same voice that I did when I awakened. She tells me that that person is associated with a certain Archetype, and that I should ‘nurture my bond’ with them. Strohl gave me Warrior, Gallica was Mage, and I recently bonded with Maria, giving me the Healer.”

“Does that mean Maria has this Archetype magic too?” Fabienne asked worriedly.   

“No, no, not at all” Will quickly reassured her. “I think it just means that person embodies the spirit of what the Archetype represents. Maria is kind-hearted and comforting, so she has the virtue of a healer.”

Ren was quiet for a moment, but eventually asked “Gallica, Strohl—did either of you notice when these bonds were formed? Have you had something similar happen when talking to others?”

Gallica shook her head, and Strohl said, “No, I didn’t notice when it happened, though Will told me it did. And I haven’t heard that voice again since awakening.”

For some reason, all the energy seemed to deflate out of Ren. “Is something wrong?” Will asked tentatively.

Ren studied Will for a second. Then he sighed loudly.  “I think our magic, for lack of a better term, is pretty similar in a lot of ways. I also formed bonds with people to strengthen it. I felt you forming your bond with Maria last night.” He looked off to the side in somber thought. “I even visit a weird dream space like you do to strengthen my Personas. It’s called the Velvet Room. I was really hoping we shared the same power, because if we did, I’d be able to talk to the people who reside there and…”

“And maybe find a way home…” Gallica finished sadly. Ren simply nodded. He looked so depressed that any lingering doubts Will had about the veracity of his story evaporated. Gallica obviously noticed too, because she quickly continued. “You know, even if your magic isn’t the same, there are a lot of similarities. Maybe More isn’t who you’re looking for, but he still might be able to point you in the right direction?”

Ren looked down contemplatively before giving Gallica as warm a smile as he could probably muster. “Thanks Gallica, I think that’s a good idea.” She beamed at him, nodding rapidly.

“So if you are truly not from this world, I imagine your time here must have been trying thus far,” Hulkenberg said, likely hoping to help distract Ren.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ren chuckled sardonically. “There are some similarities with my world, but magic and different tribes and giant monsters? Yeah, nothing like that.”

“You mean everyone is an elda in your world?” Strohl asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, but we don’t call ourselves elda.” Ren looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I’m not sure we’re actually elda. After all, most people where I’m from can’t use magic. But as far as I can tell, we look exactly the same.”

“If you’re not called elda, what are you called?” Fabienne asked.

Ren winced. “Well, don’t freak out or anything, but we call ourselves humans.” Incredulity flashed on everyone’s faces as Ren quickly continued. “I’m sure it’s just a weird coincidence. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like that thing Louis dropped in front of the church. And I clearly have more in common with all of you than I do with it.”

“Strange indeed,” Hulkenberg stated, hand to her chin in thought. “You are right of course. Whatever you may be, ‘tis certainly not a monster.” The others nodded in agreement, and Ren smiled gratefully.

“I honestly didn’t expect you guys to believe me so easily.”

“Well, it’s definitely a crazy story,” Will said with a smile. “But I can’t think of any reason you’d lie to us after all you’ve done, and with all the new magic we’ve discovered in the last week or so, who’s to say that there isn’t some magic out there capable of transporting someone from another world.”

Almost everyone else was apparently of the same mind, assuring Ren that they were willing to give the man who saved Grius the benefit of the doubt. Gallica stayed silent though, looking pensive.

“Gallica?” Will prompted her when he noticed.

She looked at him, and he was surprised to see excitement in her eyes. “Will, Ren says his world is one where there’s no magic and only one tribe!”

Will was confused for a moment before her implication finally took root. He spun to Ren, eyes alight. “Ren, when you asked to see my book…”

Ren smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the world your book describes is mine. It’s nowhere near that idyllic, but the pictures definitely look like Earth.”

“Ren, More wrote that book.”

Ren stared blankly at Will for a few seconds before his eyes lit up with the same excitement present in Will’s and Gallica’s. “Okay, so we definitely have to talk to More.” Before the three got too excited talking about their discovery, Hulkenberg cleared her throat and gave the rest of them an apologetic smile.

“While I am happy that Ren has found some clues pointing him home, I would be remiss if I didn’t ask after the prince. After all, you claim he still lives?”

“Ah, that’s right!” Gallica said, retaking her seat on the tankard rim. She looked at Will and Strohl. “I assume you two are still dedicated to the mission?”

“Mission?” Ren asked.

“Right, quick explanation.” Will answered. “Twelve years ago, the prince—Hythlodaeus V’s son—was attacked and cursed. Usually curses can be undone, but this one is particularly complicated, and nobody has been able to figure out how. That leaves two other options for removing it. Either the caster undoes it himself, or dies. And we know Louis won’t do the former.”  Ren nodded in thanks.

“This attempt went poorly, but we can’t afford to give up after one failure.” Gallica continued.

“Don’t worry.” Strohl said. “I’ve no intention of giving up now. You saw what would happen under his rule. We can’t just let him doom this country.”

“Agreed, I’m still in.” Will said succinctly.

“Thus do you seek Louis’s death. Knowing the truth… May I join your cause?” Hulkenberg asked. “Even if we can put the man down, if we can’t save the heir to the throne, it would be all for naught. Until the day his Highness the Prince’s life is saved, I will fight through all obstacles.”

“We’d be happy to have you, but are you sure?” Gallica asked.

“It is but another leg on my own long journey, and now, I may travel in good company. What say you?”

“We’d welcome you, gladly,” Will responded immediately. Hulkenberg had more than proven herself, and they could use all the help they could get.

“Truly? Thank you,” she responded with a smile. “I shall strive to protect you, as you saved me. Let us be bound in both purpose and trust. My life is your shield and my blade is your strength.”

She offered her hand to Will, and as they shook, time slowed, and the familiar voice returned.

The steadfast vassal, Hulkenberg…

Within her dwells the virtue of the Knight .

Nurture thy bond with her, and a new power yet slumbering within thee may awaken.

As time started flowing again, Will noticed Ren smirking. “Congrats on the new bond,” he said.

“Really?” Strohl asked. “I felt nothing. Your power really is similar to his.”

“Yeah, the Knight Archetype. I can’t wait to ride a horse,” Will said with a grin.

Gallica shook her head in exasperation. “Now that she’s part of the team, we ought to show her. Well, Ren too.” Will understood her meaning and pulled out the Farsight Mirror, holding it up for Hulkenberg and Ren to see. “Here, this is the prince. He’s been asleep for a long, long time.”

Hulkenberg and Ren took a close look at the mirror and were able to see the prince and his very present, very visible curse through it. Ren frowned and Hulkenberg gasped. She looked like she was almost physically in pain. Gallica continued. “He’s stable, but unless we can do something about that curse, he’s finished.”

“That mage could be the key to this,” Strohl offered. “I couldn’t guess what he aims to accomplish, but if we can capture him, he could lead us straight to Louis.

Hulkenberg gave that some thought. “Doubtless he seeks the Royal Sceptre. ‘Tis enshrined in a chamber in the Cathedral, under a powerful warding seal. Such magic would likely take days of concentration to dispel, even with powers to do so.”

“You figure that’s why he said we’ve got until the mourning period ends?” Gallica wondered. “If it’s true, we still have some days until then. That’s when his “Day of Calamity” would occur. I wonder what he meant by that? Just an ominous name for the day he grabs the Sceptre?”

“He can tell us himself, at the end of a sword,” Strohl said angrily. “Fabienne, is it okay to use your inn as our headquarters for now?”

The paripus nodded. “Of course, whatever you need.”

Will turned to Ren. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping the older boy would join them. His abilities were incredible, and he’d already proven himself as an ally today. “What about you? I know you agreed to go after him back when we thought Grius was dead, but obviously things have changed.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Of course, I’m willing to help you find your way home regardless, don’t worry about that. It’s just… you don’t really have a horse in this race, and I can’t fault you for not wanting to put your life on the line for a cause that isn’t yours.”

Ren looked at the floor, deep in thought. Eventually he returned his gaze towards Will. His words were deliberate and thought out. “I’ve barely scratched the surface of describing what my world is like. But you already have a slight idea from that book. I’m not saying there’s no fighting or killing in my world—there is. But I’m not a soldier. I don’t kill. And to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know if I can. If there’s a moment where I’m forced into making that choice, when it’s either them or me, I can’t guarantee you I won’t hesitate or freeze. And from what I’ve seen of this world, from what you have discussed, that might be a big problem. I should expect killing if I join you. Am I right?”

Ren was right, at least in part. Any hesitation could be fatal, not just for himself, but for those he was fighting with. And yet a large part of Will still wanted Ren’s help. And not just for the obvious reason of his martial and magical skill. Will studied Ren as much as he could today, and what he saw was someone who cared. About things that shouldn’t matter to him, about people he wasn’t particularly close to—Ren cared. That’s what they needed right now. Maybe it was selfish to hope that this man’s caring would extend to something as far removed from himself as their quest, but Will hoped nonetheless. He looked to the others to try and gauge their thoughts.

Gallica had a sad smile that Will thought looked sympathetic, while Strohl seemed as though he was giving Ren’s opinions serious weight. But Hulkenberg, surprisingly, seemed perfectly unperturbed. She responded first.

“You speak truth when you say our path will be bloody. But I do not view your hesitance as a weakness. We should all aspire to do the least amount of harm possible. That being said, it seems laughable to assume we can avoid killing entirely, and disingenuous to tell you as much. But I would like to ask you two questions.”

“Sure,” Ren replied, unsure where she was going.

“Firstly, are you capable of regulating the strength of your magic?”

“Yes,” Ren said. “I can more or less control how powerful my magic is. My personas also have physical skills, and those are much harder to regulate. But elemental skills should be no problem.”

Hulkenberg looked pleased. “Good. Then it should be trivial to work with you to match your magic output to those of various military igniters.”

Strohl caught on. “And we have a very good understanding of which igniters are lethal and which are just incapacitating. All we’d need to do is help you find that limit and stay under it. Enough to end a fight, but not so much that you risk killing someone. Smart.”

Hulkenberg nodded and continued. “Second, and more important. If it was a choice between our lives—not yours—and the enemies, if there was no other recourse than to kill or let us perish, could you do it?”

Will watched Ren, expecting him to give this question serious thought. He was surprised, then, when he saw the man’s eyes immediately sharpen and take on a steeliness. “Yes. I don’t let my friends die.” Will waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He just stared at Hulkenberg unflinchingly.

She stared back for a few seconds, as if trying to find any uncertainty in Ren. But eventually, her eyes softened and she gave a warm smile. “Then I have no reservations about you joining us. On the contrary, I think you will end up being a counterbalance. Mayhap you will help us find less violent solutions to any problems we may encounter. Keep us on the righteous path, if you will.” She chuckled. “Still, to call us friends after so little time. You are an interesting man.”

Strohl and Gallica chuckled too, but Ren simply said, “Well you are. And I help my friends. I’m in.” He didn’t look embarrassed, just earnest.

Will felt his face split into a wide grin. Ren was right. They were friends. New friends, fast friends, but definitely friends. He reached out to shake the Persona user’s hand, and as they met, Will heard the voice, just like he had hoped he would.

The Trickster flung far from home, Ren…

Within him dwells the virtue of the Faker .

Nurture thy bond with him, and a new power yet slumbering within thee may awaken.

Will was curious why the disembodied voice would label Ren a “Trickster,” and why his virtue would be a Faker, but he supposed he’d have plenty of time to ask about his new friend’s past. But a gasp from Gallica brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at Ren, and inexplicably, the man had tears streaming down his face, eyes wide and right hand clenched over his heart.

—

Ren meant what he said. Will was offering to help him get home regardless of his choice, and Ren wouldn’t let that favor go unpaid. More than that, this world, or at least this country, was on the precipice, and it wouldn’t have sat right with him to just let these people—his friends—deal with it on their own, not when he could help. 

(A small voice inside also pointed out that if he said no, he’d be pretty much alone, and he desperately didn’t want to be alone right now.)

Sojiro always said that he stuck his nose in other people’s problems too much, and it always got him into trouble. His friends said that they probably would still be living terrible lives if it wasn’t for that. Makoto said it was one of the biggest reasons she fell in love with him. Well, he’d just have to apologize to the old man when he got back. Nothing new.

He reached out to grasp Will’s proffered hand, trademark smirk on his face. And then something he didn’t expect.

…..ster!? How…………………………ear me?

…………ou….ve…?

Oh……….t’s ri….

….am th………..art I…

Thou h………red a ne……..

…t shall beco………………bellion

That br…….thy…………..tiv….

…..th….rth…….. Aeon …..ona

I have ob………….nds of bl………..

……lead to…………..ew…wer…

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

Ren had never been simultaneously more desperate and less likely to get to sleep in his entire life. After a quick explanation to the others about why he spontaneously broke down, Strohl suggested they call it a night and pick back up on things tomorrow. Ren was grateful—he doubted he’d be able to focus much on the conversation anymore.

That was Lavenza. That was actually Lav. Ren had stayed optimistic during the past week or so, but there was a growing corner of his mind that was starting to think he’d never get home. Never be able to contact anybody in his life ever again. But he heard her! Sure, forming a bond has always been more of a one way conversation between his attendant and himself, but the fact that he could hear her—the fact that she could reach out to him, however weakly—meant that he could reach her, right? It had to mean that. 

And so Ren jumped into bed in the room he shared with Will, Gallica, and Strohl, willing himself to try and sleep to see if he could reach the Velvet Room. Only sleep wouldn’t come. He was too excited, too nervous. He had agreed to be part of Will’s team. Somehow, within a week of finding himself in a completely new world, he had managed to enmesh himself in the political fate of an entire country. Again. Sometimes being the Trickster was really annoying.

(The Joker part of his brain immediately told him shut up you love this.)

Ren latched on to trains of thought until he remembered no you’re trying to sleep! and so he tried to empty his mind before another stray thought came around and oh yeah you’ve gotta think about that but no you need to reach the Velvet Room what if Igor’s trying to reach you right now SLEEP and then—

It was morning. Ren lay there, staring at the ceiling of his inn room, fighting off the wave of worry-tinged disappointment that washed over him. So he didn’t reach the Velvet Room. That’s okay. It was always somewhat random when Igor (or Yaldabaoth, he thought with a shudder) would call him, so maybe he was just unlucky. Or maybe the connection was too tenuous for Igor to get a hold of him. After all, Ren had only heard about twenty percent of what Lavenza had said when he formed his bond with Will. Maybe it was like cell service—they had a bad connection, and he’d just have to find a way to strengthen it.

The shared room was empty, so Ren dressed quickly and made his way downstairs. The rest of the group was seated, just beginning to dig into an amazing smelling breakfast. Grius must have still been resting upstairs. “Ah, perfect timing,” Fabienne greeted him with a warm smile. “I was just about to ask Maria to wake you.” 

The girl in question stood half hidden behind the paripus woman, looking at Ren with a complicated expression he couldn’t quite parse. There wasn’t anything negative in it, so Ren decided to pay it no mind, instead opting to give her a simple smile. She immediately broke eye contact, electing to stare at a clearly fascinating floorboard instead. Fabienne quickly plated another serving of food and handed it to Ren. “Smells great, thank you.”

He took his seat as the others greeted him warmly. Gallica gave him a concerned look, so Ren decided to head her off. “I’m fine,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Getting a new confidant just surprised me. It hasn’t happened for a few years, and I honestly didn’t even think it was possible, especially not in my current situation. I guess I didn’t realize how desperate I was for a link home, and so when I got one…” He trailed off and the others nodded understandingly.

Strohl slapped him on the back, wearing a wide grin. “This can only be good news! Proof that there’s a connection between your world and ours, yes?”

“Exactly. So there’s no need for concern, honestly.” Ren gave Gallica a thankful look, and the worry on her face was slowly replaced with a satisfied smile. “So! What’s the game plan?”

“Well, if we’ve got until the ‘Day of Calamity,’ that means we’ve got some time. Ten days, to be precise,” Gallica answered.

“We would be better served by prudence than haste,” Hulkenberg said. “At the very least we should wait until I’ve had the chance to assist Ren with calibrating his magic. It should be no problem for me to procure the necessary igniters within the next few hours.”

“Perfect. Then we can check out Akademeia in the meantime, Ren,” Will followed up. Ren nodded, happy that Will was giving his issue the same amount of importance even after securing his assistance.

“One last matter…” Hulkenberg grabbed their attention back. “I am yet unused to this strange power. Once we take the field again, I would look to another for orders.” She was looking directly at Will as she spoke. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Slowly he turned to Ren.

Ren laughed. “Don’t look at me—your powers, your team. I’ve already led more than enough for one lifetime. I’m looking forward to letting someone else deal with it for once.”

“It is the role you’ve been serving thus far, yes?” Hulkenberg asked.  “‘Twould seem the height of folly to alter that now.”

Strohl nodded. “No objections here. He’s certainly gotten me out of plenty of nasty situations.”

Gallica rounded out the unanimous support. “I agree. You up for that, Will?” 

With an exaggerated sigh, he nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”

The rest of them smiled. “I suppose that would make you our captain,” Hulkenberg said. Will started, eyes wide. “A fitting title for a company’s tactical authority, no?”

Strohl grinned, eyes taking on a predatory sharpness. “Agreed. Here’s to a successful mission, captain.” Will groaned, cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink.

Gallica ignored him. “Okay guys, remember. We’ve got ten days to get this done. Captain, we’ll be waiting on you to give the signal.” She kept her face turned away from Will so he couldn’t see her smirk.

Ren chuckled, and Will turned to him, bracing for more ribbing. “No, it’s not that,” Ren assured him. “It’s just that this situation—the mission, the deadline, what Gallica said—it’s all… familiar.”

“Your missions in this Metaverse of yours were similar?” Strohl asked. 

“In structure, if nothing else, yeah.” Ren put his fork down and got up from the table before turning to Will. “Alright captain, let’s check out this magical library.”

Strohl and Gallica laughed as Will narrowed his eyes in mock outrage. “I don’t think I like any of you anymore.” It just made the other two laugh louder.

As Ren made his way to the door, Fabienne grabbed his attention. “Before you leave, could we have a moment of your time?”

We? Ren was confused, but acquiesced. The others left, Will and Gallica saying they’d wait outside for him.

When they were alone again, Ren turned back to Fabienne and realized who the “we” was. Maria, up until that point quiet in a corner near the kitchens, was standing next to Fabienne, who had a hand on the girl’s back, between her wings. Maria looked nervous for some reason.

Fabienne looked down at her lovingly and gave her a little push. “Come now, Maria, you wanted to do this.”

Maria’s eyes slowly tracked up from the floor, but stopped at his chest—she couldn’t quite make eye contact. “Um… Miss Fabienne said you were the one who saved papa?” Her voice was quiet.

“Well, I—” Ren started to explain that it was, in fact, not him that brought Grius back from the dead, but stopped when he noticed Fabienne’s raised eyebrow and unimpressed stare. Right. “Yes, Maria, I got lucky and managed to save him.”

Maria was still for a few moments before she suddenly rocketed forward and hugged Ren tightly. Before Ren could react, she released him and backpedaled to her previous position, cheeks red. She finally managed to make eye contact with him. Her eyes were watery, but she gave Ren a blinding smile. “Thank you so much, mister!”

Ren couldn’t have kept a straight face if he wanted to, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. “Of course Maria, you’re very welcome. But why were you so nervous?”

He was surprised when her smile was quickly erased by a small frown. “Well um… I wanted to hug you to say thank you for bringing papa back but…” Her eyes broke from his again, rapidly moving around the room, searching for something to focus on besides him. Fabienne had a pained look on her face. 

When Maria finally continued, Ren had to strain to make her words out. “I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like it if I did that. A lot of people don’t like it when I get close to them because my parents aren’t from the same tribe. Miss Fabienne said you wouldn’t care about that, but…” She finally trailed off, voice less than a whisper. Her arms were pulled into her torso, as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible.

Ren had to force himself to push back the tears that instantaneously threatened to spill out. He slowly walked up to Maria and took a knee. She ducked her head and flinched, and Ren’s heart broke. He immediately wrapped her up in a tight hug. It was awkward for a moment—he wasn’t quite sure how to avoid her wings—but he figured it out. She didn’t hug him back, didn’t do anything. It was like she was frozen.

“Miss Fabienne was right,” Ren said gently. “I don’t care that your parents were from different tribes. Nobody should care about that, and the people that do are wrong. You never have to worry about that sort of thing with me—with any of us. We like you for who you are, Maria.”

Maria finally returned the hug, tentatively at first, then tighter as she realized he wasn’t going to pull away. “Okay” she said, voice hitching. Ren looked up at Fabienne and was met with a complicated expression that Ren figured he could decipher. Relief and joy that she was right about Ren, mixed with a boundless sadness that Maria had been right to be wary. Ren would have to talk to Will about the racism (tribe-ism?) in Euchronia. He was sure that an elda carrying around a book about equality had the same point of view, but he wanted to make sure that the prince they were working so hard to save was going to try to fix this.

Eventually they broke the hug, and though Maria had started crying, she looked much happier now. She gave him another big smile and spoke through the tears. “Um, since you and the others will be staying here, can we maybe talk sometimes? I want to hear about your adventures!”

Ren chuckled. “Of course we can, that sounds fun.”

She held out her pinky. “Promise? I made a promise with Will too, so please?”

Being reminded of the creation of Will’s bond with Maria made hope flare up inside of Ren, but he tried to temper his expectations. He shot Maria a smile and hooked his pinky with hers. 

“Promise.”

….ow…….et…..ou?...

I….thou… Thou………

…………quired……ow…

…………….the wing…………..

That bre…………ains of ca……..

With th………….e Adjustment Pe…..

…….obtaine…….inds of blessing that

…………….eedom an..…………

—

“So you have a bond with Maria too?” Gallica asked as Will led the three of them to the nearest More-ghost.

“Yeah…” Ren said, deep in contemplation.

“What is it?”

“...Nothing major, it’s just each of my bonds are named after something specific in my world. But I’ve never heard of this one.” Ren shook his head. He had heard of the Aeon arcana before, back when he first looked up the major arcana of Tarot, but he didn’t remember ever seeing Adjustment.

Oh well, one more thing to ask Igor about, I suppose.

Will slowed down as the group approached the empty table in front of the gallows. He turned to Ren. “Do you see anything here? I’m guessing that seeing him is one of the prerequisites for going there.”

Unfortunately Ren did not. At least not with his normal vision. He quickly switched to his Third Eye and was pleased to discover that More was a little bit more defined than last time. Still more of a person-shaped blob than anything, but it was progress.

“Not using my regular sight, no. But we should still try. Do I need to do anything?”

“Just stay close to Will,” Gallica answered. “I kinda just get pulled along without having to do anything.”

Ren nodded and took a seat close to Will. He opened his book, gave Ren an encouraging smile, and started reading. “Here we go, hopefully.”

Ren closed his eyes, focusing on remaining still. After ten seconds went by without feeling anything, he opened them back up again, and was disappointed to find that the other two had a blank expression on their faces.

Akademeia

“It appears as if you’re quite adept at gathering the virtuous to you. A stalwart knight and an altruistic traveler with quite peculiar magic. Very interesting.” More said in his calm, metered voice, lip twitching in amusement . Will looked to his left and right, realizing with disappointment that Ren was not with him. More must have picked up on it, and continued. “I am sorry your newest friend could not join you here.”

“Do you know why?” Gallica asked, one eyebrow raised. “You seemed to have no trouble dragging me here.”

“Fairies are creatures born of magla. Your peculiar constitution means you are particularly receptive to the magic I employ to call out to Will’s soul. I would imagine that most would find it difficult to follow him here.” More’s neutral expression then grew warmer, and he turned his attention from Gallica to Will. “Having said that, I do have an idea if you are determined that he join you. Simply strengthen your bond with him. My magic seeks connection above all else, and a solid enough one should enable him to travel alongside you without much difficulty.”

“Hmm… okay, well I was planning on doing that anyways,” Will said. It was a shame that Ren couldn’t join him, but that didn’t mean Will couldn’t still help him get answers. “I’m guessing if you’ve been watching me, you know Ren’s circumstances?”

More’s eyes shone, and he perked up in excitement. “I do, and I must admit, I find it fascinating. That you would encounter someone so similar and yet fundamentally different from you. From a world wholly different from this one, no less.”

“Do you have any idea how he got here? You must know something about his world, considering you wrote about it,” Will asked.

More furrowed his brow. “Unfortunately I’m as much in the dark as you or he. I confess that the addling of my memory extends to the novel you carry. I do not remember putting pen to paper, but until now, I was under the impression that my writing had no basis in fact. To learn that the world I wrote about is modeled after a place that exists is… exhilarating.” He gave Will a sympathetic look. “This does mean, sadly, that I know not how he arrived here, nor how to get him home.”

“Of course it couldn’t be that easy,” Gallica muttered.

Will was disappointed, that much was obvious. Ren likely wouldn’t be able to use Akademeia or More to get home. But there was some extra emotion that didn’t mesh well inside of him, and after rooting around for a few moments, Will realized that it was relief. Some not insignificant part of him was relieved that he hadn’t found a solution, because that kept Ren here longer. And Will hated that he felt that way. Desperate to deny that part of himself, he pushed forward, voice a bit more desperate than he intended.

“What about the Velvet Room? Igor? Lavenza? Do any of those names mean anything to you?”

More shook his head, contrite. “I am sorry, but no. However, I think it too early to become hopeless. Instead of not knowing the answers to your questions, perhaps it’s simply that I forgot them. As we continue to work together, it’s possible that my memories will return, and with them, a solution to your friend’s predicament.”

Will nodded. He made a promise to himself right then and there that he would do everything in his power to get Ren answers, and with that promise, his guilt receded a bit. 

More’s face brightened up as he changed the subject. “That aside, two new Archetypes and one new friend who shares your power—well done! Perhaps you would like to study them further?”

And so Will took some time to unlock both Archetypes for himself and figure out what he wanted to inherit or unlock for the others with his limited MAG. Gallica busied herself with perusing the bookshelves and occasionally returning to the center of the room to pet Plateau. The cat allowed it. Eventually she spoke up, asking a question she’d been forming while she waited.

“Hey, do you think Ren could awaken to an Archetype? Maybe even the same way Grius did? He already knows some clearly advanced magic.”

More looked at her blankly for a moment, brain busy with the sudden context switch and subsequent consideration for her question. Then he said, “I’m not sure. Remember that although he looks like an elda, he is not of this world. Archetypes are formed by manipulating and reforming the Magla inside the body, and since magic does not exist in his world—at least not in the same way—it’s entirely possible that his body is not the same as Will or his companions’. I would need to meet him and perhaps even examine him to give you a more definitive answer. As it stands, however, we cannot draw forth the power like we did with your friend Grius.”

“Oh, okay…” Gallica responded dejectedly.

“Don’t worry, Gallica.” Will said. “Ren doesn’t need this power to keep up with us. I think he’s proven that already.” 

She considered his words for a moment and nodded. “You’re right, he’s plenty strong without having a body that turns all… whatever it turns into,” she concluded flatly. “Okay second question: what’s that?”

Will followed Gallica’s pointing finger to something he hadn’t noticed before, near some empty book stands and a ladder to the study’s upper floor. It was a… door? Or at least he thought it was a door. It was freestanding and see-through—similar to what More’s apparitions looked like, but colored a deep blue.

“Ah yes, that. I’m not entirely sure,” More answered with slight consternation. “It showed up a few days ago, so faint I almost didn’t notice it at all. Since then, it’s grown steadily more visible. It’s remained as incorporeal as ever though. I can’t interact with it at all, and it hasn’t ever opened, so I’ve decided to just wait and see. Not much else I can do.”

Will walked up to it to get a better look. The door looked as if it were made of strong wood overlaid with metal. There were bolts around the outside edge securing the metal to the wood, and a thin rectangular cutout in the center at eye height. It seemed like there was a slat of metal covering the cutout from the other side of the door, preventing him from looking through—or it would have, if the whole thing wasn’t already translucent. There were also a number of locking mechanisms connecting the door to the frame it was housed in. Will reached for one of them, and like More said, his hand moved right through it with no resistance. It was as if the door wasn’t there at all.

“Weird…” Will muttered to himself.

Royal Capital Grand Trad

Ren was ignoring the sixth disgusted stare leveled his way this morning—god he was getting sick of that—when Will and Gallica finally returned.

“Any luck?” Ren asked without preamble.

Gallica rubbed her arm and looked down and away. Will gave Ren a sympathetic smile and answered. “Not exactly, no.” He proceeded to reiterate everything that More told him. 

“Hmm, so our bond gets stronger, I’m able to get into Akademeia, and maybe speaking directly with him will get us more answers. And you helping him with his Archetype research will bring back his memory?”

“So we hope.”

Ren thought for a bit before adopting a determined expression. “Well, I wasn’t really expecting there to be a quick fix. At least now I have a plan.” He shot the other two a smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me for at least a bit longer.”

Guilt flashed on Will’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, and Ren decided not to question it.

—

The rest of Ren’s day was eventful. After his morning excursion with Will, he was taken out of the city by Hulkenberg to do some “magical calibration,” as she called it. She looked rather pleased with the name she came up with, with her eyes closed and lips formed into a half-smirk. Ren had to fight off his natural inclination to tease as he followed her through one of the city gates.

Ren wasn’t sure why they had built the capital of this country in the middle of a desert, but it did make for a great place to calibrate some magic away from prying eyes. Hulkenberg had brought with her a large array of igniters from the knights’ barracks in the city, each producing a specific element with a specific level of destructive might. Ren spent the next few hours working with the roussainte to match his personas’ outputs with the igniters’, and once he did, he would commit those outputs to memory. 

During the breaks they took to allow Ren to recover his energy, he asked Hulkenberg all about Euchronia and the world he found himself in. It was all well and good that Will’s group knew about his origins, but to the rest of society, he needed to be an elda—oppressed and looked down upon, yes, but also aware of how the world worked and his place in it. She told him about the different tribes and the history of the country. About the Annex War and Sanctism. About the Royal Sceptre and the day assassin’s came for the prince. About a lot of things. By the time Ren was finally finished “calibrating,” he felt like he had a much better understanding of Euchronia. Or at least enough of an understanding to not make an ass of himself.

The evening saw Ren and Hulkenberg return to the Hushed Honeybee Inn, where he was overjoyed to find Grius up and about, chatting with the others. Hulkenberg was too at first, until she remembered that Grius had apparently known where the prince was ever since he snuck the kid out of the Royal Palace. Then it looked like she maybe wanted to slap him.

“Aye, I am sorry about that Eiselin, truly. But you and the rest of the guard were young. You had your whole careers ahead of you. If I let you in on the plan, you either would have had to come with us and be guilty of kidnapping royalty, or you would have stayed and been forced to keep His Highness’s whereabouts a secret, which is basically treason. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Alces!” In her frustration, she forgot to use his codename.

“And yet I made it,” Grius replied calmly. “I wish that none of it was necessary, but it was. I never wanted to put you through that, but it was the best chance we had of keeping the prince safe. Every extra person that knew the plan was another potential loose string.”

Ren exchanged uncomfortable looks with Will, Strohl, and Gallica. He understood where Grius was coming from. Taking on a burden to spare others was something he was well versed in. He was also well versed in his friends being angry at him because of it.

Gradually, Hulkenberg relaxed, anger dissipating. “Perhaps you are right. Regardless, it’s in the past. There is no point getting angry about it. We should be concerning ourselves with what comes next.”

“Aye,” Grius replied, clearly glad that the issue was being dropped. “The lads have been getting me up to speed. Sounds like you lot have a necromancer to hunt. Nasty sort, necromancers… It’s a shame I won’t be there to help you, but by the sound of things, you’ve picked up quite a useful recruit.” His uncovered eye drifted to Ren, re-evaluating the man who had once been a simple traveler who had lost his possessions.

Ren rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t really sure what to tell you when we met, but the truth seemed like a bad idea.” Grius snorted. If he was upset at Ren, he didn’t show it. 

Ren suddenly remembered something. “Oh, that’s right, I borrowed your dagger, let me—”

Grius held up a hand to stop him. “No lad, keep it for now. It sounds like you’ll be needing it. I may be back from the dead,” —he gave Ren another knowing look— “but I’m still not anywhere near fighting fit. You’ll have to handle this crisis without me.” 

The rest of the night went by peacefully, the group stuck into the table nearest the kitchen, Grius with his hood up so as to not draw attention. They filled Grius in on more of Ren’s situation and powers, while he provided them more information on what he had been doing in the years between his kidnapping of the prince and now. Eventually the room started emptying out, and one by one the group got up to head to bed until it was just Ren and Grius at the table. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and Fabienne washing the dishes.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Grius spoke. “I’m still not sure exactly how you managed it,” he said, staring into the fire, “but I owe you a debt of gratitude I’m not sure I can ever repay.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ren responded. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Well isn’t that a coincidence,” Grius said, chuckling. He finally turned to look at Ren. “I mean it though. Your magic is like nothing I’ve heard of before. You risked a lot helping me. Hanging there, stuck in those chains… I gave up on ever seeing Maria again.”

Ren stared at him. “Yeah, well it was a stupid plan.”

“It was—”

“It was a stupid plan, Grius. And I should know, I’m an expert at making stupid plans. In broad daylight, with a knife, in front of god knows how many people. You were never coming back from that, and you know it. You gave up on ever seeing your daughter again the second you committed.” Ren wasn’t sure why he was voicing his opinions here. He didn’t know the man well, it was really none of his business. But something in him was angry. Angry that this man would make that kind of sacrifice. Angry that he was willing to leave Maria fatherless.

Grius stared at Ren for a long time, as if trying to get a read on him. Ren was vaguely aware that the sound of dishes being washed had stopped. Eventually, Grius either found what he was searching for in Ren’s eyes, or he didn’t. The older man let out a sigh. “You’re right. I knew I wasn’t making it out of that alive. But sometimes sacrifices need to be made.”

“And sometimes they don’t.” Ren pushed down the anger that he still couldn’t quite explain. “Which is why next time you come up with a stupid plan, I want to be part of it. Maybe minimize those sacrifices you seem to be fond of.”

Grius let out a low laugh and shook his head. When his eyes met Ren’s again, there was warmth in them. “Sounds like a plan.”

And that was how Ren gained his third bond since arriving in Euchronia.

Prudence , huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.

Chapter Text

Grand Trad Mausoleum

The group was quiet as they were getting ready. There was an anxiousness in the air, predicated on the knowledge that if they didn’t succeed in reaching the necromancer, a lot of people would die. Or at least they assumed a lot of people would die—Ren doubted anything called the “Day of Calamity” would fail to include at least a decent amount of death. The other three were busy quadruple checking their weapons as Gallica flitted nervously between them. Ren busied himself with flipping the dagger Grius let him keep. He had to find something to occupy his mind, or he’d keep trying to tug on the gloves that he wasn’t wearing. Strange how a habit now four years old was still so ingrained in him.

Eventually they ran out of plausible reasons to continue stalling. “Okay, so…” Will looked at each of them. “Shall we?”

Ren and Strohl nodded, and Hulkenberg set her gaze at the mausoleum entrance. “To the fray,” she said, half resigned, half determined.

The inside of the mausoleum seemed unchanged since their foray two days ago. No skeletons and no guards. Ren thought that a bit odd. Louis’s forces had to know that their plan to stop the group using Grius and the weird crystal had failed—the crystal was gone and their bodies were obviously not decorating the floor. He would have thought that some new defenses would have been put in place in the interim.

As they entered the room they previously fought in, he discovered the reason behind the lack of opposition. It was that pink paripus woman, the one he saw the day of the funeral, and she was not looking too good. She was hunched over, breathing hard. Her body was covered in bruises and her clothes were scuffed and tattered in places. She didn’t even seem to notice them approach, which was telling when you considered the size of her ears. Do paripus with larger ears have better hearing, or are they just for show?

“I didn’t think anybody would get here before us…” Gallica whispered to the others. “Hulkenberg, is this path into the cathedral well known?”

Before she could answer the fairy, the paripus woman turned around, finally noticing that she wasn’t alone. “You lot thought it was safe to come here with what’s happening at the cathedral? This really isn’t the time to pay your respects.” She looked around the room warily. “No easy way to say it, but this place… I dunno, it ain’t right. There’s dead folk shamblin’ about, and that’s after I cleaned house.”

“So we have you to thank for the lack of enemies here,” Strohl commented.

The woman looked him over with slightly narrowed eyes before continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Look, don’t say I didn’t warn ya, eh? I’m off then.” And to the group’s surprise, she started walking not past them toward the mausoleum exit, but to the door connecting it to the cathedral.

“Wait,” Hulkenberg called out. “Is it your intention to enter the Grand Cathedral?”

The paripus turned back toward the group, eyes narrowing further. “...How’d you know it connects down here?”

Strohl answered. “Because we’re the ones who cleared the path. But I assume we’ll meet more resistance inside.” He gave her a once over. “I beg your pardon, but are you not injured? Shouldn’t you consider turning back?”

Her eyes narrowed yet again, and anger entered her voice. “Oh, I’m sorry, boss—did I need your permission? I got my own reasons! And for the record, if you’re the ones who ‘cleared the path,’ you might want to look into another line of work. How’d you think I got these bruises?”

Ren frowned. “So the necromancer did set up more defenses here. I guess we should thank you for getting rid of them then.” He made to bow, but stopped himself, remembering he wasn’t in Japan anymore. He settled with nodding his head respectfully. The woman’s anger receded a bit, but she was still cautious. She eyed Ren as if she wasn’t sure quite what to make of him.

“You could at least stop to treat your wounds before going,” Will said with concern. “Is there something urgent?”

“Of course there is!” She exclaimed loudly, surprising the group. She was now clenching her fists tightly. “My friend’s trapped in there! And the soldier that went in to rescue her hasn’t come back. I can’t just sit and do nothing!”

“How about we find your friend for you?” Will asked. Ren smiled. No hesitation, no consulting the group, just immediately offering to help, because of course he would.

“Hey wait, before you go making promises like that…” Gallica started, signaling that they should maybe discuss as a group away from the paripus.

“No,” Strohl stopped her. “Now that we know about this, we must act to save these people.”

“Yup, let’s do it,” Ren added casually.

The pink woman studied them for a moment, eyes suspicious. “...What’s your game, exactly?”

Ren was confused. “Game?”

“We simply won’t stand by and let someone in your condition walk into peril,” Strohl said simply.

“I don’t believe you,” she responded flatly. “You’re hidin’ something. Some other reason you’re willing to help a paripus.” Ren frowned deeply. He really needed to talk to Will about this. The idea that helping a “lesser” tribe was so ridiculous a concept as to invite suspicion was concerning to say the least.

“Believe what you like, but we’re going to the top of the cathedral regardless,” Strohl said.

“We’re here to try and fix things anyways,” Ren added. “Your friend is someone we’d be trying to save even if we hadn’t met you. Can’t you just leave it to us instead of rushing forward injured? You’ll get yourself killed.” He hoped his face was conveying the concern he felt. Stranger or no, there had been too much death lately, and he desperately wanted to avoid more where he could.

“...Fine,” she finally gave in. “Even I can see the sense in that. My friend’s a paripus girl, about my age, with a yellow flower pin in her black hair. You’ll know her when you see her. If you bring her back safe, I’ll repay you. I swear.”  After receiving acknowledging nods from the group she moved over to the side of the room and sat against one of the pillars, rooting around in her pack for supplies to patch herself up. The group continued on.

“You’re too nice, y’kow that?” Gallica whispered to Will.

Ren chuckled. “Don’t act like you’re not worried too.” Gallica shot him an exasperated look, so he continued. “It’s not a bad thing to care about people, Gallica.”

Will nodded. “The prince wouldn’t want us to save him if it was at the cost of innocent lives. We can’t afford to ignore people in need for the ‘greater good’.”

Gallica looked away and bit her lip. “I know, it’s just…,” she trailed off—Ren didn’t know whether she couldn’t find the words, or if she could and simply didn’t want to vocalize them.

“I get it Gallica,” Will smiled gently. “You’re worried about us. Don’t want us to stretch ourselves too thin. Thank you.”

Gallica gave a weak smile, but said nothing else. The group continued in silence until they entered the cathedral. 

Regalith Grand Cathedral

Ren had thought he would have acclimatized to death at least a bit after the disaster at the funeral. He definitely hadn’t. Seeing the eviscerated bodies of clerics, priests, and everyday visitors splayed like rag dolls across the floor of the prayer chamber, seeing their now dried blood painting the walls, seeing tipped over furniture indicating futile signs of struggle against a painful end—it made Ren’s stomach roil. 

He started to take deep breaths, but that only made it worse. The air was rife with a melange of horrible smells: the sharp iron of blood, the oddly stale sweetness of bodies starting to decompose, and—a most unwelcome surprise to Ren—the clear aroma of voided bowels. He never thought about dead people doing that but he guessed it made sense. He tried to focus on working out the scientific reasoning behind the smells to distract himself from the overwhelming nausea rapidly overtaking him.

It didn’t work.

Not paying attention to the others or what they were saying, Ren ran over to the nearest wall, and leaning forward against it, proceeded to retch. It took a few minutes for him to regain control and feel like he wouldn’t just start the process over if he straightened up. He slowly turned back to the group, expecting looks of pity at best, disappointment at worst. Surprisingly he found neither. Just understanding.

“It is something you get used to, though I sometimes wish I hadn’t the need to,” Hulkenberg said solemnly. “I would not do you the disservice of wondering whether you can continue on.” Despite her words, Ren could hear the offer in her tone. If he couldn’t continue, she would understand.

“No I’m… I’m fine. Or I will be,” Ren said slowly. “I’m not exactly looking forward to getting used to… all this… But I’m going to have to. Might as well start now. I think I’m already noticing the smell less.”

Strohl walked forward and put a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “The first time I saw something like this, I did the same thing. And had a panic attack as an added bonus!” He was talking in a commiserating tone, attempting to make light of the situation a bit. Ren appreciated it. “We’ve all been there, I promise.”

Ren looked him in the eyes. “That’s… sad.”

Strohl broke eye contact and his voice got softer, more introspective. “It is,” was all he said.

“Just think of it as one more reason we’re doing all of this,” Will said resolutely. “So that people don’t ever need to see the things we’ve seen.”

The others nodded. Ren would have to address this later (who am I kidding, I’m never going to unpack this, just throw it on the pile) because right now they had a mission. Two actually, now that they learned there were innocent people still alive and trapped in here.

—

“This is a Magla Hollow,” Gallica explained. “You can feel the magla everywhere else in the cathedral, right?”

“Kinda?” Ren answered. “It kind of just feels oppressive. A little bit like a palace when at max security level.” He noticed the blank stares he was getting. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Okaaaay, well this is an area where the magla is thinner. Monsters tend to avoid it because of that, so it makes for the perfect place to rest,” Gallica continued. “We can plan and take stock in Magla Hollows without having to keep our guard up!”

Ren shook his head as a wry smile grew on his face. “First the deadline, now this.”

Will tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, just that we had similar places when exploring in the Metaverse. We called them Safe Rooms. Places where cognitive distortion was the weakest—safe places shadows stayed away from. It’s just weird that despite so much being different, some things are incredibly familiar.”

“That is odd, but I suppose we chalk it up to coincidence and proceed?” Strohl polled the group. “I doubt any of us need a break yet.” The rest of them agreed.

—

They were making solid progress. The watchdogs they came across were quickly dispatched, and they managed to overhear some members of Louis’s private army talking about a key to unlock the room they were keeping the hostages in. After finding said room and assuring the hostages that they were coming back to let them out, they went off in search of the key.

“There, on that end table, “Ren whispered. The key to the hostage chamber glowed a familiar gold once he activated his Third Eye.

“We’ll have to be careful not to wake the guard though,” Gallica whispered back. “I’d go, but I doubt I could lift it.”

Hulkenberg eyed the sleeping guard that was supposed to be keeping watch. “Disgraceful. Is Louis’s army truly so undisciplined?” Her disdain was palpable.

“I sure hope so, it’d make things easier for us,” Ren replied. “Wait here, I’ve got this.”

With practiced ease, Ren slipped into the room and past the sleeping guard. Picking up the key, he made his way out of the room, all without making the slightest sound.

“Wow, you’re really good at that,” Will remarked once they were clear of the room and could speak freely.

“Yes, almost as if he had previous experience as some sort of thief,” Strohl responded with a grin.

Will shot him a withering look.

—

They were too late. Ren’s hopes had dropped when they unlocked the door and he realized there were no paripus hostages waiting on the other side. Then they noticed the piles of dead bodies behind the hostages. None of them had weapons, and there was no indication that they had put up a fight. Butchered for the hell of it, apparently. Or maybe for more corpse fodder for that necromancer. Ren’s nausea was replaced with rage at the senselessness and brutality. He wasn’t sure if that was a better thing to be feeling, but at least he hadn’t thrown up.

She was among the bodies. A paripus woman, young, black hair, yellow flower hair clip. And just as rage replaced nausea, a deep sadness replaced rage.

“Strohl, Ren, and I will see the hostages safely away,” Hulkenberg said somberly to Will. “As we do, will you not tend to the poor paripus girl? ‘Tis a burden I am loath to place on you alone, but…”

“No, I’ll stay with him,” Ren spoke up.

Hulkenberg gave him a searching stare. “Are you sure? It would not be cowardice were you to want a brief respite.”

“I am. I’m not sure why, but… I need to stay. To see this through I guess? I can’t really explain it.” It was true, Ren wasn’t sure why we needed to stay with the woman. Maybe it was that she was someone he had a connection to, brief and tangential though it was. The woman in the mausoleum entrusted them with finding her, and now that they had, he couldn’t just… leave her.

Hulkenberg merely nodded. If she understood what Ren was getting at, she made no indication. She and Strohl left, leading the hostages that were still alive out of the cathedral using the same passage they came in through. Ren looked at Will and Gallica. They both nodded, and all three lowered themselves to the floor around the paripus’s body. Before they could start moving her to a better location, they heard Strohl’s voice from out in the hall.

“Hey! Wait!”

Ren and the other two looked up to see the woman they met earlier rushing into the room. She stopped when she recognized the body on the ground. Ren was expecting anger or tears. Maybe shouting or denial. Instead she just shook her head, and in her eyes Ren only saw a sad sort of acceptance.

One more person that’s just… used to this.

“...Sorry I’m late,” was all she said to them before kneeling down and cradling her friend in her arms. The three gave her space. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the woman’s whispered “I’m sorry”s echoing off the walls. Eventually she placed her friend down gently before walking over to them. Ren and Gallica moved back subtly, letting her know that Will was the one leading them.

“Thanks,” she started. “Guess I oughta come clean… I tried to wait, I really did. But I couldn’t just stand around! And you lot cleared the path so well besides…”

“It’s okay,” Will said gently. “I understand why you couldn’t stay still with a friend in trouble.”

She nodded, grateful for the words. “So, this is all I have right now, but…” She reached into a pack and pulled out some reeves. “Gimme a little time, would ya? I’ve got a bounty I’m after that’ll be payin’ big.”

“You collect bounties?” Will asked.

The woman looked surprised. “What? You jokin’? You only helped me because you recognized me, yeah?” She got looks of confusion from all of them. “You really don’t know! I’m Catherina, the bounty hunter!”

“Sorry,” Will said. “We’re not exactly the most worldly group.”

“And you lot just helped a paripus without expectin’ anything in return?” Catherina looked nonplussed. “Well doesn’t that just take the cake!”

“I mean, weren’t you in trouble?” Will asked innocently. 

Ren understood where Catherina was coming from—it was rapidly becoming clear to him that people didn’t just do things out of the kindness of their hearts here, especially not when the beneficiary was one of the “lesser” tribes. Ren still wasn’t sure how much of that was racism and how much was the simple inability for people to get by unless they only looked out for themselves and their family. The incredulity on Catherina’s face made him think it was usually the former.

She just chuckled lightly and shook her head. “...Proper weird, you are.” She looked down at her friend’s body and grew downcast again. 

“I’ll tell you though. I gave her that hair clip. A gift to say congrats for gettin’ hired under some rich baron. Things went belly-up and she got that baron to safety… But didn’t make it out herself.” Her voice took on a hard edge. “And when he heard the news, d’you know what he did? He laughed. Said even a paripus could be useful once in a while.”

“Piece of shit…” Ren muttered. The looks on Will’s and Gallica’s faces made it clear they shared the sentiment.

Catherina gave a sharp bark of laughter, though it was completely mirthless. “Right? I thought so, too. I mean, a world like that? Where that’s how people think? I’d tear it down with my own two hands if I could! People are suffering, and all these bastards can do is shrug and carry on.”

“I couldn’t have said it better,” Will said, fire in his eyes. Ren hoped he could take Will’s reaction as evidence that the prince they were trying to save was of the same mind. Catherina noticed as well.

“Right. I can see as much in your eyes. Matter of fact, I see a lot in your eyes. You’re cuttin’ a path, and it’s no small prize you’re after.” She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, looking like she had come to a decision. “I don’t know if we’ll cross paths like this again, but if you’re ever in trouble, I’ll be there. That’s a promise!”

Catherina reached out her hand to shake Will’s, and the familiar pulse went out, signifying a new bond.

“Now, I’m gonna take this poor girl home,” she said when they let go. “Catch ya later. If we can all stay alive that long.” She gave Ren and Gallica a wave before picking up her friend’s body and walking out of the room.

They waited in silence for a few moments before Ren spoke up. “So, what Archetype is it this time?”

“The Brawler.”

“You should let Strohl use it. He seems like he’d like punching things.”

—

God damn, these stairs were long. Strohl was definitely right, the massive scale of them and the cathedral itself was all part of some dick measuring contest between Sanctism and the kingdom’s government. Nothing more than a desire to show who was really in charge.

