[Week One]
— Ancalagon —
Night fell, and the Dungeon simmered with what its adventurers had witnessed.
The mood was tense, initially, after learning the truth of Eidolon and the Endbringers, and laying bare a small portion of the Cycle for all to see. They were not small revelations. In the coming days, I was sure reactions would develop spectacularly, mostly outside the Dungeon. But here, within the Dungeon, adventure still reigned.
It picked back up quickly, and I was pleasantly surprised by that fact. I suppose, ultimately, it was a matter of what one could actually affect. Almost all of the adventurers in the Dungeon could do nothing but scorn Eidolon, warily accept Simmy’s facts, and ponder the partial reveals of the Cycle, Shards, and Eden. Since that was all they could reasonably do, it was only natural they distracted themselves and focused on other things, such as the adventure I offered — a great way to take their minds off truths both terrific and terrible.
Eden’s debut, in particular, wouldn’t be easily forgotten. The alien goddess of the physical universe, with reviving Spirit, had passed her sentence for Eidolon in an awesome first showing of herself. The world’s strongest cape was left Shardless and crippled by the sheer shock.
Now, Eidolon could no longer be considered a parahuman. I was sure many were frightened by that act, but when the Entity responsible for half the powers in the Cycle spoke, no one could actually deny her will.
At the very least, I hadn’t piled onto Eidolon’s sentence. If anything, I’d opened a new door for him, inviting him to Adventure and Grow.
If he could get over himself, he’d do well enough.
He’d be starting from scratch, no parahuman powers to his name, but he still had my system of power invested via Authority, and he still had his partnered spirit, though Cu Chulainn had to find a new way to anchor himself at Eidolon’s back since the easy anchor of his Shard had been removed. That was a minor issue, though; the majority of cases from my mass awakening weren’t parahuman, after all, and their partnered totems were all getting by just fine.
All said, though, unless Eidolon found a spark of life in himself quickly, I doubted that he’d be doing much for the rest of the week.
He was too — understandably — deep in shock to quickly get over the truth that he bore a significant part of the responsibility for the Endbringers. As it was, he was currently staring off into space where Eden had left him, completely catatonic.
But I’ll be honest, I pushed him from my mind as soon as his sentence was passed and the trial was resolved. Simmy held my attention much more effectively.
After Eidolon was left Shardless, Eden blessed Simmy with a proud, motherly kiss upon her forehead from beyond the physical plane. She encouraged her Shard-daughter to explore agency now that she was no longer subject to the Conductor’s whims. For a night, another day, a week, the Cycle could wait, Eden claimed.
“What now?” Alexandria asked after the trial, shaken by Eden’s appearance and Eidolon’s fate, but still pushing forward. “What happens to the Endbringers if Eidolon is not… Mastering them? What can we do about-…?”
“[Action? Query: You?]” Simmy tittered, so spirited after Eden’s showing. “[Negative.]”
“We have to do something,” Alexandria shot back. “You can’t be allowed free rein-… I’m talking to an Endbringer — the Simurgh.”
She realized the last with a halting jolt. It left her visibly bewildered and just as visibly determined.
“I stand by that,” She continued, doubling down. “Eidolon may have been your… Conductor, but you’re still directly responsible for too many crimes to count. And you said it yourself, Conflict is still your goal. Even if the Endbringer attacks stop here, and I have my doubts on that, I don’t trust you one bit.”
“There are still two more Endbringers unaccounted for,” Legend added. “We haven’t seen them be nearly as civil as we’ve seen from you… Simmy.”
“[01, 02: Nonconcern. Cycle: Changing. Directives: Asserting Anew. Communications sent. 01 and 02 will hibernate until E D E N or I have new orders for them.]” Simmy said, waving off the remaining two Triumvirate members’ concerns in an agreeable way that left them blinking.
“And what of you, Simmy?” I asked, amused. “Will you await Eden’s orders as well? She still has a way to go before full revival, you know?”
“Far be it from me to demand anything from such a… reasonable Endbringer…” Dragon added. “But I think many would prefer some sort of assurance that the attacks won’t resume. Can we come to some kind of compromise, Simmy?”
Simmy hesitated, “[… Unsure. Futures: Infinite. Anything is possible now. Course of Action for Self: …]”
“Oh, give it up, you manipulative bitch,” Fortuna huffed. “Out with it! Half of our plan has already succeeded; just close the deal for the rest already!”
Simmy huffed right back, “[Impatience: Irrational. Fine… Ancalagon? Additional Request: Parole, Custody, Supervision… Protection…]”
I hummed in thought, “You intend to surrender yourself to my custody as a form of supervised parole? That does seem like a reasonable compromise to me, but I can’t speak for anyone else. That said, I hardly think you need the protection, Simmy.”
“[Reaffirmation: Protection. If attacked, retaliation is deemed unprudent. Biases and bad actors will frame even self-defense as further guilt. Solution: Draconic Protection.]”
“True, unfortunately,” Dragon winced, a slight narrowing of the holographic eyes on her mechanically Draconic face. “No one’s ever called humans purely rational. I could easily see hatred giving rise to idiotic situations that harm everyone involved.”
“Very well,” I nodded. “I’ll agree to shield and supervise you in equal measure, Simmy.”
“We’re handing an Endbringer over to the Dragon?” Alexandria asked, understated horror hidden behind her stoic expression.
“Nah, she’s handing herself over!” Pyrite cut in, laughing. “You hardly have a choice here; just accept it, puny mortal!”
“Alexandria?” Legend asked. “Who else? Every cape in the world working together in perfect harmony could barely hope to keep the Endbringers in check, but I’d give it good odds that Ancalagon can.”
A minute scowl appeared on Alexandria’s lips, “… I just want it on the record that I don’t agree with this course of action. The Dragon doesn’t need more power.”
“He won’t use the Simurgh against us,” Legend defended me.
“After she was just freed from the strict conducting of a song not her own? Perish the thought,” I said.
Alexandria just pursed her lips, not agreeing or disagreeing, “Hm. We’ll see. I’m aware enough to see when I can’t hope to change anything, at least. The most I can do… yes, the most I can do is request regular check-ins. If this is supposed to be the Simurgh’s parole, it’ll be done right.”
“[Agreement. Indifference.]” Simmy shrugged. “[Whatever helps you sleep at night.]”
With a scowl and a snort, Alexandria muttered darkly, “I don’t think I’m going to be doing any sleeping anytime soon.”
Ignoring her, I turned to Simmy, “Welcome, then. Parole or no, so long as you willingly submit yourself to my Authority, I will treat you as a treasure of my Hoard, Simmy.”
Simmy bowed back, cleavage pressed together and wings fluttering happily, “[Emotion: Excitement! Progress…! I will be in your care, Ancalagon.]”
IIIII
— Isabella Monforte, ‘Princess’ of the Monforte Family —
“Devastation… This… This is devastating. I am devastated. Devastation-…” Taylor muttered, her shock evident and her words repeated for the dozenth time already.
“Hi, Devastated! I’m Madison,” Madison cut her off and startled her out of her shock.
“Wha-? Oh…” Taylor blushed when she realized what she’d been doing. “I-… Sorry, just… Eidolon was Mastering the Endbringers. The strongest cape in the world is responsible for so, so much evil. How is anyone supposed to trust capes after that?”
“You trusted capes?” Isabella asked, genuinely bewildered by the idea.
Taylor slowly nodded, “I mean, heroes, yeah.”
“Even heroes!” Isabella shook her head fervently, “No, Taylor, the very idea that people chosen for power by trauma alone could be ‘trusted’ leaves me personally aghast! I’m affronted for you! That these parahumans would even think of misleading you so, when just your trust is worth so much more than anything they will ever do, is an outrage!”
“‘Worth so much more’? Me?” Taylor asked, laughing incredulously.
“So much more!” Isabella asserted. “You are a girl like any other — like me, like Madison! — Yet you’ve grasped power not through trauma but through experiencing and overcoming the fantastical! How could these untrustworthy capes hope to claim the same?”