“So, how are you guys liking your new Archetypes?” Ren was desperate to take his mind off climbing.

“Brawler feels good,” Strohl said immediately. “Between that and Warrior, I think I’m partial to getting up close and personal with what I’m fighting.”

Ren laughed. He knew that would be a good fit.

“Knight and Faker feel…” Will trailed off, likely not wanting to offend either Hulkenberg or Ren by association. Ren understood though, and he decided to give Will an out.

“Situational?” Will nodded at him, grateful. Ren continued, “Yeah, they both seem tailor made for stronger enemies. If we come across anything tough, it’ll be nice to be able to debuff or draw aggro, but for what we’ve come across so far, they’re kind of unnecessary.”

“Debuff? Aggro?” Hulkenberg asked, testing out the new words. Ren inwardly cursed at his sister. All these game terms making their way into his vocabulary—it was all her fault, the little gremlin.

“Sorry, terms where I come from. Debuffing is like weakening your opponent. Sapping their strength or speed for example. Aggro is short for aggression—basically drawing aggro is a colloquialism for holding an enemy’s attention.”

“Ah yes, the Knight is quite adept at the drawing of aggro then,” Hulkenberg said proudly.

“You seem to be pretty knowledgeable about how to best use Archetypes even though you don’t have one,” Gallica mentioned. “Is that because they’re similar to how your Persona’s work?”

“Actually yes,” Ren said. “A lot of what they can do is familiar to me. The names of certain spells might be different, but otherwise I can think of a Persona-like equivalent to most of the stuff you guys can do.”

“Sounds like you’d make for a good strategist then,” Strohl said.

“Mm, indeed. It would be heartening to have someone familiar with this style of combat providing advice and expertise,” Hulkenberg said. Will nodded as well, agreeing with the others.

“Yeah okay, I’d be happy to help where I can. But I’m not giving out orders. That’s a right only allowed to our glorious captain.”

Will groaned, causing the rest of them to snicker. Suddenly Will’s eyes lit up.

“Oh that’s right, I’d been meaning to ask you! The names of the Archetypes I’ve gotten so far mostly seem to match the people I got them from. But do you have any idea why yours would be the Faker?”

Ren thought about it for a moment. “Well, my entire stint as a Phantom Thief, I was pretending I was just a normal kid. And with my false record, everybody thought I was a criminal when I wasn’t…well I wasn’t a criminal because of that specific crime.” He laughed to himself. “I guess I’ve spent a long time being something I’m not, either in my eyes or the eyes of others. Negative connotations aside, Faker seems right.”

The rest of them looked thoughtful. Gallica spoke up next. “While we’re talking about all this, would you mind explaining more about Personas?”

“What do you mean?” Ren asked.

“Well like, I get that it’s a unique magic based on rebellion, but what are they? Why do they look the way that they do? It sounds like you call them by name, so they aren’t just concepts like Archetypes are.”

“Ah,” Ren exclaimed in understanding. “Well it’s a little complicated. Basically, the world I’m from has a massive amount of folklore and history, and tons of different religions that are tied to tons of different cultures. Personas are for the most part beings that exist in them. Beings that aren’t necessarily real, but are well known enough that they can take form in the cognitive realm. Or if they are based on real people, they’ve attained an almost mythic status”

“I’m… not quite getting it,” Strohl admitted.

“Okay so for example: Kaguya is a character from the folklore of the country I’m from, Japan. Her story is very well known, so pretty much everybody where I’m from would be able to tell you who she is if you asked. Maybe even a decent amount of people from elsewhere in the world. Or Girimehkala—he’s from the mythology of a country called Sri Lanka. Their stories say that if you look into its eye, you’ll be cursed with misfortune. And Maria is a pretty important figure in one of the biggest religions in my world. Make sense?”

Gallica nodded. “What about Arsène? You seem to like using him a lot.”

Ren smiled fondly. “Arsène is actually my original Persona. The one I awoke to. I’ve collected a lot since then, but he’s the most…me. He’s based off of the main character from a series of novels on my world. He’s a gentleman thief that steals from the worst in the upper echelon of  society and helps those that are taken advantage of. He’s also a master of disguise.”

“A faker?” Will asked.

Ren’s grin grew wider. “The best faker.”

“And when you said he was the most ‘you?’”

“Well, most people that awaken to Personas only have one. A being that resonates with them, shares their personality or bits of their history. Arsène is that for me. But Wild Cards are capable of seeing the world from a ton of different perspectives, and that allows us to form contracts with different personas. Each of them is a different aspect of my personality. A different mask I can choose to present to the world.”

“You know,” Hulkenberg said slowly. “Faker is starting to sound more and more an apt description.”

“Huh, I guess it is,” Ren replied contemplatively.

—

The reanimated corpses were difficult for Ren to deal with for a few reasons. 

One. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been angrier at someone—which was saying something. Sure, Shido, Okumura, and Kaneshiro ordered the deaths of people that crossed them. But to purposefully encourage the deaths of innocents just so he’d have more bodies to raise? This was a level of evil Ren expected from the D&D campaigns Futaba ran, or the games they played together. Not from an actual flesh and blood person like this necromancer. He was so livid, he found it hard to focus on the battles sometimes.

Two. It soon became apparent that whatever sequence of events made it possible for him to save Grius would not work here. After a few failed attempts, the group tried to reason out why. Hulkenberg suggested that perhaps a large measure of willpower was required to retain your soul, or whatever made a person a person. Strohl thought that perhaps the deaths simply occurred too long ago, that there was only a brief window of time where it was possible. Ren hoped that wasn’t the case, because it meant that them not pushing forward yesterday or the day before may have doomed these people. Gallica and Will proposed that it had something to do with Archetypes, and that maybe Grius having awakened to them played a part. Whatever the reason, it meant that the people they fought were beyond saving, and the weight of that wrestled with Ren’s anger.

Three. Ren was fighting people. A lot of people. Sure, they weren’t technically alive anymore, but sticking your dagger into flesh and blood was a lot different than attacking shadows. The fight with Grius was more exchanging blows and superficial cuts. This was… visceral. At first Ren stuck with magic, reluctant to get anywhere near the zombies with a blade. But in the interest of maintaining his energy, he eventually moved into melee range. And slowly, he got used to the sight of his dagger sliding into another person, of the danger of steel wedging into bone, or the varying levels of resistance in muscle versus fat versus organs. Terrifyingly, Ren realized that the physical sensations weren’t too different from the feeling of attacking shadows. Even more terrifying though was the small part of his brain that reminded him that this was all a good thing—that at some point, he’d likely find himself fighting people that hadn’t quite died yet, that he might even be the one that ended up killing them. Better to dip your toe in and test the waters than jump in the deep end, right?

The others, thankfully, were cognizant of Ren’s struggles, and they slowed the pace so that he could rest and collect his frayed and scattered thoughts occasionally. A number of times one of them suggested that they break for the day. But no, if Ren quit now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever find it in him to come back here. So he shoved all his feelings in a little box and let Joker do his thing.

In some cruel twist of irony, Ren found killing humans to be much easier. The teeth were, well, teeth, and he didn’t even know how to describe the few Homo Oppo they came across. Ducks in giant eggs with boots and their legs had sesame seeds on them and oh also the egg had a toothpick stuck through it? …That actually wasn’t too bad. But they were definitely more shadow-like than anything else, and Ren could let himself believe they were more of the types of enemies he was used to fighting.

At least he was able to save that pale clemar monk from dying. And they got access to the treasure chest in an earlier room for his efforts. Silver linings.

—

After making it through the Altar Chamber with its broken staircases and maze of stacked storage crates, the party found itself outside of a door that was leaking black magla. The soldier that was taunting them earlier was probably on the other side. They took a moment to rest and take care of their wounds while Will was busy talking to the ghost cat on the upside-down pyramid. Apparently Gallica could understand him. Talking cats, would the similarities never cease?

Will turned back to the group. “Okay, is everybody ready?” Strohl and Hulkenberg simply nodded, but Ren felt compelled to say something.

“I think that if we need to kill this guy, I’ll leave the final blow to one of you.”

Hulkenberg smiled gently. “But of course. After all the distasteful experiences already thrust upon you today, we wouldn’t dream of asking you to take that step. As I mentioned when we were first bound together in common purpose—I would only ask you to take a life if the alternative was us losing ours.” The others mimicked her sentiments, if a bit less eloquently.

Ren let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and a smirk took shape. “Thanks guys. In that case, let’s ruin this asshole’s day.”

They were met by a soldier in a white mantle on the other side of the door. He was flanked by a group of skeletons. “I see you little rats have come at last. If you didn’t flee, I take it you have a death wish, hm?”

“The white uniform…” Hulkenberg looked him up and down with contempt. “You must be a Whiteclad, vile fiend! You know what is happening below, yet you choose to forsake your soldiers?”

The Whiteclad scoffed. “The rank and file are of no importance to me. I was instructed to leave them be.”

“Bastards!” Strohl roared. “You said you’d protect those who followed you, but you treat your own soldiers as pawns! Fork-tongued snakes!”

“Silence. Great causes require sacrifice. How do you expect the people to come to their senses without pain? I’m sure there’s more than a few people who are secretly pleased besides. Lord Louis has laid waste to the bastion of rot called the Sanctist Church!”

“Okay, okay.” Ren had heard enough. “You’re clearly as insane as both Louis and that necromancer, and there’s no point in reasoning with you. Can we just skip ahead to the part where you get your ass handed to you and we can be on our way?”

“How DARE you besmirch the name of my lord!” the soldier spat. He and the skeletons got into combat stances. “I will put you all in the ground for such blasphemy!”

“Hey Will?” Ren whispered, ignoring the ranting, “We’re planning to call it a day after this, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Will shot him a glance as he unsheathed his sword.

“Just wanted to know if I have to conserve my energy. If I don’t… KAGUYA! Ravage them!”

The sky opened up, arrows of light immediately obliterating the skeletons standing between them and the Whiteclad mage. They couldn’t see his expression underneath the helmet, but Ren would have bet on dumbfounded. “Wh-what in the…what did you..?”

“Right,” Ren said, panting. “So I’ll leave the rest to you?”

Will shot Ren a smirk worthy of a Phantom Thief and nodded.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The Naŭ Filono Tavern was a nice place to unwind. It was loud enough that conversations couldn’t be easily overheard, and its patrons were the busy sort—looking to get a quick bite and get on with their day. This meant that the group could have a laid back meal and recuperate without having to remain too vigilant. That said, Ren still chose to wear a hood, which Will thought was a good idea. No matter how much the other customers kept to themselves, everyone would take notice of two elda in the same group.

It was just the three boys sitting down for dinner tonight. Hulkenberg had decided to return to the Honeybee and catch up more with Grius, and the rest of them were more than happy to give her the space she asked for. And Gallica had announced that she was going to do some recon. Gauge the current amount of unrest in the city, scout around Regalith to see if she could spy anything from the outside. Will was worried that maybe she was feeling like she wasn’t pulling her weight again (not that she could pull that much weight anyways). She mentioned something similar after the Northern Border Fort disaster, and then again after the funeral. He voiced his concerns to the others after they put in orders for food and drink.

“I’m just worried that because she can’t fight with us, she thinks she’s useless.”

Ren let out a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. The other two looked at him curiously. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve had a similar experience. Someone close to me used to think she was useless, and it took a while to convince her otherwise.”

“How did you do it?” Will asked. He had noticed that this was becoming a bit of a recurring theme with Gallica, and he wanted to do what he could to convince her that it was all in her head.

“Well, do you think she’s useless?” Ren asked.

“Of course not! She remembers a lot of information about enemies we face so that we can be more effective in battle, and she can share her Fae Sight with me so that I can gauge their strength before fighting them,” Will said emphatically.

“Mm, she also is adept at sensing magla. We’d have no idea where Magla Hollows were if not for her,” Strohl added. “To say nothing of the fact that she’s small and can fly. She’s invaluable as a scout.”

Ren smiled. “Right, so the next time she’s worrying about her ‘uselessness’,” Ren said the word as if it physically pained him for some reason, “you tell her all the reasons she’s not. Don’t just disagree, give her evidence that she’s being an idiot. She probably won’t believe you at first. That’s fine. Just keep logging every new instance of her being helpful, and provide them to her when she’s unsure about herself.”

Will nodded thoughtfully. “And you think she’ll eventually believe it?” He really didn’t want his partner doubting herself like this, especially when he had absolute faith in her.

“Depends on the person, but Gallica’s smart. I think she’ll get it eventually,” Ren said, and paused as the waitress placed their food and drinks down. After she left he continued. “I’m not saying that she won’t still have moments of doubt. Everybody doubts themselves sometimes. But if she trusts you and values your opinion—and I think she does—she’ll start believing you.”

Will hummed in agreement. “Thanks, Ren.” The older boy just waved his hand, indicating thanks were unnecessary.

After a few minutes of silence as they dug into their food, Ren spoke, this time in a low voice that made it clear he didn’t want to be overheard. “So I was wondering if I could ask you guys about something I’ve noticed.”

“Yes?” Strohl prompted.

“The racism.”

“Not really a question,” Strohl shot back facetiously.

Ren rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’s up with all the racism?”

Strohl sighed. “That’s a loaded question, and honestly, I’m not sure I can give you a good answer. I suppose a lot of it boils down to stereotypes.”

Will nodded. “Yeah, all nidia are liars and can’t be trusted, paripus are reckless and act only on their emotions…”

“The eugief are unnerving and don’t even look like people, and the elda, hah!” Strohl barked in mock laughter.

“The elda?” Ren prodded.

“Heretics,” Will said. He could hear the bitterness in his own voice. “Apparently we are inheritors of a ‘dangerous magic heretical to the teachings of the Sanctist Church’.”

“And when you’re declared the enemy of Sanctism, there’s not much to be done,” Strohl concluded.

Ren was quiet for a moment, staring down at his half eaten plate. He eventually looked back up at them. “Well, you two obviously don’t prescribe to all of that.”

Strohl scoffed. “It’s all a way for the people currently in power to stay in power. The better off tribes are happy with the status quo, so of course they’re not inclined to question anything. And the ‘lesser’ tribes are either too few or too marginalized to fight back. It’s all horseshit.”

“And the prince we’re trying to save, he feels like you do?” There was a weight to Ren’s question. He wasn’t asking simply to make conversation. This was a clear sticking point for him. And why wouldn’t it be?, Will thought. He’s come from a place where his is the only tribe, and suddenly he’s in a world where he’s ostracized and treated like dirt simply for existing.

“He does,” Will said firmly. He needed to make sure Ren believed him. He pulled out his book and set it reverently on the table. “This used to be his, you know. Before the curse put him to sleep, I mean. He was always reading it. His dream was to someday make this kingdom like the place described in here.” Will smiled crookedly. “Imagine what he’d say if I could tell him that I’ve met someone literally from there.

“He said that because of tribal purity, our lives are basically decided by birth. That no matter the goodness of the individual, we are judged based on the whole. He wanted to do something about that—to become a hero strong enough to affect change. I always looked up to him for that.”

Ren nodded solemnly. “That’s good to know. He sounds like a good person, I’m sorry that happened to him.”

“Well, it’s what we’re out there trying to fix,” Strohl declared. “Undo the curse and we can start making his dream a reality.”

“So he was pretty young when he was cursed, right?” Ren asked. Will nodded. “What did you do between then and now?”

“Most of it was spent trying to find mages strong enough in healing to undo the curse,” Will said. “When that turned out to be fruitless, we searched for tomes, notes, anything that might describe the curse and how to break it. We held off on going after Louis’s life because the king was still alive and we knew the prince would be against it. But once the king died, we knew we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“No,” Ren shook his head. “I mean what did you do? It couldn’t have been easy having your friend cursed. How did you cope?”

“Oh, well I—” Will started, but then froze. 

What did I do?

It was strange. When he looked over his life as a whole, the answers were there. He became the prince’s friend after the prince fled the capital. They were close. They hung out together until the curse got bad enough to place him in a coma. He helped search for a cure.

Did I?

He tried drilling down into individual memories. Of particular days he could remember. Maybe a day where he met a healer they were hoping could cure the prince? Or a day where he practiced his sword fighting. The day he met Gallica? 

He came up terrifyingly empty. Why couldn’t he remember? What was going on with him? Why does he only have one definitive memory and the rest is—

It didn’t matter. People forgot specific memories all the time. Nothing to worry about. The only thing that really mattered was this mission. 

Why was I feeling so uneasy?

He realized Ren was still waiting for an answer. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought,” Will laughed. “When he was still awake, I kept the prince company. When he wasn’t, I tried finding a cure like the others in the resistance. Practiced swordplay when I could. Not much more to say, really.”

“It must have been hard,” Ren said empathetically.

“What about you?” Strohl asked, looking at Ren. “You told us about your Phantom Thieves, but that was years ago, yes?”

Ren murmured in the affirmative. “Mhm. After all that, life pretty much went back to normal for me. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, but schooling in my world can last until you’re into your twenties, depending on what you want to do with your life. For me, the plan is—was,” he corrected with a barely perceptible wince, “—to run a restaurant of sorts with a friend of mine. I have a strong interest in cooking, and she’s studying how to run a business, so we were going to learn what we needed to, and then I’d essentially work for her company creating menu items and whatnot. It’s not all that interesting, honestly.”

“Sounds like a good plan for the future to me,” Will said. “Maybe you can learn some things from Fabienne.”

Ren shrugged. “Maybe. That future might not be possible at this point. But no use worrying about it.”

“You still can’t remember anything that might help you figure out how you got here?” Strohl asked.

Ren shook his head. “It’s funny, I can remember pretty much everything about my life. My family, my friends, my girlfriend. I can remember where I went to school and what I did for fun in my free time. But when I try to trace my steps and remember what could have happened to get me here, it’s like there’s this…wall? Something prevents me from remembering, and when I try to force it, there’s just pain. I wonder if this is what having amnesia is like…”

Will frowned, “Do you think that whatever is responsible for your missing memories is the same thing that brought you here?”

“It’s as good a guess as any,” Ren sighed. “Let’s finish eating. I’m beat.”

—

“You there, hold a moment.”

Ren was looking forward to getting right back to the inn so he could get some sleep, but alas, Euchronia had something else in store. He turned toward the voice and saw a dark skinned rhoag woman looking at the three of them. Her brilliantly white hair fell well past her waist, and her matching eyes were piercing. Ren didn’t recognize her, so he looked at Strohl and Will. Strohl was likewise confused, but Will seemed to recognize her. He walked up to her, the other two on his heels.

“I remember you, elda,” she started. The way she addressed Will seemed rude, but her tone indicated no contempt. “Seems I was right about you not being a local.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“I’ve heard things. Sources tell me you came to the capital with Grius, and were in on his little…stunt,” she replied, making it clear that she was less than impressed with the failed assassination attempt. “What’s more, I know that the rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated.”

Strohl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Your sources seem well informed, if what they’re telling you is true.”

The woman laughed. “A passable attempt at denial, I suppose. But I have some sway with the residents of Sunshade Row. And I own a magic igniter shop. You’d be surprised how much truth money can buy. You needn’t worry though. I’ve no intention of turning you in—I know when it pays to be discreet.”

Ah, so that’s her game.

“Let me guess,” Ren spoke up for the first time. “You’re hoping for something in exchange for said discretion.”

The merchant looked Ren over appraisingly. “It’s nice when potential business partners are quick on the uptake. I have a job that needs doing. A dangerous one, and I would imagine colleagues of Grius would likely have the skill required. And, of course, the reward would be commensurate with the risk.”

The boys looked at each other. Ren knew that their war funds were lacking at the moment, and even if they weren’t strapped for cash, there was the vague implication of blackmail now hanging over their heads.

As if reading his mind, the woman added, “Oh, and rest assured that my discretion is not dependent on your answer. It would be nice to get something in return, but I would be a sorry excuse for a businesswoman if I didn’t know how to keep information private.

“I think we should at least ask about it,” Will whispered after then retreated out of earshot to discuss. “We could use the money, and she apparently already knows about Grius. She probably could have stopped us before the funeral if she wanted to.”

“If she owns an igniter shop like she says, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her as an acquaintance,” Strohl added.. “What do you think, Ren?”

“There’s nothing wrong with hearing her out. If she knows who Grius is, he might know her, and we could ask him if she’s trustworthy before saying yes.”

Will nodded before returning to the woman. “We’re interested, but no promises.”

“Then allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Brigitta. I run this shop, and manage trade of magic igniters. Before I explain the job, I’d like to pose a few questions. Just to make sure you’re a good fit, as it were.”

“Sure,” Will said.

“First, what do you think of igniters?”

“Uh, they're useful for some things I guess?” Will answered.

Brigitta hummed, but made no indication what she thought of his answer. “Second, can you all keep a secret?”

“They literally planned an assassination,” Ren answered flatly.

“Hah, true enough,” Brigitta responded, eyes dancing. “Finally, do you believe in God?”

Now that’s a weird question, Ren thought. 

“If by God, you mean the Sanctist one, then no,” Will responded. Ren was worried for a moment. Sanctism seemed to be the de facto state religion—it may not be enforced, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to go around telling everyone you weren’t a believer, especially in the capital. But much like the first question, Brigitta didn’t seem to either like or dislike his response. She simply nodded.

“Well, that’s enough for me. I think we’ll be able to work together just fine,” she said. 

Interesting, Will says he isn’t super into igniters and that he doesn’t follow Sanctism, and that’s fine with a woman who runs a high-end igniter trade in the capital? Maybe she’s as against the status quo as we are.

“I’d like to ask you to handle an extermination mission. The fact is, our trade route for igniters has been… shall we say, compromised. A local monster’s apparently made part of the route its feeding grounds. Evidence suggests its actual nest is nearby. I’d like you to go there, find it, and exterminate it. You can take whomever you’d like with you, just know that the pay is the same regardless. Interested?”

“You’re asking us to handle something so important to the running of your business?” Strohl asked skeptically.

“...I’m asking you precisely because it’s so important. There are reasons I’d rather not bring this to the guard,” she said.

Maybe I’m on to something, Ren thought.

“I usually prefer discretion with these sorts of things anyway. Especially with groups like them. But… if Grius trusts you, then I certainly can.”

Definitely on to something.

“How exactly are you connected to Grius?” Ren asked. It would be a lot easier to feel good about taking the job if they were all playing for the same team.

Unfortunately, Brigitta wasn’t so accommodating. “I hardly think that bears discussion right now,” she answered. “As I said, you will be compensated, and generously, if I may say so. There’s also the option of discounts on my stock, if that appeals. Additionally… rumor has it there’s even treasure to be found at the monster nest.”

Will’s eyes lit up at the mention of treasure. “I think we should do it guys,” he said, doing a poor job of hiding his enthusiasm.

“True, it doesn’t seem a bad deal. And I doubt someone connected with Grius would try to trick us,” Strohl said, hand on his chin.

“I’m game if you guys are,” Ren said.

“Okay, we’ll do it,” Will answered for the group. “But it will have to wait a few days. We’re currently… occupied.”

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Brigitta answered with a knowing smile. “That’s fine, I don’t have any caravans using that route in the next two weeks, and your current work is more important in the grand scheme of things. You’ll be bound for Belega Corridor when you’re ready. It’s only a short distance away from here—you may borrow a carriage if you’ve need of one. Don’t die out there, now.”

Without waiting for a response, Brigitta turned around and walked back into her igniter shop.

“She seems a bit… dangerous,” Strohl said.

“I know,” Ren replied. “I like her.”

Will laughed. “Okay, well I’ve got to head over the marketplace. Gallica said she’d meet me there after completing her scouting mission. I’ll see you guys back at the inn!”

And with that, Will unsheathed the prince’s sword he kept on his left hip, dropped it to the ground where it floated inches above the sidewalk, and proceeded to jump on the blade and ride away on it like it was a skateboard.

Ren watched the elda disappear before slowly turning to Strohl.

“...........The fuck was that?”

“Right?”

Regalith Grand Cathedral

Reentering the cathedral was easier than Ren thought it would be, especially now that he had practice with fine tuning his magic to non-lethal levels. He’d prefer not to have to fight people if he could avoid it, obviously, but he felt confident that he wasn’t at risk of becoming a killer unless it was unavoidable.

That confidence turned out to be quite welcome, because it seemed that the soldiers in the upper levels of the cathedral had by and large managed to avoid the grim fate of those below. Swaths of zombies, skeletons, and war hounds were replaced by soldiers, gargoyles that spontaneously came to life, and these annoying floating-tentacle-eye monsters that decided to self destruct if the group managed to get the drop on them. When facing soldiers, Ren relied on magic exclusively, and it came as a great relief when it became apparent that Hulkenberg’s plan was working perfectly. Sure, some of those guards would be going home with burns or frostbite, but at least they’d be going home.

A pleasant surprise to Ren was that his efforts to avoid killing seemed to have influenced his teammates as well. Whenever possible, they would aim to maim—to take people out of the fight for days, weeks, or even months, but not permanently. When he asked about it, Hulkenberg answered first.

“I said as much earlier, didn’t I—that we should all aspire to do the least harm possible. If you can make the effort to avoid the killing blow, so can we. And as for the defeated soldiers, well… I imagine the royal army would prefer a live man to interrogate over a dead man to bury.”

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, however. The party soon found their way barred by a magic barrier that appeared to be made of the same miasma that was present in the mausoleum. Which meant that in order to get past it, they’d need to find the crystal generating it. And getting to that crystal was a headache. For whatever reason—Strohl seemed to think it was to increase the building’s imposing nature—this area of the cathedral was a maze. Interconnecting rooms, each with multiple levels. Doors that were locked from the other side. Barriers similar to the one surrounding the lift. It took them a while to make it past all of this and find the crystal, and when they did, they were met with an army of the floating eyes, all ready to sacrifice themselves to kill the group.  By the time they beat them and destroyed the crystal, each of them were in a less than stellar mood. 

The soldiers that came down on the lift the barrier was protecting never stood a chance.

—

“What happened here…?” Ren asked, looking around the Royal Portrait Hall. 

The room was massive and round, with numerous alcoves around the sides. In the center was a giant round table and ten backed chairs. The alcove floors were strewn with paintings, clearly removed from the walls without reverence or care. Each and every one of them were riddled with holes, and the matching holes in the walls made it clear that whatever happened to them happened before they were taken down. Ren wasn’t sure what type of weapon would be capable of leaving such clean perforations behind, but whatever it was, it seemed dangerous. 

There was one painting still hanging in the alcove opposite the door they entered. The group walked up to get a clearer look.

“Is this… a portrait of Louis?” Strohl asked, confused. 

“I’d heard portraits of kings past were hung in the center of the Grand Cathedral,” Hulkenberg said, looking around with displeasure. “All of them discarded. And in their palace, he has instated his “Lord” Louis… Zorba, that knave.”

“Zorba? Is that his name? Sounds like you know him.”

“Only in passing.” Hulkenberg took her eye off the portrait of Louis hanging on the wall and turned to the others. “He’s been infamous as far back as I can remember. Louis was the only man who paid no mind to his reputation, and took him under his wing.”

“Infamous for what?” Will asked.

“Early in my knighthood, he was an army engineer. He had some true skill in magic that could animate the inanimate, but his raw offensive spells were pitifully weak. His past won him no favors either. Lowborn family, and halfblood of mustari pagans besides. Another outcast for the army. Only Louis saw potential in his powers of animation. It was a subtle art, but one with vast utility… even puppeteering the dead, as you saw.” Hulkenberg stared at the ground thoughtfully. “He must have become utterly devoted to Louis. The Zorba I knew was an earnest young man, if rather withdrawn…”

Strohl looked back at the portrait. “So he put the painting up out of sheer worship… There are few things so dangerous as a zealot.”

“I’m confused,” Ren said.

“About Zorba’s motivations? It is hard to guess what his endgame is, to be sure,” Hulkenberg replied.

“No, I mean about the painting. Louis is sitting on a throne. Wearing a crown. Who painted this, and why? Did Louis pose for it? Zorba just had this thing framed and ready to hang? I have so many questions.”

Will laughed. “I guess we can ask him when we find him. Let’s go.”

“No, no, but imagine it. Zorba had this portrait made in secret forever ago. It’s just hanging in his house above the mantle when the call comes in to take the cathedral. And BAM, he has the perfect idea!”

Gallica just shook her head in exasperation.

—

“Wha— He’s here…!”

It wasn’t much further into the cathedral that the group met up with Zorba the necromancer. He was alone, standing between them and the only other door in a long hallway. Ren assumed he must have been waiting for them, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Well, well. I truly didn’t expect you to make it this high,” he said, scratching his head. “I applaud your resilience, if nothing else.”

Hulkenberg took a small step forward. “The sanctuary was all but flooded with magla. Zorba, was that your doing?”

“You’ve heard of me, then? Well, considering Lord Louis’s influence, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Ren thought it was awfully presumptuous of the man to just assume that they knew him by association with Louis, but that wasn’t important.

“Tell us,” Hulkenberg continued. “Those bizarre magla crystals… they shouldn’t naturally form in a place like this. Are you responsible for them?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean the melancholia crystals? All I did was place a passable core or two along the path to make it easier for them to form.”

“Melancholia… crystals?” Gallica muttered. Good, so Ren wasn’t the only one confused.

“Yes,” Zorba grinned wickedly, “little more than a parlor trick to block your path using the newly formed crystals. All magic is derived from motes of magla. What you saw was just one possible crystallization of it. One that drives mortals to madness.” Ren was thoroughly lost now, but he could save his questions for when the group was alone.

“Hmph. Speak sense,” Hulkenberg said. “You claim this horrific aberration is something natural? That you had only the barest hand in its power?”

He waved away her accusation. “Melancholia, pure and simple. The result of pure magla at its most dense. Man or beast, any wretch who feels its power will go berserk. They’ll see anyone as a threat. Some have their bodies harden like scales. Some, their very bones twist inside them, until they’re something else entirely.”

Ren had to fight to keep from shuddering. If those crystals could turn people into monsters, then what did it mean for them? They’d been within feet of two separate crystals in the last three days. Ren didn’t feel any different, but what if it was like radiation, and it just took a bit of time for the tumors to form?

“Melancholia?” Strohl shouted. “What are you trying to achieve!? It’s the sceptre you’re after, isn’t it!?”

Zorba got a tired look on his face and turned around with a sigh. “You certainly ask a lot of questions. But I’m afraid I haven’t the time for answers. There is much yet to prepare.”

“We’re not done talking to you,” Will said, narrowing his eyes.

Zorba snarled and turned back around, raising his hand. Numerous purple rings of light appeared around him, and from the center of each a sharp, narrow object phased into existence. Without warning, one of the objects shot forward from its ring like an arrow. It impacted the ground just in front of the group, forcing them to dodge backwards. Ren looked back at Zorba, noticing there were now countless rings floating in the air, each ready to fire a projectile. This must be what destroyed all those portraits in the other room.

“You’ve done nothing but talk,” Zorba spat. “Perhaps you should have listened instead.”

Hulkenberg’s eyes flitted between the necromancer and the projectile still embedded at their feet. “Is this… a piece of bone?” Ren’s gaze snapped to the projectile. It definitely looked like she was right.

Zorba laughed. “I had to find some use for the scattered pieces I couldn’t animate into soldiers. And now, I have three more fools to grind down for the pile!”

Ren’s sense of danger skyrocketed. It had gone largely unused for the past few years, but it was getting a workout lately. “Back!” he shouted.

The group ran back the way they came, diving to the side as they made it past the door—just in time to see a handful of bone-arrows whizzing by.

—

They were back in the portrait room. Ren’s suggestion that they just rush Zorba was soundly rejected, so now they needed to come up with a plan. It was a shame, they didn’t even give him a chance to explain further.

“Maybe we can just get him to fire at us until he runs out of bullets?” Gallica threw out.

“Well apparently he can summon those bones from somewhere else, and with as many bodies as there are in this place, that could take a while,” Ren said.

“What about if we used a shield?” Will asked.

Strohl hummed in thought. “Well, for lack of a shield proper, can you think of anything we might use?”

“How about the painting of Louis?”

Ren’s eyes lit up. “That. Is. Genius. Yes, we’re absolutely doing that.”

Strohl’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about, you saw what he did to those other portraits.”

“Strohl, we’re talking about the guy who likely commissioned a painting of Louis as a king, had it lugged all the way here, destroyed the portraits of every other king, and hung it up. For absolutely no logical reason,” Ren said, getting excited. “He’s basically in love with the guy.”

Hulkenberg shared Ren’s excitement. “‘Tis a marvelous gambit! I’d wager Zorba will refuse to fire upon us for risk of damaging it!”

“This is insane,” Strohl said, shaking his head.

—

“What!? You degenerates! That’s…!”

“You know, it’s funny,” Ren said. He could feel the shit-eating grin growing on his face. “You say you have a lot to prepare and yet you’re still here waiting for us.”

The party was currently back in the room they left Zorba in, taking cover behind the Louis portrait. Ren and Strohl were holding it up, while the other three hung back.

“Don’t mind us,” Hulkenberg said nonchalantly. “We’ve rubbish to dispose of.”

“Rubbish!? You heathens… I’ll pulverize you!” Ren couldn’t see Zorba’s face from behind the painting, but he sounded livid.

“Try if you like,” Strohl shot back. “Be a shame to destroy your Lord Louis’s pretty face, though.”

Zorba growled. “Underhanded, treacherous little…!”

“We’re the treacherous ones? Really?” Will said with a completely flat tone.

“Silence! You witless incompetents… I can’t tarry here any longer. I have important things to do. However…” Zorba's voice got many degrees louder and he started to scream. “You defile Lord Louis with this… this blasphemy! You’ll pay! I swear I’ll make you regret this!”

Ren couldn’t keep it in any longer. He burst out laughing. “Sure thing, bud! Now you have important business to be about. Has absolutely nothing to do with being outsmarted by us ‘witless incompetents’.”

Zorba simply screamed in rage and left through the opposite door. Strohl and Ren let the giant portrait fall unceremoniously to the floor. “So it’s desecration when it comes to his lord, but the sanctity of the dead means nothing,” the clemar muttered.

Ren was still getting his laughter under control. “That guy is almost comically unhinged.”

“No kidding,” Gallica said. “He really wouldn’t shoot us through the painting. I’m relieved, but also? Creepy. I hope we’re getting close.”

“And to think, I was just going to buff all of our speed so we could have dodged the bones.” Ren shook his head.

“Wait, you can do that!?” Gallica yelled. “Why didn’t you just say so!?”

“Because Will’s plan was so much more fun.”

—

They were indeed getting close. The next room was full of humans. Most were of the tooth persuasion, but there were a couple bigger ones that gave Ren pause. They had the bodies of birds, but their heads were clearly those of actual human beings. A spectacled man wearing some sort of cowl, to be specific. There had to be more to the moniker these monsters were given—Ren doubted it was pure coincidence that “humans” could clearly have human features.

Past that was another Magla Hollow, and then a long spiral staircase leading upwards, guarded by a handful of Louisians that were quickly subdued. Ren was happy that up to this point, the group as a whole had only been forced to kill a handful of soldiers. And past the stairs, they finally came upon the Royal Sceptre Chamber.

“The seal on the door’s been broken!” Hulkenberg exclaimed. “Has he already claimed the Royal Sceptre!?” They rushed into the room. It was cavernous, with giant stone statues to either side and an altar straight ahead. If the sceptre was supposed to be there, it certainly wasn’t anymore. 

Hulkenberg bit her lip in frustration. “Has he truly taken it…? How could he have dispelled those wards alone, and so quickly besides?” She turned from the empty altar back to the group. “No, but… even if he has it, we’ve seen no signs of escape. Were the sceptre his only target, he’d not have stayed within.”

“Well he definitely didn’t make it past us, and there weren’t any other paths that I could see between the portrait room and here,” Will mused. “If he’s anywhere, it must be further ahead.” He pointed to the side door to the right of the altar.”

“That’s the only other way out, right?” Gallica asked.

“Looks that way,” Strohl said. “Do you know where it leads?”

“The roof,” Hulkenberg answered, shaking her head. “But what could he seek there?”

“Let’s ask him,” Ren said with conviction.

—

The roof was empty save for Zorba. He was standing with his back turned to them. The massive face of the king etched in rock floated above them all, imposingly close now that they were at the top of the cathedral.

“There you are!” Strohl yelled as they came to a stop a few paces from Zorba. The necromancer turned to regard the party.

“Where is the Royal Sceptre?” Hulkenberg demanded.

Zorba gestured behind him. “The fallen king protects it. The sceptre is beyond us all. For the time being, that is. Now, if you’re finished, be gone from my sight. I’ll not harm you, either. Even I have some sympathy for fools.”

Ren chuckled darkly. “You are drastically misreading the situation here.”

“Yes, we’ll be seeing ourselves out after we knock Louis’s whereabouts out of you,” Strohl tacked on. 

“I’m sorry… Do you… Do you actually think you can stop me?”

Will took a step forward. “Obviously. We already did downstairs. Should we go get the picture to remind you?”

Zorba let out a long peal of maniacal laughter, half amusement and half rage. “Aye, but you don’t have your degeneracy to hide behind this time, do you!? And you think to best me!? No wonder I couldn’t understand your actions! They’re baseless, utterly unfounded!”

“Madness ill becomes you, Zorba,” Hulkenberg said, a twinge of pity entering her voice.

The demented look slid off his face and was replaced with icy contempt. “You again. What would you know of it? I know no lady knights… Ah, wait… a knight with blood-red tresses? Don’t tell me you’re the buffoon who failed to protect the prince?”

“Judgments mean nothing from a man who sullies the dead,” Hulkenberg shot back, unperturbed. “You’ve fallen far yourself.”

“Perhaps I am unworthy of the Royal Sceptre. But I can still bring change to this world. I can still teach them true fear. I can still teach you true fear. You all have no idea what you’re up against, and that mistake will cost you your life!” Zorba spread his arms wide, likely in a sad attempt to mimic Louis, Ren thought. His eyes grew wide with madness. “Rejoice, rats! That witless assassin is dead, but I shall gladly send you to join him!

Strohl let out a short bark of laughter, which made Zorba pause. Ren scratched his nose nonchalantly.

“I’ll give you witless,” Ren said in a tone that was at odds with the rising tension, “but you’re wrong on the other count.”

Confusion entered Zorba’s eyes. “What?”

Will answered him while gesturing to Ren. “You know that magic he wields? I think you called it intriguing? Well, that ‘intriguing’ magic was capable of undoing your work on Grius.”

Zorba looked nonplussed, struggling to connect dots. “I don’t…”

“You resurrected him and made him your thrall,” Ren explained. “I simply undid the brainwashing. He’s fine. Very much alive, very much not your tool.”

Strohl laughed again. “Imagine, the one thing that makes you useful to your lord, and we’ve got someone who can neutralize it with almost no effort.”

As their words and implications sunk in, Zorba’s face gradually morphed into a rictus of rage. When he spoke, his voice came out in shaky whispers, as if his anger was preventing him from speaking evenly. “Ah… is that so… Intriguing indeed. You’re right, you know. It would be… problematic if my utility to Lord Louis could be mitigated. I suppose there’s only one option… and it’s a rather simple one.” Swirls of purple and black magla started wrapping themselves around Zorba in rapidly increasing quantities. The air became heavy, as if the magla around them was realizing what was about to happen.

“I just need to kill you.”

The party jumped back as Zorba slammed his palm into the ground. The magla surrounding him exploded outwards, and out of the ground countless zombies rose. The group were forced to retreat further in response, now taking in the sea of bodies between them and the necromancer. 

Will immediately jumped into captain mode. “Hulkenberg, Knight! Keep them occupied! Strohl, Mage! I’ll use Healer.” He looked to Ren, “Kaguya?” 

Ren nodded. It was a good choice against all these zombies. “I’m holding back though. Shining Arrows takes a lot out of me, and who knows how many of these things he can summon. I’ll be no use to you if I tap out.”

“Understood. Okay guys, we end this by getting to Zorba. Let’s try pushing through!”

And so they pushed forward. Hulkenberg led the charge, drawing the corpses’ attention, while the other three loosed spells from behind. Whenever the enemies bunched up enough, Will would synergize with Strohl and shoot off a much larger Mahama, which disintegrated groups at a time.

But there were so many. Ren guessed at least fifty, with Zorba continuously summoning more. Apparently goading him with Grius’s status was not the way to go, because his rage seemed to be fueling his arts as much as the magla. The damage Hulkenberg was taking was beginning to show, and Ren rushed forward, dancing around the front line of zombies, in an attempt to take some of the pressure off of her. Luckily, for all of their imposing number they were slow, and Ren was able to avoid their flailing limbs for the most part. 

The next ten minutes felt like hours. Steel met flesh at a dizzying rate as explosions of light and fire went off all around him. But forward progress was painfully slow. “This isn’t working, we need a new approach!” Ren heard Will yell from behind him. 

“It's not easy when he’s hiding behind his puppets!” Strohl shouted from Ren’s side. He had taken a moment to switch to Warrior when it was clear that Hulkenberg and Ren were getting overwhelmed holding the line alone.

They heard deranged laughter from the other side of the roof. “I’m just playing to my strengths! After all, four against one hardly seems fair, don’t you think?”

“I don’t see how we can turn the tide if we’re unable to stem the flow of reinforcements,” Hulkenberg said, pulling back a few paces to give herself time to catch her breath.

Ren briefly looked back at Will. The younger man was wracking his brain, trying to think of a better strategy. Their eyes met, and it must have given Will the impetus he needed.

“I don’t know,” he said with resignation. “Gallica and I have been trying to come up with something new, but everything we think of relies on pushing through. We can’t outlast him. Ren, any ideas?”

Ren flipped backwards to avoid an incoming zombie haymaker and turned to the group. He considered for a second. There was an idea that entered his mind as he was fighting but… 

“Yes actually, but it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’ll take stupid over this!” Strohl got out while panting. Will nodded in agreement.

Joker’s signature smirk fell into place like an old friend, gone for a while but never forgotten. He turned to Hulkenberg. “How strong is your arm in that Knight form?”

She raised her eyebrow. “As strong as needs be. Why?”

“Because you’re going to throw me.”

“...Pardon?”

Ren wasn’t looking at the others, focused on the enemies as he was. But he could sense their incredulity. “Look, we can’t beat him until we get through these zombies. But we can’t get through these zombies while he’s still summoning them. So. We have to stop the summoning. You throw me over them, I prevent Zorba from creating more zombies, you cut a path and join me.

“...That’s insane,” Gallica said.

“Truly,” Strohl laughed.

“...Are you sure?” Will asked. He likely shared the others’ opinion, but he was clearly willing to trust Ren to get them out of this if Ren was certain he could get it done.

“C’mon guys, this’ll be fun!” he said, smirk oozing confidence. On the inside, he had a few misgivings, but he’d done crazier stuff before.

That was in the Metaverse, with full access to your Phantom Thief abilities.

Well yeah, but this world feels close enough, don’t worry about it, other me.

Hulkenberg took a moment in between halberd thrusts to shoot a look at Will. He was the captain. If he agreed, she’d do as Ren asked, no matter how crazy it sounded.

“Okay, I guess throw him?” Will sounded like he still didn’t quite believe they were running with this plan.

“Understood!” Hulkenberg transformed into her Knight Archetype and dropped her halberd. She galloped over to Ren and stooped over to pick him up effortlessly.

“So strong!” Ren cooed in mock admiration. “At least buy a girl a drink first.” He curled into a ball, feet against her palm as she positioned him as if she were going to use him for a shot put throw.

“Have care, or I might misjudge my aim and throw you off the roof entirely,” her metallic voice quipped back from deep within her helmet.

Ren laughed. “Ready when you are.”

Without warning, Hulkenberg charged the swarm of zombies and threw Ren forward as she met their line. He extended his legs, pushing himself against her palm, and went soaring clear over the sea of animated corpses. The roussainte’s aim was true—Ren was heading straight for Zorba. He had a very, very, satisfying glimpse of the necromancer looking up at him in complete and utter confusion before he rocketed into the man fist first.

Zorba was knocked several feet back while Ren absorbed the fall by rolling as he hit the ground. He immediately got back up and rushed Zorba, who managed to dodge a downward swing of Ren’s dagger just in time.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing!?” Zorba snarled. His nose was bleeding, and his upper lip was split from the impact of Ren’s fist.

“Playing to my strengths,” Ren said with a shrug. “Besides, one on one now. Much more fair, don’t you think?”

Zorba roared with rage and started to summon more zombies, but Ren was too fast. He darted forward, dagger swiping at the necromancer’s outstretched palm, leaving a deep gash as blood sprayed across the rooftop tiles. Zorba hissed in pain and pulled his hand into his chest.

“See, Hulkenberg—that’s the lovely lady over there currently cutting swathes through your murder victims—she’s told me a bit about you. Good at this whole reanimation business…” He dashed forward again, dagger thrusting in a telegraphed motion. Zorba dodged predictably, which lined him up perfectly for Ren’s other fist to connect with the side of his ribs. Zorba doubled over in pain. “...but absolute shit at everything else.” 

Ren stood in front of Zorba, simply waiting for the man to catch his breath or try summoning again. He was wheezing through the pain, uncut hand gripping his side. “It should be obvious by now, but you’re not summoning anything else. But please, please try. You see, your little occupation of the church had the added effect of traumatizing me quite a bit. I won’t bother you with why—the upshot is that I’m looking for absolutely any reason to put you in the ground.”

Ren stepped forward and crouched, looking up into Zorba’s hunched over face. The man glared back, though Ren noticed a not insignificant amount of fear now. The necromancer was met with steely gray eyes behind a domino mask and an impassive face. “So. Wanna give me a reason?”

Zorba growled and started amassing magla again. Ren’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Excellent.” He immediately grabbed the man, one hand on the back of his head, the other around his singular horn, and rammed his knee into Zorba’s face. Zorba screamed, and after Ren released him, he stumbled backwards, nose now thoroughly broken, blood flowing freely. He fell to one knee, wheezing in pain. Ren stared him down again.

“You know, this place is changing me. You are changing me. I never thought I was the type to take joy in something like this.” He looked back at the others. Without constant reinforcements, they were making quick progress through the horde. “But I guess you learn something new every day. Now are you gonna be a good boy and stay down?”

Zorba’s face was contorted with rage and pain, his eyes wild with malice. But he made no move to summon again. Within minutes, the rest of the group had mopped up the remaining enemies and joined Ren. Will took a look at Zorba, then walked up and put a hand on Ren’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“I have some things to unpack,” Ren said with a tired laugh. “But yeah. I’m okay.”

Hulkenberg walked forward, leveling her halberd at the necromancer. “You have desecrated the Cathedral. You have plundered graves. You have taken innocent lives. Stand, fiend, and face your sentence.”

“Don’t kill him yet!” Gallica warned. “He needs to tell us where Louis is!”

“You’ll get nothing from me… Just end it, and be done,” Zorba said, breath ragged.

Strohl shook his head. “You know Louis won’t return that loyalty. Once you outlive your usefulness, he’ll cast you aside.”

“Lord Louis is everything to me! How could I expect a damned clemar to understand what it’s like!?” Zorba’s gaze fell to Will—he seemed to be completely avoiding looking at Ren now. “You… You must know… Surely an elda like you must know what it’s like! To be an outcast, to be every fool’s scapegoat! They call us ‘lesser tribes’! They loathe us! Their speeches of tribal harmony mean nothing when every day, they cheat and abuse us!

“Do you think I didn’t believe, once? That I never dared to hope my efforts made me equal? Then I heard exactly what they think of us… ‘The lessers are expendable. Send them to the fore and they shall be our living shields.’ They doomed us and laughed as we died!”

Will narrowed his eyes. “And so you think that the solution is to kill everyone indiscriminately? How is your revenge justified when you slaughter those of ‘lesser tribes’ as readily as anyone else? You’re just a murder lying to yourself about a higher purpose.”

Zorba’s eyes flashed with rage, but it passed. Instead he chuckled. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I don’t care how many insignificants I have to slay to rid the world of its true filth. You know, it’s a curious thing… They say magla is born from pain and negative emotions. Magic is a dangerous art, isn’t it?” He quickly stood up and raised his hand overhead. A giant glyph appeared in the sky above him, glowing an ominous purple, and with it came a gust of wind that blew the group back.

“I had thought to gather an unstoppable swell of magla, but… it doesn’t matter anymore! Those lordly pigs can drown in their own dread!” His tilted his head back to look above him, arms wide. He looked to Ren the very picture of a mad scientist. “Sanctism cannot save this world! If we are to be ruled by a god, then let it be Lord Louis!”

“What are you doing…?” Will asked, trying to fight the wind to reach Zorba. The necromancer had started walking backwards, slowly moving closer to the edge of the roof.

“This is everything I’ve been building my magla for… A little early, perhaps, and our fight took more out of me besides, but now you can experience my glorious Day of Calamity!”

“Wait!” Strohl yelled. Tell us where Louis is! What did he want with the sceptre!”

Zorba ignored the question, instead backing up to the very edge of the roof.

“Ahh… my Lord… Louis…”

He fell backwards and was gone.

Chapter Text

Regalith Gand Cathedral

“That, uh… that’s a long way down,” Ren said as they looked over the edge of the roof. It was a foggy day, and he couldn’t even see the ground from this high up.

Strohl slammed his fist into his thigh in frustration. “Damnit! There goes our lead to finding Louis!”

“It’ll be okay,” Will said, eyes still straining to see through the fog. “He’s trying to ascend to the throne. He’ll have to show himself in front of the people eventually.”

“Soon enough and near enough to save the prince?” Strohl asked with skepticism. Will didn’t respond, only bit his lip.