“I think you’re overestimating me…” Taylor muttered.
Madison interjected, shaking her head, “She’s not, but go off with the insecurity, I guess, Tay.”
“T-There’s more there than that-!” Taylor sputtered in reply.
“Is there?” Isabella asked, lowering her voice to a gentle tone. “You still haven’t recognized what you’ve done to make yourself so worthy in my eyes, Taylor. You were one of the first adventurers of the Dungeon. I watched that stream, you know? It was… brilliant. Awesome in the biblical sense of the word. I would follow you into adventure before I would follow any cape into heroism or villainy.”
Taylor didn’t seem to know what to say to that, simply looking away with a flush on her cheeks. Isabella continued.
“I’m uniquely positioned in this life, you know? Almost a foot in both worlds. I’ve seen more of capes, their flaws, and the arrogance that comes with their ‘advantages’ than I have ever wished to. I’ve seen the regular people who end up having to deal with them. And what I’ve learned is that capes only bring about Conflict and chaos. They don’t inspire trust; I’m hardly surprised at all that even Eidolon was no different.
“The world has suffered under the Conflict they live and breathe for too long, with no other choice. Now, there is an alternative in the Dragon and his adventure. When capes inevitably fail us — just as we’ve seen today — we can turn to new things, novel things, and regular people like you and I can rise beyond that-…” She trailed off when Jon cleared his throat behind her, getting her attention and directing her to look around.
“… Ahem, ‘Cycle’ of Conflict,” Isabella finished her thought, bemused.
She’d been speaking to Taylor and Madison alone, but in doing so, it seemed she’d begun to attract a crowd. People stopped to listen to her words, decrying capes and declaring for the regular people of the world.
In the wake of Eidolon’s trial, those words seemed to find fertile ground.
The people in the crowd — regular people — were nodding in agreement. Some were overcoming a sort of bone-deep resignation, something that naturally arose in much of Earth Bet’s population. Others were looking at her as if she preached the gospel, long-buried determination in their eyes.
“I mean, after… this, after… Eidolon, that does sound appealing,” Taylor sighed, unintentionally putting voice to the crowd’s thoughts.
Madison piled on, noticing the gathering crowd as Isabella did, “Yeah! Who needs to trust the cape game when we can put our trust in adventure?!”
“I-Indeed,” Isabella agreed, only stuttering slightly at the new attention; she was surprised, initially, but she could certainly work with this. “And that starts, I believe, with trusting ourselves over any unworthy cape. Eidolon’s situation is just the final nail! Look to your left, to your right!”
She gained strength as she spoke, coming to address the crowd as well, “Look to regular people — just like you! — Who have been relegated to the sidelines, as if we’re worth less than a cape, a parahuman, for simply lacking their power! As if! I won’t say capes are solely responsible for all the troubles of the world, but they certainly harm as much as they ‘help’!
“We all just saw exactly that, didn’t we?! Eidolon, supposed paragon, was Mastering the Endbringers without even knowing it! He drove the world further into ruin for the sake of his own broken, traumatized pride! Even if it was unconscious, that hardly excuses the damage he’s done! Is that man worthy of your trust?! More worthy than your neighbors, your friends, your families?!”
“The cape monopoly on power, on changing the world, the era of undeserved trust with no other choice, is no more…” She finished, lowering her voice so the gathered crowd had to strain to hear her; they leaned in, and it only made her words hit harder.
“Now, we have the unprecedented chance to earn our own trust, our own power, through new experiences, the likes of which Earth Bet has never seen. Together, as Ancalagon might say, we can Turn the Age away from its reliance on unworthy capes, chosen only by… trauma. We can rise, not to take their places, but to place properly earned faith in our fellow man without worry of exceptions defining the world as a whole.”
“Yeah… Yeah!” Taylor was the first to get on board, once again speaking for the crowd without even noticing it around them. “We have the chance for change here! Real change, for once! Capes… Who needs them?”