Before Ren could say anything to lighten the mood, an ear-splitting roar broke the silence. All eyes turned downwards, in the direction it came from. Whatever made it was loud, angry, and very near the cathedral. Almost immediately after, panicked and hysteric screams started drifting up. The only word Ren could separate from the cacophony was “human”.

“A human…?” Gallica repeated, alarmed. “Wait, is it that monstrosity Louis brought to the funeral!? It wasn’t dead!?”

Ren’s face paled. “No, it was. But what’s the one thing Zorba was good at?” The others paled in turn as it sank in. 

“So this is the fiend’s so called ‘Day of Calamity’,” Hulkenberg murmured. She clenched her fist tightly. “A small mercy then that we confronted him as soon as we did. Afforded more time to accumulate magla, there’s no telling what horrors he would have unleashed.”

“We need to go. Now,” Will said, voice steely with resolve. “If that thing breaches the city…”

Ren sighed. “Right, of course it falls to us.”

—

The cathedral dais ground was littered with guards, and Will involuntarily gulped down his nervousness when he realized that most were either dead or dying. So many casualties, all in the span of time it took them to get back down to ground level. A layer of black miasma lingered over the entire platform—Will wasn’t sure if it came from the human itself, or if it was a natural consequence of so much death in such a small area. Slowly his eyes drifted upwards to take in the cause of all this violence.

Will had seen a variety of humans at this point. More than he wanted, truth be told, and definitely more that he assumed most would ever see. But it still surprised him that monsters that looked so incredibly varied could all be grouped together. He idly wondered what exactly constituted a human—well, a Euchronian human. Was it just the shared desire to attack settlements? The level of intelligence? How many different types were out there?

This particular specimen was easily the most terrifying to Will, and not just because of its size or increasingly apparent aptitude for destruction. It was mostly because for all that was strange and alien about the monster, there were also things that were undoubtedly familiar. The face, half peeling off though it was, was definitely a person's face. The thing perched on its head like a hat—Will knew what hearts looked like, even if this one had some slight, non-organic modifications. Even inanimate things like the flag tied to the branches growing out of its body, which itself was clearly an egg. It was as if someone took individual pieces from already completed puzzles and tried to jam them all together to make something new.

He heard Strohl stop next to him and growl. “How can this be? Was this—creature’s rebirth Zorba’s plan all along!?”

Hulkenberg pulled up next to Ren on Will’s other side. “It matters not. Our captain was right. If it escapes… If it makes it to the city…!” Even in this situation, Will had to fight the urge to groan. He’d really need to talk to her about calling him that.

Suddenly the giant human’s head turned, seemingly taking notice of the four people and one fairy daring to stand up to it. Its giant branches—shaped like hands, Will now noticed—clenched together to resemble fists.

“Lovely, guess that means no time to plan,” Ren said blithely. Will had noticed that for all Ren’s difficulty in acclimatizing to death, he seemed to be largely unphased when it came to combat itself. Not for the first time, Will considered whether the older boy was merely putting up a confident front, or if he was truly that used to or unconcerned with putting his life on the line in a fight. Likely some combination of the two if he was used to leading, though Will silently hoped it was more the latter than the former.

The human ponderously raised one of its legs attached to its egg-like body. With a roar that was much louder at this reduced distance, the monster brought its leg down on the raised dais, splitting the stone floor effortlessly and sending the bodies of guards flying. Will fought the instinct to fall back in the face of such overwhelming power.

“His Highness’s home must still stand when he returns.” Hulkenberg gritted her teeth and spun her halberd around her in a flourish, settling into a ready stance. “I will end this here!”

“Another city in ruins…” Strohl closed his eyes, facial muscles constricting in pain. Will knew he was remembering Halia. Slowly the clemar opened his eyes again, staring resolutely up at the human. “Never again. It dies or I do!”

“And here I thought I was done fighting giant monsters that vaguely resemble people,” Ren said with a sigh. He spun his dagger expertly before gripping it tightly in his right hand. The now familiar flash of blue fire erupted as Arsène appeared behind him, as imposing as always. “Oh well, what’s one more, eh buddy?”

The persona chuckled darkly, its black wings blowing away the miasma between them and their target. “Indeed,” it said, voice warm with a unique concoction of mirth and violence.

Ren looked to Will, who was busy cataloging the fact that apparently Ren’s personas could talk? “Alright Will, on you.”

Will mentally shook his head, bringing him back to the impending battle. “Right. We don’t know what this thing is capable of, so be careful. We’ll have to figure this out as we go.”

And so they jumped into battle. Hulkenberg quickly pointed out that the heart would naturally be the surest and quickest way to put the human down. Sadly it was a good distance away, meaning weapons couldn’t reach and magic lost most of its potency by the time it got to its target. That left bashing on the body in the hopes that it would unbalance the giant monster and bring its heart closer. And bash they did.

“Captain, have care! To your left!”

Will clocked the incoming branch closing in, attempting to sweep him off the plaza. He aimed a Cyc at his feet, blasting his Seeker high enough to just clear the branch as it whipped beneath him. He quickly rotated in midair, readying his sword for a sharp downward slash against the human’s torso. The momentum from his rotation—paired with the pull of gravity—put a massive amount of power behind his swing, and he was momentarily caught off guard when the side of the torso shattered, giant pieces flying off and leaving a gaping hole in the monster.

He quickly jumped back to the rest of the party, eager to get distance in case the human decided to retaliate. He needn’t have been worried though—the damage to its body seemed to have stunned the beast, and it swayed precipitously before falling, thankfully, towards them. With a deafening crash, it slammed into the dais, the heart now tantalizingly close.

“Okay, Hulkenberg, ready defenses in case it recovers. Everyone else, we give it everything we’ve got!” Will shouted. 

“Slicer!”

“Sweeping Slash!”

“Yoshitsune! Hassou Tobi!”

Will and Strohl’s swings did good damage, but Ren’s caused so much that it shocked the human back into consciousness. With a roar of pain, it righted itself in a desperate effort to distance its heart from the attackers.

“Good lord Ren, what was that?” Strohl asked. He and Strohl both looked to Ren but were surprised to see him clutching his stomach in pain. He raised a hand to cover a racking cough, and it came away bloodied.

“Well that doesn’t usually happen…” Ren said with a pained laugh. Will quickly sent some healing his way.

“What happened?” the elda asked worriedly.

“Same thing as Brawler. Hurts me a bit to use it. Though I’ve never coughed up blood… maybe I’ll just stay away from using it until I can figure it out.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“Eyes front gentlemen!” Hulkenberg called. “Something approaches.”

Will looked at their enemy and noticed that it had angled itself so that the hole in its torso was facing them. He was expecting to see various internal organs, and so was quite surprised to notice that he instead was looking at a tavern room of some kind inside the human’s body. There was a table littered with glasses, a few casks of ale off to the side, and a chandelier hanging from the top of the eggshell that made up the body. And for some reason, there were also giant inanimate frogs? Immediately the empty room started filling, armored knights with beak-shaped helmets phasing into existence in a rush of dark magla energy. They appeared one by one, the group steadily growing larger. Each knight was armed with a sword and looked ready to charge. 

“Um,” Ren stared blankly at the human. “Is this making sense to anybody else? I mean more sense than none? Not that any of this makes much sense…”

Will just shook his head. The others couldn’t offer explanations either. What even were humans?

Suddenly Gallica floated into Will’s sight line.

“Will! Let me handle them. I could cause a scene inside and distract the soldiers! Keep them off you!” Her face was set, and fierce determination shone in her eyes.

Will wavered. What she was suggesting was clearly dangerous. They didn’t know what those knights were capable of, or what other potential dangers could be found inside a human. But she was very helpful back at the Northern Border Fort. Will’s mind drifted back to the conversation last night. How Ren said that Gallica trusted him. Well he trusted Gallica too, and the easiest way for her to stop feeling useless was for her to do what she felt she could.

“Okay, you’re up,” he nodded, making sure that his concern wasn’t showing on his face.

Ren sidled up to them. “Gallica, mind if I join? I’ve always thought bar fights were cool.”

Gallica smiled at him, full of confidence. “The more, the merrier.”

She started zipping towards the human, and as Ren turned to follow, he caught Will’s eye and gave him a nod and a wink. Will wasn’t sure if Ren was aware of his unease, or if he was just being his typical confident self, but either way, he’d have to remember to thank him. He watched the two race for the edge of the dais and leap—or fly—into the human, immediately engaging the knights. Gallica took to zipping around between them, getting knights to hit each other while they were trying to target her. Ren immediately went for one of the chairs surrounding the table and slammed it into two knights at once, cackling.

“What on earth?” Strohl’s voice pulled Will away from the tavern melee, and he saw what caught the clemar’s attention.

The human’s large branch-arms were wrapping around towards the hole in its side. At first, Will worried that it was trying to reach inside to grab his teammates. What happened in actuality was way worse. Will, Hulkenberg, and Strohl watched as the arms somehow magically restored the wound, trapping Ren and Gallica inside.

“Oh no…”

—

“Well that can’t be good,” Ren said as the arms finished their repair job. The tavern was much darker now, lit only by the candle chandelier that was swaying with the human’s movement, casting rapidly morphing shadows on the ceiling, walls, and floor. He ducked a swing from the nearest knight and jammed his dagger through one of the eye slits in its helmet. The knight exploded in a poof of magla. Gallica was quick to note that these enemies were crude puppets formed from raw magla, and as such weren’t capable of much more than basic swings at nearby targets.

“What do we do!?” Gallica cried, baiting two knights into attacking each other.

There were only three enemies left, and it didn’t seem like the human was creating any more. He quickly dispatched them before taking a closer look around the rounded room. There wasn’t much more to it than what they saw from outside—a few more casks and a candle holder tacked to the wall. 

Wait a second.

“Over here,” he said, beckoning the fairy over to the wall near the candle.

“A door?” 

There was indeed what looked like a small door in the wall, constructed out of the same eggshell-like material that made up the human’s torso. Ren tried the door knob, half expecting it to remain static. Expecting that this door was just set dressing. To his surprise the knob turned, and the door creaked open a crack. Ren held it there for a moment.

“Where do you think it goes?” Gallica asked.

“I mean, this is towards its head, so...”

“...Do you think this whole human is hollow?” The look on Gallica's face made it very apparent that she hoped this wasn’t the case. Ren couldn’t say he disagreed—the idea of something like this existing with literally nothing in its head made him shudder.

“No idea, but there’s an easy way to find out,” Ren said. “It’s either through here or break out from the inside.”

Gallica narrowed her eyes and stared at him for a second. “You totally want to go through this door, don’t you?”

“I mean, c’mon, aren’t you curious?”

“...A little. Okay let’s go,” Gallica said, slapping her cheeks lightly to psyche herself up. “But you first!”

“You sure? Because proper manners dictate that la—”

“YOU FIRST!”

—

Will was starting to freak out a bit. The three left on the dais quickly went to work as soon as they realized their friends were trapped. But it appeared that the human was aware of what they were attempting, and wasn’t inclined to let it happen again. Instead of attacking them, its arms now set up defensively, taking hits aimed for the torso and otherwise preventing them from physically getting close.

Fighting down the rising panic, Will was about to suggest they physically try dragging the hands away from the body using their Archetypes when he heard the human roar again.

“Captain, look, its head!” Hulkenberg cried.

“How in the hell…?” Strohl whispered in disbelief.

Will backed away from the human far enough to get a good look. It was Ren. He was up on the saucer-like platform that was attached to the monster’s head, doing battle with the odd people-like entities that were constantly walking in circles around the heart. Will watched as he slid under the legs of one, popping up behind it and slitting its throat. The enemy disintegrated into magla which blew away with the wind.

“Will!”

As Gallica zoomed down to the group, Will could feel the panic washing away. “Gallica! How’d you get out of there!?”

“You’ll never believe this! There was a door inside the human, and behind it was a ladder. There’s a hatch on that platform and the ladder goes up to it!”

“Sorry,” Strohl held up his hand. “Are you saying that you traveled up its neck and through its head to get up there?”

Gallica was about to answer when they were interrupted by a large explosion and another roar of pain. Ren had killed all the minions up there, and was now unleashing some serious magic point blank at the heart. The human clearly didn’t like it—with a second roar, it whipped his head around in a desperate attempt to dislodge the man.

“Shit!” Strohl yelled. “Somebody be ready to catch him!”

Sure enough, Ren wasn’t able to hold on, and he got sent flying in their direction. But just as gravity started to take over, Will saw him rip his mask off one final time.

“SATANAEL! BLACK VIPER!”

The imposing six-winged persona appeared behind Ren and raised his left hand toward the human’s heart. An inky blackness started pooling in the saucer it sat on, cascading over the sides when it couldn’t hold any more of… whatever it was. And then, out of the darkness rose a massive snake’s head, jaw open wide as if making to bite the heart from underneath. With a snap, the black viper’s jaw whipped shut, fangs piercing the heart, utterly eviscerating it. The human immediately lifted its head to the sky, let out a final ear-shattering wail, and collapsed to the ground. Unmoving. Dead.

Hulkenberg had transformed into her Knight form as soon as Strohl had spoken up, and was there to catch Ren as he fell back to the dais. The other three ran up to them.

Ren looked absolutely exhausted, the mask on his face flickering like a candle before finally disappearing completely. But his face still had the increasingly familiar smirk as he looked around to see why he wasn’t a splat on the dais floor.

“Seriously, Hulk,” he chuckled. He sounded so tired. “We gotta stop doing this, or I’m going to fall for you.”

“That was terrible, Ren,” she said, though Will could hear the relief in her voice.

“Yeah sorry, I’ll try again when I’m feeling a bit better.”

She set him down gently, and Will and Strohl got to either side of him so they could catch him if he couldn’t stand on his own. He looked a bit unsteady on his feet, but managed to keep himself upright.

Will looked back at the human, once again a corpse. What was left of its heart was only recognizable by its color. He was once again blown away by the power Ren could wield—and according to him, every skill in his arsenal was only half as effective as it used to be. It was a shame he couldn’t constantly use his most devastating magic without completely burning out, but still. What kind of fights had he been part of to make such power necessary?

—

Holy hell, Ren was tired. He knew that Satanael’s Victory Cry would kick in soon (at drastically reduced effectiveness, unfortunately), and that would give him enough energy to be able to make it back to the inn, but until then it was all he could do to stay upright.

The courtyard was deathly quiet now that the human was finally dead. It was a pleasant surprise that the door ended up leading directly to the heart—after killing the creatures circling it, Ren had free reign to unleash massive damage unopposed. He probably should have anticipated getting thrown off, and the moment he realized oh shit, I don’t have my grappling hook here was objectively terrifying, but it all worked out in the end. Good ol’ Hulkenberg.

“Finally…” Strohl exhaled, sounding as tired as Ren felt, “it’s over…”

Hulkenberg held a hand over her chest and bowed slightly at the waist. “All of you have my sincerest thanks. You risked your life to protect the capital.”

Strohl shook his head. “We barely protected anything. The city is in chaos, and you saw how many lost their lives.”

“You can’t blame yourself for any of that, Strohl,” Will said. “Think how many more would have died if not for us.”

“Will’s right,” Gallica agreed, bobbing up and down in the air in a full body nod. “This was a tragedy, definitely. But we managed to stop a calamity, and that counts for something.”

Strohl just sighed and turned his back to the group. After a few seconds of getting his thoughts together, he spoke again. “It’s… it’s not just that. On the morning of the funeral… I promised Maria that we’d all be back that evening. Break bread together again. I fought with everything I had, but that doesn’t change the fact that I would have broken that promise.”

He turned back around, looking Ren in the eyes. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have had to tell Maria that her dad was never coming home.” Ren was ready to downplay his role in events, to say he had just gotten lucky—which was true—but Strohl held out a hand as if anticipating it. “I’m not enough, not now. But I will be. Enough that I won’t have to rely on someone else being in the right place at the right time. Enough that I can keep the promises I make. So thank you, Ren. I won’t waste the reprieve you’ve given me.”

Time slowed, and he once again heard Lavenza’s voice. He held onto it like a lifeline, the only thing linking him back home. And, to his surprise, her voice came through stronger and clearer than it had before.

I am th….. Thou art I…

Thou hast ac…….a new v…..

…t shall become the wi………bellion

That breaketh thy ch…..of capt……

…th the bi……. The Cubic Stone Persona

I have….ained the winds of bl………..

…all lead to free………ew power…

Ren was about to ponder yet another unusual Arcana name when he realized that time was not resuming.

Tri..ster……..s imper….that you continue………ening your bonds.

Esp……..that of….. Aeon .

I am………..reach you, please………..

As the world started moving again, Will cocked his head and furrowed his brow.

“Was that what I think it was?”

Ren grinned widely. “It was. And apparently it might be the key to getting me home.”

—

Ren was feeling much better as he ate dinner at the Hushed Honeybee Inn. Satanael’s skill had kicked in shortly after they started making their way home, which was nice. Plus, they got stopped by a few different people near the cathedral, people who were close enough to see them take down the rampaging human. It was strange—Ren was used to doing things for the betterment of society, but it was always behind the curtain of anonymity. Sure, people sang the Phantom Thieves’ praises, and thanked them for taking down the criminals they did. But he’d never had random people thanking him directly for his actions. It was vindicating, and, somewhat surprisingly, extremely embarrassing.

Also, this food was once again amazing. Maybe Will had the right idea about asking Fabienne if he could learn from her. After years of practice, he considered himself a pretty good cook, but he had absolutely no idea how she could consistently make food this good with the technology available to her. 

“So, it sounds like things got pretty crazy out there today, eh?”

The group looked up from their plates to see Grius slowly walking up to their table. He looked better than he had, but still not back to his usual self. Ren could tell that he was hiding tiredness—and maybe even pain—behind his usual stoic expression. Will scooched down the bench to give him a spot to sit, which he took gingerly before continuing. 

“The dinner rush earlier brought word that the human Louis dumped in front of Regalith was just playing dead, but that it was thankfully put down by some intrepid individuals who, importantly, were not part of Louis’s cadre.”

“Well, I’m sure whoever they were, they must have cut a dashing figure indeed, saving the capital from the dastardly machinations of Louis and his wretched ilk,” Ren said with mock solemnity.

Strohl snorted. “You are so much worse at that than Hulkenberg.”

The redhead, who was about to go back to inhaling her dinner, gasped as if offended. “Fie! I hardly think I sound like that!”

The others burst out laughing. “Fie! That’s a good one, you should try working it in, Ren,” Gallica chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Hulk,” Ren said, wiping a tear from his eye. “They say in my world that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure. And why do you call me ‘Hulk’?”

“Just a nickname. If you don’t like it, I can stop.”

The knight thought for a moment before growing a small smile and shaking her head. “No, I’m not particularly opposed to it. Truth be told, I’ve never had a nickname. It feels… nice.”

“While we’re talking about this,” Will started, “do you think we could revisit the whole ‘Captain’ thing?”

To Ren’s immense amusement, Hulkenberg looked shocked.

“I have sworn my sword to you, and you lead us into battle! ‘Twould be the height of disrespect to call you anything else!”

Will seemed to be considering fighting it, but his shoulders sagged as he gave up. “Never mind,” he said with a small sigh.

“Anyways,” Strohl said with a smile, “what’s the plan now? With Zorba dead, we’ve lost our trail.”

“And even if we find Louis, we still need to kill him to lift the prince’s curse,” Gallica responded. “But we all saw what happened… is it even possible to kill him now?”

Grius subconsciously rubbed his throat. “Aye, that could be a problem. The magic that held me in place came from the king. Did he say anything after I…” He trailed off. Maria was helping Fabienne serve tonight, and he likely didn’t want to traumatize her were she to overhear.

Will shook his head. “Nothing after mentioning that your actions ‘defied the people’s will.’”

“Hmm, then we don’t know enough about what triggers it,” Grius said contemplatively. “Regardless, we’ll need to find Louis again, whether that be to finish the mission or test the royal magic’s conditions for activation.”

“True enough,” Hulkenberg said. “I’ll see if my contacts in the guard have any threads to pursue. But under the circumstances, I expect their forces to be in considerable disarray for a while yet. Don’t expect too much.”

“You all should be keeping a low profile for a while anyways,” Grius said. “You’ve thrown a wrench into Louis’s plan. We don’t know whether he’s aware of who you are, but make enough waves and you’ll be painting a target on your backs.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Ren muttered under his breath.

“That works for me,” Strohl said. “Besides, I think we could do with some training. If we floundered this much against Zorba—Ren notwithstanding—we’ll not stand a chance against Louis.”

“No, I could use more practice too,” Ren countered. It was nice Strohl had confidence in him, but he was far from his usual self. “Fighting here feels different than it did back home. If I don’t get more experience, I’ll end up either using too much force and killing someone, or straining too much and wiping myself out.”

“We do have that mission from Brigitta,” Will said. “We could train in the Belega Corridor.”

“Ah, so you’ve met Brigitta then,” Grius said with a small smile. “Or rather, knowing her, she finally tracked you down.”

“So you know her then?” Will asked. “Is she part of the resistance?”

“If she’s not told you, it’s not my place,” he answered. “Just know that she’s someone you can trust. Now what’s this job she’s having you do?”

“I confess I’m curious as well,” Hulkenberg said. Gallica nodded fervently, shooting Will a look that screamed how dare you not tell me about this.

And so they recounted the conversation. Hulkenberg was amenable to helping out as well, stating that it would be an ideal exercise to further develop their teamwork. Grius still wasn’t feeling quite himself, so he was sitting it out, but the rest of them had just taken down a necromancer and a human one after the other—they felt confident they could handle whatever the Corridor threw at them.

After that, conversation drifted. Will mentioned they had picked up some gear that he wanted to purify at the Sanctist church, and Ren volunteered to accompany him. Strohl enlisted Hulkenberg’s help with sparring in order to become better acquainted with the combat style of the Royal Army. And Gallica mentioned that an aspiring nidia chef had approached her and Will after they met up yesterday and had asked if the elda could shadow Fabienne and pass along anything he learned—and wouldn’t that just be the perfect task for Ren? Fabienne had caught her name, and promptly agreed to the request, especially when she learned that Ren was practicing to be a chef himself. Maria enthusiastically wanted to join too, so it looked like the paripus would have two students tomorrow night.

So a day or two to take care of some stuff before making for the Belega Corridor. And hopefully, during all of this, Ren could strengthen his new bonds.

Don’t worry, Lav. I’m gonna figure out how to get to you if it kills me.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

“So Gallica and I were looking over our gear the other day when she realized that some pieces had this buildup of dark magla coating them,” Will explained as he and Ren made their way towards the St. Fermis Church on Sunlumeo Street. “I guess that’s just what happens when a weapon sits for a long time without being cared for.”

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Ren said.

“But there’s this Blessed Water stuff that we find sometimes, and apparently if you bring it to the church, they can use it to purify things. I’m hoping that if we do that to our weapons, they’ll become more effective.”

Ren side-eyed the younger man as they walked past Naŭ Filono. “And what makes you think the church won’t just immediately kick us out? You said so yourself—they aren’t exactly huge fans of elda.”

“I know,” Will replied, “but better weapons could mean the difference between life or death. It’s worth trying at least. I can handle a few insults if it means making us stronger.”

“They could do much worse than insults.”

Will smiled at Ren. “Well then I suppose it’s lucky you’re coming along.”

The two walked into the church, careful to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb anybody. Unfortunately, the churchgoers had no such qualms—as soon as they caught sight of Will, they set to whispering in affronted tones. Ren had once again worn his hooded cloak, though he was starting to think that perhaps a better disguise was in order. One elda was at best a barely suffered oddity. Two was likely grounds for a lynch mob to form. A lady in one of the small pews turned to stare daggers at Will.

“Ugh… an elda actually stepping foot in this church. I suggest you turn around and leave. If you don’t, I expect the sanctor will have you thrown you out like the trash you are. And you!” she said, rounding on Ren with her index finger jabbing in his direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop associating with this… this… heathen. Don’t make me call the guards.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Ren said. “I wasn’t aware hanging out with an elda was a reportable offense. So sorry, my good lady, we’ll leave you to the hate your religion is so fond of teaching.”

The woman reeled as if slapped. When she regained herself, her next words came out as a low hiss. “Listen to me, you guttersnipe. Sanctism does not preach hate. We are encouraged to offer charity and succor to the people. But elda are not people. Now leave!”

Ren was about to unload on this bitch when Will stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Ren, just let it go.” He turned to the woman and inclined his head. “We’re sorry ma’am. I know I’m not welcome here, but we have business with the sanctor. As soon as it has concluded, we will leave.”

The woman huffed and sputtered, but eventually sat back down and resumed her prayers, refusing to so much as acknowledge them anymore. Will dragged Ren forward towards the front of the church, where the sanctor was waiting behind his pulpit, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face.

“Closurei…” he said with skepticism. “She’s right, you know. I would be well within my rights to have you removed from the premises.”

“Apologies, sir. My friend is from an out of the way village where the Sanctist teachings haven’t taken hold. He’s unaware of how strongly the church views my kind.” Will looked contrite, as if this whole situation was really his fault.

“I see,” the sanctor replied, clearly not mollified. “Well, you said you had business with me? I find that hard to believe, but let it not be said that I turned away someone that was in need, elda or no.”

“Yes, sir, of course. I actually have some armaments I was hoping to get purified. A friend of mine said that it’s a service that you perform here?”

“It is. Purification is a service reserved for the devout of our faith, but you’ll forgive me if I find it hard to believe that you are one of them.” The sanctor raised an eyebrow and looked over the two. “Then again, many of our flock like to provide donations as a show of their faithfulness.”

Of course he was looking for a bribe. Some things never change. But Ren bit his tongue. Will clearly had this under control, and he’d already almost screwed this up for them once.

“Yes, of course, I’d be happy to provide a donation,” Will said, face impressively passive.

A few minutes and a handful of purifications later, and Will and Ren were out of that hellhole with upgraded gear. They walked in silence for a bit before Ren spoke up.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I was the one who thought this was an iffy idea, and I immediately went and made it worse.”

Will shook his head. “It’s fine, Ren. You’re not used to this, and that’s a good thing. The goal is for everybody to react like you did. But we’re not anywhere close to that. And the best way to get there is to make sure we succeed in curing the prince.”

“And until then, I need to lay low.” Ren sighed. “I used to be better at this, you know?”

“Better at what?”

“Better at flying under the radar.”

“Radar?”

“Sorry, I mean better at not rocking the boat. Going along with the status quo so I didn’t draw suspicion, now matter how many things made me want to speak out. I guess after my record was expunged and people stopped looking at me like I was one piece of bad news away from stabbing them, I kind of, I dunno…” Ren struggled to find the right words. “I guess when you go a while without facing injustice personally, you forget how to live with it.”

Will patted Ren’s shoulder. “Like I said, Ren, that’s a good thing.”

“Not when it might get us killed.”

“Fair enough,” Will said with a chuckle. “Maybe try to dial it back when mobs are liable to form?”

—

“You’re back! That means we can cook together, right!?”

Maria was practically vibrating with excitement. It was early afternoon, which was when Fabienne said she started preparing for the dinner rush. The only people in the inn were Ren, Fabienne, Maria, and Hulkenberg. Will had split with him earlier to go listen to some clemar that liked to tell stories, and Gallica joined him. Strohl was practicing the sword somewhere. Ren wasn’t entirely sure why Hulkenberg was here at first, but upon closer inspection, he could tell that her mouth was watering.

“I think so,” Ren said with a smile. “That is, if Fabienne’s ready for us.”

The woman in question poked her head out of the kitchen door. “She is indeed,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t the two of you wash up, and then we can get started.”

Cooking with Fabienne turned out to be an absolute delight. Ren was worried at first—a different world meant different ingredients, perhaps even a completely different way of preparing and cooking. But it turned out that, at least for Redgrass-roasted Bidou, the Euchronian ingredients had earth-like approximations. Bidou turned out to be poultry quite similar to chicken, if a bit gamier than he was used to. And the starchy vegetables they prepared to go with it might as well have been potatoes. The spices were unique, but Ren thought he could get pretty close to the same flavor profile back home.

Fabienne herself moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, always multitasking, always making sure ingredients cooked for just as long as they needed to, which was impressive considering she didn’t have access to timers or appliances that allowed her to fine-tune temperature. She explained that all it took was a practiced eye and familiarity with the kitchen. She always knew how much wood to use for the fire, always stoked it in exactly the same way. The rest was simply knowing what her food was supposed to look like when done. Ren was no stranger to eyeing done-ness, but he was still extremely impressed. And that was to say nothing about how she constructed flavor profiles or prepped her ingredients. Ren could definitely learn a lot from her.

The entire time, Maria was flitting this way and that, making sure Ren knew where everything was and helping him prepare whatever Fabienne asked for. Apparently, she was a frequent helper in the kitchen, because Fabienne never had to ask her for anything—the young girl knew what step of the recipe they were currently executing and acted accordingly.

“I’m used to being the helper in Miss Fabienne’s kitchen, but this time you get to be my assistant!” She beamed at him. “It’s fun, huh?”

“It is! You make an excellent sous-chef, Maria.”

Maria scrunched up her face. “What’s a sooshef?”

“It means your second in command of this kitchen. Fabienne’s right-hand woman,” Ren explained.

Maria bounced up and down on the balls of her feet as she continued chopping up the Bidou she was working with. “I like that! Do you think I’m a good sooshef, Miss Fabienne?”

Without turning from the wood fire stove, Fabienne chuckled. “The best I could ask for, Maria.”

The afternoon quickly turned to evening as the three worked. Fabienne gradually let Ren take over more and more of the process until eventually, she let him run the entire thing.

“Not to worry, Ren. I’ve been watching you work, and you clearly know what you’re doing. And let’s not forget, we have Hulkenberg here to personally guarantee your dishes.”

“Naturally! Not a single ill-prepared plate shall make it past me!” Hulkenberg shouted from the dining room. At this point she had sampled a handful of the batches he had helped produce. She ate everything so fast Ren couldn’t be sure whether he was doing a good job or if she was simply happy to eat anything.

“So tell me about this plan of yours to open a restaurant,” Fabienne asked as the three of them were peeling more vegetables.

Ren faltered slightly, almost cutting his thumb with the paring knife he was using. Most of the time, he kept himself too busy to really dwell on how far away he was from home. Being reminded of it usually blindsided him. But for some reason, this time it wasn’t so bad. Less a powerful longing, more of a dull wistfulness. Ren wondered if it was because he was in his element, doing what he loved. He cast his mind back to the plan he and Haru had made a few years ago.

“It’s not all that interesting. One of my friends, she’s from a very wealthy family, and she was forced to take over the family business after… after her father passed. He turned what was just a single small café into a successful chain of restaurants, but lost all of what made the original special. She wants to bring that back. So she’s been working hard, learning how to effectively run a company. And since I’ve really gotten into cooking, I’ve been practicing while I’m attending school for business. The plan was to open a new place together, with me in charge of the menu.”

“Was?” Fabienne had stopped peeling, and was looking at him gently. The now familiar pit in his stomach started opening back up.

“Well, who knows how long it will take for me to get back home.”

Who knows if it’s even possible to get back home.

Fabienne read the unspoken thoughts on his face. “It’s no use thinking like that, Ren. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been making good progress, and there’s definitely a connection between this world and yours. And you’ve told us your story. You’ve overcome insurmountable odds before. This time will be no different.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ren said with a sigh.

“I am. And until you go back, we can keep working together. That way you can impress your lady friend when you return.”

Time slowed to a crawl, and while Lavenza still sounded like she was calling from a place with bad reception, it came through clearly enough. Sadly, she gave him no extra information on how to find her this time.

Isis-Urania , huh? Maybe this world has completely different Arcana or something.

“Oooh, is she pretty?”

“...Huh?” Maria’s question came out of left field.

The girl clarified, eyes practically sparkling. “Your lady friend! That means you like her, right? Is she pretty?”

It clicked. “Oh! No, she’s not my lady friend like that. Just a friend who happens to be a lady. She is very pretty though, yes.” He waved off his new confidant, who was making silent apologies from behind Maria.

“Oh…” Maria looked contemplative, and maybe a little disappointed? Ren wasn’t sure. She rallied quickly, however. “Then do you have a lady friend?”

“I do, and yes,” Ren held out a hand to forestall the inevitable, “she’s very pretty.”

“Okay Maria, that’s enough,” Fabienne called out, preventing Maria from asking what may well have been a thousand follow-ups. But just as he was about to thank her—

“Dinner service is starting in earnest. You can ask him all about her after we’re done.”

…Judas.

Royal Capital Grand Trad → Belega Corridor

Hulkenberg was upset. No, upset was too strong a word. Annoyed? Vexed? Yes, vexed.

Hulkenberg was vexed.

It was apparent that Ren was continuing to put effort into finding a way home, primarily through the forming of bonds. She wasn’t clear about the mechanics behind his so-called confidants, but it had something to do with them both strengthening his magic while simultaneously allowing him to get closer to this “Lavenza”. He seemed rather confident that she would know the means of transporting him home, or at the very least possess the knowledge of how he came to be here.  

So Ren proceeded, much like Will, to manifest these bonds of his. Just yesterday, she was party to the establishment of a new one with Fabienne. As far as she was aware, that made a bond with almost everyone he called friend. Everyone except her! Vexing indeed.

It wasn’t as if she required a bond between them as proof of their camaraderie. After all, she had received a nickname from him—surely that was an indication of their friendship. And Ren had not formed a bond with Gallica either. But perhaps fairies, born of magla as they were, could not partake of this peculiar magic that originated in his world. Nevertheless, it was… difficult to not view their relationship as somehow less than, when there was a clear marker for deeper connection. 

Hulkenberg sighed. You are acting a child, Eiselin. He has already pledged his sword to the same cause as you. All else is superfluous.

“Something bugging you?” Ren asked. They were seated opposite each other in the carriage that was currently taking them to Belega.

And yet, what harm is there in trying to affect a desired outcome? Another bond would be beneficial to him, surely. And proactiveness is a good trait for a knight to have!

“Nothing of consequence, I assure you. I just realized that, although we are married to the same cause, we do not know much about each other.” There. Learning about each other’s pasts should facilitate things, no?

Ren considered for a moment. “True, I’ve told you what I went through in my world, and a bit about my plans for the future. But nothing about who I was as a person.” He nodded. “Fair enough, what do you want to know?”

“Perhaps you could tell me about your family,” she proffered.

“Well, my dad’s name is Sakura Sojiro. Oh wait, I suppose here you’d reverse those. Sojiro Sakura then. He runs a small café in a tucked away neighborhood. It doesn’t do the best business, but that’s never seemed to bother him. It’s comfy and relaxing. What else… oh! Well, he makes this amazing curry—it’s a dish where I come from, I’m not sure if there’s anything similar here—and it was pretty much the first thing I ever learned how to make. You could say he was the one that really got me into cooking in the first place.” Ren was now smiling fondly as he continued.

“And then there’s my little sister, Futaba. She’s… a lot.” He laughed. “She’s more or less a genius, and it takes a bit of effort to keep up with her. And good luck when she’s talking about something she loves. I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt completely lost in conversations with her. And she’s shy. Doesn’t handle strangers well, though she’s been doing way better with that lately. But once she’s gotten to know you, the walls come down completely. For better or worse.”

“And your mother?”

“No mother. Well, Futaba had a mom—her name was Wakaba. And dad was definitely in love with her. But nothing ever happened there. After Wakaba passed away, he managed to get custody of Futaba, and they’ve been a family ever since.”

Hulkenberg frowned. She was missing something.

“You said your father’s name is Sojiro Sakura, yes?” Ren nodded. “Forgive me, but is your last name not Amamiya? Is it not customary in your world that family share the same last name?”

A shadow passed over Ren’s face, and for a few moments Hulkenberg was worried that she had stepped over some invisible line. But eventually, he responded.

“No, you’re right on both counts. Sojiro isn’t my biological father. I’m adopted. I was just so used to my name that I didn’t want to go through the added headache of changing it. Plus, Ren Sakura doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry, if you’d rather not discuss it—”

“No, it’s fine. It happened a while ago, I’ve had the time to distance myself from it.” Ren inhaled and exhaled deeply. “My birth parents were… complicated. To them, a child was more of a status symbol than someone to love unconditionally. See, everything about their life was planned out. Married by 25, promotion by 32, blah blah blah. And that extended to their child. They planned for one by the time my mother turned 28. They had my life figured out before I even showed up. What I would study, what my career path would be—all designed to make them look better, more distinguished.

“So when I get old enough to finally start having my own opinions about my future, and those opinions weren’t in line with ‘the plan,’ well… you could say they were less than pleased. We fought all the time. They were insistent that I become a doctor, I was insistent that I become literally anything else. Eventually it became easier to just… avoid each other.” There was some pain in Ren’s eyes now, and Hulkenberg was beginning to feel guilty. “I remember how weird it was to go over to friends’ houses and see parents that loved and supported them unconditionally. It took me a while to realize that that was normal. That my parents were the outliers.

“And then the arrest happened. Suffice to say they didn’t believe my side of the story. If only I’d have stuck to their plan, I wouldn’t have turned out this way. On the day I left for my probation, they told me the court mandated that they couldn’t contact me. I didn’t find out until after it was over that they lied—they just didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. By the time my probation was over, they had signed custody of me over to the government. Renounced all parentage.”

Ren stared blankly at the carriage floorboards. Hulkenberg was awash in anger, guilt, and a palpable sense of commiseration. Anger at his pathetic excuse for parents. Guilt that she all but forced him to discuss this simply to satisfy a selfish need of hers. And commiseration because his story was uncomfortably familiar.

“I apologize, Ren. It was not my place to ask.”

Ren looked up at her and shook his head rapidly. “No no, don’t be sorry. Sure, it hurt at the time, but it was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me. Sojiro was already more of a parent to me after a few weeks than my birth parents ever were. I still remember the day I found out that I was suddenly a ward of the state—I don’t think more than ten seconds passed before Futaba was begging him to adopt me and he was assuring her that of course he would. Happiest day of my life, honestly.” He gave her that dangerously charming smile of his, and she instantly believed him. Whatever he had gone through, it clearly got him to where he wanted to be. Her guilt subsided rapidly, and that sense of familiarity grew.

“It’s strange. I feel as though you and I share a kinship of sorts.” Was she really going to discuss this? She never talked about her family. But it was only meet that she share after Ren did.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The Hulkenberg family is a prestigious and noble one. We hold considerable sway in Montario, the birthplace of Sanctism.”

“Wait, you're a noble?” Ren interrupted.

“I am, though you would not think it to look at me, nor would my family deign to acknowledge it, I’m sure. You see, my family is quite famous for producing statesmen. My father and brothers? Politicians all, and quite adept besides. And the women of my family are raised to support such endeavors. To be worldly, witty, and urbane, delicate yet strong, but never confrontational—the perfect accessory to the men they marry.”

“That… doesn’t really sound like you.”

Hulkenberg found herself involuntarily barking out a sharp laugh. “No it doesn’t, does it? For a while during my childhood, I tried to be the model girl our family produces. But it became readily apparent that my strengths lied in martial prowess, not political maneuvering. And as my strengths went, so too did my interests.

"When I approached my parents with the prospect of joining the knighthood, they were not proud. Just relieved. To them, it was not a place where I could pursue my dreams. It was a place they could stick me so that I could not further embarrass them. They even used their standing to secure me a place among their ranks, much to my consternation… Now, they want little to do with me, black sheep that I am. I consider myself all but disowned at this point, and like you, I believe it to be for the best.”

Despite her assurances, Ren still looked at her sympathetically. “Just because you arrived at where you belong doesn’t mean you deserved to suffer getting there.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“Yeah, I guess you could, Hulk.” Ren stared at her for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, waking Will, Strohl, and Gallica from their dozing.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Hunger! That’s perfect! Best one so far, hands down,” he managed to get out between wheezes.

Belega Corridor

Belega Corridor apparently used to be the palace of a country so old, even its name was lost to the passage of time. Now it was a degrading ruin, home to a variety of monsters that made a habit of attacking any traveler that passed too close.

“Incredible,” Strohl said, examining the giant door leading into the palace. “This place is properly ancient.”

“Remember, we’re here for the guptauros,” Hulkenberg said, pointedly avoiding Ren’s gaze. She was still a little miffed about her Arcana. “The ruins are novel, yes, but let us not stray from our purpose.”

“But there might be rare treasure…” Will said dejectedly.

“Yeah, Hulk! Treasure…” Ren tried matching Will’s tone, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

Hulkenberg narrowed hers, clearly conflicted between obeying her captain’s orders and ignoring Ren’s childishness. Strohl laughed, while Gallica just shook her head.

“You’re both idiots, you know that.”

“Phantom Thief rule number 9,” Ren intoned. “Always sweep a palace for treasure. You never know when you might find better weapons or armor.”

“Exactly!” Will nodded his head rapidly. “We can afford the extra time if it makes us stronger in the long run, don’t you think, Hulkenberg?”

She sighed. “You do make a good point, captain. Very well, let’s thoroughly explore.”

“It was my point,” Ren said flatly.

“Truly, captain, you come up with very wise decisions.”

“Oi.”

—

The ruins were teeming with goborns, which reminded Ren of the bog-standard goblins or orcs in the various RPGs he had played over the years. The group learned quite quickly why the Sunshade Row informant cautioned them against using maces and staves—the first time Will equipped Mage, it sent their enemies into a frenzy, making their battle much more dangerous than it needed to be. From that moment on, they made sure not to equip either the Mage or Healer Archetypes while in battle, though they were still safe using the latter to heal between skirmishes.

“So I had a question,” Ren said as they descended a set of stairs into the lower levels of the palace. “About the whole cathedral incident.”

The others looked at him questioningly, inviting him to continue.

“Why? I mean what was Louis’s plan there? He had to be aware of Zorba’s whole ‘Day of Calamity’ thing. But what does a rampaging human killing citizens get him?”

“Fear,” Strohl muttered. “It gets him fear. ‘Look at how terrifying these monsters are. How powerless you are against them. How much death and destruction they are capable of.’ And how he is the only one capable of putting them down. If we hadn’t killed it, he would have.”

“But only after it massacred enough people,” Will added.

“But he’s the one that brought it? People know that.”

“That hardly matters,” Hulkenberg said. “His fault or no, it does not change the fact that he expects people to realize he’s the only one capable of putting them down. His plan is to hold the country hostage. A score or two of dead citizens matters not to him.”

“That’s… that’s sick.” Ren said. “I understood from his speech that he was willing to rely on fear mongering to build up his support. But to purposefully orchestrate the mass murder of innocent people to prove his point is…” He trailed off. He couldn’t think of an adjective bad enough to capture his feelings.

“He’s done it before,” Strohl said. Will and Gallica shot him worried glances. “To an out of the way village called Halia. The village my family governed. My parents were good people. Good rulers. So when they received word that a human was approaching the village, they requested aid from the royal army. But help never came. The captain who got the request was in Louis’s pocket, and had orders not to send help. All so the populace could learn about Halia, the town wiped out by a human.”

Ren felt dead inside. “You’re parents…?”

“Gone. They died heroes, helping villagers escape until the end.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Strohl shook his head. “It’s in the past. And we’re on the path we are to hold him accountable. To make sure what happens to Halia never happens again.”

—

After thoroughly scouring the Belega Corridor for loot, including a pretty sweet Imp-Ending Pike, and encountering a surprisingly talkative and not at all aggressive Homo Tenta—affectionately called “wisdom teeth” by some, according to Hulkenberg—the group finally found themselves in front of a door deep inside the palace.

“I can sense the guptauros up ahead,” Gallica warned. “Are you guys ready?” They took a moment to heal up and check their gear, while Will conversed briefly with the ghost cat. Then they headed in.

The room was for the most part like every other, the passage of time stripping it of anything that would identify its original purpose. But there were two differences. One was the giant axe-wielding monster waiting for them in the center of the room. That was clearly the guptauros, though it looked for all the world to Ren like a minotaur. And the other was a strange cylindrical container leaning against the far wall. He couldn’t tell what it was from this distance, but it didn’t match the time period of the palace. At a glance, it looked almost futuristic. Ren winced as a brief spike of pain shot through his head.

It could wait. They had a monster to kill.

The fight wasn’t too difficult, especially when compared to what they just went through at Regalith. They needed to be cautious whenever the guptauros charged up and took aim, but its weakness to pierce damage meant that Hulkenberg and Ren had a field day. Honestly, the most memorable thing to come out of the fight was Hulkenberg’s opening line—Ren thought “You shall be rust upon my lance!” went incredibly hard.

“Okay, let’s cut off a horn as proof to bring back to Brigitta,” Will said once the beast was finally brought down.

“Imagine being gored by this thing,” Strohl said as he bent down to start hacking a horn off. “Eugh.”

“You guys handled that pretty easily,” Gallica praised. “And here I thought—Ren?”

Ren was ignoring the conversation, eyes glued to the strange object opposite the door now that the danger had passed. He approached slowly, ignoring the subtle headache that came on after the fight was over. Upon closer inspection, the container was definitely not created by the same country that built this palace. It was smooth and made of metal, with an airtight split down the front indicating that it could open, but it had no discernible handles.

“What is that thing?” Will asked. The group was now gathered around Ren and the container, looking at it cautiously.

“I’m not sure…” Ren trailed off. He looked closer at the capsule. Any markings indicating what it might be for were gone, if they ever existed at all.

“Hey, what’s this?” Gallica indicated something on the other side of the container. Ren moved around to check. Another stabbing pain in his head, the accompanying headache now too strong to ignore. Ren’s heart rate increased. He knew what this container was. Or at least he used to know. The wall in his mind, like so many times before, separated him from the answer.

“It’s a scanner,” he whispered largely to himself, almost too quiet to hear. “A biometric scanner.”

“A bio-what?” Strohl asked.

Ren didn’t answer, instead reaching a shaky hand out to the palm scanner attached to the side of the capsule. He had seen this thing before. Knew instinctively what to do to open it. Why? Again he rammed against the mental wall, and again came away with nothing more than pain.

He held his breath as he placed his palm against the scanner. For a torturous beat or two, nothing. Then:

“Biometrics scanned. Registered user detected. Amamiya Ren, codename: Joker.”

Ren gripped his head, trying to brace against the waves of pain now pulsing through him as the container hissed, vapor pouring out of its slowly opening doors. He didn’t even register that the capsule’s robotic voice was speaking Japanese.

“Ren!? What’s happening!?”

He couldn’t tell who was talking, not through the pain. Not through the instinctual need to push against the wall, to recover what he’d lost. He wasn’t sure he could respond even if we had the mental capacity.

The doors opened outward and the vapor gradually dissipated. Everyone but Ren took a step back, readying their weapons. Ren fought through the pain and looked into the capsule. He immediately had to fight back a choked sob.

It was his sister.

Futaba was right there. Right in front of him. She seemed to be sleeping, chest rising and falling slowly in a steady rhythm. Her dyed orange hair, a bit longer than it was back in high school, was braided, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses. And she was dressed in clothes that were identical to the ones he arrived in. How—why—wh—ugh this goddamn wall! 

“Ren?” Gallica sounded insistent. 

“It’s fine,” he managed to get out. “It’s fine, she’s… it’s fine.” The others lowered their weapons, but were still clearly on edge.

Futaba stirred slightly, wrinkling her nose and squeezing her eyes shut that way she did whenever he had to force her to wake up. After a few seconds, she groaned.

“Jussa fewmrreminutes Ren, pleeeeease…”

There they were. Perhaps the sweetest words he would ever hear. The headache and the mental block faded into the background along with almost everything else. Ren was only vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his face, and he exhaled a long, rattled breath he didn’t know he was holding. Eventually she opened her eyes. They roamed a bit before settling on Ren. She squinted, trying to make him out without her glasses.

“Man, that felt like pretty much no time at all,” she said weakly. “Good morning, Ren. How long have you been up? Ooo, better question, how long have we been asleep?”

“I… what…?” Ren was reeling, trying to rectify his current relief with her lack of any sort of confusion or concern. As he tried to get some words out, she reached down into her pocket and retrieved her glasses, which she promptly slid on.

“WHOA! Is that an elf!? And those horns! Tiefling maybe…!? Ren, did we get isekai’d into a D&D campaign!? I told Mitsuru that her team needed to quadruple check their work, this whole thing was a prime setup for some otherworldly shenanigans.”

And just like that, the wall crumbled.

Chapter Text

Chiyoda, Tokyo - 20XX

“I am so sorry I’m late, classes ran long and I missed the train. Have you been waiting a while?”

Ren chuckled. “You know, it’s okay if something in Jinbocho caught your eye on the way over.”

Makoto froze halfway into lowering herself into her chair. Slowly her eyes tracked upwards, meeting his with an unspoken question.

Ren gestured at the bag she was carrying, where the tops of three books could easily be seen.

Makoto flushed bright red and finished sitting down, quickly stuffing the bag into her larger tote. As soon as her hands were free, she quickly tucked her hair behind her right ear. His favorite of her nervous habits.

“Ahah… sorry, it’s just some books about the Shinsengumi caught my eye, and they were seventy-five percent off.”

“Ah, yeah they’d probably be gone by the time you got back over there.”

Makoto smiled, grateful that he wasn’t choosing to grill her about her white lie. “Exactly! And you know how much I’ve been interested in law enforcement during the Tokugawa Shogunate lately.”

“Plus, the Shinsengumi’s flag has your name on it. Those guys had great taste.”

Makoto beamed at him. “You read up on them!”

“Of course,” Ren said. “I follow all my Queen’s commands.”

“Oh really? You know, I noticed when I left this morning that the dishwasher still hasn’t been emptied.”

“I follow most of my Queen’s commands.”

Makoto smirked and shook her head before picking up her menu. She had found this place a few years ago on one of her many visits to Book Town, and it had become one of their go to restaurants. Today Ren was meeting her here so they could go apartment hunting. Their current place was nice enough, but with their landlord deciding to hike up the rent, it seemed like a good time to see what else was available. They’d both been saving up enough that an upgrade was doable.

After they both put in their orders, Makoto let out a small sigh. “I’m still not sure about this.”

Ren quickly squashed the frustration that started welling up inside him, reminding himself that it was perfectly reasonable for her to be hesitant. “I thought you were convinced after dinner with Sae on Thursday?” he asked.

Makoto shot him an apologetic look. “I know, and I thought I was. It’s just… is this really the time to be looking for a new place? Every major country is spending billions looking into you-know-what. Plus, you heard what happened in France?”

“I did…”

“That city was where their main research lab was located. I find it hard to believe that’s a coincidence.”

Ren leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “But Mako, if we keep waiting for things to get back to normal, to get better—”

“—we’ll be waiting indefinitely. I know.” Makoto stared at the condiments placed between them in the center of the table. Or rather, stared through them. Ren reached across the table for her hand, which she turned palm up on instinct. He said nothing, just took it and watched her as she worked through whatever was running through her mind.

“I’m scared,” she finally whispered, barely loud enough for Ren to pick out over the sounds of other customers’ conversations. She squeezed his hand tightly.

“I know. But we’ll be okay. We’ve basically got the entire Kirijo group in our corner, and I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of anybody crazy enough to get on Mitsuru’s bad side.”

That elicited a weak laugh from his girlfriend, and she finally took her eyes off the soy sauce to look at him. “True, she is quite intimidating. She makes my sister seem like a pussy cat by comparison.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ren said, suppressing a shudder. His mind flashed back to the night they had told Sae they were moving in together. All he could think afterwards was that he was lucky she wasn’t the prosecutor for his assault case—he’d probably still be behind bars.

“Look,” he continued. “If you want to stay put, I’m fine with that. I’m fine wherever you are. I just don’t want us to let the fear of hypotheticals keep us from doing what’s best for us.”

Makoto’s eyes softened and she started gently running her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re right. We already decided on this. The pros outweigh the cons.”

“I know, I saw the whiteboard.”

“Oh hush.” Makoto withdrew her hand as she saw the waiter approaching with their order, which drew a small whine from Ren. She just rolled her eyes. That was one downside of dating Makoto for almost four years now—she was much less susceptible to his uniquely stupid brand of flirting. Oh well, there was always room for improvement. He’d just have to up his game.

—

They were halfway through lunch when Ren received a call. Normally he’d let it go to voicemail while eating, but the caller was someone they were just talking about. He showed his phone screen to Makoto, and she grimaced before giving a nod. Ren quickly got up and walked out of the restaurant to take the call.

“I need you to come to our Shibuya labs.”

“Well hello to you too, Mitsuru.”

An audible sigh on the other end. “While normally I wouldn’t mind your Joker-esque quips, this isn’t the time.”

Something in the CEO’s voice gave Ren pause. There was an edge to it that he hadn’t heard before. Granted, he didn’t talk to the Kirijo Group’s leader very often, but when he did, she was always calm and controlled. This was new.

Ren swallowed and dropped the casual tone. “Is it serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Makoto and I will be right over.”

“I’d prefer it be just you. You’re the leader of your team, and I want to discuss this with the leaders before we go wider.”

Ren frowned. “You know I’m not going to keep this a secret from her. She already knows you’re calling me.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You can let her know everything I’m telling you right now. Just, please Ren. I need you to get down here as soon as you can. Only you.”

With a start, Ren realized what was giving her voice that edge. It was fear. Could Mitsuru even get scared? What could possibly scare her? His mind couldn’t help going back to the conversation he just had with Makoto. 

That. That could scare her.

“Yeah okay, I’ll make my way over as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. Narukami was visiting Inaba when I called him, so you should have a couple of hours. And Ren?”

“Yeah?”

“Please keep this between you two. For now.”

A wave of dread started washing over him.

“Yeah.”

Shibuya, Tokyo - 20XX

Makoto was much more understanding than he would have been were he in her shoes—“Kirijo-san has her reasons. I’m sure she’s doing what’s best given the situation.”—and so that’s how Ren found himself alone in front of the giant Shibuya skyscraper that housed multiple Kirijo divisions. The automatic front doors were almost permanently stuck open with the steady stream of employees returning from their lunch breaks. Ren stood out quite a bit as he waded through the sea of suits, first up the stairs, then through the doors into the main lobby, then into one of the elevator bays off to the side of the information desk. While a few people gave him odd looks, the badge attached to the lanyard around his neck stopped them from asking him if he was supposed to be there. Keeping his eyes to himself, he walked to the far end of the bay, swiped his badge, and pressed the down button to summon an elevator. That got him a few whispers, but he ignored them. Let them wonder why a college aged kid dressed in a button-down and jeans had access to the secure basement labs. The elevator arrived and Ren stepped inside. Blessedly, he was alone.

This wasn’t the first time he had visited the Kirijo labs in Tokyo, and it certainly wasn’t his first time dealing with the company as a whole. Hell, he was pretty sure he was technically on their payroll. Shortly after the whole EMMA fiasco, Mitsuru had reached out to the Phantom Thieves wondering if they’d like to join the Shadow Operatives and work alongside fellow Persona users to investigate cognitive worlds and fight shadows whenever they appeared. While none of the group had accepted a full time position, they all agreed to be placed on standby, which meant that the Shadow Operatives could call on any of them if help was needed. Since then, Ren had gotten to know most of both the former SEES members and the Investigation Team fairly well. Thankfully, no new world ending scenarios had popped up in the years since, and the call to arms had never come.

Until now, maybe.

If this had to do with what he thought it did, he wasn’t sure what a handful of Persona users could do to help. Or maybe some new, entirely unrelated threat had appeared. A new cognitive god, perhaps?

Ren was pulled out of his thoughts by the ding indicating the elevator had reached his desired floor. These labs occupied a single level and were spread out far beyond the bounds of the building above. Not for the first time, Ren found himself wondering what kind of land rights and permits the Kirijo Group must have to enable them to build a facility so massive and entirely underground. He exited the elevator and turned right, heading down a nondescript white hallway towards the conference room he was always directed to when he came here. He was about halfway there when a voice called out from behind him.

“Is that Renny from the Block I see?”

Ren froze and slowly turned around, a look of incredulity on his face.

“I’m sorry, was that a Jennifer Lopez reference? Really dating yourself there, Kotone.”

“Says the twenty-year-old who got the reference,” the woman said with a laugh, jogging to catch up with him.

Takeba Kotone was a strange one, in that she was the only person besides Futaba that Ren had met who could keep up with his particular brand of chaos. She was always bubbly and always willing to follow along with his attempts to derail conversations, when she wasn’t derailing them herself. To be honest, Ren wasn’t sure how she did it—he may have gone through some stuff, but she easily won gold in the Suffering Olympics. Bounced around from foster home to foster home with her twin brother only to land smack dab in the middle of that Dark Hour stuff. Then forced to watch as her friend bled out from a gunshot wound. THEN forced to watch as her Wild Card brother sacrificed himself to keep Nyx from killing… well, everyone. He would have expected her to be a bit more somber and a bit less sunshine. Not that he was complaining.

“So tell me, old soul in a young man’s body—when are you and ‘Koto going to tie the knot?” she asked with a teasing grin once she caught up with him.

“Hah. You’re just looking forward to the open bar.”

“Rude!” Kotone said, all mock outrage. “I’ll have you know I’m a firm proponent of true love and all that mushy goodness.”

“Aaaand?”

“...And Yukari dances like a maniac when she’s drunk. You’ve gotta see it.”

Ren shot the shorter woman a look. “Who says we’re even going to invite you?”

“I says. Well, me and the awesome wedding gift I’ll be sure to bring.”

“Fine, I think we can squeeze you guys in,” Ren said with a chuckle.

“How magnanimous,” Kotone said before fixing Ren with her best shit-eating grin. “And I noticed you didn’t deny that you were going to get married. Foregone conclusion, is it?”

 “If I don’t screw it up. God knows I’m not gonna be the one to break up with her.”

“Whipped, are we?”

Ren laughed. “You have no idea. So… any clue what this is about?”

The smile slid off Kotone’s face and her head dropped. She seemed suddenly interested in the floor.

“That bad?”

“I dunno, Ren. It’s definitely not good. It may end up being nothing, but…”

“But if it ends up being something?”

Kotone looked back up at him and bit her lip. “Then yeah. That bad.”

Ren inhaled slowly before letting out a shaky breath. “Lovely.”

Kotone hummed but said nothing else, and they remained in silence the rest of the way to the conference room. They entered to find Mitsuru ready and waiting at the head of the long table. Nobody else was there.

“It’s good to see both of you,” she said.

“Hey Mitsuru.”

“Hiya, Mitsu.”

The lady in question gave them both a warm smile. “Narukami should be along shortly. I just received a notification that his badge was swiped upstairs.”

Ren took a seat near Mitsuru’s end of the table, and Kotone took the spot next to him. They waited in pregnant silence for the last member of the group to arrive. Ren briefly considered trying to pry information out of either of the women ahead of time, but Kotone would just sidestep his attempts, and he assumed making Mitsuru do anything she didn’t want to was an exercise in futility. After a few minutes, the door opened again and Narukami Yu strode in, slightly out of breath.

“Sorry about the wait, I rushed over from the station as fast as I could.”

“It’s no trouble, the others arrived just before you.” Yu nodded at both Ren and Kotone in greeting. Ren nodded back, while Kotone shot him a finger-gun. He took a seat opposite Ren.

“Okay, let me get right to it then,” Mitsuru said without preamble. The tension in the room was very palpable. “I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that there was an ‘incident’ in France yesterday.”

“The news is saying it was a nuclear reactor meltdown,” Yu said.

“Yes, well. I can definitively say that there is no indication of any fallout anywhere in the country.”

“You mean…?” Ren prodded.

“Yes,” Mitsuru answered, eyes hard. “Someone finally succeeded. Well, I say succeeded, but it’s clear from the number dead that they had no idea what to expect. We’re assuming that however they did it, it allowed a large number of shadows through at the same time, and now the entire region has gone dark.”

Ren’s heart dropped. He remembered a few years ago, when the theory of Cognitive Psience started being taken seriously by several governments around the world. The various strange occurrences in Japan over the past decade or so had been downplayed as much as was possible thanks to the Kirijo group, but after the high profile adventures of Ren and his team, people finally started taking notice. From there, research started moving forward on multiple fronts, all well away from the public eye. 

What they ended up discovering was the essence of what made the Cognitive Realm, as it was collectively termed, work. A particle of sorts that was capable of taking thoughts and emotions and actualizing them. Making them real, after a fashion. They dubbed it Magla, and it explained a lot. Why shadows took the form of beings from mythology and folklore, why public perception influenced what could be accomplished while there, why personal belief could enhance innate skills, and why the shadow versions of real humans were much more in tune with the parts of them they tried to keep hidden.

Piggybacking off of this discovery, the Kirijo Group eventually concluded that with a strong enough will, one could control Magla, and this, in essence, was what Persona users were. People able to shape the particle at will, allowing for the manifestation of any number of effects, from fire to lighting to nuclear explosions sans radiation. Personas themselves were a mental construct that made it easier to affect these changes—a representation of a user’s will given form by Magla to act as a focus. When someone awakened, the Cognitive Realm itself simply found an existing cognition that closely matched the user’s psyche and presented it. It explained why all known Personas were characters or entities that had been imagined or perhaps even existed at some point, and were known to a large number of people.

World powers being what they were, there was an immediate rush to research the Cognitive Realm so that Magla could be somehow harnessed, ostensibly as a power source, but more likely as a weapon. And the best way to accomplish that was by becoming a Persona user. It turned out, however, that the ability to awaken Personas was quite rare. The Shadow Operatives suspected that it had something to do with Wild Cards—that people could only awaken to the power when their fates were intertwined with them, and that Wild Cards themselves only appeared when they were needed to combat some greater threat to humanity. What exactly governed when Wild Cards showed up or what gave them the ability to wield multiple personas was yet to be determined. Whatever the case, agencies the world over had little luck awakening new users. They then tried locating and recruiting existing users, their methods sometimes not entirely above board. Ren couldn’t speak for any Persona users outside the country or that the Kirijo group was unaware of, but Mitsuru did a good job of diverting attention away from anybody connected to the Shadow Ops. Gradually, governments gave up on trying to gain Persona users altogether, and shifted to two new goals.

The first was trying to come up with a way to wield Magla without relying on a Persona as a focus. There would be no need to awaken if anybody could just use a piece of technology to generate a fireball on command.

The second, and far more concerning, was the attempt to physically bring Magla outside of the Cognitive Realm and into reality. Mental shutdowns were all well and good, but the ability to wield the power of that world as a weapon in this one was too good to pass up.

Which brought them to now.

“So this was an isolated incident?” Ren asked. “Some attempt at harvesting Magla gone wrong?”

“No.” Mitsuru shook her head solemnly. “We thought that at first too. Just some experiment that backfired. Another incident like the one that gave birth to the Dark Hour. But there were some readings we managed to detect, ones that indicated that they were successful, at least in part. We picked up those same readings again this morning, coming from one of their auxiliary facilities. And this time, there was no panic, no death. No attempt at a coverup.”

“Which means that someone has finally figured out how to bring Magla from that side over to this one,” Yu concluded.

“We think so. And France is part of NATO, which means that many more countries will soon have access to their method, if they don’t already.” Mitsuru took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her mouth. “I believe I already told you what this could mean.”

The other three nodded, the consequences of the news struggling to sink in. Being able to rely on the powers of the Cognitive Realm in the real world essentially represented a huge leap forward in warfare. Every player on the world stage would be scrambling to harvest Magla and develop new and devastating ways to use it. The idea of a World War fought with magic at the forefront was very real now. But that wasn’t even the worst possible result.

Mitsuru stood up and started pacing the length of the room. “If it turns out we’re right, and that team has really discovered how to reliably source Magla, the Kirijo Group has plans to get out in front of it as much as possible. All of us already have experience with the Cognitive Realm bleeding into reality, but those were small, isolated incidents separated by a decent amount of time. Reality had the ability to recover and those rents had time to close.

“But now? We’ll have potentially countless countries poking holes into the Cognitive Realm multiple times a week if not more often. The odds of the barrier between our worlds holding up to such constant and unrelenting pressure are slim. And while the Kirijo Group’s influence is far reaching, I have my doubts as to whether our warnings will stay anyone's hands.” She finally stopped pacing and took her seat again, suddenly looking tired and, Ren noticed with surprise, scared.

“We have to face the very real possibility that what Narukami and Ren worked so hard to avoid will happen. The Cognitive Realm could potentially fully merge with this one. And without a cognitive god at the helm, I have no idea what that would look like.”

There was silence as the other three tried to come to terms with what Mitsuru had presented. Finally Kotone spoke up, “So why exactly did you call us here? Ren and Yu I get—this seems like prime Wild Card business. But me?”

“To talk contingency plans,” Mitsuru answered. She looked at the two men in turn. “Have either of you heard anything from the Velvet Room?” 

They both shook their heads.

“Unfortunate. I’m treating this as less of a meeting with Wild Cards and more a meeting between leaders. If this is a situation that Persona users can handle, then I’m hoping the Velvet Room will reach out. Either that or a new team with a new Wild Card will be formed, in which case there would be almost no way of knowing or helping. No, I’ve called you three because you’re the leaders of your respective teams. Don’t look at me like that Kotone, you know it’s true.”

The woman in question looked like she had just swallowed something rancid. Ren felt like he understood where she was coming from though. Yuki Makoto was both the leader and Wild Card of SEES while they were dealing with the Dark Hour, and Kotone was her brother’s second-in-command. After his death she did take up leadership of the Shadow Operatives’ field team, but it was a begrudging acceptance, and Ren had heard from multiple people that Kotone never liked being called leader. He guessed it brought up too many bad memories.

“We have no way of knowing how things are going to proceed from here on,” Mitsuru continued when Kotone made no further objections. “But we should prepare for the worst. To that end, I greenlit a project back when Cognitive Psience started gaining traction.”

Mitsuru reached down to grab a briefcase leaning against her chair. She picked it up and placed it on the table, then opened it. 

“I want to be clear that I consider this project our last option.” She took three folders out and slid them across the table to each of them. “I sincerely hope we never have to implement it. But at the very least I need you three to be aware of it so that we can discuss its viability.”

Ren took his folder hesitantly and opened it to find a few sheets of paper. As he skimmed through the information, Ren’s disbelief and dread steadily grew in equal measure. This was—

“This is insane, Mitsu!” Kotone said, slamming her folder down on the table with an echoing smack. Mitsuru didn’t seem surprised in the slightest at her friend’s reaction.

“It does seem a bit… out there,” Yu agreed, brow furrowed. “And this all really works? It sounds like you lifted it from a science fiction book.”

It really did. A bank of stasis pods, placed in a bunker deep underground, isolated enough to withstand almost anything and everything that could theoretically be thrown at it. The pods themselves were capable of keeping their occupants alive for thousands of years if necessary. The idea was that they would use these pods only if facing a potentially world ending situation, as it would afford them the best odds for outlasting armageddon.

“Well Ren? Tell her she’s insane,” Kotone said. “She’s always surrounded by yes men, so she needs someone to knock her down a peg every once in a while.”

Ren met Mitsuru’s eyes. The older woman wore a bemused expression.

“Well, you’re not not insane.”

Mitsuru smiled to herself. “I suppose I would have been more concerned if you were behind it from the start. To answer your question, Narukami—yes, it is feasible. The team I’ve assigned to the project has managed to finish a prototype, and testing of both the stasis capabilities and power capacity are proceeding according to expectations. And Kotone, I would remind you before you claim that this technology is ‘insane’ again that you have a sentient machine capable of human emotions on your team.”

“That’s—shit, that’s a good point actually. Objection withdrawn, I guess?” Kotone shrugged. “So if you already know this will work, what do you want our opinions on?”

“Who should occupy the pods, to start. After all, the number we can support will be limited.”

Ren didn’t like this. He wasn’t in the habit of ranking people in terms of who should be saved, especially when it was assumed that those who didn’t make the cut would absolutely die. That, and he never expected to ever be put into a situation where he was building a fantasy roster for the end of the world.

“I… imagine you’ll want to reserve some spots for the leaders in important scientific fields?” Yu said after some thought. “That’s usually a given in most of these ‘rebuilding humanity’ stories.”

“Maybe some world leaders too?” Ren added.

“I agree with the former, but not the latter,” Mitsuru said. “Scientific knowledge and aptitude is something that can’t easily be built up if we were to lose it. Conversely, leadership is a soft skill. Yes, there are those more naturally gifted at it than others, but it doesn’t require prior knowledge to improve at it, not like the others.”

“Yeah Renny,” Kotone chirped, “as long as humanity exists, so too will there be rich old dudes who think they’ve earned the right to rule over the rest of us. No need to bring them along for the ride.”

“Huh. Yeah okay, I’m convinced,” Ren said with a smile. Leave it to Kotone to be able to lighten up even this kind of conversation. “So, fill all the pods with geniuses basically?”

“Not all, no,” Mitsuru said. “I was planning to reserve some for us.”

“Us?” Yu asked.

“Our teams.”

The three of them exchanged looks. “Isn’t that kind of… selfish?” Kotone asked. “Don’t get me wrong, the pods sound way better than dying, if those are the only options. But if we’re only breaking these bad boys out for the end times, then aren’t there others who are more deserving?”

“Under almost any other circumstances, I’d agree with you,” Mitsuru replied. “But if the world ‘ends,’ for lack of a better term, because of these events, what will be left over?”

“...A world awash in Magla,” Ren muttered, realizing what she was getting at.

“Either that or merged with the Cognitive Realm somehow,” Yu followed up.

“Exactly.” Mitsuru gave a quick nod. “And in either case, there will be dangers if and when we wake up. Dangers that Persona users will be uniquely equipped to help with. I would also like to allow for friends and family, at least as much as can be accommodated.”

“Why?” Ren asked.

“Would you get in a pod knowing you were leaving those closest to you behind to die? Would any of your team?”

Ren tried to imagine leaving Sojiro behind to save himself and Futaba. Or Ann leaving behind her parents or Shiho. Makoto leaving behind Sae. “Fair point,” he conceded. The other two looked like they had gone through similar thought exercises and had arrived at the same conclusion.

“Well, that and I think it’s okay to be a tad selfish,” Mitsuru added with a wan smile. “After all, we each essentially saved humanity—some of us on multiple occasions. And should the worst come to pass, we might save it again, though in a different way. I would go so far as to say we’re entitled. “

“Alright, sounds reasonable,” Yu said. “I always enjoyed living, for the most part. It’ll be nice to keep doing that.”

“Good,” Mitsuru said. “Onto the next point, then.”

And so the meeting continued. They discussed various things: 

What would have to happen in the world to make them get into the pods—a World War that was definitively headed for mutually assured destruction. 

How many pods could be supported if they had enough manufacturing time to reach the upper limit—around six hundred to guarantee genetic diversity if they truly were all that was left, though that number would become more definitive when testing was finished. 

How and when they would wake up—this one they had to table until they spoke with people that could make more accurate guesses about what dangers there would be and how long they’d need to wait to best avoid them. Though Yu pointed out that if they were working under the assumption that they were pretty much all that was left, the length of time they were in stasis wouldn’t really matter. Probably best to shoot for the maximum.

Who they could talk to about this—Mitsuru asked that they limit it to their teams and immediate family. The more people knew, the higher the potential of a leak, and nothing good could come of this going public. The others agreed.

As the minutes turned into hours, Ren’s perception of the situation changed. At first, he almost felt removed from it all. As if what they were discussing were a thought experiment or the plot to a movie script they were writing. But as they continued on and drilled into more and more of the specifics, that sense of detachment gradually fell away and was replaced with horror. Because in that room, they were planning for the end of the world. An event that was once reserved as a backdrop for hypotheticals between friends as they rode the bus to their field trip or waited in line at the amusement park. It was now seeming more and more like it would occur within their lifetimes.

—

Things got worse. Fast. The following few months we like a highlight reel of terrible developments, one after another. Like Mitsuru guessed, a few days after their meeting, they got word that a slew of other countries had started harvesting Magla. A few weeks after that, word finally leaked out to the public, and boy was that a fun time. Since then, it was seemingly all people talked about, which was fair—it’s not every day you find out that magic is real. It did get tiring though.

Soon after, various countries started making meaningful progress on their Magla wielding instruments. Various weapons capable of simulating what Persona users were always able to do started being manufactured en masse. Governments promised that civilian use tools were on the horizon to placate the public and those lawmakers that weren’t interested in pursuing war, but as far as anybody could tell, no real effort was being made. Tensions rose as various countries that stood opposed on the global stage started rattling their sabres, or wands, if you wanted to be more accurate.

And then a month later, there was a skirmish near the border of two countries that were at-odds. And military alliances being what they were, mere days later war was declared between seemingly every country in the world. Ren felt like he was living through a recreation of the opening days of World War 1, and it was terrifying. Japan, being an island nation with a strong military, was thankfully not turned into a warzone. Other countries were not so lucky. After that, it seemed like every day brought news of new battles, new weapons, and updated death tolls.

Eventually, things got bad enough that it was decided to go wide with the contingency plan, and Ren had the unenviable job of making the rounds, letting all of the people closest to him know that the call might come any day—we think the world is past the point of recovery, so get yourself to Shibuya ASAP. A few of his confidants took the news stoically. More tried to joke about it because taking it seriously was so much scarier. But they would be there if it came down to it. And two actually turned down the invitation entirely. Yoshida Toranosuke was part of the Japanese government and thanked Ren for allowing his family a berth, but insisted that he had an obligation to try to avert the worst case scenario as a representative of those who had no choice but to live or die with the consequences of this war. Ohya Ichiko likewise insisted that she couldn’t call herself a journalist if she didn’t see this through to the very end, whatever that end may be. Ren desperately hoped that at the eleventh hour, their sense of self-preservation would win out over their stupid, insane, and incredibly noble personal creeds.

And then it happened. A new weapon with the capability of wiping entire cities off the map. And wipe it did. The Kirijo group couldn’t get anything more than a name, seeing as anybody that was close enough to witness the use of this “dragon” was likely dead, but it used massive amounts of Magla, and as expected, it ripped open a huge hole in the barrier between reality and the Cognitive Realm. There was no coming back from this—multiple countries on opposite sides of this war had developed this new weapon, and now that it was used once, it would be used again. And every use meant another hole for Magla to bleed through. 

So the call went out.

—

“Okay, but you know how bishops have that weird cutout at the top? Like there’s just that strange curved slot on the head of the piece?”

Sae rolled her eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you know why it’s there?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“It’s so you can slot a card in there.”

“That’d can’t be right…” Makoto muttered.

“Wait for it,” Ren said, holding back a smile.

“And do you want to know why you’d want a bishop to hold a card?”

Sae’s eyes widened in realization. “Futaba, please n—”

“So it can become a CARD-inal!”

Ren burst out laughing, while Makoto just shook her head in exasperation.

“Futaba, that joke is terrible,” Morgana groaned from Ren’s bag.

“How dare you, it’s phenomenal! I won’t hear any slights against it!”

“You’d think she’d run out of these eventually,” Sae muttered to Ren.

“She’s just nervous.”

“Mm... well that’s understandable. She’s not the only one.” She absently gripped her left elbow with her right hand and squeezed tightly.

The elevator let them out at an even lower floor than the labs, opening at the end of a long hallway. Ren didn’t even know this floor existed, and it required the swiping of a special keycard to take them there. Slowly, they started walking forward. Ren noticed that Futaba had quieted, and was falling back on her old habit of shadowing him closely. He slowed and sidestepped simultaneously, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

“Thanks,” she whispered, and pressed closer. 

Eventually the hallway ended, and Ren got his first look at the bunker that housed the stasis pods. It was a single, warehouse-like room with metal capsules spread out equidistant from each other throughout. Technicians were running this way and that, busily preparing. Ren’s group wasn’t the first to arrive, but they were definitely the first of the Phantom Thieves or any of his confidants.Before they could enter the room proper, they were told to change into the clothes they would be wearing while in the pods—a shirt and pants made of some special compression type material that Ren assumed helped in some way he was too dumb to understand. After changing in a special room off to the side, a technician directed them to their assigned pods, all placed next to each other. There was also one for Sojiro, who was coming by later—he wanted one last shift at Leblanc, just him and the café.

They settled in and waited, each of them a bundle of nerves. Eventually, people Ren knew started showing up. He had small conversations with them, but nobody was in the mood for much talk. After thanking him yet again for providing them a space, they moved on to find their pods. He kept his eyes peeled for Yoshida and Ohya, but never saw them. Hopefully he had just missed them in the whirlwind of activity. 

Only other Phantom Thieves elected to stick around, telling whoever came with them that they’d catch up later. After thirty minutes, they had all assembled. Sae and Sojiro, who had showed up five minutes ago, hung back a bit to give them space.

“Man, this is heavy,” Ryuji said, looking around. “I was hoping that when I got here, I’d get psyched up, ya know? The next big Phantom Thieves adventure! But I dunno… it’s more scary than anything.”

“Mmm…” Ann hummed, twirling her hair nervously. “I guess that makes sense though. I mean, this kind of thing is exciting in books and anime and stuff, but when it’s happening to you? Like, what if something goes wrong? What if this isn’t enough? What if we—”

“It’ll be enough,” Ren said succinctly, praying that his feigned confidence wouldn’t be seen through.

“Ren-kun is right,” Haru said. “Mitsuru-san put her very best people on this. They accounted for every possibility and performed countless tests. All we need to do is have faith.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Ann-senpai,” Sumire said as she put a hand on the model’s shoulder. All these years, and she still couldn’t drop that honorific, Ren thought wryly. “It’s hard not to just… immediately jump to the worst possibility.”

Morgana climbed up onto Ren’s shoulder. “C’mon guys, we’re the Phantom Thieves! We’ve been through much worse than this, and we always came out on the other side fine!”

“I know Morgana-senpai, but this time is different,” Sumire said, downcast.

“Yes, unfortunately there is no enemy to fight. Simply us against fate,” Yusuke intoned. In typical Yusuke fashion, it was hard to tell that he was perturbed at all unless you knew exactly what to look for.

“Look, guys, I’m not going to pretend this is—” Ren stopped mid sentence and looked at Futaba, who had whipped her phone out and had it held up, camera facing him. “Can I help you?”

“This could very well be the final Joker speech! I need to record it for posterity’s sake.”

Haru and Sumire giggled, and Yusuke smiled softly.

“Hell yeah, Taba!” Ryuji pumped his fist, gaining some of his typical energy back. “Our leader does give some amazing speeches, we honestly should have been recording them from the beginning!”

“Like most great art, we were sadly unaware of their true worth until well after the moment of creation,” Yusuke said sadly.

“Jesus Christ guys, I was just gonna give a pep talk, but clearly you don’t need it.”

“Aww, now he’s sad!” Ann laughed. “Sorry Joker, if you want to start over, we’ll listen, we promise.”

Ren internally decided that playing the hurt leader was a much better way to raise everyone’s spirits, and so let them have their fun at his expense. He caught Makoto giving him a fond smile as the others started discussing what their favorite speech of his was.

“Aww, I really wish I hadn’t been so stubborn and joined you earlier,” Sumire said. “I missed so many good ones!”

“Guys,” Makoto cut in, and nodded her head at something behind the rest of the group. They turned around to see Mitsuru walking up to them.

“Hello, Phantom Thieves.” She smiled as she looked over the group, but Ren noticed it was  slightly forced. Understandable. “It’s good to see that even under these circumstances you can still laugh.”

“Sorry, Kirijo-san. I know this isn’t really the time or place,” Makoto said, starting to bow her head.

“Please, Nijima-san, I meant what I said. I think it’s a sign of strength, and we’ll have need of that no matter what kind of world we wake up to, I think.” Mitsuru waved off her apology before addressing the group as a whole.

“I came by to let you know that final checks will be starting in a few minutes. It will take some time for the technicians to make sure that everyone is properly situated, but they’re asking that everybody stand-by at their assigned pod so that they can get to work as soon as they reach you.”

“You heard the nice lady, time to disperse,” Ren said teasingly.

“Fiiiiine dad,” Ann said, rolling her eyes. Before she left she gave Ren, Makoto, and Futaba each a big hug. “I’ll see you guys when we wake up, yeah?”

Ren nodded. Eventually, it was decided to go with Yu’s plan to simply set the pods for the maximum length of time, with a caveat. Every few centuries, a designated individual would wake up to investigate and take readings. If it was deemed safe, they would proceed to wake everyone up. If not, they would place themselves back into stasis until the next designated check.

“I’m sure it’ll pass by quickly,” Makoto added. “We’ll be up before you know it.”

Ann laughed and rolled her eyes. “I swear, you two sometimes feel more like my parents than my actual parents.” And with that she left, returning to her actual parents and the Suzui family, who were all stationed together.

One by one, the others said their goodbyes and left. Even Morgana had to go. He and Koromaru had special pods designed specifically for them. Ren really hoped Koro-chan survived the trip—he was really getting up there in age. Eventually it was just Ren, Futaba, and Makoto.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Ren said.

“That’s what you’re gonna go out on?” Futaba asked. “Real weak, Renren.”

“Don’t make me stuff you into the pod with Morgana, you little gremlin.”

“Futaba?” Makoto cut in before she could fire back a shot. “Do you think I could talk to Ren alone for a moment?”

Something unspoken must have passed between the girls, because Futaba uncharacteristically responded without making any joke about their relationship.

“Oh. Uh, sure Makoto. I’ll just be, uh, over here, bothering Sojiro.” She hopped off to join their dad, who was chatting quietly with Sae.

“What was that ab—" Ren started, but was cut off as Makoto cupped his cheek gently and kissed him. After a few seconds, she pulled back and looked in his eyes. Ren wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but he prayed to god she found it. Eventually she spoke, voice quiet but emotionally charged.

“I love you. I need you to know that. More than anything else, I need you to understand that I love you.”

Ren felt something inside him tighten to the point breaking. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like this might be it. This won’t be it.”

She smiled knowingly. Her eyes were wet now with unshed tears. “I know, Ren. But just in case. I need you to know.”

Ren’s vision clouded. He looked away, blinking rapidly. This, right here. This might be the most difficult moment of his life. Ridiculous, if you thought about it. He’d faced down corrupt politicians, dirty cops, a sociopathic boy detective, a god of control, and a therapist who really should have invested in some therapy for himself, and a tech genius and her rogue AI. And yet, saying goodbye to Makoto, knowing that despite what he said, this really might be it—it was almost too much.

“...I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Makoto’s eyes widened, and she stared at him in silence for a few moments. But eventually she smiled warmly, cheeks tinged slightly pink.

“And I was going to say ‘yes.’ So I suppose you’ll just have to do it when we wake up.”

Ren wrapped her in a tight hug and kept her there for what felt like minutes. He was terrified of letting go. He felt her holding on just as tightly, and gradually became aware of her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. Desperate to raise her spirits, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You know, Kotone said that if we invited them, Yukari would get drunk at our wedding and dance like an idiot.”

“You told him WHAT!?”

Ren and Makoto both whipped around to see Yukari and Kotone walking past them on their way to their pods. Makoto quickly wiped away her tears. Yukari was glaring at her wife, who had her hands raised slightly in surrender.

“Maniac! I said you’d dance like a maniac, not an idiot! Thanks Ren, now none of us get to see it.” 

“Don’t blame him!” Yukari turned to Makoto and smiled. “Don’t worry, if you do invite us I promise nothing like that will happen. Not that I’m pressuring you to invite us or anything! Oh shoot, Mitsuru’s giving us that look of hers, we better go. Remember, no pressure!”

Yukari started jogging down the row of pods towards the redhead in the distance. Before Kotone followed, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Oh, it will happen, and I promise, it’ll be worth it.” She gave them both a wink and followed after Yukari.

Makoto watched them leave, giggling softly. “You know, I think I’d like to see that, honestly.”

Ren laughed along with her. “You sure? Inviting them probably means inviting everyone. I wonder if Teddie would show up in his bear form or not…”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before stepping back and turning for her pod next to Sae’s. 

“Only one way to find out,” she said over her shoulder, giving Ren a smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Joker.”

Well. That settled it then. Only one way indeed. He’d make it through armageddon on sheer willpower if he had to.

Chapter Text

Belega Corridor

Ren’s vision was swimming. He pressed his fingers into his temples as hard as he could, desperate for the headache to fade.

“Ren? Ren, are you okay!?” 

He could hear the panic in Futaba’s voice, and held out a hand to try and assure her that he would be fine. Ren forced himself to take deep, metered breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the pain faded and his vision returned to normal. He realized that at some point he must have fallen to his knees, because Futaba and Will were both looking down at him, concern written plain on their faces. He shakily got to his feet. Will reached out to grab him as he stumbled a bit, but Ren kept his balance.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just… remembered everything is all.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked slowly, hand still out to grab Ren if he went down.

Ren studied his face. Aigis. That’s who Will reminded him of. And Yuki, even though he’d only ever seen pictures of him. It was a bit uncanny, really. He shook his head to reset his thoughts.

“I mean the things I couldn’t remember. How I got here, why—”

He froze. Oh god. This wasn’t some other world, was it? This was Earth. This was the end result of a World War that happened who knows how many years ago. There was no getting home, this was home.

“Wait, you couldn’t remember anything…?” Futaba asked. “Did you what, have amnesia or something? Also, what language is this Aigis doppelgänger speaking, is he a robot too? Also also, where are we? Because this definitely isn’t where we fell asleep.”

She was right. Not about Will, obviously, but about not being in the Kirijo bunker. Why wasn’t she there? Why wasn’t he? He cast his mind back to the mines, hoping that the wall no longer separating him from his memories meant he had access to the window of time between when he woke up from stasis and when Will’s group found him. It was no use, those particular moments still eluded him for some reason. Maybe he was too out of it in the moment to remember anything?

Not only did both his and his sister’s pods become separated from the bunker, they became separated from each other. What did this mean for the others? Was every single person put in stasis scattered? Why did he wake up before Futaba? Did he wake up early? Did she wake up late? How late? Centuries…? Did all his family and friends already wake up and live their entire lives while he was asleep!?

…Did Makoto?

He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate. His vision narrowed and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Distantly he could feel Arsène desperately trying to ground him, but it was no use. He was too far gone. Everything was too far gone. His world, his friends, his—

He felt a hand wrap around his and whipped his head around to find Futaba staring at him, tears in her eyes. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could and smiled weakly.

“Hey… Um… Remember that night we were watching that movie with that lady and her daughter, you know the one where they were on the run?” Her voice was so quiet, but somehow it pierced through the rushing blood and drumming thuds. “And the mom couldn’t take it anymore and… and she killed herself? I spiraled so hard. All of those feelings, all of those memories of when I was so broken came back like they were never gone…

“Remember what you did? You held me tight and you told me that it was okay to feel the way that I did. That backsliding didn’t make me pathetic, it made me human. That me being so affected after so long was just evidence of how much I loved my mom. And that I’d… that this time would be different. Because I was stronger. Because I had you, and you’d never, ever let me go through anything else alone.”

Futaba let go of his hand and gently cupped his cheeks. Tears were flowing freely down her face, but she maintained eye contact, mauve irises locking onto gray. 

“I’m not so good at being on the other side of these things,” she said with a weak chuckle. “And I know that I can’t… that I can’t be your key item like you’re mine. But I think I know why you’re freaking the hell out, because I’m pretty sure I’m wondering the same things. So, um… I need you to listen to me. Please?”

Ren felt his breathing gradually slowing. He nodded numbly. Futaba took a deep breath.

“You aren’t weak. You’re human. You’re having a full blown panic attack because you care about all of us so much that it might actually be killing you. And that’s incredible, like seriously, nobody cares about people like you do. But you will get past this, and then you will find our friends. All of them. You’ll find her. Because you’re Amamiya Ren. You’re Joker. You’re my brother, and I love you so goddamn much. And most importantly, you’re not going to have to do this alone. I’m here, and I don’t know if you realized this, but I’m pretty awesome.”

Ren just stared at his sister in amazement. When did she get so strong? He was so surprised that it took him a moment to realize he was breathing normally and his vision and hearing had largely returned to normal. He laughed suddenly, which made Futaba jump a little.

She scratched her cheek. “What, was that too much? I heard it as I was saying it, I was like ‘Futaba, you’re trying too hard to be cool, dial it back,’ but noooo.”

“No no,” Ren said, smiling gently at her. “It’s just that you’re right. You are amazing. I mean, you’ve always been, but that was a new kind of amazing.”

“Oh.” Futaba blushed slightly. “Well um, okay, good then! I’m glad you recognize my awesomeness!”

“Sorry to interrupt, but uh… are you okay?” Will asked. Ren suddenly remembered that there were more people in this chamber than him and his sister.

“Oh god. Sorry Will, that must have looked confusing. Yeah I’m okay. We’ll I’m definitely not okay big picture-wise, but… Yes. I’m okay.”

“Oh. Okay, I guess that’s… good? Could we maybe ask you some questions then? Cause we’re a little lost.”

Ren looked past Will at the rest of the group. They each had expressions of varying levels of bewilderment.

“Yeah, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Ren said. He looked at Futaba, who had sidled closer to Ren as soon as Will spoke up. “But I think maybe most of it should wait until we’re somewhere a bit safer.”

—

The group’s egress from Belega Corridor was largely uneventful. The monsters that inhabited the long abandoned palace, either instinctively recognizing that the ruler of the dungeon was killed or having witnessed the party’s prowess from afar, wisely decided to give them a wide berth. Ren could sense goborns around him, but none entered his field of vision. 

He could almost feel the curiosity pulsing off his Euchronian friends in waves, but his biggest concern was getting Futaba out of here safely. He had introduced her as his sister, she gave her typical nervous wave when meeting new people, and they likewise introduced themselves. It took her a second to get a hang of the magical translation, which Ren was now realizing was a cognitive trick, but everything else could wait.  Futaba wasn’t a fighter, and Ren had no idea what Al Azif was capable of in this world.

It’s your world. Your world, except for the fact that pretty much every single thing you knew and loved is gone, and you can never get it back.

Ren shook the thought. There would be plenty of time for introspection when they were safely back in Brigitta’s carriage. He made sure to keep a close eye on Futaba, who was practically glued to him, her echoing footsteps a slightly quicker and lighter accompaniment to his own. He knew that she, like the others, was absolutely overflowing with questions, but he managed to convince her to hold them back. Knowing Futaba, that was a monumental task, but she remained silent, eyes permanently wide and scanning, desperate to take everything in.

Eventually they made it out of the Corridor and piled back into the carriage, signaling for the hired driver to ride for Grand Trad. Thanks to the efficiency of their dungeon dive, they would make it back to the capital comfortably before nightfall. The driver did a double take when he realized that there was one more returning than he dropped off, and that this one was an elda with bright orange hair. But Brigitta must have instilled in her employees the value of keeping silent and looking the other way, because he quickly schooled his features and asked no questions.

“Okay,” Gallica rounded on Ren as soon as they got settled. She was so close he could feel the breeze coming from her fluttering wings. “We’re out and safe. Now I believe there was the promise of some answers?”

“Is she a—”

“No,” Ren cut off his sister, who was staring at Gallica in fascination. “She’s not a Persona or a shadow. She’s a fairy. No, I don’t know how they came to exist. And yes, I did promise. But…”

“But...?” Gallica prodded after regarding Futaba with curiosity.

“It’s gonna be a lot. And I don’t know if you’ll believe me. And if you do, you might wish you hadn’t asked.”

“We’re hardly unaccustomed to distressing news,” Hulkenberg said.

“I know. But this is big. The ‘change your whole perspective on life’ kind of big.”

Strohl scoffed. “Out with it, Ren. At this point, it’d be worse not to know.”

So Ren told them. About how he was from this world’s past and how he came to arrive in this time. About the discovery of Magla and the development of the very first igniters. About how his ability to wield Personas was due to the Cognitive Realm leaking into this one long ago. About how everything that they ever knew came about because humanity couldn’t keep its shit together. About how there were likely hundreds of people in pods just like Futaba’s scattered all over Euchronia, and perhaps even father.

For the most part, they let him speak. Only a few clarifying questions here or there. They seemed to believe him, or at least they weren’t writing him off, which surprised Ren a bit—maybe he’d earned the benefit of the doubt after everything they’d been through this last week. When he was finished, they sat in silence, taking it all in.

“Hey Ren?” Futaba whispered while they waited for the others to process everything, “You’re gonna fill me in on everything after, right? I was sorta expecting a wasteland. You know, a rebuild humanity from scratch scenario. Not… this? I mean, they aren’t even human except for that Will guy.”

“He might not actually be human either, but yes, I’ll obviously fill you in.”

“Okay…” Will’s voice brought them out of their side conversation. “So if everything you told us is true… Sorry, this is a lot to take in. If everything you told us is true, that means your world is pretty much gone, yes? I mean I know it’s still technically the same world but…” He trailed off.

Ren pushed down the rising panic. The way Futaba reached for his hand and squeezed told him she was feeling the same thing he was. As he started answering, he had to fight to keep his voice even.

“Yeah, that’s basically what it means. Obviously more than just the two of us got in those pods, and we’re going to do everything we can to find them, but yeah. Our world as we knew it is gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered mournfully, lowering his gaze. The others wore pained expressions, likewise not meeting either his or Futaba’s eyes.

Ren was taken aback a bit. He had just told them that the entire history of their planet was wildly different from whatever they had grown up believing, and not only did they apparently believe him, their first reaction was to sympathize with him. To mourn what he lost even if they’d never experienced it themselves.

“So you basically start a new life in a new place, and immediately find awesome people. Again,” Futaba said, smiling at Will and company. “Wild Card magic is too OP. Still, I’m glad you weren’t entirely alone.”

“Yeah, they are pretty awesome. Wait till you hear what we got up to.”

“Wait,” Gallica piped up. “If this is… Earth, you called it? If this is the same world, then how come you haven’t been able to access that Velvet Room place you told us about? You were thinking it’s because you’d traveled somewhere else, but that’s obviously not true anymore.”

“That’s… actually a good question. I’m not sure. But the connection is getting stronger with the new bonds I’m making, so—”

“You’re making new bonds?” Futaba asked. “You haven’t done that in years! What do you think it means?”

“You mentioned that this Velvet Room appeared to you at a crossroads of sorts,” Hulkenberg offered. “That it was there to help you avert disaster?”

“Didn’t end up working out exactly like that, but yeah,” Ren answered, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Perhaps it communicating with you once more means that this world is again facing an ordeal it needs your help to overcome. Louis certainly qualifies as such, I would think.”

“Who’s Louis?” Futaba asked.

“Right. I guess this is as good a time as any.”

Truthfully, Ren wasn’t looking forward to this part. Euchronia was a far different place from the one they grew up in (although towards the end, the similarities were more pronounced, he supposed). Here, bigotry was common, even encouraged. Outside of the cities, fighting was expected and death was commonplace. To subsist in this world was one thing. But the mission he had promised to help with would naturally throw him into some of the worst this country had to offer. And apparently that mission was even more important now, because…

Because there was no going back. This was their world. This was where they would live and, god willing, grow old and die. Now Ren had to be even more determined to improve society here, for him and the people he loved. And Futaba was going to want to help. He knew her—knew she wouldn’t be able to sit back and watch. But could she stomach the person she’d need to be to make it through to the other side? Could he?

Either way, she needs to know. If she wants to help despite everything well… she’s earned that right, hasn’t she?

So, for the second time this trip, Ren found himself explaining a new and yet not new world to someone who had only experienced the other. He told her as much as he could, in as much detail as he could remember. Some of it was new to Hulkenberg, and even the other three hadn’t heard everything.

He told her about the people he’d met. About Fabienne and Maria and Grius. About the funeral, the King, Louis, losing Grius, saving Grius. About fighting through the cathedral and their confrontation with Zorba at its zenith. About the country. About the Sanctist Church. About the tribes and the bigotry. About him hearing Lavenza despite not being able to find the Velvet Room. About the request that brought them to where they found her. About the mission to save the Prince by killing Louis. About everything he could think of. 

Futaba was uncharacteristically quiet, asking no questions and making no quips. The others interjected here or there to clarify an aspect of Euchronian society he wasn’t quite clear on, or to provide their perspective on shared events. And through it all his sister just listened, eyes wide with rapt and steadily more morbid curiosity. 

When he finally finished, he honestly expected her to explode with questions. Maybe she was just being quiet so that she wouldn’t force him off course, lest she miss something. But no. When he had finally caught her up on everything, her expression grew introspective, as if she was still processing and sifting through it all. 

Ren was about to ask her if she was okay when the driver called out that they’d arrive back in Grand Trad shortly. Apparently telling both stories had taken the entire carriage ride. To his mind, the trip seemed to fly by. His throat, however, provided plenty of evidence that he had indeed talked the entire way back.

The news of their approach snapped Futaba out of her thoughts, and she rushed forward, sticking her head through the front flaps of the carriage and startling the driver in her desire to see the capital for the first time.

“You know, I’ve been thinking, and we really need to start investing in some disguises,” Strohl said as the group heard Futaba’s muffled apology to the driver. “That’s three elda we have now. If we’re looking to go unnoticed, that is not going to help.”

“Yeah I was thinking the same thing earlier,” Ren said. “Especially when two of us have hair that can be seen a mile off.”

Ren watched with amusement as Will grabbed some strands of hair from his bangs and stared at them self-consciously. Idly he thought about how devastated Futaba would be now that she couldn’t dye her hair anymore. Although…

“Slight tangent. Do you dye your hair Will?”

Will let his hair fall back into place. “Hm? No, it’s always been this color, why?”

“Just wondering if hair dye is a thing here.”

“It is indeed,” Hulkenberg said. “There are a number of the noble class that don’t accept aging with the grace and dignity as befits their station. Their desire to hide their graying hair means that dyes are a rather common, if expensive, good to procure.” She looked at Ren in confusion. “Though I confess I’m not sure how any of you three dying your hair would help hide your tribe.”

“No, no, that’s not why I asked, it’s… well I’ll tell you later. Anyways, disguises. I was thinking maybe some well made prosthetics? Maybe some ears that would make you look roussainte? Or face paint that could make us look rhoag. OH! What about a pair of horns attached to a headband? It’d be pretty easy to fake being clemar with something like that.”

“You don’t think people would be able to see through something like that?” Gallica asked skeptically.

“Not if they aren’t looking for it, no. Do any of you know anybody that might be able to do that kind of work discreetly?”

Will and Gallica just shook their heads.

“I mean, Grius would probably help you with rhoag markings, and dyeing your hair would actually help there,” Strohl mused, “but your ears would still give you away, at least on closer inspection.”

“I actually may know someone who may be able to create some items for us,” Hulkenberg said.

“You may?” Gallica asked.

“There’s a not insignificant chance that he has blown himself up since last I saw him.”

Will scrunched his brow up. “He uh… He sounds… interesting?”

“You know not the half of it.”

Royal Capital Grand Trad

“I know this is a lot to take in, but are you okay?” Ren asked tentatively.

The group was currently making their way to the Hushed Honeybee Inn with Ren and Futaba bringing up the rear, both hooded to draw slightly less attention. Will had broken off to go report to Brigitta, and they had all wisely agreed that he not mention the fact that they had found a non-monstrous human who had been frozen for who knows how long and whose very presence undermined the established history of the world. And the human in question was still being oddly quiet. Ren was starting to get worried that this was too much for her and she was withdrawing a bit.