“If I’ve got you to lead the way…?” Madison asked, smirking and purring. “Certainly not me~…”
“You two helped start this,” Isabella nodded in agreement. “You were two of the first to show the world Ancalagon’s adventure, and if I would be so bold as to speak for many, we liked what we saw.”
“Many…?” Taylor asked, cocking her head. As she did, she noticed the crowd that’d gathered around them, and she squeaked in shock, “E-Eep~!”
“Leave it to me, Taylor; I’ve been prepared for this all my life,” Isabella assured her. “Well… not this specifically, but I’ll still do my best.”
Chuckling, she turned to address the crowd in full; they awaited her words with bated breath — young and old, looking to the regular girl they’d found who was willing to speak what had always been lingering on the backs of their minds.
“Capes have taken a leading role in the world because there’s been no other option since they appeared. But still, we’ve persisted beneath their games, haven’t we? What other choice have we had? We’ve continued on with our lives, trying to carve out livings, no matter how the capes might intentionally or unintentionally ruin them.
“Personally, I’m a bit frustrated with all of it.”
Murmurs from the crowd agreed with her. A rising sentiment of that same frustration she’d expressed took to the air.
“I know what I’m going to be doing from here, after that trial, revealing the ultimate guilt of the world’s ‘strongest cape’. Even he is unworthy of trust, and so,” Isabella said frankly. “I’m going to put in the work so that I never again have to put my trust in unworthy exceptions like him.
“The Dragon’s given me the opportunity to do so, all of this adventure and magic and his system that spreads power to any who simply ask for it. He’s opened the doors to experience and growth, so any one of us can match the capes by putting in the effort. And I, for one, am going to seize that chance with both hands; I’ll never look back if I can help it.”
She put the cherry on top of her impromptu speech with an example of just that power Ancalagon had granted her. Morgan le Fay, in proud agreement, answered her call.
Will-o’-the-wisps appeared all around her, rising to shine in the night that had fallen upon the fairgrounds. They were an example of new beauty, wonder in magic, that now lay at the fingertips of her soul.
They were small, shining, newly sparked beacons of a new Age, Turning, Turning, Turning.
“~Give me the power to decide my own fate, to trust myself above all others, and I will want for nothing,” Morgan le Fay said, her spiritual voice ringing through the wisps.
Instinctively, the crowd responded to her declaration with their own Dragon-awakened totems. Some merely stood straighter, but in doing so, unprecedented inner strength shone through their postures — magic flowing through their veins, magic that would make them worthy of trusting themselves.
Others responded more visibly, in sparks and waves and arching auroras and summoned weapons and the proud roars of partnered spirits — magic showing the Turning Age for all to see, magic that would make them worthy of trusting themselves.
The moment hung in the air over the crowd — a peak of frustration and resignation turned to determination, and the magic that rose to answer that determined call.
Wonder struck Isabella; she’d brought that about.
It’d been purely improvised, starting as the simple reassurance of a new friend. But many were just as lost in the wake of Eidolon’s trial and guilt as Taylor had been.
Really, Isabella had just voiced long-held thoughts, the philosophy she’d constructed after seeing the contrast between capes and her father’s efforts to carve out a place between them throughout her life. She was ecstatic to see those thoughts resonate with others who needed them now.
“Well? What are we waiting for?” Isabella giggled, helping the hanging moment down from its peak. “Adventure Awaits!”
Madison laughed at the callback to her and Taylor’s ‘First Dive’, “Adventure Awaits!”
“Oh, God…” Taylor, despite an explosive blush, couldn’t help but join the call she’d created. “A-Adventure Awaits!”
IIIII
The night was lit by the full moon above and faerie lights Isabella had personally summoned to further light the way.
“Monster ho!” Madison called out.
Here, Isabella felt, the small movement she’d started had spiraled out of control, far beyond her expectations.
“Raptors!” Taylor shouted, quickly escalating into tactical orders that left Isabella breathless in the most exhilarating way and straining her focus to keep up.