Futaba mumbled something quietly, eyes taking in the city from under her hood. 

“Futaba?”

“I’m worried,” she said. Still quiet, but at least loud enough for him to hear.

“That’s understandable, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But we’ll figure out a game plan.”

Futaba shook her head. “No. I’m worried about you.” She stopped walking, forcing the crowd to flow around them. They received a few dirty looks, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Ren tried to get a good look at her face, but she was focused on the ground, and between their height difference and the hood, it was impossible.

“What do you mean?”

“Your story. The things you’ve seen. All those, you know, dead bodies? And your fight with that necromancer…” Futaba shook her head. “I still can’t believe those are actually real, it’s like we’re in a video game or something. But anyways!”

She looked up at him, and Ren felt a tug on his heartstrings when he realized that she had tears in her eyes.

“You’ve been through so much, and I know you, and I know you’re not the type to… to do what you did, and I’m just… I’m worried…”

Oh.

“Well I’ll give you the dead bodies, that was… not ideal. But it’s not like we’re strangers to fighting.”

She gave him the most impressive deadpan expression he’d ever seen on her. “That’s not the same and you know it. The Metaverse is all…” she waved her hands around wildly, “cognitive and stuff. This is reality. That Zorba guy was real, and so were all the zombies you had to stab to get to him. Which, again, zombies!? Video game stuff.”

She was right. He knew she was right. Hell, he had that conversation with Zorba about exactly the things she was concerned about. He hadn’t told anybody about it, but the truth was he was worried too. And if he was going to get through this, maybe he couldn’t do his usual thing where he internalized his problems and carried the burden on his own. After a few seconds of unbroken eye contact, he sighed.

“You’re right! You’re right. I get it. But ‘taba… it’s not like I had a choice.”

“I know! He did some really bad things, and he was gonna do some even worse things. You had to stop him. But I can still be worried…”

Ren smiled. “I know. I guess you’ll need to keep an eye on me then, huh? Make sure I stay the Joker you know and love?”

Futaba’s gaze hardened. “Don’t do that. You always blow serious stuff off by trying to be funny. Emphasis on 'trying.'”

“Really not pulling your punches, huh?” Ren rubbed the back of his head. “Okay. Real talk. I’m worried too. I’ve done things I’d never even considered having to do since I woke up and chances are I’ll have to do more if we’re going to save the Prince and start fixing this place. What if it all changes me? What if by the time we actually find Makoto, I’ve turned into someone she hates? What if I turn into someone I hate?”

Futaba’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. Whoa. Which is why I wasn’t kidding. I need you to keep an eye on me. I’m scared I might… lose myself. And as much as part of me hates that you’re going to have to go through this, another part of me is ridiculously happy because I need you here and it means I won’t be alone.” Ren chuckled mirthlessly. “And a third part of me hates that the second part of me is happy.”

“Oh. Heh…” Futaba laughed nervously. “Well, okay then. Guess someone does has to keep an eye on you. I’d prefer it to be Makoto because taking care of you seems like a lot of work, but I guess I can step in for a bit. But maybe we should find a therapist. Do they have therapists here?”

“I dunno, I’ve kinda sworn of therapists after my last one tried to rewrite reality.”

“Hah! That’s fair,” Futaba said with a smile, and started walking again before stopping suddenly. “I uh… don’t know where we’re going, and we lost the others.”

“Hey Futaba.”

She turned around and tilted her head. “What’s up?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re weird. Stop being weird.”

“Seriously, I mean it. What you did back at Belega, calming me down from my… was that a panic attack? That was impressive.”

Futaba grinned widely. “Mwehehe. Well after the bajillions of times you helped me with my stuff, I actually managed to pick up a thing or two. Just returning the favor, big bro.”

—

While Maria was still awake, the group collectively agreed to hold off on discussing the updated situation. They settled for explaining her as yet another person from Ren’s world that had wound up in Euchronia with no memory of how she got there, and the young girl accepted it easily enough. But after she went off to bed, they filled Fabienne and Grius in on everything—it was Grius’s decision whether or not to tell his daughter the full truth.

“This… this changes things,” Fabienne said after taking a few moments to let everything sink in. “It directly contradicts the teachings of Sanctism.”

“It also puts their treatment of the mustari and the elda in a new light. Their actions make a lot more sense when you consider the truth,” Grius said.

Will looked at the rhoag quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, lad. There’s a reason most people just assume Ren is an elda. It’s likely you’re of the same tribe, just a different name. And the mustari and their artifacts—I’d wager they’re proof that the world used to be very different. Even that novel of yours isn’t so much fantasy as history.” Grius rubbed his chin and looked around the room.

“But the Church, you see, they like their power. And their power comes from defining truth. The citizens believe them, which means they can make up whatever rules they want, and people will follow, because it’s divine word. Which means that anything that contradicts them needs to be stamped out. So they declare the tribe that looks like the people of old pariahs. Say the mustari are heathens and not to be trusted. Declare books that provide the truth outlawed.”

“...So I’m a human?” Will looked at Ren, who waved.

“Welcome to the club! We promise none of us look like the ones you’re used to.”

“Sooooo question,” Futaba piped up. “Where did these other humans come from? The monsters, I mean. And why are they called humans? We never had anything like what you guys described back where we came from. Oh oh! And where did the other tribes come from, for that matter?”

Nobody answered.

“Okaaaay… I guess we can add that to my pile of mysteries.”

“Oh? You have more?” Hulkenberg asked.

Futaba fought not to shy away as she looked at the roussainte. She was much better about new people than she used to be, but old habits died hard. “Tons, but there are a few big ones. Me and Ren were in a bunker underground so how come we woke up alone and in completely different places? What happened to the rest of humanity after we went to sleep? What exactly are these ‘Archetypes’, and how are you able to use them without either igniters or awakening to a Persona. And why does the Magla feel…wrong now?”

Ren furrowed his brow. “What do you mean wrong?”

“Well, you mentioned it right? How your Personas are weaker than they used to be?”

“Well yeah, but I just assumed that’s because the concentration of Magla here is way less than it is in the Cognitive Realm.”

Futaba shook her head. “Well, there’s that, but it’s more… ugh, hold on.”

Without warning, a futuristic looking three-sided pyramid phased into existence, floating in place above her. Fabienne jumped back and Grius reached for a blade behind his back. Futaba’s eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Ren shouted, hand out to stay Grius. “This is just her Persona.”

He turned to Futaba. “They’re not as used to them as the rest of the group.”

“Oh… my bad?” Futaba said sheepishly. Grius chuckled as he relaxed back into his seat, while Fabienne put a hand over her chest and tried to calm herself. The rest of the room looked at the slowly rotating pyramid in fascination. Futaba continued.

“So um, this is Al Azif, and it lets me kinda… examine everything more closely, I guess? Like I can sense things that you might not be able to notice by just looking.”

“So kind of like Fae Sight?” Will asked.

“No idea, blue Aigis.”

Will looked at Ren, confused, but Ren just shook his head.

“Anyways! It means that I can usually feel things in the Metaverse better than others, even when I haven’t summoned it. And since the whole world is basically like the Metaverse now, that kinda makes me like Daredevil!”

This time more than just Will looked to Ren for an explanation, and once again he shook his head. Sometimes there was just no point in explaining Futaba if you wanted a conversation she was leading to actually go somewhere.

“And from what I can tell, the Magla here is just… different? It feels like the Cognitive Realm, just… slightly off. Twisted. Wrong?” Futaba shook her head, unable to articulate exactly what she was feeling. 

“Zorba did mention that Magla was capable of mutating people and driving them crazy…” Gallica mentioned.

“Yeah, see, we’ve never heard of anything like that happening back home. But with this new Magla? Who knows?” Futaba said, frowning. “Anyways, whatever the difference is, I think that’s more the reason Personas aren’t as strong as they used to be. It’s also probably the reason we can’t manifest our Thieves outfits or weapons. It might even be the reason you can’t reach the Velvet Room, Ren.”

Ren mulled that over. It would explain a lot, and he trusted Futaba to understand more about the Cognitive Realm and its intricacies than he ever could. “Okay, if that’s the case, what do we do? Igor and Lav might have the answers to your other questions. I think I’m gonna need to reach it  sooner rather than later. Plus, like Hulk said, this situation might be Wild Card related.”

Futaba glanced over at Hulkenberg. “But she’s not green?”

“Futaba.”

“Fine, fine. I honestly don’t know if there’s anything we can do? Maybe it’s just what Magla feels like when it’s on this side. Kinda ironic that you can’t get to the people that could explain why things are borked because things are borked.”

“Yes yes, Alanis Morissette should add a new verse to the song about this exact situation.”

Futaba rolled her eyes and snorted. “You know Kotone is the only one that gets your old man references.”

Light laughter pulled them out of their conversation. They looked around the room. Strohl was the one that laughed, and Gallica looked mildly annoyed, but the others had fond looks on their faces.

“What?” Ren asked.

“You two are definitely siblings,” Strohl said.

“We’re happy you found her,” Will added with a warm smile.

Ren smiled back and put an arm around his sister. “Yeah, me too.”

“Ugh, feelings,” the gremlin muttered.

“So now that we have our newest addition, what is our course of action?” Hulkenberg asked, getting them back on track. “As fascinating as this new information is, I do not think it alters our current mission. Liars the church may be, but we lack the influence to do anything about it. The prince, though…” She trailed off, implication clear.

“Did your acquaintances from the knighthood or army provide any leads?” Grius asked. Hulkenberg shook her head sullenly.

“Ah, about that,” Fabienne said. “Rumors started circulating while you were away. It seems Sanctifex Forden’s planning some sort of grand announcement. Word among the Sanctist Church is that it’s bound to bring Louis out of hiding. It will be on the 22nd, so two days from now. I imagine they’d not be talking about such an exact date if there weren’t some truth to it.”

“We’d best wait before we plan our next move, then,” Strohl mused. “Might not have much of a choice, in truth.”

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

“Oooooo, look at that one, her tail is so floofy!”

“For the love of—Futaba, you’re not six, stop pointing!”

Ren slapped his sister’s hand, forcing her to lower it. They were bringing up the rear of their group (We should come up with a team name…) as they made their way towards Regalith Cathedral. It was the day of Forden’s announcement, and word was that criers throughout the city would be proclaiming whatever news the Sanctifex had to the citizens. It seemed as if most of the capital had the same idea as them, because they were currently being carried along in a giant tide of people, all eager and abuzz for new information regarding the king’s magic at the funeral. As they walked, Futaba had decided to people watch, although she was much louder about it than Yusuke ever was.

“But Ren, it’s a catgirl!” she whispered excitedly. At least she had the presence of mind to keep her voice down. “An honest to god catgirl!! This is huge, this is amazing, this is—”

“You literally spent an entire evening with Fabienne without saying anything,” Ren interrupted.

“Well yeah, but I had a lot on my mind then. You know, the whole ‘almost everything and everyone we ever knew is gone forever, and now we’re in a future that might as well be an entirely new world’ thing?” Futaba craned her neck to look back at another paripus, so Ren was forced to nudge her in the back to keep her moving.

“That’s a very specific thing.”

“Right? Also, have you seen Fabienne!? She’s way too hot. Super intimidating, I’d need to grind forever to be able to behave normally around her.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “This is you behaving normally?”

“Isn’t it?”

“...Okay yeah, fair enough. And I agree, she is beautiful, I get that you’d be intimidated.”

“That’s what I’m sayinggggg!!”

Ren just shook his head and smiled. The sudden return of his memories definitely took a psychological toll, but Futaba being here was a massive balm. Even these stupid little conversations of theirs helped push back the cloud of hopelessness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him.

The group filtered into the marketplace and got as close to the crier platform in front of the cathedral as possible. Futaba tried getting up on her tiptoes a few times before realizing that the people around her were too tall. There wasn’t much to see anyways, just a singular clemar—who Ren assumed was the crier—standing on an empty wooden platform, the King’s Rock standing vigil behind him.

“Oh, excellent, we’ll be listening to Batlin,” Strohl said, clearly pleased.

“You know him?” Ren asked.

“Not personally, no,” Strohl answered. “He’s a Sanctist crier, but he’s never paid the Church much lip service. I’m sure they don’t care much for that, but he’s popular enough that I doubt they’d want to deal with the negative sentiment were they to get rid of him.”

After a few more minutes of the crowd streaming in, the clemar—Batlin—waved a small igniter over his throat, and when he spoke, his voice came out much louder than what would have been possible naturally.

“Ladies and gents, lend me your ears!” The crowd gradually quieted and all eyes turned to the wooden platform. “Sanctifex Forden has spoken. The giant face in the sky, the massive rocks appearing throughout the land, and the mysterious voice claiming to be the past king… The Sanctist Church has officially recognized these happenings as the will of His Royal Majesty!”

The crowd rumbled a bit at this, but Batlin paid them no mind, continuing with a smile that seemed to imply that whatever news he had to share was juicy. “And so, as His Majesty has decreed, whoever has gained the greatest trust of the people by the day of decision shall be our new king!”

“Wasn’t that already the plan?” Futaba wondered aloud.

“Yes, but for better or worse, the endorsement of the church matters greatly to most,” Hulkenberg whispered back. “I can imagine that without the Sanctifex’s backing, there would be many who would not accept the results of His Majesty’s magic.”

Batlin bounced up and down, clearly getting excited. “This is a historic moment, good citizens! It’s revolutionary, it’s unprecedented! No matter who you are, you can take the throne! If, and this is a big if… you are the person that all our people trust most in their hearts!”

“Maybe you could be king yourself, eh?” a woman called out. “You’re popular enough.”

“Me, in charge?” Batlin laughed. “That’s the last thing this country needs. Right! Let’s review what we know, shall we? 

“First, the new faces that have appeared on the rock. It shows us who’s foremost in the running, we’ve worked out that much. The top three of the lot are also shown in the sky. S’pose that way you can see their inspiring faces anytime, anywhere!

“Second! Popular aspirants, at least those who make it onto the rocks, are protected by royal magic. Assassination’s off the table. Magic chains will spring to life and bind anyone who tries. I saw it happen with my own eyes to Count Louis’s sorry assailant!”

Everybody in the group but Futaba winced slightly. Ren shook the image of Grius lying there, throat slit and bleeding out, from his mind. The rest of the crowd started growing louder, speculating on what all this meant.

“So… literally anyone could be king!? Even a pauper, or a slave, or a criminal!?” a nidia woman shouted.

“H-Hold on, you mean to say we might not be ruled by clemar? What does that mean for us!?” a clemar asked in dismay.

“What does it matter if technically anyone could be king?” a gruff paripus scoffed. “None of us lowborns stand a chance against bigwigs like Forden or Louis.”

“Ah my friend, that’s where you’re wrong,” Batlin said, and broke out in a wide grin. “For you see, the curtain’s about to rise on the show of a lifetime! To choose our new ruler, we’re going to give all of you a chance to take center stage in a show of power for the whole kingdom! And we call it… the Tournament for the Throne!”

The crowd erupted in a wave of excitement and speculation. Futaba jumped up and down, yanking on Ren’s sleeve. “Ren, did you hear that!? A tournament arc, we’re gonna have a tournament arc!!”

Batlin held out his hand to quiet the crowd a bit before powering on. “In three weeks' time, a grand opening ceremony will be held at the plaza at the Grand Cathedral—plenty of time for all interested parties to learn of this little tournament and make their way to the capital, you see. From there, our aspirants will set out on a grand tour of our fair land, and throughout, they will be taking part in a variety of exciting trials. Official word is this event’s open to all! So what do you think, ladies and gents? Are you in it to watch, or in it to win?”

—

Evening found the group seated around the fireplace in the Hushed Honeybee. Fabienne had closed the inn early so that they could go over all they knew and plan their next step. Strohl held out a flyer that had been passed out after the crier’s announcement.

“So this glorified popularity contest is state sponsored now?” he scoffed, displeasure clear on his face. “An interesting gamble for those politicians. I like the bit about all this being ‘in the interest of fairness’, those weasels. Besides, how can it be state sponsored? The throne’s empty. This smells like the Theocracy at work—probably Forden himself.”

“Aye, this smells like nothing more than a play for power. And an ill-disguised one at that,” Grius muttered darkly.

“You think Forden’s looking to fix the competition in his favor?” Gallica asked. “I don’t get it, why would he do that? He’s been in first place this whole time. What does he have to gain by creating this tournament?”

“Legitimacy,” Ren said, staring at the flyer. “If the Church made a direct play for the throne, ignoring the royal magic, they’d lose a lot of support. Hell, Louis could just attack them openly, declaring them usurpers. But if Forden wins this tournament and the popular vote with it, it will be seen as fair, regardless of how rigged it actually is.”

“This bodes ill…” Hulkenberg said, arms crossed. “Forden is one thing, but all those with existing support could simply use this tournament to easily solidify their claim.”

“Maybe that’s why the king gave us so much time before declaring the next ruler?” Will proffered. “To give people time to rise through the rankings?”

“Mayhap. But the true issue is that even should His Highness wake, he may lose the throne.”

“The tournament is the lesser of our two worries,” Strohl said. “Remember, without killing Louis, we can’t undo the curse. And Batlin all but confirmed that we can’t do that so long as the royal magic is in effect.”

“Hi! Futaba here! I um… I have a question?”

All eyes turned to Futaba, who shrank a bit under their combined gaze. The rest of the room gave her encouraging looks, already starting to get used to her shyness.

“Sooo…” she started, twirling a lock of her hair nervously. “You guys keep talking about how the only way to undo the curse is killing the guy that cast it. Which makes sense, you know, that’s pretty standard in most games and TTRPGs.”

Looks of confusion. Ren facepalmed.

“But like, isn’t there usually another option? Curses that strong almost always have a written incantation. You know, a spell book? And if the curse was written down, couldn’t you just… you know, reverse-engineer it? A counterspell? Is that a thing here? I know that for us at least, there are Persona abilities that can reverse most status effects.”

The room was silent for a beat. Then Grius barked a laugh, causing most of them to jump.

“Your brother was right, lass,” he said, shooting Futaba a gruff smile. “You’re quite the smart one, aren’t you?”

Futaba chuckled, slightly embarrassed, as Grius pulled a small book out of his coat pocket and placed it on the table, opening it to a particular page. “What with the day of calamity and me dying and all, it completely slipped my mind.”

Gallica flew up to look at the book, which was filled with handwritten notes. “Hey… You were investigating the curse, Grius!?”

“I was indeed. And like the young lady said, I’m fairly certain that, given the spell’s complexity, it must have required a scribed formula.”

Hulkenberg’s eyes widened as she looked from the journal to its owner. “You mean to suggest… Louis possesses a written composition of the curse somewhere? And if we can find that…!”

“Aye. It’s no guarantee, but if we have the formula, there might be a few people in this country clever enough to compose a counterspell.”

“Impressive,” Ren whispered to Futaba.

“Mwehehe. You’d think you’d have learned not to underestimate my genius by now.”

“And by genius you mean chronic addiction to gaming, right?”

Futaba smirked at him. “Obviously!”

“But… that attack took place years ago, didn’t it?” Gallica asked, eyes downcast. “This curse’s formula could be lost for good…”

“It seems as though we have little choice but to hope it’s not,” Strohl said. “It won’t be easy, and the real trick will be finding it. He wouldn’t leave it unprotected, after all.”

“How are we even supposed to get close enough to him to search?” Gallica pressed the heels of her palms into her tiny forehead, frustration beginning to boil over. “If we don’t find a way, we’re sunk, and the Prince… Ahhh! What are we supposed to do!?”

The room fell silent. Ren looked at each person in turn, making note of how deep in thought they were, and he started to feel torn. Ever since regaining his memories, his goals had been wrestling with each other, priorities shifting multiple times an hour. He needed to find his family and friends. But what was the point of waking them up if the world awaiting them was one ruled by either a sociopathic fear monger or a bigoted theocracy? Everything he learned indicated to him that the Prince was their best chance at a not terrible world, at least in the short term. Which meant that helping Will and the rest of his new friends was important. And then there was the whole Lavenza and the Velvet Room thing. Finding her might give him answers. What to pursue first when everything seemed important and interconnected?

“Let’s enter this Tournament for the Throne.”

Ren’s eyes snapped to Will, who was looking awfully resolute for having proposed something so out of left field. The others were similarly taken aback.

“Huh?” Gallica stared at Will like he’d grown an extra head. “Hey, were you even listening to us!? The Prince isn’t in any sort of position to—”

“I’m not talking about the Prince,” Will cut her off. “I’m talking about us. We need to get close to Louis, right? Well, everyone’s always mentioning that he doesn’t care about your tribe as long as you’re capable. I think maybe this tournament would be a good way to catch his eye.”

“That’s… not a terrible idea,” Strohl said, mulling it over. “It’s not as if we’re actually trying to take the throne, we just want the attention the tournament would bring.” Will nodded. “And I would imagine an elda with the power to kill humans would put you in his good graces. He may even try to recruit you as a way of proving that he doesn’t care about one’s tribe.”

“I see. An undercover operation, is it?” Hulkenberg chimed in. “Quite a gambit, but it may well be our best chance at finding this formula.”

“Seriously, you too!?” Gallica turned to Grius. “Please talk some sense into them!”

Grius rubbed his chin in thought. “It’s bold, aye. But perhaps boldness is necessary. And Louis may be many things, but shortsighted isn’t one of them. He’d much rather recruit Will over to his side and use him to gain the support of the lesser tribes than eliminate him as a potential threat and waste that chance.”

Gallica groaned, rotating slowly in place as she looked at Ren, desperate for someone to back her up. But she deflated once she saw the look on his face. 

This was perfect. A way to further all his goals at once. The need to search for the rest of the pods? Boom. Tournament that would take him all over Euchronia. Trying to undo the curse on the Prince? Wouldn’t you know it, the tournament would get them close to Louis and hopefully his formula. Added bonus that this new plan seemed to imply they wouldn’t have to outright kill him. Reaching the Velvet Room? Well, Lavenza told him to continue strengthening his new bonds, and traveling with them and lending his aid seemed like a perfect way to do that. He glanced at Futaba, who looked back at him with an excited expression. She obviously reached the same conclusion he had.

“Come on guys,” Gallica pleaded. “I get that getting Louis’s attention is a good idea, but remember who’s actually risking their life here!”

“Gallica,” Will said gently. She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I’m happy you’re worried about me. I really am. I never really thought I’d make friends that meant as much to me as the Prince, but I’m really happy to be proven wrong.”

“Will…” Gallica’s voice was quiet, almost a whine.

“But this is our mission. We need to do whatever we can to save him, no matter how dangerous it is.” Will closed his eyes and smiled. “‘In my ideal world, people can believe in their future. Their birth doesn’t matter.’ I’ll never forget his words. No matter who someone is, they deserve a fair country. If it’s to help achieve that, I will stand for the Prince as a candidate for the throne.”

Gallica stared at him incredulously for a few seconds before shaking her head and smiling ruefully. “Sheesh… So much for being a guide. Now you’re the one leading me around.”

Hulkenberg placed a hand on Will’s shoulder and smiled approvingly. “Your resolve has marked you a fine fit for the role. I have trusted you with my life before, and would gladly do so again.”

“Hah! Who knew the scrawny lad I met at the border fort would end up being our best chance at saving His Highness. You’ll have my blade, for all the good it will do.” Ren caught a flash of doubt pass over Grius’s face, but chose not to comment, at least for now.

“Seriously! You’re pretty cool, blue Aigis,” Futaba chirped happily.

“I still don’t know what that means…” Will said, head tilted to the side slightly.

“And you never will!” she shot back with a grin.

Will turned his gaze on Ren. “What about you guys? I know this isn’t really what you signed up for, and you obviously have your people to think about… I won’t lie and say we don’t need your help but—”

“Relax Will, we’re in,” Ren said, smiling. “This actually works out perfectly. We have no idea where our people are. Seems like traveling all over Euchronia for this tournament is the best way to try finding them. And if we manage to stop Louis and save the Prince while we’re at it, well… win-win right?”

Will exhaled and smiled gratefully. “Win-win.”

“You’re going to be the king!?”

A high pitched voice coming from the stairs drew their attention.

“Maria!” Fabienne chided, “I thought we told you to go to sleep.”

“I know, but everyone was here and I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you talking and…” Maria’s face looked penitent, head poking through two banisters.

Grius chuckled. “Well I suppose the cat’s out of the bag. Come on down here, Maria.”

The young girl made her way to her father’s side, blushing and averting her eyes due to being caught and consequently becoming the center of attention. She grabbed onto his sleeve and partially hid her body behind his arm.

“Reminds me of someone,” Ren whispered to Futaba.

“Shut up,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Um, if you’re going to try to be the new king, then I’ll be cheering for you as loud as I can!” Maria said to Will excitedly once she’d gathered her courage. Ren smiled. He had noticed how much more comfortable the girl seemed to be now that she was surrounded by people who didn’t care about her mixed blood.

“Ha… you have your first advocate it seems,” Hulkenberg said.

“Suppose you’ll have to actually try for the throne now, eh, Your Majesty?” Strohl added on, elbowing Will playfully.

“That was the plan from the start,” Will shot back with a laugh.

Maria held her arms behind her back and kicked at the ground, suddenly somber. She glanced up at Grius “...Does this mean you’ll be leaving again once the competition starts?”

Grius opened his mouth for a second before closing it. Ren noticed the conflict in his eyes. He considered his daughter briefly before turning to the others. “Actually, I think this is a mission they’ll have to take on their own.”

“Grius?” Gallica asked questioningly.

Ren spoke up. “We’re going to be trying to get Louis’s attention, right? Bringing Grius along would be a bad idea since Louis…” he glanced at Maria, “...knows him already.”

Grius looked at Ren gratefully. “Ren has the right of it. If you’re aiming to get in Louis’s good graces, you’ll not want to bring me along. But don’t worry, I can still make myself useful here as a liaison with the resistance.”

“So you’re staying!?” Maria exclaimed, voice half an octave higher.

“That I am, Maria, that I am.”

The girl practically bounced with giddiness for the next half minute as the rest of the room smiled fondly. But eventually she froze and turned back to Will’s group.

“But that means I won’t see you again, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe not for a little bit,” Ren answered her. “But we’ll be back. We made a promise, remember?”

Maria perked up. “Oh yeah! With you too!” She said, looking at Will.

The elda chuckled, “That’s right. So we’ll make sure to come back as often as we can.”

“Good! I think a good king should keep his promises, so you better come back!”

“Okay, Maria,” Fabienne said as the others chuckled. “You’ve sated your curiosity. Now it’s really time for bed. I imagine they have some things to go over now that they’re committed to this plan of theirs.” She led Maria upstairs as the rest said their goodnights.

“Right then,” Strohl started once they heard Maria’s door close. “We’ll need to get registration out of the way—we can do that at the recruitment center. But… we’ll need some legs for the journey. It’s mostly lawless wastes between cities, and who knows how much time Forden will give us for travel. It’d be just like him to use short travel time as a way to weed out the less influential.”

“True, I bet all these fancy nobles that are entering have their own gauntlet runners to ride in.”

“Yes, regarding that,” Hulkenberg said. “Recall how I mentioned someone that may be able to fashion disguises for Ren and Futaba?”

“The guy that likes to blow himself up?” Futaba asked.

“The very same. I’m not positive, but he may be able to help with our transportation quandary as well.”

“You want to ask this guy who may or may not explode himself regularly for transportation?” Gallica asked skeptically.

“Unless you have a better idea?” Hulkenberg asked.

Gallica sighed. “We’ll be lucky to make it off the starting line in one piece, won’t we…?” 

Akademeia

“I see you’ve discovered your path forward. I’m happy to hear it.”

Gallica glared at More. “You know, all this constantly watching us from afar is pretty concerning.”

He chuckled. “A necessary consequence of our linked consciousness, nothing nefarious. Surely you wouldn’t deprive me my one source of entertainment?”

Gallica grumbled, electing to ignore More in favor of petting Plateau, who was sleeping on the nearby couch.

Akademeia was much the same as when Will last visited, the only change being the strange ethereal door in the back corner, which seemed to have grown more solid. He walked up to More’s desk.

“I finished that task you assigned me.”

“Ah, yes,” More smiled graciously. “Your development of the Healer Archetype. I must thank you. It appears my hypothesis was correct.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

More looked down at his desk in thought. “I sensed a sudden light in my mind, illuminating what was hidden. Thanks to the research and the strengthened influence of the Healer Archetype, a flicker of memory is returned to me.”

“What kind of memory is it?” Will was intrigued. For some reason, the idea of recovering lost memories was exciting to him.

Must be because of what happened to Ren.

“It occurs to me… that I conducted research on Archetypes in the past, as well. I believed that it was precisely this power that could have made real a utopia like my novelized vision. However, that fool of a king turned his eyes from the utopia I dreamed of. The book you carry, the library’s vast knowledge—all condemned by his decree.” More sighed and smiled sardonically. “Not that it mattered, for apparently my utopia was no dream at all, was it? A history book, more like.”

Right. Ren’s story meant that everything More wrote in his novel was a fictionalized account of the world before. Not a dream to aspire to but a memory of what once was.

“Do you think you knew you were writing about the past? And why would the king condemn it?” Will had tons of questions.

“I know not. Perhaps I held knowledge of the world as it once existed, and the king viewed such knowledge as dangerous. Perhaps his views aligned more closely with the Church that I believed, and I was seen as a blasphemer. All I can say with certainty is that I was locked in these chambers, shut away in secret, and—most outrageously—killed…”

Wait, what?

“I’ve been alone ever since. Except for my feline companion Plateau, of course. I believed I would die here, never knowing who I was. It was because of that fear that I immersed myself in research. I hoped I might leave some proof that I once lived. Yet that too came to a standstill…”

“Sorry um… you’re dead?” Will glanced at Gallica, who had paused her petting to stare at More in confusion.

“I am fairly certain, yes.” More said simply. “Is that an issue for you?”

“I…guess not?” Will said. He didn’t really have an issue, and the more he thought about it, the more More being a spirit made a certain kind of sense, what with the magical library he entered subconsciously and all. It was just not something he was anticipating.

“I’m glad,” More said with a nod, oblivious to Will’s confusion. “In any case, your appearance has given me an opportunity to not just research again, but to regain my life, so to speak.” He chuckled lightly. “Apologies, a small joke. Frankly, I hesitated to expect anything at all. If we saw no developments after my initial assignment, I was prepared to finally give up… But the miracle of my memory returning has convinced me. This power of Archetypes—it is worth researching. It may well be the natural evolution of this Persona power your new friends wield. Who knows, perhaps the original heroes of eld were Persona users themselves. Possibilities abound, and I would humbly ask for your continued assistance that we may uncover the truth.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious,” Will said. “Plus, any answers would help Ren just as much as they’d help us.”

More smiled warmly. “Excellent. Well then, it sounds as though you’ll be needing a power that can oppose Louis. Let us continue our research further, that you might reach the apex of your abilities.”

Will suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if something inside him that was once blocked was suddenly allowed to flow free. He had experienced it a few times in the past couple of days—once when he was accompanying Strohl and met with Rangif, a refugee from Halia, and once when he and Hulkenberg had encountered her old friend, now the current commander of the royal knights and all around jackass.

More seemed to notice it too. “Ah yes, it appears that nurturing Archetypes results in a deeper bond between you and Akademeia as well. I believe you are now at a point where you’ll find use in this.”

He passed Will a small cylindrical object that looked like a writing utensil.

“It’s an igniter that will allow you and I, as fellow Seekers, to share our consciousness even when we’re apart. So long as you have this, you can study Archetypes from anywhere you’d like. Though I would still request that you talk to me directly in Akademeia whenever you have made progress in our research.”

Will eyed the igniter curiously before placing it in his bag. “Of course.”

“Excellent. I do require your power in developing my research, not to mention, I value the time I get to spend speaking with you. Now then…” More straightened up in his seat, consulting the large tome on the desk in front of him. “To affect the change you wish to see in the world, we must examine things from a different angle. Your next research task is to study the Heroic Embodiment of the Gunner. As you’ve yet to unlock this Archetype, may I suggest seeking out someone more mechanically minded? I’m sure it will help you hone your virtues… along with other meaningful opportunities.”

Will had the sneaking suspicion that More was withholding something, but knew it was pointless to press him on it. “Sounds good. I guess we’ll get going then.”

He made for the exit, Gallica following, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Something was there, in front of that odd blue door. But when he turned to examine it, it disappeared. How odd… It almost looked like…

“Problem?” More asked.

Will pointed at the door.

“Ah. Yes, it has grown more corporeal, hasn’t it? Unfortunately I still cannot interact with it, and nothing has come through. Frankly, I sometimes forget it is there altogether. Just another decoration, you know.”

“...Right.” Will couldn’t shake the feeling that the door was important, and More’s uncharacteristic disinterest was intriguing. But again, it was pointless to press the issue. After staring at the door for a few more seconds and becoming disappointed when whatever he thought he saw failed to materialize, Will turned to leave through the door he could interact with.”

“One more thing?” More called out. “Since we both seem to be interested in the missing history between Ren’s time and ours, I would suggest you make developing the Faker bond a priority. Perhaps doing so will unlock more of my memories related to what I knew of that era of our world.”

Will nodded and opened the door to return to consciousness. He was planning on doing that anyway.

—

More watched the young man exit, and Akademeia was once more plunged into an almost oppressive silence. There was something about Will—some deeper connection they shared. It was frankly frustrating that he couldn’t remember what was clearly something important. Oh well, patience was, as they say, a virtue.

“Was that enough of a push?” he asked.

The young woman standing in front of the blue door inclined her head in gratitude.

Such beautiful hair, More idly thought.

“Yes, thank you. I hesitate to do or ask for more. This is a… tricky situation.”

“And I still can’t convince you to divulge anything else?”

She smiled at him conciliatorily, her golden eyes almost gleaming in the darkness that encroached upon the far end of the study. “It is unfortunately not my place to tell. At least not yet.”

More sighed. Patience may be a virtue, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The start of the Tournament, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, draws near… 

14 days remain.

It took Will a while to get out of bed and start the day. 

He didn’t get much sleep. All night he had to suffer strange dreams—memories of years gone by played out, but with large gaps. And in those gaps, always the same things. Fire. A constricting, poking sensation. And running down a hallway he was sure he’d never been in before. Tall, clear windows, and beyond them, a dark, moonless night. Ornate carpeting and beautiful furniture. And past it all he sprinted, desperate to escape, to get away from…

From what?

Will shook his head. Dreams were just that. Certainly nothing to be concerned about. There were far more important matters to attend to. He made his way downstairs to see Ren and Grius sitting at the table nearest the kitchens, a spot the group had taken to making their default meeting place. They were talking in low tones and Ren looked almost… angry? No, not angry… frustrated. Grius, for his part, looked impassive. Which was not surprising, the rhoag hardly ever let any real emotion show on his face. As soon as they both took notice of Will, they quieted down, though Ren’s displeasure was no less obvious.

“Is… everything okay?” Will asked tentatively. Despite being the designated “captain” of this team, he still looked up to both Ren and Grius, and despite his best efforts, he still found it hard sometimes to talk to them as the equals they clearly saw him as.

“Everything’s fine, lad,” Grius said. “Nothing that concerns the mission, I assure you.”

Ren made no attempt to hide his scoff. “I swear, no matter where I end up, there’s guaranteed to be a stubborn old man who thinks that keeping his problems to himself is always the best option.”

Grius said nothing, but Will could see the slight wince. Ren seemed perfectly willing to continue this even with Will present, so whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t just between the two of them. Will quickly cast around for a response given what little information he had. He didn’t want to take sides, but he was curious. “It may not concern the mission, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t care…” Will said slowly, before adding, “Of course, if you feel comfortable sharing, that is! I don’t think Ren would get this upset about something that didn’t matter.”

Ren stared at Grius pointedly, a small smirk playing at his lips. Grius looked at the two of them in turn repeatedly before sighing loudly. “Nosy, the both of you. Though I suppose it makes a man feel good, knowing you care about him enough to pry.” His eyes traveled to the stairwell, as if making sure nobody was there to overhear. “It’s about what I said yesterday. The reason I’m not going to be traveling with you for this tournament.”

“You mean because Louis would recognize you,” Will proffered.

“Aye. It’s a good reason, and Ren was clever enough to come up with it on the spot in front of Maria. Which, again, I thank you for.” Ren nodded. “But I’ve been undercover for quite a few years now, and before I was the Prince’s tutor, I was a mercenary. I know how to disguise myself if necessary.”

Will furrowed his brow. “...So it’s not the real reason you didn’t want to go?”

“No, it’s not.” Grius grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I’m not sure how Ren figured it out, but there’s an… issue. One I’d rather not have Maria know about. At least for right now.”

Will waited expectantly, trying to ignore the pit growing in his stomach.

“It’s… well, it’s me. Or rather, my body. It doesn’t quite move the way I want it to. The way I’m used to. I can’t grasp my blade as firmly, can’t quite swing it as quickly nor as hard. And that Archetype magic you shared with me… I can’t seem to call upon it anymore.” Grius stared down at his right hand, which he opened and closed repeatedly. “At first I thought it was a simple consequence of being dead for half a day, and that I’d be back to normal in no time, but…”

Ren’s expression had changed from mild irritation to guilt, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Grius held out his hand to forestall him. “Enough lad, I’ll hear no more unneeded apologies. You gave me my life back, and no matter what form that life takes it’s a damn sight better than the alternative.”

Will’s heart sank. “So you’re never going to be back at full strength?”

To his surprise, Grius laughed. “Who’s to say? I’ve never heard of someone coming back from the dead and retaining their soul. I’d wager I may well be the first. Could be this is as good as I’ll get. Could just as easily be that it takes months or even years to recover. Either way though, I’d be a liability now. Tack on the possibility that Louis’s camp could always recognize me, and it just makes more sense for me to hold down the fort.”

Will nodded. He didn’t like it, but it did make sense. Plus, Maria was so excited to have her dad back with her that he didn’t want to bring Grius along even if the older man were the picture of health. He turned to regard Ren.

“How did you know what was going on with Grius? I had no idea. I don’t think any of us did.”

Ren shook his head. “I didn’t know what the problem was. I just noticed him acting odd whenever he discussed future plans. I figured he had some other secret mission or something. Something he didn’t want Maria to know about.” Ren fixed the rhoag with an unimpressed stare. “But when I asked him about it before going to sleep, imagine my surprise when he decided to be evasive.”

Ren’s tone made it clear that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Grius rolled his eyes, and Will had to stifle a laugh. It wouldn’t do to be rude.

“Anyways,” Ren continued, “I finally got him to spill the beans early this morning, and I’ve spent the time since trying to convince him to tell the rest of you.”

“Like I said, I just didn’t want to worry you all over nothing,” Grius said.

“But that’s not right!” 

It was louder than intended, and Will surprised himself with the forcefulness of his tone. The other two men looked at him. Grius seemed surprised, whereas Ren was squinting slightly, head tilted. Will got the distinct impression that he was being evaluated right now, and he worked to push through both the embarrassment of his outburst and the sudden focus on him.

“I… what I mean is…” Will took a deep breath and locked eyes with Grius. Well, I already got this far, may as well. “You’re part of the team, Grius. Gallica and I technically completed our mission when we passed on the assassination order. You didn’t have to keep us around, but you did. You didn’t have to let Strohl in on the plan, but you did. You didn’t have to give us a place to stay, but you did. You may not want to worry us, but…” Will cast his eyes down at the table briefly, trying to find the right words. “But maybe we want to worry about you.”

Nobody spoke for a few seconds, and the inn was blanketed in heavy silence. Then suddenly Ren snorted. Grius broke into a rare wide smile and shook his head. 

“My God, the two of you are making a habit of ganging up on me.” Seeing the confusion in Will’s eyes, Grius explained with a smile. “Ren essentially told me the same thing. If this is what I have to look forward to, I’m almost glad I won’t be traveling with you!”

“Just accept that you have more people that care about you, old man,” Ren said light-heartedly.

“Fine, fine.” Grius chuckled before readdressing Will. “Listen to me lad. You’ve got a good heart, that much is plain. But you’re going to need to steel yourself for what’s to come. We all agree that you’re the man to lead this, and as much as I wish I could help you out, I can’t. At least not in the way we both hoped. So just know that as much as you seem to like worrying about me, I’ll be worrying about you. And know that I’m in your corner. Hopefully things won’t go to hell, but if they do, well… you know where to find me.”

Will could sense the weight behind those words. Grius was a veteran fighter who had earned the trust of the King and, following the Prince’s curse, the Resistance as well. And he in turn trusted Will to see this through. Solemnly, the elda nodded.

“Thanks Grius. I won’t let you down.” 

The stoic swordsman, Grius…

Within him dwells the virtue of the Mercenary .

Nurture thy bond with him, and a new power yet slumbering within thee may awaken.

“Nice,” Ren said as soon as time resumed.

“What?” Grius asked.

“New archetype,” Ren said casually, as if he were describing the weather. Grius looked to Will for confirmation.

“New archetype,” he said with a smile. “The Mercenary, apparently.”

“Interesting,” Grius said, looking pleased. “You’ll have to show me what it can do. But for now, don’t you two have somewhere to be?”

Right. Will and Ren had agreed to be the ones to go down to the recruitment center to register Will as a contender for the tournament. They said their goodbyes and made their way out onto Sunshade Row, which was, despite its name, awash in morning sunlight.

As they walked, Will snuck a glance at the man a few years his senior, who still seemed to be in a good mood from Will’s impromptu speech. He couldn’t fight the small smile that formed.

So I pretty much said the same thing as Ren, huh? 

Why did that make him happy? Sure, he looked up to Ren as someone who had been in his shoes, someone who had leadership thrust upon him. But that couldn’t be the only reason, could it?

Maybe it had to do with how impressively he thought Ren was handling this whole situation. Truthfully, Will was still wrapping his head around the bombshell Ren had dropped on them after his memory came back. The knowledge that he was living in the aftermath of a world war waged millennia ago by nations far more advanced than his own felt unreal, distant. It was a monumental discovery, but it effectively changed almost nothing as far as day-to-day life was concerned.

But to Ren, it was very much tangible. From his perspective, his entire life changed mere weeks ago, and now he found himself separated from everything and everyone he ever cared about, Futaba being the notable exception. Will tried to imagine what that would feel like, and even in his imagination he couldn’t conceive of handling it with the same poise and strength that Ren did. He seemed just as confident and carefree as the rest of them… Which wasn’t saying much considering the task ahead of them, but still.

“Hey, you wanna stop by Akademeia and check out your new archetype?” Ren asked. “It’s Grius’s so you know it’ll be badass.”

“Sure.”

Will shook his head as Ren made his way towards the nearest More-ghost. He guessed that some people were just built different.

Nord Mines

The start of the Tournament, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, draws near… 

10 days remain.

Ren was barely keeping it together.

Every free moment brought with it memories of a life that was forever beyond his grasp. Images of what he gave up flashed through his mind like a never-ending slide show. And the only things he could even theoretically get back—his family and friends—were god knows where, and the longer they were missing, the less chance he’d have of finding them. His biggest fear was that his waking up was a sign that the pods were reaching their operational limit, and soon potentially hundreds of people would be forced to wake up completely alone and in a hostile environment. Or worse, the pods wouldn’t open, and they would just… never wake up at all. He knew that waiting for the tournament to start was the right choice—there were too many pros to traveling with Will’s group, not least of which was access to the transportation Hulkenberg was working to secure. But god, was it sheer torture being forced to wait three weeks (which was only fifteen days, he really couldn’t get used to that).

So when Futaba made the suggestion that Ren use the time to seek out his pod and see if he could glean any clues from it, he jumped at the opportunity to be able to do something, anything to further his goals. Strohl, who lately seemed to have something of a hyper-fixation with training, volunteered to join him. A two day carriage ride later, and the two found themselves in front of the Nord Mines.

“Any idea where this pod of yours is?” Strohl asked, eyes scanning the entrance. “These mines are pretty extensive.”

Ren shook his head. “Unfortunately, I was pretty out of it when I woke up. I can vaguely remember bits and pieces, but it was just tunnels surrounded by rocks and crystals, which…”

“Isn’t very helpful,” Strohl nodded. “That describes pretty much everything in here.”

Strohl then made a show of rolling his neck and stretching his arms. “Well then, nothing for it but to explore. It’ll make for good training, yeah? I’m stronger than when I came here last, but having one less person should even things out. And hopefully that dragon is gone. Shall we?”

And so they pushed into the mines. It was a bit of a struggle to find a way past the entrance, given that the dragon had taken out the bridge the last time, but they eventually found a viable path. From there, they systematically explored every cavern and shaft in their search for Ren’s pod, fighting whatever they came across at Strohl’s insistence.

“Mind if I ask you a question,” Ren asked after dispatching his twenty-something-th snake enemy (he was trying desperately to ignore the growths that hung from their lower jaw). 

“Sure?” Strohl said, wiping blood off his sword.

“Why are you so eager to fight everything we come across? They aren’t much of a challenge.”

“What, you’d rather we sneak past them?” Strohl asked.

“Wellllll…” Ren shook his head. He actually was accustomed to bypassing enemies that glowed blue, but that wasn’t what he meant. “I’m just wondering why you’re so motivated.”

Strohl sighed as the two started resuming their search. “It’s like I told you after the fight with that human. I’m not strong enough. I need to do everything I can. I made a promise to Maria and—”

“You cannot seriously blame yourself for what happened to Grius,” Ren interrupted, side-eyeing his clemar friend.

“If I was stronger—”

“If you were stronger, Grius still would have been out of your reach and the chains still would have come down. No amount of extra strength would have helped.”

Strohl rounded on Ren, frustration etched on his face. “BUT YOU HELPED!!” His shout echoed through the mines.”You were able to save him, and if I had that kind of strength I wouldn’t… I would be able to…” 

Strohl backed away and stared at the ground, clenching his fists. “I’m sorry, this behavior is… ignoble of me.”

Ren put a hand on Strohl’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know that feeling. Very well. There was someone—well, two people really—that I wasn’t able to save. And for a long time, I thought, ‘If only I had been stronger…’” 

Strohl looked up from the floor as Ren continued. “But eventually I realized that sometimes bad stuff just happens. It sucks, and it’s definitely not fair, but there are some things that no amount of extra strength can change. Unless you could have gotten strong enough to override royal magic?”

Strohl chuckled slightly. “Doubtful.”

Ren smiled. “Nothing wrong with getting stronger, I just don’t want you burning out. You won’t be any help to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

“That’s… That’s fair. Thank you. I’m just… tired of not being enough.” 

“Good thing you’re part of a group of super-powered friends then,” Ren said with a smirk.

Strohl started to laugh, but stopped suddenly. He pointed at something over Ren’s shoulder. “I may be mistaken, but does that remind you of something?”

Ren looked at what Strohl was pointing at. Sure enough, visible past a pile of boulders that had sealed off a side shaft, he could make out what very much looked to be the same metal that Futaba’s pod was fashioned out of.

“It does indeed. I guess that dragon cave-in must have closed it off,” Ren mused. “Help me out?”

Together, and with the help of their respective powers, they gradually cleared away the boulders. There, in a small side cavern,  sat his pod. It sat open, but as far as Ren could tell, there was nothing outwardly wrong with it. He approached and placed his hand on the biometric scanner. A synthetic voice spoke, but it cut in and out and was overlaid with static.

“Sca—ing. Sca—ing. Sca—Error de—ted.”

“Is it… is it supposed to do that?” Strohl asked.

Ren shook his head. He cast his mind back to try and remember the troubleshooting instructions Mitsuru forced them to memorize. Hand still on the scanner, he enunciated clearly. “Initiate diagnostics.”

Again the voice rang out. “Run—diagnostics. Run—diag—Error de—ted. Diagnostics ab—ted.”

Ren cursed under his breath and tried the command two more times. Both resulted in the same message. He sighed and ran his hand through his mess of hair.

“Is it broken?” Strohl asked tentatively.

“Yeah. So broken that I can’t even ask it why.”

“Wait, it’s capable of telling you what’s wrong with it?” Strohl looked at Ren with a small amount of disbelief. 

“Yeah, it basically examines itself and is supposed to be able to tell you what’s wrong with it and how to go about repairing it. But I guess the program or hardware that gives it that capability is broken too,” Ren muttered that last part more to himself than to Strohl. 

“I didn’t understand some of those words,” Strohl said after a second. “But this world used to be quite impressive, didn’t it?”

Ren grunted neutrally. He didn’t really want to think about it. Strohl continued. “Do you think that it being broken is the reason you were forced to wake up, and why you can’t remember what happened immediately after?” 

“That’s what I’m thinking, yeah,” Ren said. “Here, check the other side for me? Maybe there’s some physical evidence of what went wrong.”

“Of course.”

Strohl moved to the side of the pod opposite Ren and knelt down to run his hand over it. Thirty seconds later, he called out.

“You found something?” Ren asked.

“I doubt it’s enough to break it,” Strohl answered, pointing at something near the pod’s door hinge, “but I also don’t remember anything like this on Futaba’s pod.”

Ren leaned in closer. There, etched into the metal, were a series of shapes. They looked like very thin triangles of various lengths arranged vertically or horizontally into patterns. Each pattern consisted of between three and seven of these triangles, and there were three patterns total. A fourth etching was placed alongside it, but this looked more like a pictograph or hieroglyphic.

Ren ran his fingers over the etchings slowly. “No, this definitely wasn’t here when I got in…” He turned to Strohl, who likewise looked mystified. “I’m guessing you don’t recognize these symbols?”

The clemar shook his head slowly. “No, they look like no writing I’ve ever seen. What do you suppose they mean?”

Ren turned back to the markings and activated his Third Eye, hoping that their meaning would just magically make itself apparent. “No clue,” he said after a few seconds of staring without any luck. “But they obviously mean something to someone. Maybe if we find them, they can tell us. They might even know where to find more pods.”

“So this trip wasn’t a total loss,” Strohl said, sounding slightly more upbeat than he had previously.

“Nope,” Ren said. “Definitely an effective waste of our time.”

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The start of the Tournament, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, draws near… 

7 days remain.

Futaba was quite unlike anybody Hulkenberg had ever met.

The young woman was brilliant, that much became readily apparent in the first few days. But she was also a complete enigma. Where her older brother seemed to take extra care in most cases to phrase things in ways most Euchronians would comprehend, Futaba had no qualms about frequently using vocabulary unique to the old world. In fact, she seemed sometimes to revel in the misunderstandings that arose. Hulkenberg asked Ren about it once, and he simply laughed.

“It’s not just you. Hell, I only understand about seventy-five percent of what she says most days. I promise she’s not doing it to be mean or rude. It’s just… how her mind works. If it’s any consolation, she used to be much worse.”

The way Futaba connected disparate ideas and concepts, the way she randomly broke into conversations with seemingly unconnected information, and then had to backtrack to explain how she arrived there. The way she latched onto certain ideas or knowledge and focused on them to the exclusion of all else. It was as if her mind simply worked faster than others, and every so often she had to slow down to let everyone else catch up. 

To her credit, she never seemed to be frustrated by this. Truly, the most negative emotion Hulkenberg ever witnessed from her was boredom. Apparently there were many pieces of technology in the past that one could use to occupy their time, and Futaba was going through what Ren teasingly called “withdrawals”. In a lot of ways it reminded her of—

A revision. Futaba was quite unlike almost anybody Hulkenberg had ever met.

—

“Soooo Hulk, where exactly are we headed?”

Futaba had immediately taken to referring to her by “Hulk” ever since hearing Ren use it. Hulkenberg would never say so out loud, but she had taken quite a liking to it. It was… refreshing to be around people who took no stock in her family name, station, or tribe. Who never put on airs. To be free to be herself and not be judged for it.

“You’re not leading me down some alley to rob and kill me or something, right?” the younger girl asked.

Hulkenberg wheeled around. “Of course not! The very idea—oh. You’re jesting, aren’t you?”

Futaba snickered lightly. “I’m joking, yeah. So? You said we were gonna ‘secure transportation,’ but this doesn’t really seem like the place to do that.”

Hulkenberg looked around. A fair point. They were currently walking through the Noble District Underhall, a section of the city directly under the Noble District proper that served as a conduit to the catacombs the city was built on top of. Many of the capital's upper echelon had taken to using it as a storage facility of sorts, letting the spaces under their mansions pile up with out of style furniture, antiquated igniters, and anything else they wanted out of sight.

“Understandable. But I have spent the past few days trying to track him down, and was told that this is where he could be found. And if I am being perfectly honest, such a place does… become him.”

Futaba shot Hulkenberg an exaggerated look of disbelief. “What is he, a hobbit?”

“You really enjoy referencing things I have no knowledge of,” Hulkenberg said, smiling slightly.

“I do. I really do.”

They turned a corner and found themselves on a walkway of sorts. There was a dark, cavernous space to their right, and they both noticed a warm light at the far end of the walkway. Slowly they approached, footfalls kicking up dust motes from the wooden floorboards below. The light, on closer inspection, came from an overhead lamp that illuminated a wall covered in diagrams and blueprints. A desk was pushed against the wall, and at it sat a hunched figure, hammering away at something.

“Neuras?” Hulkenberg asked softly.

The figure did not respond. In fact, they made no indication they had even heard her. Hulkenberg sighed. Most definitely Neuras. She approached, Futaba trailing behind. “Even amidst all this commotion in town, I find you buried in your work.”

“Bah, too much work,” the ishkia said, neither turning nor stopping his hammering.

“...As always,” Hulkenberg said. It seemed that the years hadn’t changed Neuras in the slightest—not that she had expected anything else. “To business, then. I must ask a favor. Would you be able to ready a carriage for me and my compatriots?”

“No new commissions, no time for them. Ask another wright,” Neuras responded flatly, still not turning around.

“Wow, friendly guy,” Futaba whispered.

Hulkenberg stifled her budding frustration. There was a reason she was hesitant to pay Neuras a visit. Well, multiple reasons, but this was assuredly one of them. “It is not a new one I require,” she said, fighting to not clip her words. “Before His Highness disappeared, did you not accept a contract to build him a custom carriage?”

This caught Neuras’s attention. The hammering stopped, and his head jerked up, as if he had been interrupted in the middle of committing some act of wrongdoing. Curious.

“Without a formal owner, I reasoned that it must now lie unused. I was hoping I might borrow it a short while.”

Neuras spun around in his chair, panicky. “Buh—Pish and tosh, woman! She’s for royal use, and nought else!”

“WHOA, your mustache is awesome!”

Both Neuras and Hulkenberg turned to look at Futaba, whose embarrassment was starting to slightly overcome her interest in Neuras’s facial hair.

Hulkenberg was set to apologize for the younger woman when Neuras smiled. “Thank you, young lady! I’ve no idea who you are, but you clearly have an eye for aesthetics!”

“Neuras,” Hulkenberg tried again. The ishkia gave an almost imperceptible flinch. “‘Tis an unreasonable request, I know. But I’d not be asking without grave need. Might I at least see it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Neuras floundered, looking anywhere but directly at Hulkenberg. “Well, erm…”

“‘Twas specially made for His Highness, yes? Not a work you’d have sold off. Where lies it now?”

Neuras turned away. “I-I’ve deadlines to meet, dash it! Off with you, now, leave me be!”

“...He totally did something to it,” Futaba said. Neuras flinched again, this time much more noticeably.

Hulkenberg’s eyes narrowed. “Neuras…?”

“Preposterous, your young friend is speaking poppycock!”

Futaba snorted. “Poppycock? This guy’s awesome.”

“Neuras, what did you do?” Hulkenberg asked, voice carrying absolutely no inflection.

The engineer turned back to them, looking unconvincingly affronted. “Absolutely nothing! And I resent the implication!” Hulkenberg caught his eyes, visible behind his glasses, as they darted over to something off to the side.

Futaba caught it too, because she followed his gaze until she landed on a power lever attached to one of the nearby wooden beams. “Oooo, what’s this?” she asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nonononono, don’t pull that switch. Absolutely no need, doesn’t do anything, completely useless, I assure you!” Neuras said. A distinct sheen of sweat was now present on his forehead.

Futaba looked to Hulkenberg, who in turn studied Neuras. After a second’s worth of deliberation, she returned Futaba’s gaze. “Flip it.”

Futaba immediately adopted a mischievous grin and pulled the switch. The previously dark, open space next to them was immediately flooded with light.

“Good God…!” Hulkenberg whispered.

“Holy crap!” Futaba exclaimed, excitement clear in her voice.

Hulkenberg slowly walked forward to take in the giant machine that occupied the cavern. “Is this… a gauntlet runner!? The very craft commissioned for His Highness the Prince!?”

Neuras slowly approached her side as Futaba ran forward, eyes alight. Hulkenberg kept staring at the gauntlet runner, appreciation and respect for Neuras swelling within her. “Even knowing His Highness was gone… still you toiled away! Oh, Neuras, you are an inspiration! Such nobility of purpose!”

“Yeah, well done mustache-bird-guy! This thing is awesome!” Futaba chirped, eyes still focused on the vehicle.

“Erm… yes. Right,” Neuras said simply. How odd, the Neuras of old typically basked in praise. Hulkenberg looked over the gauntlet runner again, initial shock wearing away. It truly was a magnificent piece of machinery. Hulkenberg could not profess to be any sort of expert when it came to technology, but even at a glance, she could tell that this runner was top of the line. Cutting edge even. In fact, it looked like no royal carriage she had ever seen. Indeed, some features she had never seen on… any… runner… before…

…

…

“Neuras.”

“...Yes?”

“For a craft meant for the royal family, ‘tis rather excessive, isn’t it?”

“...”

“Did you really build this vehicle exactly to their orders?”

Neuras chuckled nervously.

Hulkenberg’s gaze grew icy. “You cannot mean…”

Neuras scrambled. “Well at first, certainly! I followed the blueprints exactly! But then His Highness died, and, ah, well, I couldn’t just let the old girl waste away… A masterpiece like her, collecting dust in storage!? No, unacceptable! Unthinkable!”

Hulkenberg exploded, startling both Neuras and Futaba, who this entire time had been running her hand over the runner’s hull in rapt fascination. “You imbecile!! A lowly, brazen court engineer, butchering His Highness’s inheritance for a hobby!? For this… mania, you embezzled the royal treasury and disrespected his legacy!? Treason!”

Neuras, clearly terrified, placed himself between Hulkenberg and the runner. “Gah! Mercy, please! Look, take my head if you must, milady, but leave the bally runner alone!”

Futaba, to both Hulkenberg’s and Neuras’s surprise, placed herself next to him and spread her arms wide. “Hulk, c’mon, you can’t punish this guy, all he did was take this awesome… runner-thingy and make it even more awesome! You don’t punish the guy that adds extra RAM to your rig and overclocks your CPU, you thank him!”

“I have no idea what this young lady is talking about, but she has the absolute right of it!” Neuras said, desperate. “I’m working toward a dream, and this poor old girl is going to help me see it through. True, I had to make some… slight modifications… But they were all upgrades, I assure you. His Highness, rest his soul, would surely approve!”

“Yeah Hulk, with this thing, we’ll be able to kick some serious ass!” Futaba added, vibrating with excitement.

Hulkenberg looked at Futaba and Neuras. Both of them were breathing heavily, both sets of eyes fiery with passion. Perhaps it was a mistake to bring these two into contact. She sighed. “Look, this runner… ‘Tis fully operational now, is it?”

Neuras shifted hesitantly, “More or less…? There are some minor adjustments that I’m currently in the middle of…”

“Then I suggest, for your sake, that you finish said adjustments by the opening ceremony for the Tournament. Surely your nose hasn’t been at the grindstone so much that you missed that bit of news?”

Neuras shook his head slowly. “No, I’ve heard tell of the tournament. But does this mean that’s why you’ve need of it? You’d play proud soldier at me and then pluck it for your own schemes?”

“‘Tis no scheme!” Hulkenberg said, offended. “I would use it for His Highness’s sake!”

Futaba winced, and it took Hulkenberg a second to figure out why. Oh. Drat.

But Neuras, unfortunately, was far too smart not to connect the dots. “For His Highness you say? You’ve been gone years now, looking for him. Wandering God-knows-where. But you’re back now… and need a runner… for His Highness’s sake…”

Hulkenberg, for what felt like the hundredth time today, let out a sigh. “Yes, it is as you surmise. And need I remind you, ‘twas His Highness who gave you refuge while you were only a heretical scholar condemned by the Sanctists. The time has come to repay his mercy.”

“Don’t worry, Hulk,” Futaba said with a smile. “He’ll have it ready for us in time, won’t you Neuras?”

“Er… yes, young lady whose name I still don’t know. I will indeed,” Neuras said, eyeing her with curiosity.

“And I’ll be helping out!” Futaba added, smile widening to a full-on grin.

Neuras nodded. “And you’ll be—pardon?”

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The start of the Tournament, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, draws near… 

2 days remain.

If she was being honest, Euphausia Etoreika was quite proud of herself.

It had always been a dream of hers to see the lands beyond her own. But not a dream the way most people meant it—some distant yet possibly attainable goal to work towards. No, her dream was closer to the literal meaning. Something that was nice to fantasize about, but would never truly be possible. She was a priestess of the mustari tribe, and that honor came with certain caveats, one of which was that it was very frowned upon to leave the island. After all, it wouldn’t do to have the priestess absent when she might be called to fulfill her duty at any moment. No, her place was with her people.

For the longest time, Eupha was content with her role. It was an important one, perhaps the most important. But as she grew up, that cute little dream of hers started to weigh heavier and heavier on her mind. And when the island’s livestock started contracting diseases, when monsters began moving into their seas, when the harvests started declining—when giving her life to the Dragon God became less of a hypothetical and more of a viable option? That’s when the dream started feeling like an anchor around her neck. She was the consummate priestess, never once shirking her duties, bearing the knowledge that her sacrifice might one day save her people with pride! How could she even entertain the idea of running away to see the world? How could she ever tell those that believed in her so fervently that she had doubts?

How could she ever let anybody know that sometimes she cried herself to sleep, terrified of what might one day be asked of her?

Then came the day when word reached them by way of a trader’s vessel from Brilehaven. There was to be a Tournament for the Throne, and all were invited to participate. Edeni, her older brother and chieftain of their people, jumped at the opportunity. Becoming king could change everything for their people. Solving the issues their island was starting to see was only the beginning. From the throne, one could even change the very way the mustari were treated by society at large. And even if he could not win the crown, he might be able to enlist help for their issues, might be able to convince people through words and deeds that the mustari were not a tribe to be feared or spat on.

(Eupha pretended she didn’t notice the way his eyes always sought her out involuntarily as he was working to convince his people. She well knew what Edeni’s views of her station were. He never seemed to mention that bringing aid to Virga Island would coincidentally mean that the priestess wouldn’t need to be sacrificed. She tried not to dwell on it, tried to ignore the smallest glimmer of hope that started to swell inside her.)

But while Edeni saw an opportunity to save his people and his sister, Eupha saw an opportunity to actualize her long held dream before she was inevitably called upon to perform her duty. Surely it couldn’t be a bad thing for the priestess to travel with her brother and see the lands outside her own? She was the best person suited for reaching out to others and explaining the mustari faith and way of life. And things hadn’t gotten too bad at home yet—both of them would be back in time for a sacrifice should it prove necessary. Better for her to work towards the betterment of her tribe’s standing than twiddle her thumbs back on the island.

The elders of the village required some convincing, but her brother surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly) required little. Within the day, a ship was ready to bear them to Brilehaven, and from there, it was a lengthy trip by caravan to Grand Trad. Time constraints meant that she unfortunately did not get to see much on the way, but she had finally arrived at the capital this morning and what she found there was…

Dizzying.

What little she saw of Brilehaven was impressive in its own right, but Grand Trad was almost too much for her to wrap her head around. So many buildings. So many people. Strange technology. Unusual sounds. Enticing smells. And tribes that until now, Eupha had only read or heard about. She found her neck hurting with how much twisting and turning it was doing trying to take in every little thing. Eventually, to her great embarrassment, Edeni had to grab hold of her wrist so that they didn’t get separated. At least her mask covered her blushing.

The thing that surprised her most was how much they were ignored. Stories she had heard about mustari on the mainland had her bracing herself to endure ridicule, perhaps even a small amount of physical violence. But nobody in the capital paid much attention to them at all. It was as if they were purposefully being ignored. Her brother speculated that it was because mustari were much more common here than elsewhere, which made a certain amount of sense—maybe seeing their tribe so frequently meant that the citizens of Grand Trad had simply grown numb to their presence.

Eventually they managed to find their way to the recruitment center, which was where a gruff guard had directed them with a scoff when Edeni asked where he could sign up for the Tournament. At his request, she remained outside while he registered (“I’m not sure how welcoming the soldiers will be to a mustari candidate. Best not take chances.”), which was how she found herself people-watching.

The vast majority of people were walking quickly to and fro, likely busy with whatever errand brought them to the nearby outdoor market or the Regalith Cathedral. A handful were gathered around the nearby King’s Rock to see the current standings. And here and there were people standing on sidewalks or corners, most taking part in lively conversation. It was the fourth time scanning the crowd that Eupha spotted something entirely unexpected.

A young man with messy black hair leaning against a wall across the street. He was by himself and had his arms folded across his chest, head angled down. He looked to Eupha to be trying not to draw attention to himself. And he seemed to be succeeding—of the myriad that passed by him, not a single one paid him any attention. It was almost as if they didn’t even realize he was there. But that wasn’t what drew her attention. It wasn’t even that he was an elda, interesting though that was.

No, it was the magla around him. 

From a very young age, Eupha was blessed with a strong aptitude for Sight. Almost all mustari could use their third eye to see magla to some extent, but her ability far outstripped anybody else on the island. Even the oldest among them had no memory of any mustari, priestess or otherwise, who could trace magla the way she could. She was quite used to seeing the magla present in other people by now, and had largely come to ignore it, much like one would ignore a stranger’s nose, eyes, or hair—magla was something everyone had inside of them, and unless the quantity or quality was vastly different from the majority, she paid it no mind.

This man was vastly different from the majority, in that he had no magla at all. Eupha had to do a double take and refocus. That was impossible. Everybody, from the smallest newborn to the greatest king—everybody had magla in their bodies. But no, she saw correctly the first time. He had absolutely none of the particles circulating within him. 

And that wasn’t all. Not only was there no magla within him, the magla in his immediate vicinity seemed to swirl around him, almost as if it was drawn to him. Like a rock in the current creates an eddy, so too was this man, somehow, causing the ambient magla to flow in circles around his body, incredibly close but never quite touching. It was oddly familiar, but Eupha couldn’t quite remember why. Then the man looked up and waved to someone coming down the street, and for a second time in the last few seconds, Eupha was left speechless.

Another elda, much closer to her own age, was coming down the street, riding what seemed to be a floating sword (what on earth?). He had blue hair, striking mismatched eyes, and his body contained more magla than she had ever seen in a person. She didn’t understand. Was he made entirely of magla, similar to the Dragon God? Was he perhaps an emissary? Another dragon? Those seemed to be the only options—It wasn’t possible for a member of any tribe to hold that much magla.

Or was it? Her island was small and isolated, after all. Perhaps this individual was just an extremely powerful mage, and his large capacity for the magic particle simply made it look to her third eye like he was built out of it. Euchronia was a big place, after all, and there were many wonders she had never laid eyes on, many she would never lay eyes on.

The blue haired elda reached the black haired one and they started walking, the former a beacon of magla and the latter completely bereft of it, parting it and dragging it behind him like the wake of a boat. Eupha was overcome with a desperate desire to know. Whoever they were, it could be no coincidence that they were acquainted, could it? Whispering a silent apology to her brother, she started making her way across the street. As nonchalantly as she could muster, she started following behind them, eventually getting close enough to pick out their conversation.

“...and Futaba is basically living in the Underhall right now,” the taller, black haired elda was saying. He shook his head. “I went over there yesterday and she told me she hadn’t eaten in two days. Just forgot!”

Blue hair laughed, a light melodic sound that for some reason reminded Eupha of the wind chimes back of Virga Island. “The more I hear about her, the less surprised I get,” he said. Eupha couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he sounded like he was smiling. “Do you think they’ll have it ready by the opening ceremony?”

“If she doesn’t manage to blow it up first. Wait scratch that, I’ve met Neuras. If they don’t manage to blow it up first.”

Opening ceremony? Does that mean that these people are competing in the Tournament as well?

She was curious—about so many things—but how to get answers? Could she simply walk up and talk to them? Or would that be considered rude? Elda would probably be less likely to react negatively to a mustari, but perhaps social customs on the mainland frowned upon intruding on another’s conversation, regardless of how politely you went about it. If only she could reach out to them like she did to Eht…

Wait, perhaps she could. Certainly, the shorter of the two men had a similar signature. Perhaps with that much magla, he could hear her were she to speak directly into his mind? It was at the very least worth attempting. Eupha quickly concentrated, willing her mind to reach out, to ride the magla in the air until it came into contact with his.

Excu—

“Eupha, what are you doing!?”

A panicky voice and a tugging at her arm shattered her train of thought, and she was forcibly turned until she was face to face with her brother. Guilt quickly replaced shock as she took in his expression.

“I’m sorry, brother. It’s just that something caught my attention…” Eupha tried to look behind her at the two elda, but Edeni was by now holding onto each of her shoulders, and she couldn’t quite rotate far enough.

Edeni sighed and smiled at her. “I know this is exciting for you. Don’t think you were clever enough to have kept your desire to see more of the world from me. But please remember that this place is dangerous for us, and you are important.”

“I know, brother,” Eupha said, chagrined. “It would be disastrous if our people lost their priestess.”

“That’s not what I meant by important,” Edeni responded. There was a weight behind his words. 

Eupha smiled despite herself. “I know. And I apologize.”

“Shall we go then? I’ve secured lodgings for us in the lower part of the city.” Edeni turned, beckoning her forward.

Eupha looked behind her, but the two were gone.

Hopefully I can find them at the ceremony…

—

“If she doesn’t manage to blow it up first.” Ren thought for a second. “Wait scratch that, I’ve met Neuras. If they don’t manage to blow it up first.”

Will chuckled again. “I suppose Hulkenberg did warn us. I’m excited to see it though, I haven’t managed to—”

Ren looked over at Will when he realized the younger man wasn’t going to finish his thought. He was looking behind him, eyes searching.

“You okay?” Ren asked.

“Yeah…” Will said, distracted. “Hey, did you hear something just now?”

Ren shook his head. “Don’t think so? What was I supposed to be hearing?”

“I thought… I thought I heard someone calling out to us for a second..” Will said. He seemed far more confused than Ren thought the situation called for. 

He looked back the way they had come. Nothing out of the ordinary, just people hurrying to the market. Two mustari in colorful robes were having a conversation a ways back in the middle of the sidewalk, which was a bit odd, but there was definitely nobody trying to get their attention that he could see.

“Nope, sorry. Didn’t hear anything.”

Will hummed, still distracted, but after a few seconds turned back around. “Oh well. Let’s go.”

Royal Capital Grand Trad

The start of the Tournament, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, is upon us… 

“I still can’t believe you resigned, Hulkenberg!” Gallica said, raising her voice to make herself audible over the rest of the crowd. 

Today was finally, finally the kickoff of the Tournament for the Throne, and it seemed like everyone in the city was making their way to the cathedral grounds. The streets were even more crowded than they were for the funeral, and pretty much every single person was chatting excitedly as they walked. The group was seen off this morning by a stoic Grius, a worried Fabienne, and a despondent Maria, who only cheered up once Will promised her they would come back and visit whenever they had the opportunity.

“As I said, Gallica, ‘twas only my service I relinquished, not my title. Though, in truth, I care little for that either.”

“I know, but still, that’s a massive decision to make,” Strohl said.

“Perhaps, but it was honestly a long time coming. The past few years have seen the order falling more and more under the Sanctifex’s thumb, and it was throne and not church I swore my blade to,” Hulkenberg replied, voice and expression completely free of doubt. “Besides, we are attempting to gain Louis’s esteem—I would not have my active service give the man cause to doubt.”

Hulk had a point, but Ren was still impressed that she could give up such a large part of herself without seeming to second-guess her choice. She shook her head. “In any event, I would speak of what is to come rather than what has already occurred.”

“Okay,” Will said, guiding the group around a slower bunch of people. “Then how about the first task? What do you guys think it’ll be?”

“Something that takes us well out of the city, I’d imagine,” Strohl answered. “They did tell us that if we could procure a runner or other means of transport, we should bring it to this ceremony, right? I can’t imagine we’d be asked to do that if there wasn’t travel involved.”

“Already looking to weed out the lower classes, huh?” Ren said. “That didn’t take long.”

Gallica puffed out her cheeks slightly in anger. “Yeah! How exactly is it a fair competition open to all if you need your own transportation?”

“Maybe it’s still doable without a vehicle, it’s just that having one makes things easier?” Will suggested.

“Mayhap, but I fear you may be giving Forden too much credit,” Hulkenberg said. Will frowned in disappointment, but said nothing else.

“Speaking of vehicles, how is ours looking?” Strohl asked, turning to Ren and Hulkenberg. 

Ren sighed. “Beats me. Futaba refuses to actually let me see it. Only lets me close to deliver food. ‘It’ll ruin the surprise,’ she says.” He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes.

Hulkenberg hummed in mild displeasure. “Yes, the two of them are being rather… reticent. But Neuras insists he has things well in hand.”

Strohl laughed. “Well I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

—

Ren had to fight to keep from burying his face in his hands. Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting—she only had seven days to sink her little gremlin claws into Neuras, after all. But still.

“Behold, the Monabus Mk. II!” Futaba yelled from the deck of the gauntlet runner once the group approached.

“I still think she should be named the Halcyon,” Neuras grumbled.

“Then you should have won the coin toss!” she shot back.

“True enough,” Neuras said with a wry smile, shaking his head. “Yes, welcome one and all to the Monabus Mk. II!” he said, arms spread wide. “Climb aboard, yes yes, hop to it chaps!”

The group was currently standing in the cathedral grounds, surrounded by a large number of gauntlet runners and an even larger number of carriages. Spectators lined the grounds, but only applicants for the crown and their traveling parties were allowed onto the field. And while all of the runners were impressive in their own right, it was theirs that drew the most eyes.

“Futaba… what did you do?” Ren asked flatly when he had climbed up onto the runner’s outer deck.

“Suggested some much needed upgrades,” she answered innocently, trying and failing to hide the glint in her eyes. “You like the paint job, yeah?”

He did, actually. The runner was painted mostly black, with highlights of silver along the windows and railings. There was also one long stripe of yellow flanked by two thinner ones running down the hull of the machine, slightly offset from center. It wasn’t hard to see what she had taken inspiration from.

“I do, but we both know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he said, leveling his most unimpressed gaze at her.

As always, she was unfazed. “Oh?”

“The headlights?”

“Yeah? We’ll need them if we want to travel at night.”

“They’re blue.”

“Well yeah, it’s makes for softer light! Don’t wanna blind people or attract monsters out there.”

“Uhuh. And the giant cat ears up top?”

“.......Aerodynamics?”

Ren had to fight to keep from laughing as he pushed the heels of his palms into his forehead. “Is there a tail too?”

Futaba grumbled. “Not yet. But there will be.”

“How on earth did you get him to go along with all this?”

“He is an ishkia of culture, brother dearest,” she said simply.

“Indeed I am,” Neuras said, walking up to them after helping the rest of the group climb up. “And may I say, this little lady is quite the genius. Picks things up quick as a whip, I say.”

“She does do that,” Ren said, doing his best to ignore Futaba’s smug smile. “I hope she wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

“Perish the thought lad,” Neuras said lightly, physically waving the concern away. “In truth, I was in dire need of the company. Going a bit stir crazy down there, I think.”

Before Ren could respond, the crowd erupted into a wave of cheers. The three of them turned to the dais, where the same Sanctist crier as before—Batlin, if Ren remembered correctly—was standing. They walked up to the runner’s railing to join the others. Ren doubted the crier was the reason everyone was cheering—he’d been up there since they’d arrived. It took a few moments to see what was causing it from his vantage point.

A young woman was approaching the dais from the direction of the cathedral. A nidia with iridescent, voluminous blonde hair that fell almost to the floor and giant blue eyes. She was incredibly beautiful, though Ren had to question the dress she was wearing. It felt like she might look more at home at a cosplay convention than a church sponsored event. As she stopped next to the crier, who bowed and gave her the stage, Ren could just make out her name as it was screamed out from the crowd, now almost deafening.

“Junah?” He looked to Will, Gallica, and Futaba on his left, who met his implied question with shrugs. Further down the line, Strohl was watching with marginal interest. He seemed at least to know who this was, but was too far away to hear Ren. Amusingly, Hulkenberg’s eyes were glued to the nidia woman, an open-mouthed smile on her face. He’d have to get the scoop later.

The woman—Junah, apparently—stood in place, looking over the crowd with a slight smile. After a minute or so, the crowd finally realized that she was waiting for them to settle down and gradually quieted. Seemingly satisfied, Junah closed her eyes and drew in a breath. Suddenly music started up from an unknown source and she began singing.

Ren immediately understood why the crowd was going crazy when they saw her. Junah’s voice was incredible, easily a match for any of the professional singers of his time. She sang with the effortlessness that came from countless hours of practice, drawing in and captivating the crowd with ease. The song itself was interesting, and it made Ren realize that until now, he had yet to hear any type of Euchronian music. He was by no means an aficionado, but it reminded him of a unique cross between a national anthem and an aria. Actually, for all he knew, it may well be Euchronia’s anthem, though the crowd didn’t seem to be singing along.

Eventually the song ended and the crowd gave a roaring round of applause and a standing ovation. Junah curtsied deeply in thanks and turned back to the cathedral, waving to the crowd as she went. Batlin took her place in front of the crowd and immediately launched into his spiel, riding the wave of enthusiasm generated by the songstress’s performance.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome one and all to the inauguration of… The Tournament for the Throne!”

The crowd erupted again, and Batlin waited for them to settle just a little before continuing. Ren was impressed with his ability to work a crowd.

“For the first time, the crown is anyone’s to claim. As long as the aspirants can complete the grueling challenges set before them! Now, explaining all the challenges ahead of time would be telling, but we do want to give you something, so let’s discuss how this thing will play out!

“The Tournament as a whole will take our aspirants on a tour of Euchronia to give our fair citizens far and wide the best opportunity to see them in action. We kick off in the West, in the pearl of the coast—the Principality of Oceana’s harbor city capital—Port Brilehaven! From there we’ll see our would-be monarchs gradually make their way east. Upon the misty peaks, we arrive in the Principality of Montario’s beautiful City of Faith, Altabury Heights! And finally, completing the tour, our heroes make their well-deserved return home to Grand Trad! And sprinkled throughout will be the tasks designed to show one and all their aptitude to rule!

“But just who are these potential future kings, you may ask? An excellent question! Let’s do introductions—it’s time to meet those risking their lives for the throne!”

The crowd once again rose in volume, clearly excited to meet the contestants, most of whom seemed to be either standing on the decks of their runners or around their carriages. Ren wondered if there were any contestants that could not secure transportation, and how quickly it would take them to drop out. He wasn’t sure exactly how big Euchronia was, but covering the entire thing on foot, especially with how dangerous the wilds were, seemed impossible. But that thought was quickly replaced by another, worse one.

“Futaba, we need to get out of here,” he said quickly.

His sister turned to him, confused. “What? Why?”

“Because every eye in the capital is going to be on us when Batlin gets to Will. An elda contestant will draw enough anger. An elda contestant with two more elda in his party might start riots. And even if it doesn’t, we won’t be doing Will any favors.”

Futaba, surprisingly, laughed. “Oh right, I almost forgot. Neuras, where are they?”

“I placed them in that container for safe keeping,” Neuras said, pointing behind them. 

Futaba ran over to the small container he indicated and grabbed two things out of it. Before Ren could make out what they were, she spun, hiding them behind her back as she scurried back over. Without warning, she jumped up and slammed something down on his head. Ren flinched, more out of surprise than anything, and when she backed away he could feel a slight constriction around his scalp.

He knew this feeling. He remembered it from when he’d stolen the headband Makoto used to wear and put it on after her and Haru’s graduation ceremony. He could still picture her face, red from embarrassment as she chased him around the front of Shujin while their friends laughed and Sae shook her head. He probably lost a few points with both Niijimas that day, but damn if it wasn’t worth it.

Ren reached up and took off whatever Futaba had put on him to get a better look. Sure enough, it was a headband. The band itself was the same color as his hair, and fastened onto it were a pair of horns, slightly golden in shade, with their points wrapping forward like Strohl’s, but longer. They reminded Ren of…

“Satanael?” he asked, looking at Futaba.

She shot him a big toothy grin and flashed a peace sign. “Correct!”

Ren put it back on, more securely this time, and smirked wickedly. “It’s perfect.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Futaba cheered, clearly pleased with herself. “Who knew getting into cosplay would end up being this useful?”

Ren nodded. Futaba had started working on costumes when her friend Kana had mentioned she wanted to try cosplaying, and like most things Futaba put her mind to, she ended up becoming quite good at it. “How about yours?” he asked.

Futaba pursed her lips slightly. “I didn’t get to finish mine, buuuuut…” She pulled another headband from behind her back and put it on. They were paripus ears, cat-like and the same shade of orange as her hair.

“Those look good,” Ren said, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What’s not finished about them?”

“Well, the ears are only half of the equation, right? I still haven’t figured out how to do the tail. Skinny? Bushy? Lion-tail? The possibilities are endless!”

“Why didn’t you just make another set of clemar horns then?” Ren asked.

His sister fixed him with a flat stare. “Because catgirls.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Well it shouldn’t matter. As long as you keep to the back of the group, I doubt anybody’ll notice.”

Now transformed, the two of them returned their focus to the crier, who was currently finishing up introductions of those candidates who had not registered gauntlet runners. He had just finished announcing a mustari candidate with a mask that looked like a rook piece to less than lukewarm applause. He looked a bit familiar, though Ren couldn’t quite place him. He was with another mustari, this one wearing an eye-catching tunic of black circles on a white. He couldn’t be positive because of the mask, but it seemed like the shorter of the two was looking directly at them.

“Next,” Batlin cried, taking Ren’s attention from the mustari, “The man closest to the throne! I know him, you know him, it’s Sanctism’s one and only 78th Sanctifex, His Eminence, Forden!”

Cheers went up as fireworks exploded overhead. And immediately after Forden gave a little political speech that had a bunch of words but meant next to nothing from the deck of his runner, Batlin introduced another man—this one a warrior monk—who outright stated that he would cede the throne to Forden gladly were he to win.

Ren scoffed almost in unison with Strohl. “So much for this being a fair competition,” the clemar said. “How many horses do the Sanctists have in this race?”

“None,” Futaba said immediately. “They’re all using gauntlet runners instead of carriages.”

Will and Gallica snorted as Strohl just eyed Futaba blankly. Wisely, he chose to ignore her. “I doubt Louis supporters will take this lying down,” he finished.

Indeed, many members in the crowd were getting loud now, angrily complaining that in jumping from Forden to Gidaux, Batlin had skipped right over Louis.

The crier raised his hands to placate the angry attendees. “Right, all right, settle down! At this time, I can report that Count Louis has not applied to enter the tournament!”

This sent a ripple of confusion through the crowd, Will’s group included.

“Wait, Louis isn’t entering!?” Gallica exclaimed in worry.

“What of our plan then?” Hulkenberg said, likewise flustered. “Our entire purpose in this race was to get closer to him!”

“He probably doesn’t want to lend any legitimacy to Forden’s claim by participating in a Sanctist backed contest,” Ren said. “But I don’t think this changes anything.”

“Ren’s right,” Strohl said, nodding his head. “Louis is definitely paying attention to this tournament. He can’t afford not to. I’m sure he has a plan up his sleeve. Remember, he’s still in second place. He’ll have to make a move sooner or later.”

Batlin went on to introduce more of the contestants in seemingly no particular order: Glodell, a roussainte with a questionable sense of fashion who seemed to be in love with Louis; Roger Ward, a clemar merchant; Rudolf Krause, a roussainte warrior; Lina Kayden, a eugief that apparently cared more about the gauntlet runners competing in the tournament than in the tournament itself; Loveless O’Shea, a paripus that was somehow promising free drinks for life; and Milo Maurizio, an ishkia who reminded Ren of celebrities that had less than impressive plastic surgeries in an effort to maintain their youth. 

“Does anyone else feel like some of these guys aren’t taking this whole ‘ruling a kingdom’ thing seriously?” Futaba asked as Milo flourished what looked to be a metal rose around, making poses for the crowd.

“No kidding,” Gallica said. “I’m thinking Louis isn’t the only one we need to make sure doesn’t win…”

“And now,” Batlin said, “I do believe we have one final candidate.”

The group tensed. Will, ready and far calmer than Ren would have expected, gulped and took a step forward. Futaba, anticipating all eyes being directed towards them, slipped behind Ren.

“I believe we have an eldan boy present, yes?” Batlin asked, turning towards the… ugh… Monabus Mk. II. Locking eyes with the blue-haired elda, he continued. “Will, yes? Give the crowd a wave!”

Batlin didn’t seem to have any issue with an elda taking part in the tournament, but as Will waved as instructed, the crowd made it clear that there were plenty who did. Ren couldn’t help but notice that the higher up and more expensive the seats in the audience were, the more vehement the protestations. Slurs, curses, and nasty epithets rained down from most of the boxes. Those in the cheap seats didn’t seem to mind much—in fact, a few seemed to actually be cheering. Whether that was out of actual support or just the novelty of an elda trying to be king, Ren couldn’t say. Through it all, Will kept waving. Not for the first time, Ren was struck by the amount of composure and level of thick skin the younger boy had.

“I guess disguises were a good idea, huh?” Futaba mumbled into his back, loud enough for only Ren to hear.

He reached behind himself with his left arm and wrapped her in a side hug. “You okay?”

Futaba didn’t look up at him, instead burying her face into his side. “I… I don’t like this,” she said, voice muffled and pained. “There’s so much… hate…”

Ren squeezed tighter. “I know. It’ll be over soon. And then we’ll get to work fixing it.”

“Right! That’s the full roster!” Batlin called out, clearly eager to pull attention from Will. “Now that you know who’s competing, let’s find out what their first task will be, shall we!?” The crowd gradually shifted from outrage to excitement, their attention successfully diverted.

“Aspirants! Your first trial shall be what we’re calling the Exhibition of the Brave. As we all know, a ruler should be strong—capable of defending their kingdom! Which is why we’re calling upon you brave men and women: slay a monster plaguing our fair people, and bring its head to Oceana’s capital in six weeks’ time! 

“But!” Batlin held up a finger and grinned, a bit too sadistically for a Sanctist crier. “A ruler must also have the ear of their citizenry! Which is why we are adding an extra rule— no contestant is allowed to select their target by consulting a bounty board! That’s right, until this leg of the Tournament is concluded, all public bounty boards will be cleared, and anyone looking to take on a bounty will first need to prove that they are not participating in nor affiliated with this tournament! Which means that our lovely aspirants will have no choice but to rely on questioning the citizenry to identify and locate their quarry! Difficult? Perhaps, but being a ruler is anything but easy! Biggest, most dangerous find will take the win! Only when all are judged will we find out what the next leg of our journey will be!”

The crowd broke out into thousands of localized conversations, everyone speculating on who would come out on top and how they might go about completing the task. Ren looked at his group. Hulkenberg and Strohl looked pensive.Will and Gallica were already starting to brainstorm. Futaba had extricated herself from Ren’s hug and was bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxious to get going. Neuras was making his way toward the cockpit in anticipation of the starting signal, now that the ceremony seemed to be concluding. Ren looked out at the rest of the plaza, watching contestants and their traveling companions as they all started shifting into action.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Batlin roared, building up to a crescendo. “Race across the land! Go, prove yourself worthy, and earn your crown! For the people! For the throne! Let the games begin!”

The Exhibition of the Brave, which shall influence the crowning of a new king, begins… 

30 days remain.

Chapter Text

Royal Capital Grand Trad → Kingdom of Euchronia

The egress from the capital was hectic to say the least. While a handful of aspirants elected to remain in Grand Trad, most made a beeline for the main gates as soon as the ceremony was over, including them. Will and Gallica made the snap decision that Grand Trad was too important and populated for there to be anything impressive to hunt in the immediate vicinity. The others agreed—they were far more likely to find something that would catch Louis’s eye away from the major cities, where the army would be harder pressed to maintain safety.

The soldiers on duty around the city had thankfully worked to ensure that Sunlumeo Street was cleared in time for the start of the Tournament’s first leg, but it was still a tight fit for some of the larger runners. It definitely didn’t help that numerous craft were attempting to jockey for position from the get go. Ren knew that Neuras was an accomplished mechanic and engineer, but he was also apparently a decent pilot—the ishkia managed to get them out of the city in quick order, the only casualty being Strohl’s lunch. From the gates, the contestants quickly separated. The majority decided to start moving at least partially southward toward Port Brilehaven, but the 30 day time limit meant that if you had a gauntlet runner, you could start your search pretty much anywhere in Euchronia and still make it back to Oceana’s capital in time. 

“So where to, chaps?” Neuras asked, his voice coming through the pipe speakers installed throughout the Monabus Mk. II. “This old girl can take you anywhere you want to go, and quickly at that! She might be the fastest gauntlet runner in the kingdom. Why, probably the world! I think. Maybe.”

“Encouraging,” Strohl said flatly. 

The group (sans Neuras) was currently gathered around the runner’s circular table, eager to plan now that they had finally been given their goal. They had Neuras aim the runner in a general southerly direction, but they needed an actual destination.

“Thoughts?” Will asked, looking around at the others. “I don’t really know much of Euchronia outside of the Sanctum and the capital.”

Futaba nodded. “Yeah, Ren and I aren’t gonna be any help with this, so we’ll be magnanimous and let the rest of you decide.”

“What she means,” Ren cut in, rolling his eyes, “is that we’re going to have to defer to you guys. And please don’t worry about having to factor in the whole pod situation. We’re as likely to find them in one location as any other.”

All eyes turned to Strohl and Hulkenberg, the only two that had more than passing knowledge of Euchronia at large. Hulkenberg simply nodded and spread the party’s map of the country—obtained when Will first enlisted in the army—on the table.

“Once we exit the deep desert surrounding the capital, there are a number of towns and settlements within a few day’s travel, and any one may provide us the information we need,” she said, pouring over the map. We run the risk of encountering other aspirants the closer we remain to the capital, but that fact aside, I can think of no reason to choose one over any other. Being in possession of a gauntlet runner negates most terrain concerns, so we need not worry about the difficulty required to reach any of them.”

“Then do you think it would be better if we started asking around somewhere further away then?” Gallica pondered.

“There are pros and cons to any approach,” Strohl said, eyes flicking between the various settlements marked on the map. “The further away we go, the less competition we’ll have and potentially the bigger the target we’ll find. That being said, we’ll be cutting into our allotted time for this task, and if we come up empty, that’s much more time wasted.”

Ren nodded. “That’s a good point. There’s no guarantee that the first town we visit—or even the fifth—will give us any target. And even if we find one, who knows if it’ll be impressive enough.”

“Oh!” Futaba squeaked. “It’s like one of those timed collectible quests!”

The others looked at her questioningly. They were by now used to her chiming in with terms they didn’t understand, and knew that whenever she did, a good idea or clever observation usually wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, once she realized that the group was waiting for further explanation, she elaborated.

“Okay, so sometimes video games have these timed quests. Catch the biggest fish or mine the prettiest diamond in thirty minutes or whatever. But the trick is that you can only submit one, and if time runs out without you submitting anything, you fail.” Futaba paused and looked around to make sure the Euchronians were still following. Hulkenberg had her face screwed up slightly, but nobody asked for any clarification, so she continued. “So let’s say you have 5 minutes left and just caught a pretty big fish. Sure, you could turn it in and finish the quest now, but you know there’s a bigger fish out there. So do you say ‘good enough’ and turn in your decent fish for decent rewards…”

“...or do you risk trying to catch a bigger fish in the last five minutes, knowing you may miss the deadline if you try,” Strohl finished, chewing the inside of his bottom lip in thought.

“Exactly!” Futaba exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. She was clearly happy one of her analogies landed.

“Truly a risk versus reward situation,” Hulkenberg muttered. “One wonders if this is what they intended by preventing access to bounty boards. Could we avail ourselves of them, every competitor would simply pick the largest bounty they could handle and have done with it.”

“It’s likely, especially when you consider the advantage you could give yourself with that rule in place,” Ren said, brows knitted together.

“What do you mean?” Will asked, confused.

Strohl answered for him. “Ren means that Forden and Gidaux and any other Sanctist pawn in the race would know the bounty stipulation ahead of time. It’d be easy to assign bounties to their own aspirants, then prevent their use to everyone else.”

“It’s nice to have a fellow cynic in the group,” Ren smirked.

“I do what I can,” Strohl smiled back sardonically.

“Ugh, and they call this Tournament fair!” Gallica grumbled, arms folded in frustration. Will frowned but said nothing.

“Politics are never fair,” Ren said. “The king may have attempted to even the playing field, but Forden and Louis and people like them are going to do everything in their power to come out on top. But luckily for us, we aren’t aiming for the crown. All we need to do is get Louis’s attention.”

Gallica considered this for a moment, then nodded firmly, fire in her eyes. “Good point. So Futaba, what’s the best strategy in these video game things of yours?”

Futaba thought for a moment. “Honestly it’s pretty simple. You just kinda guesstimate how long it’ll take you to turn the quest in, give yourself a little buffer, and then go for as many collection attempts as you can at the highest level gathering nodes you can find.”

“Translation?” Will asked Ren, not missing a beat.

“We figure out how long it will take to get to Port Brilehaven, add some insurance time, and that will be our deadline. Until then, we ask around as much as we can and take down any monsters that would give us a better result than the one we’re currently going to turn in.”

Hulkenberg and Strohl both nodded along. “‘Tis not a bad plan of action, at least in theory,” the red-tressed knight said. “We will need to take care that we don’t start too small, however. A goborn’s head will hardly impress Louis, after all.”

“It will likely maximize our chances of arriving in Brilehaven with something that will catch his eyes,” Strohl agreed. “But ultimately the choice is yours, Will.”

Will was silent for a moment before eventually nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it sounds like a plan. Plus, there’s an added benefit.”

“Oh?” Gallica prompted.

“The more monsters we take on, the more people we can help. And the more places we can search for Ren’s father and friends,” Will said simply.

“Oh my god, this cinnamon roll,” Futaba groaned as the others smiled warmly.

Will titled his head slightly. “Cinnamon… roll?”

“I’m gladdened that the Prince found a friend in you,” Hulkenberg said.

His head tilted further. “I don’t… what does that have to do with this?”

“Hah, and he doesn’t even realize it,” Strohl chuckled.

“Makes it better, honestly,” Ren quipped.

“Seriously, what are you guys talking about?”

“You’ve a good head on your shoulders, boy! Makes a man proud to serve,” came Neuras’s voice through the pipes.

Will once again opened his mouth, but Gallica held up her tiny hand and shook her head. “Just forget it, Will.”

Tree of Prophecy

Five days out from Grand Trad and the timed collectible strategy was seeing mixed results. 

The first issue encountered was one that, in retrospect, Ren should have anticipated given what he knew of Euchronian society. As soon as they stopped at the first nearby settlement, Will, Gallica, and Hulkenberg jumped off the runner and split up to ask around and see if there were any monsters that were causing the local population trouble. And while Hulkenberg managed to gather some information, Will had a much harder time. It seemed that very few people were interested in conversing with an elda, let alone asking one to assist them with any pest control problems. When he returned an hour later, an irate Gallica informed the group that not a single person gave their captain the time of day.

“Do you think I should disguise myself like Ren and Futaba?” he asked them when Hulkenberg returned ten minutes later. His tone sounded neutral enough, but it was obvious from the way the blue-haired boy fell just short of meeting anybody’s eyes that the non-stop racism was getting to him.

“No,” Ren said, clenching his fists and fighting to keep his anger in check. “Everyone knows you as the eldan candidate, it would defeat the purpose if you disguise yourself.”

Strohl nodded, brow furrowed. “He’s right. For good or ill, you need to be seen. I mentioned it before, right? You being elda is something that Louis can take advantage of. Hiding your tribe would only make it less likely for him to notice you.” 

“I guess…” Will said slowly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that nobody wants to talk to me. Should I just… stay in the runner?”

Strohl shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a good idea either. The people need to see you around town, offering help. I’m guessing that at a certain point, you’ll be a well enough known candidate that townsfolk will overlook your tribe, but until then we need to raise your popularity through any means possible. It won’t do us much good if they don’t know the aspirant responsible for assisting them.”

Ren studied Will closely for his reaction. What Strohl said made logical sense—the group could rely on everybody else to gather information on potential targets, but it would be best if they could leave behind a town that was aware that the eldan candidate was the one that stopped to help. However, Strohl was a clemar, and a noble besides. Ren knew he held no prejudice when it came to tribes, but it was sometimes apparent that Strohl didn’t realize or fully consider the weight of being the ostracized and vilified minority. It wasn’t Strohl’s fault—he never had to truly consider what it was like to be in Will’s shoes. But Ren, having had to live as an elda for even this short amount of time, had a small taste of what it was like, and since then had tried to pay special attention to Will’s mental fortitude. Between this and his reception at the opening ceremony, Ren was worried that asking him to go back out there and subject himself to more was too much.

Will took some time to ponder Strohl’s words, but surprisingly made no indication verbal or otherwise that continuing to gather info would be a strain.

The second issue was the other aspirants. There were a large number, far more than the number of surrounding settlements, and so it came as no surprise that from time to time they would run into one. Between Will’s tribe and the Monabus Mk. II’s striking appearance, Ren doubted there was a single candidate who wasn’t aware of their group. When such an encounter happened in a town or village, it pretty much barred them from further investigation there—the other candidate would be quick to point out Will’s tribe, and from then on the townsfolk would eschew their assistance in favor of the other candidate.

That’s not to say they didn’t see any success. Of the eight towns and villages they had visited so far, they had only arrived at two at the same time as other contestants. And while Will himself couldn’t gather any meaningful intel, the rest of the group could, and it led to a handful of monsters, which the combatants of the group took care of with little trouble. None would likely be impressive enough to catch Louis’s eye, but after hearing Will’s added reasoning for visiting as many settlements as possible, nobody was interested in moving on without helping. A good thing too—a number of townspeople mentioned that other candidates had come before Will, only to leave when they realized that the monster plaguing the area wasn’t dangerous or big enough to submit for judging.

Eventually, the group heard about their first real target: a manticore of some local renown that was causing numerous ranchers in the area no small amount of trouble. The locals indicated that when it wasn’t on the hunt it made its nest in the desert, just to the north of the Tree of Prophecy. First target now acquired, the party decided to make camp at the tree and go after the manticore the next morning.

“Whoa! It’s huge!” Futaba said, running out onto the deck to get a closer look as they approached the tree.

“And pretty!” Gallica added, floating after her.

The tree truly was impressive. It was at least one hundred feet high and twice as wide, and despite taking root in the middle of the desert, it was very much alive, each of its many branches bursting with blood red leaves. As the sun started to set, they realized that each leaf was actually glowing, blanketing the area in a soft crimson glow that reminded Ren of neon lights.

“I’m guessing this is the very place mentioned in the picture book I read as a child,” Hulkenberg said after the party had gotten the usual gear out for spending the evening on the deck of the runner. She was leaning against the railing and staring at the tree. With the sun now having completely disappeared behind the distant sand dunes, the only current source of light was the tree itself, and Ren could see it clearly reflected in her blue eyes. “It told of a great tree, located somewhere within the country, whose colors shifted to foretell unusual events in the times ahead…”

“How could a tree foretell the future?” Strohl asked as he searched for the igniter they used to start the campfire.

“No idea,” Gallica answered. “But there’s an incredible amount of magla around that tree. In its leaves and branches too. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

Futaba walked up to stand next to Hulkenberg, humming in curiosity. In a flash of blue fire, her Phantom Thief goggles appeared on her head. Like Ren, she was capable of manifesting her mask, but not the rest of her outfit. His sister adjusted a few settings on the goggles and examined the tree. Gallica and Futaba had a conversation about her abilities before, and from what Ren had gathered, Futaba’s Al Azif granted her similar abilities as Gallica’s Fae Sight when it came to examining magla.

“Huh. It’s not just above ground, either. There’s tons of the stuff underground too. The tree’s roots, I’m guessing?” she said after studying the tree for half a minute.

“Perhaps it’s no mere tree at all, no sir, but a magical organism that feeds off of magla,” Neuras said as he placed the last folding chair around the fire. He then took out a sketchbook from an inside pocket of his coat. “I was already planning to sketch it, but if that’s the case, then as a matter of scientific research, I must document it!”

The group took their seats around the now lit fire, and for a long while, the only sounds were its crackling and the scratching of Neuras’s pencil as he sketched. This being their third night on the road, they had largely found their rhythm aboard the runner, and were more than comfortable in the silences that sometimes washed over them. Hulkenberg and Strohl took to looking out over the desert, and Will, as he was fond of doing, took out his novel and started reading it. Ren for his part leaned back in his chair and gazed at the stars. They reminded him of home. Not home as in Tokyo—the light pollution made the idea of stargazing there laughable—but home as in where he was originally from. The stars there were just about the only thing he liked about that town. Eventually a voice broke the silence.

“Hey Futaba?”

Ren took his eyes off the inky expanse above him and looked at Gallica. The fairy was looking at Futaba with a complicated expression. Will’s eyes rose from the pages of his book as well and focused on his first traveling companion.

“‘Sup?” Futaba said. She was currently poking at the igniter Strohl had used to light the fire, and didn’t look up immediately.

“Could you maybe tell me more about your magic? I’ve seen Ren fight, but he’s told us that he’s kind of a special case.”

Futaba put the igniter down and cocked her head in thought. “Hmm, well I’m kinda a special case as well. You know how Ren can summon all those different personas and swing his dagger around, laying waste to anything and everything?” 

Ren made a face, but Gallica just nodded, focusing on Futaba. 

“Well so can the rest of our friends. Well, minus the multiple personas part. They’re really good at killing shadows. And pretty good at sneaking around. But they're really, really bad at pretty much everything else. Well, except for Queen.” Futaba grinned at Ren before continuing. “Which is where yours truly comes in. I was the team’s navigator and analyst. Team gets lost? No worries, Oracle is there to map out the floor. Team forgets what a shadow is weak to? Here comes Oracle with the answers. Stuff like that.”

Gallica looked down into the fire for a moment before asking her next question. “And gauging an enemy’s strength?”

 Futaba nodded. “Sure, that too. I mean, Ren can ballpark it with his Third Eye, but I can get a more accurate read if I’m given enough time.”

“Mmm…” Gallica mumbled, returning to the fire. Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly before glancing at Will, who was likewise regarding the fairy with a tinge of concern.

“Gallica?” Will prodded after a minute. She jumped slightly at hearing her name, then shook her head as if dislodging her thoughts.

“Sorry, it’s just… I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to think of ways I can better help the team. But…” Gallica trailed off, thought abandoned.

Ah. Ren saw where this was going. In fact, this wasn’t even the first time. This is what Will was talking about back at the tavern. “You think that now that Futaba’s here and can do some of what you can, the team doesn’t need you anymore,” he finished, voice gentle. 

Gallica’s eyes went wide as she jerked up to stare at Ren. She quickly looked at Futaba and Will in turn before looking down and away. Her tiny arms wrapped around herself tightly. Futaba looked slightly panicked, and she turned to Ren, silently asking what she should do. However, it was Will who spoke up first.

“That’s ridiculous, Gallica!” His voice was a bit louder than the rest of theirs, and there was a small amount of frustration behind it. Those that weren’t already a part of the conversation were clearly aware of it now, but conscientiously pretended to ignore it. “You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t have even made it to Grand Trad if it weren’t for you!”

Gallica flushed, but didn’t look up. “But that was back then, anybody could have done that” she said, quieter than before. “I can’t fight like the rest of you, and now the one thing I could do, she can do better!” 

Realizing how that sounded, she looked up at Futaba quickly. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, Futaba! I’m glad you’re here! Rescuing the prince is important, and anything or anyone that can help us with that is welcome. I just… Everyone is capable of contributing so much, but I feel like I’m just… along for the ride, you know?” She smiled painfully at the other orange-haired girl before returning to the fire.

“Gallica…” Will said quietly. He looked to be searching for the right response to alleviate her concerns, but couldn’t quite come up with one. He looked pleadingly at Ren.

Ren smiled and leaned forward in his chair. “You know Gallica, we have a friend that used to think just like you.”

Gallica didn’t look away from the fire, but did respond after a few seconds. “You mean a Phantom Thief?”

Ren nodded. “Morgana. He started out as the sort of resident expert. Knew more about shadows, about the Metaverse, about changing hearts than any of us in the beginning. But then the team grew. First was Makoto. She was great at strategizing and analyzing the battle as it unfolded. Then came Futaba, and suddenly we had someone who could navigate inside the Metaverse and investigate outside of it. None of us ever felt like he was holding the team back or was superfluous or anything. But I guess that’s easier to say when you aren’t the one who feels like they're losing their place.”

Gallica slowly turned from the fire to look at Ren. “Did you ever manage to convince him?”

Ren chuckled. “Yeah. It took a while… and a few scary moments… but yeah. Sometimes I think back on it and try to work out what I could have said to help him earlier.” He smiled at Gallica. “Lucky for you, I think I figured it out.”

She gazed back, half hope and half gloom.

“First off, we were friends. A team. Just like this one. And we wanted him around because we loved and cared about him, not because of what he could do for us. I seriously doubt any of us would want you to leave because we found someone else with your skill set.”

Gallica looked around. Will was nodding, and even Hulkenberg, Strohl, and Neuras, who were still not actively joining in on the conversation, were smiling at her. With a conflicted look, she said, “I get that you guys care about me, I care about you too. But that’s diff—”

“Second,” Ren said, holding up two fingers, “Just because someone can do what you can doesn’t mean you’re suddenly useless. There were specialists on the Phantom Thieves, sure, but Skull, Panther, Fox, Noir, Violet… at the end of the day they were all fighters. Different elements, sure, and different strengths and weaknesses. But still fighters.

“And it’s even more apparent on this team.” Ren gestured to Will, Strohl, and Hulkenberg. “They can all use the same archetypes, wield the same exact magic. Do you think that Strohl or Will became less useful once Hulk joined?”

“Or course not!” Gallica protested.

“Then why do you think you’re less useful because Futaba’s here now?”

“I… well…”

“Finally, and probably most importantly for you, there was stuff only Morgana could do, even with the new additions. He was by far our best healer, and because he was a cat in the real world, he could gather information in a way nobody else could.”

“Plus, he could turn into a bus!” Futaba said, clearly eager to cheer the fairy up. “And a helicopter once, that was pretty awesome.”

“Point is,” Ren continued. “There’s still stuff only you can do. Will?”

“Gallica, you’re small and you can fly,” Will said immediately. “Do you know how much information you could gather from places we could never get into? You could just zoom into the air and get the entire lay of the land instantly, that’s incredibly useful!”

“Plus, you can sorta just see magla all the time,” Futaba added. “Sure, I can analyze it like you can, but it takes time and focus. Plus, all that stuff I said I could do in battle? I kinda need to get inside Al Azif to do it effectively, and well…”

She summoned the floating pyramid and had it extend its arms to pick her up and place her inside, but as it started to lift her, she phased through the appendages and dropped back to the floor.

“See? The same thing that’s preventing my brother from using his personas at full strength prevents me from getting in. And I’m absolutely useless in a fight, so you’re still kinda the only one that can get close enough to the fighting to be of any help. Why did you think I wasn’t joining you guys when you went monster hunting?”

“I… I see…” Gallica said, looking thoughtful.

“And you can sense when one of the people I’ve formed a bond with wants to talk to me. That’s super useful!” Will said emphatically.

“Wait seriously?” Ren asked. “Damn, I would have killed for that.”

The fairy blushed slightly.

“And the music magic you used on me is really cool,” Will went on.

“Wait what’s that?” Futaba asked.

Will tapped his head. “Before I got to Grand Trad, Gallica cast this magic on me that lets me hear music all the time. It’s tied to my state of mind, so it changes depending on what I’m doing.”

The other three could pretend no longer.

“Really?” Strohl butted in.

“Fascinating,” Hulkenberg muttered.

“A truly stupendous bit of magic, that,” Neuras added. “I wouldn’t mind having a bit of music while I work, myself.”

Futaba and Ren exchanged looks.

“So like… you hear different music depending on your location, right?” Futaba asked. “Like the music is different in the capital than it is on the runner?”

Will nodded.

“And the music that plays during the day is different than at night!?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he answered.

“Renrenrenren!!”

“I know, calm down,” Ren said, fighting to keep the excitement and hope off his face. “How about when you’re fighting, Will?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Whenever we start a battle, I hear this music with chanting in it. It’s one of my favorites,” he said, eyeing Futaba curiously.

The girl in question squealed, something Ren had only heard her do a few times in his life. Not that he blamed her.

“Ren!”

“Futaba!”

“Renren!!”

“Taba!!”

“Uh, can someone explain what’s going on?” Will asked, completely lost.

Futaba jumped up from her seat. “You have BGM. Ren, he has BGM. Gallica knows magic that gives you BGM!!”

Ren also found himself on his feet, though he couldn’t recall when it happened. 

“Gallica.”

“...Yes…?” Gallica replied, bewildered.

“Please tell me you can cast that magic on other people.”

The fairy cocked her head. “Sure? It’s not that complicated. Most people don’t think it has any use though, so I might be the only one who knows the spell anymore.” She eyed both Ren and Futaba. “Why? Do you want me to cast it on you?”

Ren and Futaba were about to shout their affirmatives, when a deafening roar split the night, followed by feint shouts in the distance. 

Hulkenberg ran to the railing opposite the tree and stared out into the night. “I can see lights in the distance. Torches or lanterns, maybe.”

Another roar.

The group turned to Will, who nodded.

“Guess we’re taking a rain check, Gallica,” Ren said, willing his mask into existence.

Chapter Text

Tree of Prophecy

Uuuuughhhhhhhh running sucked.

Futaba knew running sucked. She’d always known. There was that one time a couple of years ago where she had a moment of weakness and thought it might be nice to better herself and maybe get into a bit of shape. So she finally let Ann and Shiho drag her out on one of their jogging sessions. Man, Ann was so excited for the entire five minutes it took Futaba to come to her senses. Jogging. What was she thinking? Panther and her girlfriend were insane to want to do that to themselves.

So why on earth did she insist on following everyone as they jumped over the deck railing of the Monabus Mk. II (TM pending)((how do trademarks work here, is the concept of intellectual property rights even a thing anymore?)) and onto the rapidly cooling sand? Why did she find herself currently scrambling up the side of a dune, racing to keep up with her brother and their new not-quite-an-isekai party as they made for the gradually louder screams, shouts, and roars? Sure, with the world currently suffused with Magla, it allowed her access to a good portion of the enhanced physical capabilities she had while in the Metaverse and so it wasn’t nearly as tiring as it would be otherwise… but it was still running.

Well, I mean, she knew why. It was because she was getting tired of staying on the runner while Ren went out to do his hunting thing. Because she missed being a Phantom Thief more than she would ever admit to anyone else, and it felt weird to have this power again, weakened though it was, yet not do anything with it. Because maaaayyyybe she empathized with Gallica more than she let on, and maybe was feeling a bit… useless? The lack of computers and modern technology was giving her withdrawals, true, but more than that, it meant that she no longer had access to the thing that made her worth keeping around. What good was a Futaba who couldn’t go clickety-clack? Learning as much as she could about Euchronian engineering from Neuras and helping him worked to mitigate that feeling, but it wasn’t the same, at least not yet.

Man, I can never let Ren hear me say any of that. He’d spend the next twenty-four hours convincing me otherwise. Which would, admittedly, feel very nice, he’s really good at making me feel good about myself, but definitely not worth the pain it’d cause him. Or, you know, the other 23 hours once I get tired of it.

So here she was, doing the thing she vowed she’d never do again. But this was an emergency—those roars were very loud, and those screams were very… screamy. She had a feeling that they’d need all the help they could get. It’s likely why Ren, despite shooting her a quick look of concern, didn’t raise any objections when she announced that she’d be coming along. Not that she would have let him stop her. Probably.

Strangely, running actually felt a little bit better than she expected this time. Probably because it brought back memories. She wasn’t following after her party in her floating UFO as they pushed deeper into a Palace or Jail, but it was similar.

As she crested the next dune, panting slightly and multiple seconds behind Will and Gallica, she looked ahead. She still couldn’t see the source of the sounds because it was blocked by at least one other dune (ughh), but she could make out Hulk and Ren, now well ahead of the rest of the group and absolutely booking it. Strohl was a couple hundred paces behind them, with Will and Gallica on his heels. Futaba, to what should be absolutely no one’s surprise, was bringing up the rear.

Her mind jumped to figuring out what exactly she was going to do. She wasn’t really lying about what she said—analyzing stuff took a lot longer when she didn’t have direct access to Al Azif. Could she get close enough to reveal information about whatever they would find without it targeting her? Fuuka and Rise had brought her into the TV World to teach her how to do a Full Analysis, but that was while she was in her Persona. Forget getting close enough, would that skill even be possible from the outside? She’d never had to try, never even anticipated a situation where she wouldn’t be able to ride inside her favorite shiny pyramid.

But that wasn’t an option. She’d tried every way she could think of to get inside Al Azif, but nothing worked. It did feel guilty about not being able to assist her as usual, which was nice, but it’s not like this was its fault. She was just too big, too heavy to carry without phasing right out. If only she was lighter or smaller or could fl—

“Hey Gallica!” the hacker yelled as loud as she could, hoping the fairy could hear her over this distance, “I’ve got an idea!”

—

Ren and Hulkenberg were leading the pack, and so were the first to finally lay eyes on the source of all the shouts and roars.

“Well. Shit,” Ren said, eyes wide.

“Quite,” Hulkenberg replied, tension palpable. Ren let out a quick snort, drawing her attention. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just the way you speak is really growing on me.”

Hulkenberg fixed him with an impressively flat stare. “I hardly think this the time, Ren.”

The corner or Ren’s mouth pulled up sharply. “Quite.”

“...You know, you’re different whenever your mask is on,” Hulkenberg said with a sigh. Ren could make out a slight smile and some amusement in her eyes.

“So I’ve heard. Shall we?” Ren gestured ahead of them with his head.

The knight nodded her assent, gaze growing steely. “Time is of the essence.”

Without waiting for the rest of the party, Hulkenberg and Ren bolted forward, racing down the dune and toward the loose grouping of carriages parked just off of the packed sand road that acted as the main route between the capital and Brilehaven far to the south. Carriages that were, at the moment, circled up and beset by a literal pack of manticores. One vehicle was already wrecked and on its side, while another was currently on fire, the flickering flames throwing long shadows across the sand. Numerous people were running around, either trying to contain the fire or working to defend the group from the beasts. It reminded Ren of some older American westerns he’d seen where traveling settlers would put those covered wagons in a circle to form a makeshift wall and protect themselves from any predators as they made camp.

Ren’s first thought was that he didn’t realize manticores traveled in packs. His second thought was, Well that’s a stupid thought, it’s a made up monster, why would I assume anything about how it lives? His third—as one of the giant lion-like beasts swatted at a defender, sending them flying forty feet through the air before crashing back into the sand in a bloody, unmoving heap—was that he needed to speed up NOW. Hulkenberg was of the same mind, glowing orange lines etching across her body before she wordlessly transformed into her Knight Archetype. Without looking back, she galloped forward as fast as she could, hooves kicking up giant fountains of sand in her wake. Ren reached for Arsène, willing his closest Persona to lend him strength. The gentleman thief hummed approvingly, pulsing urgency, anger, and even a little bloodlust, and Ren felt strength flow through him. He found as much purchase as he could on the loose sand before kicking off after Hulkenberg.

Paying no heed to any of the manticores circling the tents at a distance, the roussainte knight galloped full-tilt towards the one that had just sent that defender flying and leveled her halberd. With a loud cry, Ren watched as she skewered the monster, momentum carrying both her and her target tumbling in a mess of legs and one dangerous scorpion tail. 

The former Phantom Thief quickly took stock of the situation. It was impossible to make out the faces of any of the defenders both because of the distance and because of the fires behind them throwing them into silhouette, but they seemed to be temporarily frozen, likely from the shock of seeing a giant glowing human-horse hybrid charge in out of nowhere and impale the nearest monster. The rest of the manticores—seven that Ren could see from here, though there were likely more on the other side—were likewise unmoving. Ren had no idea how smart they were as a species, but it seemed the sudden intruder was giving them pause. He could take advantage of that. Hopefully a second crazy person attacking solo without backup would confuse them enough to give the rest of the group time to arrive.

Ren picked a target—the manticore that was now closest to the carriages after Hulk dive bombed the first—and fired off an Eiha. He had no idea how tough these things were, but he was guessing decently, and he couldn’t afford to run out of energy early. All he needed to do was draw its attention. As soon as the curse energy hit the monster’s flank, it whirled around to find its attacker. As it turned towards Ren, he finally got a good look at the front of the monster, and that was when he remembered what manticores were actually supposed to look like. Tail of a scorpion, body of a lion, yes, but also the head of a person. As the beast’s far too human eyes found Ren, it let out a loud snarl. It was far more disconcerting than Ren thought it would be to hear such a feral sound come out of a face that so resembled a person’s. Belatedly, Ren wondered if Euchronians categorized these things as humans. He probably should have asked.

With minimal warning, the lion-scorpion-human hybrid darted for Ren, closing the sixty or so feet between them with alarming speed. With one third of the distance left, it pounced, sailing through the air, its giant paws with their deadly claws ready to pin him to the ground. Ren, already crouching, managed to dive to the side and out of the way, though the sand made the move far less graceful than he would have liked. He rolled and fired off another Eiha, which seemed to piss the thing off more than actually damage it. This would take some getting used to—even in Futaba’s palace, they were lucky enough to never have to fight on sand.

And so Ren and the manticore danced, the beast getting progressively more enraged as the thief continued to evade with gradually improving nimbleness, all the while peppering it with curse magic. No need to attempt a kill yet, he just needed to keep the thing occupied. Eventually Ren felt comfortable enough fighting on sand to risk glancing around. 

The defenders seemed to be getting over their shock, which was good. But so were the manticores, which was bad. They didn’t seem to be interested in ganging up on Ren (maybe the didn’t like getting in each other’s way?), which was good! But that meant that their attention was back on carriages, which was bad. He noticed that Hulk was still fighting her manticore, which was…well she seemed unharmed, so Ren decided to categorize it as good? But that meant that neither of them were in a position to do anything about two of the remaining monsters that decided to charge the carriages at the same time, which was bad.

Ren thought about disengaging to try and help, but that was a no go—turning his back on his current foe was asking to be turned into the world’s largest cat toy. Ren’s mind flashed back to the person flying through the air, and as he scanned the desert, he found them right where they landed, still unmoving. Ren fought down the rising panic and nausea as he realized that he wouldn’t be able to stop something similar or worse from happening to others without leaving himself open. But just as he was resigning himself to witnessing more death, he caught both charging manticores inexplicably slowing down.

“Hulkenberg! Two enemies behind you attacking the carriages!” Will’s voice carried over the sand, deeper and more metallic than usual. Ren chanced a glance towards the voice’s origin and saw a Faker and a Healer racing forward.

Ah, that would explain it. Smart, Ren thought with a smirk. Will and Strohl must have used a synthesis to cast Masakunda on the manticores. But would it be enough?

Hulkenberg, hearing her captain, immediately disengaged her current target and made an about face before galloping back towards the carriages. Unlike Ren, her Archetype meant she was fast enough to not worry about reprisal from behind, and the manticore she was fighting was too wounded to follow with any real speed. With the debuff in effect, she had just enough time to put herself between the charging beasts and the carriages. With a quickly executed proclamation, the knight thankfully succeeded in provoking the manticores in time, diverting their attention. She immediately proceeded to gallop between them, swinging her halberd in wide arcs, hoping to keep them off balance by continually moving and never letting them team up. 

The selfless act gave the scared defenders time to rally and get back into position. Will and Strohl raced up to Ren, switching Archetypes as they approached. Will changed to Seeker, which he quickly used to fire a blast of wind at Ren’s opponent, knocking it off balance and onto its side. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Strohl, now using an Archetype Ren hadn’t seen before, leapt onto the beast’s side and rammed a blade through its neck. The sword, while nowhere near as large as the Warrior’s, was still plenty deadly, and the clemar nobleman used its hilt as a saddle horn to ride the thrashing, screaming manticore until it finally went still.

“Mercenary?” Ren guessed.

Strohl ripped the blade from the dead beast’s neck, spraying acrid blood across the desert sands. The Archetype, much like it’s weapon, was slighter of build than the Warrior, but beefier than the Seeker. Much like Grius, it wore a mantle over one shoulder, which was tattered and frayed. “Mercenary,” Strohl nodded. “No surprise that Grius’s Archetype would be this effective, I suppose.”

“What’s it capable of?” Ren asked as the trio raced towards Hulkenberg.

Strohl shared a look with Will. Or rather, their Archetypes did. There was something humorous about watching these giant robot things make such natural gestures.

“Instead of answering the question, Will called out. “Hey Hulkenberg, how is our war chest looking?”

The knight, currently fending off one manticore as the other was circling around her back, grunted in exertion. “What!? Captain, this is hardly the time!”

Ren swapped to Mada and fired off a few Agis at the manticore behind Hulkenberg. Like curse and wind, it seemed more to anger the beast than hurt it. At least the attack stopped it from pouncing on her.

“So it’s looking good then?” Will asked.

“We have amassed some reeve, yes, but I fail to see—”

“Strohl, target the people protecting the wagons!” Will shouted.

“Consider it done,” he replied, and broke from the other two to approach the carriages. The people didn’t run, having seen the group working to defend them these past few minutes, but they did seem understandably cautious as the giant Archetype bore down on them. More so when it raised its sword overhead and yelled out “Recruitment!”

Ren tried his best to remain aware of his surroundings so that he wouldn’t be impaled by a random manticore tail, but it was admittedly difficult not to stare at the effects of the Mercenary’s ability. All members of the caravan that had gathered in defense of their vehicles were now surrounded by a glowing ring of a very familiar shade of orange. From the ring, thinner veins of orange started growing towards the center, fracturing semi-randomly at sharp angles and pulsing like so many sci-fi electrical circuits.

“Relax, it won’t hurt you,” Strohl said calmly as the veins quickly made their way towards the people in the center. Ren wasn’t sure how reassuring that would be coming from a clemar that randomly transformed into an unidentified giant mechanical entity, but to their credit, the defenders didn’t panic or break rank—not that they could, given that they were completely surrounded by the magic.

As one of the orange veins reached the feet of the first defender, a middle-aged roussainte male, Ren gave up on trying to focus on anything else. If he was in danger, Will would do something about it, right? Instead of continuing along the ground, the vein started traveling up the man, fracturing and spreading until the veins covered him entirely. The roussainte, clearly unharmed, looked himself over in awe. He very much resembled the others when they were preparing to summon their Archetypes, though the markings looked a bit more… Tron-ish. The veins continued inwards until each of the defenders were reached and similarly marked.

“Outfit!” Strohl called out.

Suddenly, the orange markings flared brightly, the light engulfing the group. Ren squinted against the harsh light, and when it faded a few seconds later, what stood there was a small company of what he could only describe as mini-Archetypes. Each defender was now encased in a suit of armor that very closely resembled Strohl’s, though they retained their height. Each individual plate of the armor was outlined in the same glowing orange, and each had a subtly different full-visored helmet that made allowances for each person’s tribe. Ren could make out holes for clemar horns, paripus ears, and—to his surprise—one helmet where the slits in the visor extended all the way up the forehead. Mustari, maybe?

The armor wasn’t all that had changed. Each held weapon had suddenly been converted to an upgraded version. Swords became sharper. Lances deadlier. The handful of wand-like igniters being used suddenly became impressive looking staffs.

“The Mercenary can basically share its power with other people,” Will said from behind as he sent another Cyc at an encroaching manticore. He was probably anticipating Ren’s question. “They won’t be as strong as a full Archetype, but it’s still a big improvement. Should be enough to keep them safe. Unfortunately it requires reeve instead of magical energy.”

“An Archetype ability that relies on money? How does that work?” Hulkenberg was obviously close enough to have caught Will’s explanation. “And how much reeve does it cost?”

Will winced. “I have no idea how it works, honestly. And don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure we make it back with Merchant.”

Given she was in her Knight form, Ren couldn’t see the unimpressed stare Hulkenberg gave, but he knew she was giving it.

So, apparently, did Will. “I promise!” he assured her.

Hulkenberg sighed as she stuck a manticore stupid enough to think she would be too distracted to notice it creeping up. “I suppose keeping these people safe is worth any price.”

To Ren’s immense amusement, Will’s relief was written plain on his face. He looked back at Strohl, who was taking the time to explain to his new mercenary gang what the magic was and how to best put it to use.  Halfway through it, one of the defenders cut in.

“This is all well and good, sir, and I am grateful. But what of the fighters on the other side of the encampment!?”

Shit.

This was a circle of carriages, why did any of them assume this would be the only point the manticores were attacking?

“Can you use the skill again for other defenders?” Hulkenberg asked quickly.

“I would if we had any more money,” Strohl responded simply.

Hulkenberg shot Will a sharp look that got the younger boy all panicky. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it all back!”

“Okay then, what’s the play, captain?” Ren asked. As entertaining as it was to watch him squirm under Hulk’s steely gaze, there were people in very real danger. They needed a plan.

To his credit, Will re-centered phenomenally quickly. “Hulkenberg, you’re our fastest right now. Strohl and I can handle things here. You and Ren go find any other points of attack.” Hulkenberg nodded approvingly, and then, almost as an afterthought, Will added, “If you can, maybe get their attention enough to drag them over here? It’d be better to fight as a full group, right?”

Hulkenberg let out a short, loud laugh that echoed strangely from within her helmet, and Ren slapped Will lightly on the shoulder. “Good idea cap, you’re a natural.” Will scratched his cheek in embarrassment, but seemed pleased.

“Indeed,” Hulkenberg agreed, before gesturing to the spot behind her on her horse. Which might still technically be her? Ren wasn’t really sure how the Knight Archetype worked, but he imagined that she must be both the horse and rider somehow. “Let’s go, Ren.”

“Are you sure? Seems awfully forward, and people might—”

“Ren.”

“Yes ma’am.” Ren wasted no time climbing up onto Hulkenberg’s Archetype, too preoccupied with getting over the wave of murderous intent to notice the snickers coming from the other two boys. As soon as he seated himself, she was off, forcing him to desperately hang on to the actual humanoid body so that he wasn’t thrown off.

Together they bolted around the perimeter of the makeshift defensive camp. Wherever they found a manticore, they would pull its attention onto themselves, either utilizing Hulkenberg’s taunt or, if the monster was too far out of the way, by Ren peppering it with elemental magic from afar. As the defender mentioned, most could be found assaulting the convoy at a point almost perfectly opposite the first. About fifteen or so manticores were currently stalking up to the carriages, ready to start another attack. A light desert breeze meant that Ren could smell the death before he saw it—the number of dead made it obvious that this batch of defenders was faring far worse.

Ren pushed down the nausea and raised his voice to make sure he could be heard over the rushing wind, Hulk’s heavy hoofbeats, and the roaring of the small group of manticores now chasing them. “Do you think you can grab all of them?”

“Perhaps…” Hulkenberg yelled back, turning her head slightly while still looking forward. Her tone made her unsure answer sound even less confident. “At this speed, I am not positive my proclamation can affect all of them at once, and were I to slow down…”

“We become cat food, got it,” Ren finished. He considered the situation. A Hassou Tobi would certainly cover enough area to hit all of them, if not outright kill them. Buuut, it would also definitely hit the defenders. Plus, after all the blood he coughed up last time, Ren wasn’t eager to use the ability again just yet. After a moment’s thought, he spoke again. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. Swing wide behind them and grab as many as you can. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell no, but that’s what makes it fun!” The Ren in him balked slightly at saying something so irreverent in the face of very real danger and death, but the Joker in him thrived on flippancy to mask his unease, and Joker was the one they needed right now.

If Hulkenberg took offense to his answer, she didn’t let it show. Instead she gave an affirmative nod and altered her current trajectory to take them just wide of the encroaching manticores. By the time the beasts realized they were approaching it was too late—Hulkenberg blew by them, letting out a war cry as she did. Looking back, Ren could see six of the beasts turn to join their already pursuing brethren, which left ten or so content to keep focusing on their current prey. More than Ren was hoping, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Alright Kaguya,” Ren whispered under his breath. “I’m gonna need one hell of an accurate attack here… We need to get all of them without hitting any of the defenders. You ready?”

He was expecting a simple pulse of acknowledgement in his mind as the celestial princess manifested alongside the Archetype, but to his surprise she responded in a refined, melodic voice. “Child’s play.”

Ren glanced at her in confusion. “I thought Arsène was the only one of you that could speak directly with me. How are you doing it too?”

The rabbit eared woman tilted her head and a pulse of amusement and coyness flowed through their bond. “How indeed?”

“Ren,” Hulkenberg called, voice somewhat urgent, “whatever your plan is, I suggest you do it quickly!”

He shook his head. A mystery for a less “imminent death”-y time. “Alrighty then hime, let’s see what you’ve got. Shining Arrows!”

The Persona giggled lightly and raised her hand, summoning a storm of light infused arrows right above the remaining manticores. True to her word, each fell with pinpoint precision, striking each monster without endangering the nearby people. A collective roar went out, and each of the monsters turned and chased after Hulkenberg and Ren. Just as planned, though from their speed, it was apparent that the attack didn’t cause too much damage. 

Just what are these things weak to?

Then, without warning, a wave of dizziness hit him. Since waking up in Euchronia, he had become used to feeling drained whenever he relied on a large attack. But this was different. Worse. And it wasn’t just dizziness. Ren struggled, holding on tighter to Hulkenberg. Not because he was in danger of falling off though.

No, it was fear. Inexplicable fear and anxiety that hit him like a truck. Fear so strong that he needed to hold on to Hulk to anchor himself. Because he needed someone to hold. Because without her physical touch, he’d be entirely alone. Because his parents abandoned him so why wouldn’t she? Why wouldn’t everyone? People only tolerated him because of his usefulness. Because everybody needed Joker, Ren was just someone they had to put up with, the price they had to pay. Because—

“Careful, my lord. We wouldn’t want you to lose me,” Kaguya chided. Her tone was playful, but from their bond came a blanket of concern that draped over him, forcing the negative emotions back, if only a little. Ren held onto that blanket as tightly as he did to Hulkenberg’s waist, and slowly, painfully slowly, the feeling passed. Kaguya gave him a nod of approval before disappearing, and just like that, Ren’s mind returned fully to the here and now.

“Ren…? Are you alright?” Hulkenberg’s voice was laced with concern. There was no way for her to see him or guess at his sudden mental turmoil, but she obviously could tell something was wrong.

Ren quickly loosened his tight grip on her. “Yeah, I’m…fine. Just takes a lot out of me. You know how it is.” He shook his head to dispel the last of the fear. 

The truth was, he was fine. Sure, there were times in the past when he felt that way. Like the friends and family he’d managed to find in Tokyo would disappear as soon as he was no longer useful. But that was years ago. He’d dealt with those insecurities. Maybe he’d never be rid of them entirely, but to affect him without warning only to disappear just as suddenly? And what did Kaguya mean by “lose me”...?

“If you’re sure…” Hulkenberg said, clearly not convinced. “Nonetheless, we’re approaching the others.”

Ren leaned to the right to see in front of them. Sure enough, they had made a full circle around the camp. He could make out the glowing orange of Strohl’s recruits, along with bursts of magic, likely fired off by Will.

“Though I do wonder what our captain’s plan is now,” the roussainte continued.

That… that was an excellent question. Hooray, Hulkenberg and Ren had managed to grab some twenty or so manticores, who were all now rabidly trying to murder them instead of the carriage riders. And if they stopped, if they slowed down even a bit, said manticores would easily accomplish their goal. Getting close to Will and Strohl meant dragging a herd of monsters right to them, so that was no good, and a conversation with them wasn’t exactly feasible at this speed or distance.

If only I knew what their stupid weakness was. If only we could communicate over distance.

A nostalgic tingle in Ren’s mind, slightly behind his right ear, was his only warning before a familiar voice spoke directly into his mind. But strangely, not the one he was expecting. 

“I can help you with that!” Gallica’s excited voice reverberated in his head. “Well, I mean, I can help you with the first one at least. Maybe the second one, but I’m still super new at this.”

“Gallica!?” Hulkenberg cried out in confusion. “What manner of magic is this!?”

Ren looked up, searching for the shiny UFO. Sure enough, there it was, hovering a few hundred feet away from the carriages.

“Oh neat, I got both of you! I was trying to target Ren—Futaba says it’d be easiest to communicate with someone who’s already done this before—but this works too!”

“Gallica, how…?” Ren started, likewise confused, but for entirely different reasons.

A second voice made itself at home in his mind, one he was far more used to being there. “C’mon bro, I couldn’t get in Al Azif myself to help so I asked Gallica to do it for me, seeing as she’s all smol and stuff, get with the program!”

“I’m so confused…” Hulkenberg muttered. Despite how quiet she was being, Ren could hear her clearly thanks to the telepathic communication facilitated by his sister’s Persona.

“We can explain later!” Gallica said impatiently. “For now, listen. These manticores are weak to ice, but their hide is really good at resisting magic. But if you could pierce it…”

“How do you already know what they’re weak to?” Ren asked.

“She hit the giant Full Analysis button I had installed!” Futaba huffed in annoyance. “Seriously, not the time!”

Hmm. Ice magic that could pierce. Lower tier Bufu spells likely wouldn’t be strong enough. Ice Age and Diamond Dust were sufficiently pointy, but the idea of using an even stronger ability than Shining Arrows right now… 

Ren shuddered. Definite no-go. He looked past Hulkenberg again. They would reach the others in seconds. Well, if talking with Kaguya led to a more precise attack, then maybe…

“Black Frost!”

The alt-color mascot phased into existence, floating alongside Hulkenberg, adorably evil smile and all.

“Hey buddy, I’m wondering if you can do me a favor,” Ren called out.

Like Kaguya, the demon snowman responded not through vague emotional impulses, but with actual words. “Hee ho! Tell me what you want to murder, and I’ll see-hee what I can do!”

Hulkenberg craned her neck to the side to see the previously unknown Persona Ren had called. The unmistakable sound of a squeal, both out loud and in his mind, made Ren laugh. “Cute huh?”

Hulkenberg coughed and turned back around. “I suppose he’s not without his charms.”

“Cute, ho? I’m not cute, I’m e-hee-vil!”

“Sure you are, bud. Now about that favor. You know that Diamond Dust spell you learned?”

Black Frost’s jack o'lantern-like smile grew even wider and he nodded.

“I’m wondering if you can help me make it smaller.” The Persona’s smile shrunk, and Ren quickly continued before he lost the cute hell raiser. “Not less deadly! Just…more surgical!”

“Ho?” Black Frost tilted its head adorably.

“Instead of a lot of spikes, just one. Imagine killing something with only a fraction of your true power. You’d be like a demon lord!”

That got the Persona’s attention. He bobbed in the air excitedly. “Le-heeave it to me, ho!”

Ren smirked wickedly, getting caught up in his Persona’s bloodlust. “Excellent. Gallica, can you pass on the info to Will and Strohl?”

“That’s the plan!”

“Good. Hulk, you ever heard of ‘kiting’?” Futaba snickered in both of their ears.

The knight sighed. “Judging by Futaba’s reaction, it’s some video game term. In which case, you already know I haven’t.”

“Just keep up the pace and keep them away from the carriages.”

“And what will you be doing?”

Shining Arrows against almost stationary enemies was one thing, but with both parties traveling at this speed…

“Something I’ve only ever seen in anime. And Final Fantasy 7 Remake, I guess. Just… keep going straight and at this speed. I’ll be right back.”

An excited gasp from Futaba.

“What do you mean, ‘be right’—Ren, what are you doing!?”

Too late to talk him out of this. Ren had already gotten to his feet, balancing on the back of the Archetype’s horse, the extra agility gained from his Personas and the cognitive world helping him easily keep his balance. He again silently thanked this world for being awash in Magla. The reason it was sucked, but at least it came in handy. 

With an excited whoop, he jumped off of Hulkenberg and straight at the nearest chasing manticore, Black Frost soaring through the air alongside him. The beast clearly wasn’t expecting it, which let Ren land on its back with all the dexterity one would expect from a Phantom Thief. The monster clearly didn’t enjoy this turn of events, so he’d have to work fast. Keeping an eye on the manticore’s tail—he didn’t feel like getting skewered and poisoned at the same time—Ren held out his palm towards the nape of the beast’s neck, right where the mane ended and the back began.

“Alright Black Frost! Remember, surgical!”

“Hee ho!” 

The Persona excitedly lifted his hand and an orb of icy energy spawned in Ren’s outstretched palm. But unlike a typical Diamond Dust, this orb was baseball sized, and instead of a giant lattice of snowflake like spikes, it spawned just one—impossibly sharp and aimed right at the beast’s spinal cord. Ren tensed his legs, and released the spell right as he launched back off of the manticore.

A scream of inhuman pain was the only evidence of his success as he landed back on Hulkenberg’s horse. He quickly looked behind them. One less manticore, along with one or two that got tripped up as its corpse hit the sand.

“Well that went well.”

“That was foolish/That was insane/That was awesome!” Hulk, Gallica, and Futaba all said as soon as he retook his seat.

“Agreed on all counts. Good news is, I only have to do that…what, twenty or so more times?”

And so they got to work. Hulkenberg continued to kite the manticores, and Ren picked them off one by one. Eventually he was confident enough in the reduced strain of the altered Diamond Dust that he took down a few at distance. And in the distance, he could see Blizz spells soaring through the air, so Gallica and Futaba obviously got the message to the others. Ren was very much interested in how their teaming up worked, but that would have to wait, he supposed.

Ten or so more minutes and the last of the manticores was finally put down, after which the group shoved aside their exhaustion and helped extinguish the fires. This was about when Futaba and Gallica ran up to them—his sister had wisely kept a wide berth until the fighting died down. And finally, when things calmed down enough, they were able to talk with the people they just helped. The carriage riders were at first shocked that one of them was an elda, but thankfully saving a person’s life was the type of thing that allowed said person to overlook pesky things like tribe.

It turned out that, while a decent number of them were merchants and their hired guards, a handful of them were actually fellow aspirants. Aspirants who, due to this attack and the relative strength of their rescuers, wisely decided that maybe the competition for the crown was not for them. One by one, and after effusive thanks, the carriage owners returned to their tasks, whether that be to secure their carriages or bury their dead. Eventually only two people remained: mustari, a man and a woman, whose robes were dirty but otherwise looked unharmed. In fact, they both looked familiar.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Will asked when he noticed that neither was making a move to return to their carriage.

It was hard to judge their reactions due to the helmets they wore, but it seemed to Ren like both were sizing the young elda up. Eventually, the man spoke up.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought. Thankfully, as we are traveling alone, we have no dead to perform rites for,” he said in a confident voice. “But unfortunately our carriage was destroyed in the attack.”

That’s right, there was one carriage that was already wrecked by the time they arrived, wasn’t there?

“I suppose I was just wondering what we should do. We joined these others for the night because there is safety in numbers, but I doubt any would be amenable to taking on two extra passengers, especially if those passengers are mustari.”

The group exchanged glances. As sad as it was, he was likely right. It would be tough to convince any of them to—

“Well you could always come with us?”

All eyes turned to Will. He rubbed the back of his head at the sudden attention. “Well I mean, we have the room. It wouldn’t be too much trouble to take you as far as the next town. You could get a carriage from there, right?”

“...You realize I am another aspirant, yes?”

Will tilted his head slightly. “Yes?”

“I have no intention of withdrawing.”

“...Okay?” It was comical how innocent Will was sometimes.

The mustari obviously agreed, because after a pause he chuckled lightly. “Is that okay with you, Eupha?”

The girl next to him, silent until now, looked away from Will and bowed slightly. “More than okay, brother.”

“And this is okay with your retainers?” he asked Will.

The elda boy started. “Oh they’re not—”

“Our captain’s words are absolute,” Strohl cut him off quickly. Will gave a little squawk of indignation.

“Indeed. We’d be happy to have you,” Hulkenberg said.

“More the merrier,” Red added, fighting to keep from laughing.

Gallica shook her head. “Why am I even surprised anymore?”

Chapter Text

Tree of Prophecy

“And these are the sleeping bunks!” Neuras swept his arm out wide, indicating said bunks with a giant flourish on par with any used car salesman. “Not entirely sure where we’ll be dropping you off, but these top two will be yours for at least tonight. A bit cramped, but that’s the price you pay for traveling in style, eh?”

Upon welcoming them back on board and realizing that they would be travelling with guests for the immediate future, Neuras promptly got to work providing them with a grand tour. Those that didn’t know him might have mistaken his actions as those of a gracious host. Ren and the others knew it was just an excuse for the man to show off his “old girl”.

“That’s quite thoughtful…” Edeni said hesitantly, “but we wouldn’t dream of taking sleeping accommodations away from you all on top of everything else you are going out of your way to provide.”

“Pish-tosh, my boy, pish and tosh!” Neuras shot back, waving his hand to dismiss the mustari’s concerns.

The younger, shorter mustari—Eupha, if Ren recalled correctly—tilted her head slightly. “Pish…tosh?” Her expression was masked by her…well…mask, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the confusion on her face.

“What he means is that both of you are our guests,” Will stepped in. “You’ve already been through an attack and lost your carriage, we’re perfectly fine with camping out on the deck for a night or two, right Ren?”

Ren flashed a thumbs up, and then, remembering that might not be a universally understood sign anymore, added a vocal, “Absolutely.” On the trek back to the runner, Gallica was the one to point out the shortage of beds, and seeing as everyone in their group was apparently equally selfless, they had to draw straws to decide who would get the honor of roughing it for a while, Ren and Will being the lucky losers.

“I tooooold you, Neuras,” Futaba drawled with a smug look plastered on her face. “We were gonna need more beds. Will’s the main character, he was obviously gonna pick up more party—OW! What was that for?” 

Ren shot her a very flat look as she rubbed the spot where he elbowed her. The first thing they decided as a group on their way back—quietly of course—was that they were going to keep as much as they could under wraps. It was too late to avoid any questions about Archetypes or Personas, obviously, but they could at least refrain from bringing up the plan to save the prince or Ren and Futaba’s origin until they dropped the two mustari off. And what’s the first thing out of this little gremlin’s mouth?

“You’ll have to excuse my sister,” Ren said, moving to cover the slip up. “She likes writing, and so she sometimes likes to think of this tournament as a story in the making, with our captain as the main character.”

It was getting a little frustrating that the masks made it absolutely impossible to gauge their guests’ reactions, but Edeni didn’t seem to pay what she said much mind. 

Eupha, on the other hand, giggled slightly. “How very whimsical! But you said ‘sister’, Mr. Ren?” She took a noticeable pause. “...I apologize if this is an inappropriate question, but how can that be if you are of different tribes?”

Ren inwardly winced, and noticed Futaba shooting him the same flat stare out of the corner of his eye. He forgot they were both wearing their disguises—he his clemar horns and her the paripus ears (now complete with matching tail). Lovely. Ren was sure she’d be perfectly fine letting that go and not using it as ammo to tease him with later.

“She was adopted,” Ren said, throwing out the most obvious excuse. Not even that far from the truth, honestly.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of that custom!” Eupha said excitedly. “Families take in children without parent and treat them as their own, yes?”

“Eupha,” Edeni said in a warning tone. 

His sister quickly bowed. “Oh my, I’m very sorry! It’s just—I just—I’ve never traveled far from my birthplace, and there are so many customs and traditions that are new to me, I suppose I just… lose sight of myself sometimes. I truly hope I haven’t offended you.”

Ren found himself smiling, and he wasn’t the only one. Each of his friends seemed to find the younger girl’s hectic apologizing charming.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Ren said, throwing Eupha a lifeline. “No offense taken. As far as I’m concerned, you can ask as many questions as you’d like. Guys?”

The rest of the party was quick to mirror his assent. Eupha, one moment deflated, was immediately re-energized, and gave her thanks to each of them.

“You’re sure it’s not a bother?” Edeni asked Will.

Their leader smiled and shook his head. “Of course not. I am curious though… If adoption is a foreign concept to you, what do you do with… um…” Will trailed off, unsure of how to tactfully finish the question.

“Children unfortunate enough to lose their birth parents are raised by the tribe as a whole,” Edeni replied amiably. “Though in truth, mustari children—at least those raised on Virga Island—are by and large raised collectively anyways, so there is functionally little difference.”

“So children learn from those best equipped to teach them,” Strohl said. “That’s quite genius, actually.” 

“Indeed,” Hulkenberg said, nodding her head. “Effective and efficient.”

Noticing that neither mustari made a move to respond, Strohl spoke again. “I’m sorry, was that rude to say? I intended no offense.”

Eupha looked to her brother, who after a moment responded. “No, not at all. It’s just… we’re used to those not of our tribe viewing our customs as… barbaric, for lack of a better word. And yet here we find people who not only save our lives and give us safe passage, but show interest in and speak positively of our way of life and don’t begrudge us our ignorance of theirs in turn… It’s not something I expected.”

Ah. Something clicked for Ren, and he turned to Eupha. “That’s why you were so desperate to apologize. You were expecting us to get angry.”

The girl angled her head down. “I’ve found that many find my inquisitive nature rather… off-putting, yes. Seeing you all of different tribes, and following an elda, I let my guard down. I’m very relieved to find that my initial hopes about you were correct.”

The group collectively was less than enthused but entirely unsurprised that the girl’s inquisitiveness was met with hostility, but Strohl surprisingly chuckled, drawing all eyes (including Edeni’s and Eupha’s, Ren assumed) to him.

“Sorry, it just seems like we’re trading misunderstandings and possible offenses back and forth.”

Edeni chuckled in turn, and in a tone warmer than they had heard thus far, said, “I suppose that’s true.”

“I mean, it’d be easier if we could see your guys’ expressions,” Futaba said bluntly. “Kinda hard to figure out your reactions to stuff when we can’t see your face.”

Ren had to resist groaning, but again Edeni laughed lightly. “Fair enough! I can see how they would get in the way. And while we tend to wear our masks when among strangers, you’ve more than proven that you bear neither us nor our tribe any ill will.” He turned to his sister. “I personally see no reason why we can’t remove them while travelling with these people, do you Eupha?”

Eupha amusingly groaned a bit and shuffled her feet before looking back up at her brother. “I admit it is a bit embarrassing… but you’re right brother. If we can’t open up to those who are eager to learn of us, then it defeats the entire purpose of you vying for the throne.” She gave a definitive nod.

The two mustari slowly and carefully removed their masks. The first thing revealed was a similar shade of golden locks that tumbled from both helmets.When they finally completed the process and Ren got a good look at the siblings he was…let down?

That definitely wasn’t the right word, it’s not as if he was disappointed by Edeni’s stoic face or Eupha’s slightly embarrassed one. It’s just…

“Huh,” Futaba said. “From all the mustari bashing you hear in the city, I’d have thought you guys would look like monsters, but you’re just hot people with extra eyes.”

…Bluntness aside, that’s exactly what it was. Ren was gearing himself up to see another race like the eugief under there—something distinctly different. Sure, the half-lidded eye in the center of their foreheads would take a small amount of getting used to, but other than that their tribe/race/species/whatever was indistinguishable from Will’s or Ren’s.

Edeni’s very wild eyebrows knitted together. “We are…hot?”

“She means that you and your sister are good looking,” Ren supplied. Which wasn’t untrue. Edeni’s features were quite regal, and Eupha was very cute, especially when a subtle pink came to her cheeks and she grew even more embarrassed at the compliment. Ren looked around at the rest of the group to judge their reactions. Most seemed unaffected or unsurprised by what was under the masks. Maybe they had each seen a mustari before or otherwise knew exactly what to expect. And—

Oh ho, what do we have here?

Was that a certain blue haired elda pointedly not looking towards Eupha and… blushing? Gallica, Hulk, and Neuras seemed unaware, but the mirrored shit-eating grins slowly developing on Strohl and Futaba’s faces made it obvious that they too caught the reaction. Hell, he was probably unintentionally wearing his own right now. Ren caught both of their eyes and the trio nodded simultaneously. Something to file away for later. Fun.

Edeni, oblivious to the reactions, simply smiled. “I guessed as much before, but words cannot express my gratitude and good fortune at finding a group so accepting of us. But I must admit I am quite curious about the magic you all employ.”

The group exchanged glances before Will responded. “We’ll explain what we can,” he said diplomatically. “But honestly, there’s a lot we’re not sure of ourselves. Later though. We still need to figure out where we’re taking you.”

“Of course.” Edeni bowed formally, his sister following suit. Nobody caught the quick looks of interest Eupha shot Will, Ren, and Futaba as she rose back up. 

—

The night had been a long one.

After their tour and introductions, Edeni and Eupha followed the group to the map lying open on the circular table in the runner’s foreroom. After studying the map for a bit, the older mustari asked if the group could drop him and his sister off at Martira, an old town a day or two away from where they currently were—it was in the general direction they were already taking, and was a big enough settlement that it wouldn’t be too hard to secure transportation. Will and the others agreed readily. They were still on the hunt for more targets, and Martira seemed as good a place as any to ask around. 

And speaking of targets, they still had an unenviable job to do. Namely, collecting evidence of their rescue. All aspirants in the carriage group had graciously insisted that all the spoils of battle belong to their saviors, and while a singular manticore wasn’t that impressive of a take down, thirty or so, all while defending innocent people, was. Which meant parting thirty or so heads from their corpses. Very human looking heads.

Ren had never gone hunting in his life. Even the idea of skinning a deer made him slightly queasy. Which boded ill. Whiiiich was what he was in danger of being about one minute into his task. Thankfully, the Euchronians in his party seemed well aware that this wouldn’t be easy for him. Before even beginning, they insisted that Futaba didn’t need to help, and shortly after decapitating his second manticore, Strohl walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The Archetypes are letting us make quick work of this, why don’t you leave it to us?”

Ren gave Strohl a grateful look, and the noble simply smiled back before moving on to the next carcass.

By the time that bloody work was done and the heads were successfully stored in the Monabus Mk. II, it was approaching midnight, and everybody was exhausted. Which meant, of course, that there would be one last conversation before he let sleep claim him.

Ren and Will had just finished laying out some blankets on the front deck for a night of camping under the stars. Apparently sleeping bags were a thing in Euchronia, but nobody had thought to bring any. Oh well, something to be aware of when they made their next supply run. 

As he was heading back inside to grab a spare pillow, Ren noticed Gallica and Futaba conversing in excited whispers on the starboard side of the front deck. Curious about their teamwork in the last fight, he approached, making sure to clear his throat so they were aware of him.

They apparently were not discussing secrets, because both the fairy and his sister waved him over excitedly once they noticed him.

“Glad I caught you two together, because boy oh boy do I have questions.”

Gallica laughed. She seemed to Ren to be in a better mood than he’d ever seen her before. The fairy had always struck him as rather…committed. Willing to have fun when appropriate, obviously, but similar to Hulk in that she’d always drag Will or the others back to the task at hand—in the elda’s case by the ear if necessary. And always, always doubting herself and her contributions. But right now? Right now she seemed truly unburdened. 

“Did you see that, Ren!? I’ve never done anything like that! Never even dreamed I could do anything like that!”

Ren turned to Futaba, who was smiling right alongside the tinier girl. “Yeah, how did you do that, actually?” he asked. “Or I guess, what did you do?”

Her smile transformed into her trademark smug smirk. “Well Azif couldn’t handle my weight, right? Kinda phased right through it. So I figured, what if it was someone lighter? Or even better, what if it was someone who could float? So I called out to Gallica, we stuck her inside, and bam! Fairy with access to enemy data.”

Ren narrowed his eyes slightly. “I feel like you’re glossing over some stuff.”

His sister laughed. “Honestly? Not really! I guess the other Navis get their info by like… mind melding with their Personas. I can do that too if I have to, but when I’m riding inside it, I interact with it like I would a PC. Faster for me that way. There’s a whole rig up there, and I was always only a few keystrokes away from pretty much anything you guys ever needed to know.”

“Okay, that explains how you use your Persona,” Ren replied, “but Gallica has no idea how to work a computer.”

“Yeah, when I first got up there, it was really overwhelming,” the fairy chimed in. “I still can’t believe you guys used stuff like that all the time.”

Futaba nodded. “Right, that was the hurdle. But I knew what she’d need to do while she was up there, and I knew the keystrokes I’d use to do it, so I just… thought her up a macro button.”

Ren stared at her blankly for a second. “You…’thought’ her up a button?”

“Yeah, I told Zeefy to form a button to do an analysis of anything she targeted,” Futaba replied as if that made perfect sense.

“Admittedly it was difficult to move the…um…”

“Mouse,” Futaba supplied.

“Right mouse!” Gallica chirped. “Still don’t know why it’s called that. Anyways it was hard to move it around because it was so big, but once I clicked the mouse’s button on one of the manticores, all I had to do was hit that big red button Futaba made.”

Ren looked at his sister in utter confusion.

“What?” she asked innocently. “You act like you’ve never asked your Persona to alter its cognition of itself before.”

He just shook his head. Leave it to his sister to think of something so simple yet completely out of the box. “And the communication?”

“Different button,” she said simply.

“Yeah, that one was yellow,” Gallica added.

Ren chuckled. “Well, I’m really glad it ended up working. For all of our sakes. Sweet dreams, you two.” He turned to go back to his makeshift bed, when he felt a small pull on his sleeve.

“Wait Ren. Please?” Gallica’s tone had gone from happy and playful to pensive. He turned around and waited for whatever she had to say.

“I just…” Her eyes swept the floor, pointedly not looking at either of them. “I didn’t get a chance because of all the craziness, but… I wanted to thank you. Both of you.” She finally looked up and met their eyes in turn.

“For what?” Futaba asked.

“For saying what you did,” she said quietly. “I mean the whole thing about me having a place and being useful. I really…”

Ren heard Gallica’s voice crack, and she quickly looked down at the floor again. Futaba made a move to speak up, but Ren gently put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head subtly. When the fairy finally continued, it was clear she was fighting to keep from breaking down.

“I really needed to hear that,” she finally got out, still not looking at them. “From people that aren’t just telling me what I want to hear, you know? To hear that I matter.” She looked up again, this time with small tears lining her cheeks.

Futaba made a noise that sounded like a puppy whining, and Ren smiled gently. “One of the hardest things to do is judge yourself as fairly as you judge others. It’s easy to see what makes our friends great, but when it comes to ourselves… let’s just say I know very well how you feel.”

“We both do, Gallica,” Futaba said kindly. “Trust me, you have no idea how many times I’ve felt like that. But don’t worry. You and me are gonna team up and become the most kick-ass Navi ever. And if you ever start feeling like this again, let us know and we’ll take that mean inner voice of yours and beat it with a bat, okay? Ren’s got a lot of practice doing that for me.”

Gallica laughed lightly, followed by a small sniff. “I’m not sure what a Navi is. Or a bat. But I’d really like that. Thanks, you two. Really, just…” she smiled widely. “Thanks.”

I am thou… Thou art I…

Thou hast acquired a new vow…

It shall become the wings of rebellion

That breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Juggler Persona

I have obtained the winds of blessing that

shall lead to freedom and new power…

Ren broke out into a huge smile.

Full sentences huh? Almost there, Lav.

Tree of Prophecy → Martira, Old Castle Town

What luck! Truly, Eht had blessed her. Well, more like Eht saw the terrible misfortune that befell her and her brother and saw fit to grant her a boon to make up for it.

To think that of all those that could have come to their rescue, it happened to be the two people she was most curious about. Three people, now, with the addition of Futaba. Not only did they manage to show up in her hour of need, but they were genuinely nice people! None of them looked at her with disgust, hatred, or stretched-too-thin tolerance. 

(She was worried when she removed her mask and Will broke eye contact, but he must have just gotten distracted by something.)

They all just treated her and her brother like… well like, people. It was refreshing!

And it was a good thing that they were so nice, because Eupha had a lot of questions.

The more obvious ones they answered earlier in the day, after the runner powered up and their pilot set course for Martira. 

The power that Will, Strohl, and Hulkenberg could use was called an Archetype. Will mentioned that it awoke in him in a moment of great emotional stress, and the other two said their awakening was similar. Strohl alluded to the fact that it seemed that only those who were close with Will had gained the power, so perhaps it could be transmitted based on proximity? As for Ren and Futaba, the older of the two said that their power was rather unique—that both he and his sister were born with it, and that it was partially because of that that his parents adopted the younger girl.

But the less obvious question she had yet to get to. Or rather, she was unsure of how to go about asking. Would it even be right to? How do you ask someone why their body seems to be entirely made up of magla? If it were because of Archetypes, Strohl and Hulkenberg would look the same to her third eye, but while they assuredly had a high concentration of magla in their bodies, it was still within the realm of believability.

And Ren and Futaba. These “Personas” might potentially explain why they both had only trace amounts of magla inside them, but why were they pretending to belong to tribes that they didn’t? She remembered seeing Ren when she first arrived in Grand Trad, and during the opening ceremony her eyes were immediately drawn to Futaba for the same reason. Both of them were elda, and yet both decided to don disguises before their group was introduced.

In any case, it would be rude to ask the siblings why they were pretending to be something they weren’t. They were both clearly good people, and they were entitled to their secrets. It wasn’t her place to probe further.

But Will.

She couldn’t explain Will. Couldn’t even begin to fathom what was going on with him. He wasn’t like other elda, and he wasn’t like other Archetype users. A complete and total enigma. Eupha was starting to believe more and more in her theory that he was an emissary of the Dragon God, so similar were their magla signatures. And if that was truly the case, surely she, as the Dragon God’s priestess, should try to get closer and learn more, no? Not for her own curiosity, but because it was her duty!

She found the boy below deck, lounging on the lip of one of the porthole windows of the runner and reading a book. She approached hesitantly, wondering if it would be okay to interrupt him. Before she could speak up and make her presence known, he looked up from the book, and his bright, mismatched eyes found hers.

“Oh, Eupha! Hey!” He quickly marked his place and closed the book. Well that answered that. “Did you need something?”

Eupha gathered herself. It was just a conversion, nothing to be nervous about. Emissary of Eht or no, Will had yet to be anything but kind and amiable.

“I was wondering if perhaps you might have time to talk? It seems silly for my brother and I to be travelling with our rescuers and not get to know them. That and… well I’d like it very much if I could learn something of the lands beyond my island.”

Will’s eyes widened for a moment, but he quickly smiled. “Sure. How about in there?” He pointed to the small room attached to the galley where there were a few tables set up for eating and recreation. She nodded and followed him in, taking a seat opposite him at the smaller of the two tables.

“So,” Will started, “what did you want to know?”

So many things. But where to start? Just coming out and asking would be incredibly rude, and what if he had no idea what she was even talking about? Perhaps she could learn something by hearing of his past or his goals?

“Hmm…well perhaps you could tell me why you’re vying for the throne? Are you like my brother and you wish to better the lot of your tribe?”

Will looked to the side and scrunched up his mouth slightly. “Well, I guess that’s part of it. You see, I have—had—a friend.” His eyes took on a faraway look, and his expression became slightly pained. “His dream was to create a world where people were judged wholly by their actions. Where tribe didn’t matter. When he… when he died, I decided to take up that dream for him. So I guess I do want to better the elda. But not just the elda.”

“That’s a wonderful goal,” she said gently. “And…I’m sorry for your loss. He sounds like he was a good person.”

Will grimaced slightly. “He was. We grew up together, and he died recently, so it’s…it’s been hard.”

“I’m sorry, it was insensitive of me to press.”

He waved her off with a small smile. “Don’t be silly, you didn’t know. Besides, it’s nice to remember sometimes.”

Well, if he was insisting. Coincidentally, he had just provided her with a good opportunity to ask about something else.

“If you’re sure… Could you tell me about your childhood? You must have some good memories with him.”

Will’s expression grew wistful. “Well, he moved to my village when we were both young. I remember spending a lot of time in the nearby woods with him. He loved reading, and there was this one tree he’d always read against. This book actually.” He patted the book at his side. Eupha did notice that he seemed to carry it with him everywhere. Now that she knew why, she found it quite sweet.

“Is that your way of remembering him?” she asked. It was pretty common in her tribe to carry some item of the deceased as a memorial of sorts, and she wondered if that tradition existed elsewhere.

Will shook his head. “More a way to remember our promise than anything. This is the book that gave him all those ideas about equality.”

How interesting. Perhaps she could ask him to show it to her sometime. Or better yet, perhaps she could get Will to show it to her brother. She had a feeling Edeni would be very interested in a book that made a case for no discrimination between tribes. But for now, she wanted to know more about Will.

“What else did you two do?”

He seemed a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well…when you grew older. What did you do together? Surely it couldn’t have been all reading in the woods, right?”

“I…” Will frowned and looked down at the table. “Well… there was…” His frown deepened, and she could see his eyes flit randomly around as if the words he was searching for were written somewhere on the tabletop.

He remained the way long enough for Eupha to start getting worried. But as she started to reach over the table to get his attention or provide comfort or do something, it happened. A pulsing light. She wasn’t aware that her third eye could be blinded, given that it only saw magla, but that’s what it felt like. Will’s magla had, within a fraction of a second, grown dazzlingly bright.

Before she could consciously force her third eye closed though, the light faded, and Will’s magla was back to normal, like nothing had ever happened. Stranger still, so was Will.

“Oh you know, just hanging around, helping out the adults, taking sword lessons. Not much to talk about really.” He smiled at her, looking for all the world like the last few minutes never happened.

Eupha was extremely confused. What was that? And how did Will not notice it? “Are you…alright?” she asked tentatively.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

He clearly had no idea what had happened to his body. Maybe no memory that he was even struggling. It was… disconcerting. Perhaps she could ask someone else about it? Maybe it was something that happened to him from time to time. Some pre-existing condition?

Eupha shook her head. “No reason.” It wouldn’t do to push this—she was already worried that she had inadvertently hurt him somehow. “Thank you for sharing with me. Maybe I could ask you more later?”

“Any time!” Will said with an easy smile. It was a nice smile, Eupha thought as she got up to leave. She hoped it was a real one, and not just a result of…whatever that was.

She didn’t notice said smile slide off his face as she left the room, nor the flicker of growing uncertainty in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Tree of Prophecy → Martira, Old Castle Town

Ren caught Futaba as she was finishing up a conversation with Neuras via the speakers that connected the foreroom to the cockpit. He didn’t catch most of it, but the tail end made it apparent that his sister was using the arrival of Eupha and Edeni as reason to again lobby for extra sleeping arrangements. It wasn’t the worst idea—Ren didn’t fully buy into Futaba’s “Will being the MC” idea, but there was no denying that this Archetype power was inextricably linked to him. It might not be Igor, but someone or something out there was saddling him with a fate bigger than himself, and it wasn’t crazy to think he’d pick up more followers with such a Wild Card adjacent setup. Even if he didn’t, Ren was still on the lookout for people from his time, and if—no, when he found them, he wasn’t just going to leave them behind.

“Hey,” he called out as she turned towards him. “Got time to help me figure something out?”

Futaba shot him a neutral look and spread her arms wide, gesturing around her. “Does it look like I’ve got a lot going on?”

Ren made a show of looking put out. “Yeah good point, I wouldn’t want to interrupt. Maybe later.” He made to walk away before he felt a playful punch to the small of his back.

“Nooooo, entertain me with your issues, I’m so boooored!”

Ren laughed and took a seat at the round table, while Futaba planted herself on the table itself and looked at him expectantly.

“Okay so that manticore battle,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“Something…strange happened.”

Futaba cocked her head. “You mean how you can suddenly have conversations with your personas?”

“No,” Ren said, before frowning slightly. “Well yes. Okay, two strange things happened. Are you able to talk with Al Azif?

“Nah, though I definitely tried after I overheard you talking with Black Frost. It did feel like I could, I dunno, understand it better? Like the vibes it sends out through the connection, you know?”

Ren nodded to let her know he was following. Those impulses were the way all of them communicated with their other selves, at least until now.

“Anyways, those feelings seem to come through a bit sharper for me than they used to, but Zeefy doesn’t seem to be able to talk like yours can. Might be a Wild Card thing. Might also be that he’s the Persona version of a book, and books don’t really talk.”

Ren hummed, thinking it over for a few seconds. “Do you think it has something to do with the world being…”

“Fucked up?” Futaba offered. He nodded. “Maybe? I honestly don’t know. The rules when it comes to Cognitive Psience are fast and loose at the best of times, so as much as I hate it, I’m kinda out of my depth here. Another reason to help you reach Lavenza. You said she’s coming in loud and clear now, yeah?”

“Yeah. I actually made a quick once over of the runner—”

“Of the Monabus Mk. II.”

“......Of the Monabus Mk. II after I heard her, hoping to find a door to the Velvet Room just spontaneously appearing, but no luck. No dreams where I wake up in old time-y prison clothes either.”

Futaba gave him a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder. “That girl is like a god or something. She’ll find a way to get to you.”

Ren grunted neutrally. It seemed to him that whatever needed to happen for him to visit the Velvet Room again, it was entirely on him. And a small part of him was starting to worry that he was missing something vital.

“Anyways,” Futaba continued, pulling Ren out of his introspection. “You mentioned two strange things?”

“Right. So Kaguya was helping me grab the attention of the manticores on the far side of the camp, and I just finished using Shining Arrows, and then there was this…moment.” He struggled to find the words to accurately reflect the feeling he had. “It was like all the negative things I ever thought about myself washed over me all at once. Crippling fear and anxiety. And then it just went away seconds later.”

Futaba narrowed her eyes. “Okay, that’s weird.”

“It was. And the weirdest part was that Kaguya sort of implied that if it went on any longer, I’d ‘lose her.’”

“What, you mean like… she’d stop being your Persona?”

Ren shrugged. “I think so.”

“Well have you asked her? I mean, you can talk to them now, right?”

Ren sighed and summoned Kaguya. “Tell her what you told me.”

The persona bowed her head before turning to Futaba. “My lord entered into a state of extreme agitation. He seemed to be… losing himself. And as I can only offer my help to those who know themselves, I was understandably worried. Reverting to who he was before he met Arsène could have terrible ramifications to not just our, but all of his bonds.”

Futaba looked at the floor, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s terrifying.” She shook her head and looked back at Kaguya. “Also, this is super weird. You talking and all.”

Kaguya put a hand to where her mouth would be if she had one and gave a refined chuckle. “We have always been able to talk, imouto-sama. Perhaps you are finally learning to listen.”

Futaba stared at Kaguya blankly for a good while. Whether that was because of the answer, the honorific, or the sheer fact that she was conversing with someone else’s Persona, he wasn’t sure. Before she managed to form a response however, Kaguya spoke again.

“My lord, I believe you have a visitor.”

A small squeak of surprise was followed quickly by an embarrassed Eupha coming out from behind the doorway that connected the room to the central corridor. 

“I…I’m so very sorry!” The girl bowed repeatedly and profusely. “I just didn’t want to interrupt, and she’s just so beautiful that I kind of… I’m sorry!”

Surprisingly, Kaguya spoke before Ren could assure her that they weren’t mad.

“Be at ease, child. You have nothing to apologize for. I can assure you, despite my lord’s imposing countenance, he is not cross with you in the slightest.” She inclined her head. “I thank you for the compliment, but I believe I shall take your arrival as my cue?” She turned to look at Ren questioningly. When he smiled at her, she disappeared.

He let out a short laugh. “No idea what she meant by imposing, but she’s right, you’re fine Eupha.”

Letting out a long breath, the relieved girl came closer. Futaba gave a wave. “What’s up?”

Eupha looked at her in confusion before tilting her head back to check the ceiling. “The… the deck? I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re referring to…”

His sister had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing, which left Ren to answer. “It’s an expression where we come from. It’s used as a greeting, or to ask someone what’s going on,” he said, a wide smile on his face.

Eupha looked back down, and the coloring that had finally receded upon being caught listening at the doorway returned slightly. “Oh, I see! Well then, um… ‘what’s up’ to you as well!”

Futaba, fighting down her laughter, turned to Ren, eyes full of mirth. “Can we keep her?”

“Down, girl.” Ren turned back to Eupha. “What can we do for you?”

Eupha was still clearly confused, but wisely decided to push past it. Her face turned somewhat somber. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting?”

“Positive.”

“Well…” Eupha’s eyes roamed the floor in front of her before returning to the two of them. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Will.”

“Oh?” Ren schooled his face into polite curiosity. He hadn’t had a chance to confr—ask Will about that reaction he had to seeing Eupha’s face for the first time, but chances were good he already knew the answer. To think a development like this would happen so soon! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister trying to hide her glee with much less success.

“Yes, I was speaking to him earlier. In an effort to get to know him better, I asked him about his past. But…” She adopted a slightly guilty expression. “...Well…have either of you ever seen him react…strangely?”

Ren furrowed his brow. He was starting to think this wasn’t the development he was hoping for. “What do you mean by ‘strangely?’”

More guilt found its way onto her face, and the words started rushing out of her. “I was asking about his friend, the one who passed away? About what they used to do when they were younger. Will seemed to be struggling to remember anything, and eventually he just…stopped talking altogether. His eyes were racing, though I am unsure what he was looking at, but he was otherwise still, and he stayed that way for a few minutes, not reacting to anything. But then—”

She stopped suddenly. Whatever she was about to say, she obviously thought better of it.

“But then?” Ren prodded.

“Well, I started to reach out to him, but then he was suddenly back to normal! He answered my question as if the past few minutes never happened. I asked if he was alright, but he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about…” She trailed off, concern plain.

Ren looked at Futaba. She shook her head. “Sounds kinda like one of those absence seizures, but I’ve never seen him do anything like that.”

Ren nodded. He hadn’t either, and it sounded like something that would be—

Wait.

Something came back to him. He was eating dinner with Will and Strohl at that tavern on Sunlumeo. There was a moment. They were talking and Will just…froze mid-sentence. At the time, Ren just thought he was thinking, but looking back on it, he was oddly still. What were they talking about at the time?

Ren tried to replay the conversation. They were talking about Gallica, and how she reminded him of Makoto with all their talk about being useless. And then they shifted to racism…and then…

The Prince.

Ren asked about his past with the Prince and Will just shut down for a few seconds. And that was obviously who he was talking about with Eupha. Careful not to let anything show on his face, he decided to store that tidbit away for later. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask Will about this directly, but if he did, it definitely wouldn’t be while the two mustari were on board.

Ren turned back to Eupha. “We’ve never seen him do anything like that, but I’m positive it isn’t your fault. Don’t worry, I’ll ask him about it.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you for letting us know.”

Eupha exhaled, and the tension in her shoulders lessened. “Of course.”

—

“We’re finally out of the desert!” Gallica cheered, throwing her hands above her head and spinning in place. “I’ve missed all this green!” She turned back to Will, who nodded in agreement. He’d been oddly quiet for most of the day.

Ren walked up and leaned against the front deck’s railing. It was nice to finally have a change in scenery, the dull yellows and oranges of the large desert around Grand Trad finally giving way to the greens and browns of the lowlands to the south. Another day and a half, and they’d arrive in Martira.

The distinct sound of a groan made him turn around. Strohl was staggering up slowly, looking… well, distinctly not his best. Behind him came the rest—Hulkenberg, seeming half concerned and half amused; Futaba, looking full amused; and Edeni and Eupha, who he couldn’t read at all, given they had their masks back on. They always did so when they were outside during daylight. Ren had wondered whether it was a cultural or religious thing, or if they were simply being cautious about being seen by other, less accepting people. He had yet to get around to asking.

Strohl stumbled up to the railing and all but threw himself at it, arms supporting his full weight and head hanging between them so that his upper body was almost parallel to the deck.

“Why does it have to be so bumpy!?” he moaned loudly. Ren understood Hulk’s expression now—as bad as he felt for his clemar friend, there was a certain undeniable amount of schadenfreude to the situation, especially with how exaggerated his movements and voice were.

“That’d be the change in terrain, lad!” Neuras’s voice came piping through the speakers. Good god, did the ishkia have the entire runner bugged? He’d have to do a sweep of the ship to find all the mics later. “See, got to let the suspension get used to hard ground instead of soft sand.”

Strohl groaned again before looking to the side. His gaze passed over the others until he reached Gallica, and then his eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Must be nice to fly everywhere…”

Gallica adopted a smug look, and was about to reply when a huge tremor rocked the runner, along with a loud explosion. Ren and Strohl, already leaning against the railing, had a way to stabilize themselves, but everyone else was thrown. Hulkenberg and Edeni managed to keep their footing, but Will fell to one knee, and Futaba and Eupha both fell flat on their butts.

“The hell was that!?” Ren asked, rushing over to get both girls back up on their feet. Futaba took his hand gratefully, but Eupha hesitated for some reason before reaching past his hand and grasping his forearm. He pulled them both up to their feet.

“A cannonade!” Hulkenberg said, indicating a crater right next to the runner’s left leg. It was billowing black smoke.

“The hell is that?” Futaba near parroted.

“Context clues, sister dear,” Ren said, preoccupied with finding the source of the artillery fire. 

Hulkenberg was one step ahead of him, already pointing at a spot to their left. The group collectively looked off into the distance to see a wild sight: two gauntlet runners, one purple and yellow, the other white, fighting each other. But not exactly the way Ren expected. The purple runner was using its leg to pin the cockpit of the white one, seemingly trying to slam the vehicle into the ground. It looked more like dinosaurs or dragons fighting than two vehicles. A still smoking barrel on the white runner made it clear that the shell that just rocked them was a missed shot from their ongoing fight.

“My star is rising! Hyaah!” came an amplified voice from the purple runner, loud enough for them to hear even from this distance.

“Sanctism will reign! Hah!” came the reply from the other one.

Futaba snickered. “Oh my god, who actually talks like that? They sound like shounen characters!”

The two runners separated like two boxers returning to their corners, getting ready for another round.

“That’s Glodell, isn’t it?” Strohl asked nobody in particular. “In the purple. Louis’s man?”

“Indeed.” Hulkenberg said with a nod. “And the other is Gideaux, right hand man to Forden.”

A loud bang signaled another shot from Gideaux, this one  landing just short of Glodell’s runner.

“Prominent candidates,” Hulk continued. “Shouldn’t the king’s magic petrify them for their aggression?”

“They’re specifically aiming for the opposing runner’s legs,” Strohl responded. “Maybe the magic only activates if the candidate is threatened directly?”

“And a disabled runner out here would be less than ideal,” Neuras said. “Even if they managed to make it to a town and get it fixed up,the time wasted likely means they’d be dashed well out of the race!”

Will squinted, then pointed to a spot just in front of the runners. “Uh, guys? Am I seeing things, or is there someone actually standing there?”

Ren focused. There was indeed someone there. “...Is that…the crier that was running the opening ceremony?”

“It appears so,” Edeni answered. “But why would someone place themselves in such a dangerous situation?”

“Acting as a witness to the higher candidates’ conflict, at a guess.” Hulkenberg mused. “If nothing else, the man takes his job seriously.”

Another shot from Gideaux, this one actually grazing the leg of Glodell’s runner. “Seems like Gideaux has the upper hand,” Will commented.

“But do we want to keep it that way?” Ren asked quietly. Understanding dawned on each of the others one by one. Their whole goal was to ingratiate themselves to Louis. What better way than by assisting one of his supporters?

Will looked torn, and Ren noticed that his eyes flitted back towards the two mustari a few times as he deliberated. Right. The white lie they concocted for Edeni and Eupha was that they were aspirants like any other, vying for the throne. They made no mention of Louis, no hint that they might be allied with him. To make matters worse, it did become apparent through the conversations they had over the past day or so that Edeni had an extremely low opinion of the Count.

“Tribal equality is commendable, but to violently suppress one’s opponents? The man is anathema to me.”

Which made what they were contemplating…tricky. Obviously none of them were looking forward to helping Glodell—he seemed to be, at best, a complete dick—but if it meant progressing with their mission to save the prince? It just might be one of those rare times where the end justifies the means. Besides, it’s not like the Sanctist Church was that much better.

“C’mon Will, what’s our plan?” Gallica asked, growing impatient. “I know it’s not ideal, but this might be a good chance for us.”

“I know,” he said, pushing the words out as if they physically pained him. “I know, but…” His eyes once again went back to their guests.

Ren put a hand on Will’s shoulder—the one Gallica wasn’t perched on. “I got this.” Then he turned around and approached the siblings, who were busy watching the ongoing runner fight.

“Edeni.”

Both turned upon hearing him call out. Ren calmed himself, willing his voice to remain even.

“We’re going to intervene in this fight and assist Glodell against the Sanctist candidate.” Edeni froze for a moment, before drawing himself up. Before he could respond, Ren continued. “I know such a move doesn’t make sense, and I know it means assisting someone in Louis’s camp. I can only imagine what you’re thinking of us right now.” He paused to collect his thoughts.

“But you know us. Or at least, you know us well enough to know what we want out of this tournament and what our values are. I can’t explain why we need to do this. I wish I could, but I can’t. Please, just…trust me when I say that we have a reason we need to do this, and that it’s in line with those values.”

Edeni remained silent and unmoving. For what felt like the hundredth time, Ren cursed those masks they wore. It made them absolutely impossible to read. 

Surprisingly, Eupha was the first to respond. She gently touched her brother’s forearm and spoke resolutely. “I think we should place our trust in them, brother. They saved and aided us when doing so provided no benefit to them. I… I want to trust them.”

Edeni remained silent for a few moments before finally sighing. “My sister and I are of one mind. I have no clue what helping that…man will get you. But I do know you aren’t doing it because you want to. It’s a tad frustrating, but you are entitled to your secrets.”

Ren let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Thank you. Would you mind going inside? I don’t think it’d be good for either of us if Glodell and Gideaux saw us together.”

Edeni turned to look at the rest of the group. They did a very good job of looking contrite. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. I wish you luck. Let’s go, Eupha.”

The two made for the cabin. As she passed, Ren whispered his thanks to Eupha, who simply bowed her head in acknowledgement. Her brother held the hull door open for her, and before following her inside, said one final thing to the group as a whole.

“I hope you have a plan, seeing as Gideaux is protected by the king’s magic and you are not.”

…Shit.

—

“Are we seriously trying this?” Strohl asked one more time.

“Do you have a better idea?” Futaba fired back.

Strohl looked to Ren, who shrugged, then Will, who nodded his head. Groaning, he raised the external runner phone to his mouth.

“We’re here to help! Withdraw, Glodell!” The clemar’s voice reverberated out of the Monabus Mk. II’s speakers and across the plain.

The white craft turned slightly towards the runner it just realized was there, and it was Gideaux himself who replied. “Who goes there!? Why do you stand for Louis’s forces!?”

Strohl, panicking slightly, turned to the rest of the party. They all shrugged in near unison.

“I hate you all,” he muttered, before opening the communication line again. “Well, erm, that is… sorry! Can’t really get into it right now!”

Futaba doubled over with laughter, immune to the withering look Strohl sent her way.

“That gauntlet runner…” Gideaux said, voice taking on a tinge of hatred. “You’re that commoner candidate who destroyed the Grand Cathedral! Was that not enough!? You would profane the sacred a second time?”

Ren furrowed his brow in confusion, looking at the rest of them. He was met with equally confused faces. Good, so they didn’t know what the hell he was talking about either. They didn’t have time to question it however, as Gideaux’s runner decided to disengage from its current battle in favor of approaching the interlopers.

“Get ready, Neuras!” Hulkenberg yelled as the runner pulled up alongside them. Gideaux was visible on its deck, staring down at the group with contempt.

“Submit yourself to the will of the Sanctist Church, or in God’s name, be thou punished!”

Futaba glanced at Ren, smirk playing at her lips. She was insane. This was insane. 

He was very excited.

Right, time to dangle the bait.

“Big talk from the safety of your ship, all decked out with weapons” Ren said, putting as much Joker into his tone as he could. “Real mixed messaging from a religion that preaches peace and love. How bout you come down here and we see how almighty your ‘God’ is.”

Gideaux’s features contorted in pure rage. “Blasphemers!! You dare speak ill of your Lord!?”

“Seems like it,” Ren replied with an easy smile. It was a good thing Batlin was still rushing to catch up to the runner. Poking fun at Sanctism probably wouldn’t help their popularity. Gideaux’s eye widened, his face turning red.

Aaaaand fish hooked.

“Very well, if you wish to die so badly, allow me to assist. Men!” Gideaux screamed. Will shot a quick look at Neuras, who nodded. Eight warrior monks lined up in front of Gideaux, and with a war cry, they all leapt from their runner’s deck, planning to land on the Monabus Mk. II.

“Planning” being the operative word.

“Take this, you rotter!” Neuras yelled. As soon as they pushed off from the railing, he yanked hard on the runner’s leg controls, rapidly swinging the old girl away from the other vehicle. Gideaux had pushed off with enough force to clear the rapidly widening gap, but the same couldn’t be said for the others. They were trained warriors, so the fall wouldn’t be enough to kill them. Probably. But they definitely weren’t going to be of any use for a while.

Gideaux hit the deck and rolled to his feet, looking behind him at the distinct lack of backup. He turned back to them, mouth twisting into a rictus of pure hatred and superiority. “I should have expected such cowardice from a group of Godless heathens. Yet your desperate struggling is for nought. You cannot defy the inevitable. I am immune to all your wicked harms.” He laughed, a crazed look in his eyes, spittle flying from his mouth. “Hahaha! Bend the knee, and yield to the divine truth of Sanctism. Do so, and your deaths shall be painless.” 

The group looked to Ren. 

I can’t believe this worked.

“Alright crazy, decent monologue,” he quipped, domino mask appearing on his face in a blaze of blue. “Rangda, be a dear.”

The Balinese witch appeared next to him, thoroughly startling Gideaux. Before he could react she performed her dance, swaying from side to side and clacking her long nails together before pointing one of them at Gideaux.

“What manner of demon—!!” Gideaux started. But before he could finish, he crumpled to the deck, out like a light. The Lullaby worked like a charm.

“She’s actually a demon queen,” Ren said.

Everybody stayed where they were, either reeling from the speed and ease with which they defeated Gideaux or worried that if they moved, they’d wake him up.

“Soooooo…. anybody got some rope?” Futaba asked.

—

“I still can’t believe that worked,” Strohl said, laughing slightly. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

“The king’s magic makes it so we can’t directly harm high ranking candidates,” Futaba said, admiring the group’s handiwork. “But there are plenty of ways to stop someone without harming them.”

“And if your assumption was wrong?” Hulkenberg asked, double-checking the knots.

“Then my big bro would be tied up worse than baldie here, I guess?” Sensing the incredulous looks, she continued. “What? He was just as excited to try as I was!”

The looks swiveled to Ren, who just grinned.

“You two are insane,” Strohl deadpanned.

“Aren’t you glad we’re on your side?” she asked, attempting to sound sweet and failing miserably.

Will laughed. “Okay, so what do we do with them?”

The group looked at the nine monks, including Gideaux, who were currently tied up and asleep on their deck. Edeni and Eupha were still laying low in the cabin, and Batlin had finally caught up to the two runners, currently desperately asking for any updates from the ground.

“Our goal was to save Glodell right?” Gallica asked. “We probably shouldn’t do anything more to this group. Forden will already be coming after us enough as it is.”

“Agreed. We’ve won the day. Let us not push our luck,” Hulkenberg said with a nod.

“Right,” Will agreed, walking over to the railing nearest Gideaux’s runner. He cupped his hands and yelled, “Hey, there’s still someone on board over there, right?”

There was a minute or so of stillness and silence before a clemar man approached, wary. “Name your terms!” He shouted back.

Will started to shake his head, then stopped. “Your word that you’ll retreat once we hand your men back over, and we’ll do so.”

The man looked disbelieving, but agreed. He lowered the runner so their decks were of an equal height, and after they passed the bound men over, quickly made for the cockpit.

“They won’t wake up for a while, no matter what you do!” Ren called after him. The man looked back, slightly fearful, before nodding. A few seconds later, and the runner was on its way.

“Well that worked out relatively well,” Hulkenberg said.

“Hey!” A heated voice called out from the other side of the runner. “Get down here!”

The party exchanged looks before walking to the opposite railing. Glodell’s runner had parked itself a hundred or so feet away, and between the two runners was the man himself, accompanied by his mean looking dog, Batlin, and… wait, was that Junah? What the hell was she doing there?

“He does not sound happy,” Will said, wincing slightly.

Ren sighed. “No good deed…”

Chapter Text

Tree of Prophecy → Martira, Old Castle Town

“So what’s the plan here?” Strohl asked as they made their way towards Glodell.

“Play up our desire to help Louis?” Will proffered.

“Try not to point out his terrible fashion sense?” Futaba smirked, hands behind her head.

“Will, you’re going to need to take the lead here,” Ren said, pointedly ignoring his sister (no matter how correct she might be). “You’re the candidate, and if we want this to reach Louis, you’re going to need to make the biggest impact.”

Will nodded somberly, readying himself mentally. Then he winced. “But, um… if I need help?”

“We’re right there with you,” Strohl replied, patting the shorter boy on the shoulder.

“Well, most of us,” Ren said, gesturing over to Hulkenberg and Neuras. “Do you guys know what’s up with them?”

The two in question indeed didn’t seem to be present in the conversation, the ishkia looking excited and the roussainte nervous. Strohl and Gallica looked at them curiously, but only shook their heads. Will was about to answer, but they were within earshot of the other group now, and so he decided against it.

“What are you playing at?” Glodell said indignantly as the group pulled up. He was clearly not a happy camper, nor was his dog. Junah—now that they had gotten closer he was sure that’s who it was—seemed to be sizing them up, while Batlin just looked excited. “You think I owe you now or something? I would’ve been fine without your meddling!”

The group was a bit taken aback by the immediate vitriol. Will glanced at Ren, who closed his fist, trying to indicate that the boy should stand tall. Louis seemed to value strength above all else—letting Glodell walk all over them wouldn’t get them noticed. Hell, Ren doubted Glodell would ever tell Louis he got saved, now that he thought about it.

Will gave a subtle nod before adopting a small smirk. “Our meddling is the only reason your runner is still in one piece.”

Okay, that’s standing taller than I thought, but I’m here for it.

Ren had to work hard to hold in his grin. Futaba was less successful.

“Don’t you dare talk down to me…” Glodell spat, immediately goaded into the next tier of assholery. “You want to see what I’m really capable of?” His dog, picking up on its master’s displeasure, growled dangerously.

Before any of them had the chance to say something that assuredly would have made the walking fashion nightmare even angrier, Junah cut in. Ren was struck by her unique accent that sounded nothing like her singing voice, and found himself wondering how the translation magic that was in effect decided what she should sound like to him.

“Why, Glodell. Surely you can spare some manners for a crew that saved our lives? Honestly, that got a bit ugly for my liking.” 

Ren was glad she was attempting to de-escalate and tickled that she seemed to be taking a dig at the same time. Glodell grumbled, but said nothing further, opting to fume silently.

“Ugly may be your word for it, Lady Junah, but I prefer exciting!” Batlin said, eyeing Will’s crew like they were a holiday spread. “One moment Sir Gideaux is raring to go, the next you send him scurrying with his runner’s tail between its legs!” If the Sanctist crier was upset about his employer’s loss, he was certainly hiding it well. 

He turned to Will expectantly. “You tragically couldn’t hear me from all the way up there,” he started, smiling good-naturedly and winking, “but now that I have you down here, I’ve got to ask how you did it!”

“How indeed…” Junah added. But unlike Batlin, she wasn’t looking at Will. She was staring at Ren, her giant eyes narrowed slightly and a small smile playing at her lips. 

Ren thought back. He didn’t think that Glodell’s runner was that close to them during the dust up, but admittedly he had more important things to focus on. But if they were close enough, the fact that she was on a runner meant that she easily could have been high enough to have a good vantage point for the fight—if you could even call it that. 

“Uh…no comment?” Will said, wilting slightly under Batlin’s expectant gaze.

“Wouldn’t do to share our secrets too early in the competition, right?” Strohl added.

Junah’s smile got a little bigger as she kept looking at Ren. She clearly saw him summon, but was perfectly happy keeping it to herself. Like it was some sort of…game? Following his gut, he caught her eye and subtly raised a finger to his lips. She broke out into a full grin that neither Batlin nor Glodell noticed, and winked. Ren had no idea why she was travelling with Glodell, but she clearly seemed to have taken more of a liking to them than he had, and any progress was good progress.

“Fine fine, keep your secrets,” Batlin said, not looking put out in the slightest. He then turned to Junah. “Besides, there are other stories to be had here. Junah the songstress, out in the middle of nowhere? A little tryst on the road, is it?”

“Nothing so saucy,” she answered, turning to Glodell. “I’m afraid this cad’s just my chauffeur.” Futaba snickered quietly as Glodell’s face grew red. From embarrassment, humiliation, or anger, Ren couldn’t tell. The singer turned back to Batlin. “Now please, darling, a little privacy, or I’ll have to charge for an interview.”

Batlin laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fair enough, Miss, fair enough. Consider me chastened and shooed.” He started backing up and away from the two groups, but turned to Will one last time. “Don’t worry lad, one of these days I’ll be getting my answer.” With that he departed. Ren idly wondered where the man’s transportation was.

With the crier gone, Junah turned her full attention on Will. Ren didn’t fail to notice how Hulkenberg stood a little straighter, nor how Neuras was visibly giddy with excitement.

“You surprised me out there, love. Besting Gideaux so quickly and all.”

“I have a good team supporting me,” Will responded quickly.

Junah giggled. “Strong and modest. So you’re not just a pretty face, huh?” Will blushed slightly, which made Junah smile. “Well, you were more help than my useless driver, at least.”

Again Glodell smoldered with anger, and again he said nothing. Whatever the totem pole was in Louis’s camp, he was clearly near the bottom. Or she was near the top.

Hulkenberg leaned over to whisper to Will. “L-Look here… I know it is nice to receive praise, but however talented and famed a songstress she may be, you must remember to contain yourself.”

Will tilted his head. “Songstress?”

Oh buddy.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who needed the reminder to remain calm, because not a second later, Neuras exploded. “Blast it all! I can’t take it anymore!” 

He immediately took off at a run. Junah, recognizing Neuras as an apparently crazy fan, braced herself, her expression one of mild panic. Glodell narrowed his eyes and reached for the sword at his hip. And Neuras…

Neuras blew right past Junah and didn’t stop until he reached Glodell’s gauntlet runner, where he promptly started babbling about specs or something. Of course.

Junah stared at him, clearly nonplussed. “Erm, is he…?”

“Ignore him,” Ren and Strohl said in near unison.

Hulk was paying attention to none of this, apparently equal parts flabbergasted and offended at Will’s ignorance. “By the crown, you can’t be serious! She is Junah! The kingdom’s greatest singer, the dulcet diva! Ugh, this is preposterous… Surely I can’t be the only one starstruck!?”

“Oh god, is Junah Hulk’s oshi?” Futaba whispered to Ren in amazement. “No way all these millennia have passed and idol culture is the one thing that’s survived.”

“At least Rise will be happy,” Ren said with a shake of his head. Really? Hulkenberg of all people? Oh, he was going to tease her mercilessly for this.

Will was looking at Hulkenberg with nothing but confusion, while Gallica and Strohl adopted looks of… pity might be the best descriptor.

Junah laughed, swinging her arm up to hide her mouth. “You’re an interesting little ensemble.”

“We apologize for her,” Gallica said flatly.

Looking at the source of that statement, Junah was, for the first time, caught completely off guard. “Wait… a fairy…? Where did you—”

The loud sound of an engine interrupted her question. And most of the group looked towards the sound, overwhelmed by the sight of a massive airship approaching their location. The two that didn’t were Junah, whose eyes were still staring at Gallica in disbelief, and Ren, who was in turn studying Junah.

Because that wasn’t the question or look of someone who was surprised because they had never seen a fairy before. No, that question was asked by someone who knew fairies but was surprised to see one here specifically. Her eyes weren’t full of wonder or fascination, but of uncertainty, as if she was trying slot pieces into a puzzle only she could see. But when she caught Ren observing her, she immediately schooled her features with practiced ease, sending him the same “shh” gesture he had sent her.

Interesting.

—

Will had to work hard not to let the anger or nervousness show on his face. This was the man who spat on the king’s grave, who decimated the cathedral. Who murdered Grius. Imposing didn’t begin to describe Louis, who exuded an aura of absolute command even as Junah chatted away happily with—or more accurately at—him.

“So even though she’s with Louis, she was still the Sanctists’ pick for the opening ceremonies? Guess even Forden’s camp has to bend to popular opinion,” Gallica was saying to Strohl. 

The two were having a hushed, hurried conversation, while Hulkenberg stared ahead with the practiced impassivity of a soldier on duty, though Will could tell she was on edge. Futaba was doing that thing she sometimes does, making herself smaller and hiding partially behind Ren. 

And Ren? Ren was just watching. Studying Junah, Louis, and the two paripus that came with him. Will couldn’t pick up any emotion or tell that gave away his inner thoughts, nor any indication that he was the least bit intimidated. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering what it would take to be that strong. Maybe Ren was the one that should have been leading the group. He always seemed to be in control, always had an idea. Meanwhile Will was just… constantly relying on everyone else. 

Not that it mattered. It was too late to change anything.

Will was yanked out of his thoughts as Louis finally got done talking with his team and addressed him directly.

“It would seem you had to clean up my associate’s mess,” he said evenly, blue eyes boring holes into Will. If he was displeased, he didn’t let it show. Will had to force himself not to turn away from the man’s gaze. They were getting a chance to ingratiate themselves far earlier than any of them expected. He wouldn’t let himself be the reason they failed. 

Louis continued. “I’d like to express my gratitude, but if I might ask… who are you?”

“We’re your supporters,” Will answered, looking down slightly in feigned deference.

“Oh?” Louis raised his right eyebrow very slightly. “I suppose that would explain your retaliation against Gideaux, then. Though one wonders why mere supporters would take it upon themselves to attack one of the Sanctist’s candidates.”

“He’s also a candidate,” Strohl said, gesturing to Will. “Though not one of any real standing.”

Louis examined the group quietly before speaking again. “A group of commoners—lady knight excluded—led by an elda, and yet you have a gauntlet runner. Most curious. And what made you decide to enter the competition?”

Will had his answer ready. “I wish to help you in your campaign, Count Louis. If the Sanctists can have multiple contestants promoting Forden, then it’s only fair that you have candidates to carry your name.”

“Oh? You fight in my name, do you? And yet from the way Junah and Glodell tell it, you were more than happy to let Gideaux escape unharmed, runner intact.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, and Will could see Glodell sneering out of the corner of his eyes. “An interesting decision for one of my ‘supporters,’ wouldn’t you say?”

This time Will didn’t have an answer ready. Truthfully, they didn’t want to put themselves too much in the Sanctists’ line of fire, but that didn’t seem like an answer a fervent Louis supporter would give. Will racked his brain for something, anything—

“There was a Sanctist crier observing.”

Will turned to look at Ren, trying to hide the relief on his face. The young man took a step forward so that he was in line with Will and Strohl.

“Ignoring the king’s magic, destroying the runner would have let the Sanctists run with any story they wanted about you and your supporters, and all they’d need to do is point to the broken down vehicle for ‘evidence.’ But letting him go after soundly defeating him?” Ren shrugged, completely nonchalant. 

“Best case scenario, the public hears about how magnanimous your camp is in victory. Worst case scenario, they never run the story at all, which changes nothing as far as public perception goes. But either way, now every single insider is going to know you have supporters in the race capable of standing toe to toe with their best, even without the king’s protection. And confident enough in their abilities to let him go with a slap on the wrist.”

Louis stared at Ren for a long while. Long enough that both Futaba and Gallica started fidgeting with nervousness. To his credit, Ren met the gaze easily. It was as if neither he nor Louis noticed the tension in the air.

Finally Louis nodded. “Well reasoned. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time Forden has tried to discredit me.” He turned back to Will. “However, while I do appreciate your efforts, I’m rather full up on sword hands at the moment.”

“Oh, come now. Don’t they have a certain charm to them?” Junah seemed to be immune to the tension as well. “Why, I daresay I saw one of them use magic without an igniter.”

This, surprisingly, got a reaction not just from Louis but from Ren as well. It was subtle, but he could see his friend’s hand briefly tighten into a fist, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Not at Louis, but at the songstress. Louis seemed intrigued. Maybe even surprised. But in a moment his face adopted its usual stoicness.

Will decided to use the small amount of interest Louis showed to push their case. “Please, we can help you, Lord Louis. You know I’m elda. You see my friends here, all of different tribes. Your vision to see a world united without focus on tribe or social standing is a vision we believe in wholeheartedly!” He didn’t even really have to lie about that part. “Let us help you see it realized.”

“You do know what that vision is built on, don’t you?” Louis asked.

The bodies of the innocent, that’s what.

Louis continued, ignorant of Will’s inner distaste. “If you would claim yourself my ally, then prove your power before all the kingdom’s eyes. You can’t change the world without power, after all. If you can manage that, I’ll consider your proposal.”

Well, it wasn’t the best outcome, but at least Louis was conscious of them now. Will bowed. “Thank you. I promise, we’ll prove ourselves.”

Louis made no indication that he had heard the elda. He simply turned and walked away, his two paripus attendants following without a word. Junah, however, gave a cheerful wave and said, “Goodbye, loves,” before turning to jog after the Count. 

“Don’t think this changes anything,” Glodell muttered, spinning on his heel and calling for his dog as they returned to his runner sans songstress.

Not for the first time, Will was struck by the roussainte’s stupidity. This meeting would change everything.