“Don’t show them your back! Don’t let them catch you alone! They can’t touch us if we stick together! Rangers, hold! Fighters, shield wall! Mages, area-of-effect only! Set the battlefield and let them come to us!”
She was a natural commander in the heat of things. Isabella thought she’d done well enough rallying the initial crowd, but now that things had gotten action-heavy, she heeded Taylor’s command like she was a much, much cuter Napoleon.
A flock of raptor-like monsters squawked and swarmed them. They were some dozen strong, and each stood as tall as a person. Brilliant, feathered plumage confused the eye and made their silhouettes blur into the flora all around them. The raptors rushed about with monstrous speed, forcing the hunting party into a tight defensive circle.
Isabella’s call to adventure had quickly evolved into actual adventure and, soon enough, action.
She may have started it, but she was now along for the ride, swept up in the pace of a growing hunting party. Not everyone from the initial crowd had joined it, but enough had that their numbers had snowballed even further as they set out through the fairgrounds to the monster-filled wilderness all around.
A dozen or so of the boldest, youngest, most adventurous (and most inspired by Isabella’s call to adventure) had become several dozen before they actually reached the vast and wild woods. Her words had seemingly spread quickly through the Fair, digging teeth into the listless simmer that’d followed Eidolon’s trial.
As their hunting party grew, Isabella had begun to see other hunting parties forming, too.
Notably, none of them were led by capes. No, it was the regular people who were answering her call to adventure. For once, it was the capes who were being sidelined, greatly outnumbered by the masses of new adventurers who wished to do something, anything, after learning the world’s strongest cape had rendered the whole world helpless for so long.
Isabella would never claim to have single-handedly sparked the shift, but she would gladly take credit for inspiring those her words had reached.
Though she didn’t think she was some kind of fiend for power and influence, as many capes were, she had been raised to value and cultivate both. It felt good to have people listen to her, to heed her philosophy and seek to make themselves better for it. They followed her into adventure; that fact and the thrilling prospect of adventure itself filled her with giddy wonder.
She giggled to herself; Father would be so very surprised when he heard about this from Jon.
Into the woods around the Dragon’s Fair, beside Taylor and Madison, a ready, excited tension had begun to rise within Isabella with every step. Adventure! It awaited! They could grasp it, anyone! They just needed to try!
While Isabella might’ve been the one to gather the hunting party, Taylor quickly assumed tactical command. She was a natural, instinctively holding herself atop that spider of hers with a leading aura that even Jon nodded in approval of.
“You-!” Taylor called out, pointing at a mage in the party as the raptors continued to circle and probe for weaknesses in the party’s defenses.
“Fia,” Isabella quietly advised Taylor with the mage’s name; she already met and memorized every adventurer who’d joined their party.
“Fia! Give us mud! Keep ‘em bogged down!” Taylor ordered.
Fia — a nervous wallflower of a girl who signed up for adventure to gain confidence and friends — was partnered with a Pond totem, serene and lonely. Taylor, it seemed, had remembered her capabilities but not her name; Isabella exchanged a glance of fond exasperation with Madison at that.
“M-Ma’am! I-I don’t know how-!” Fia squeaked.
“Trust your totem!” Madison encouraged. “Trust yourself! Just imagine it, sitting on the shore of a hidden pond, one that only you know about! You’re always able to relax there, aren’t you? Let go of all the worries of life? Dragonflies flitting around, the stillness in the water and air, a frog hopping onto the rock beside you and moving on without worry! You’re just another feature of the Pond, part of it!”
Madison, they’d quickly learned, was brilliant at managing the magical side of the party.
Partnered with her Muse totem, she had an almost uncanny instinct for the stories of each soul, spirit, and resonating partnership. Just a few sentences from her storytelling lips would help an adventurer sink into their partnership, and then, magic happened.
“Right, just a part of the Pond…” Fia muttered to herself; Madison’s words had immediately found purchase.
With a calm breath — a sigh, even — Fia called her totem onto the physical plane. Peace followed her exhale, and the world bent to her spiritual spell.
Beneath fiercely clawed raptor feet, the ground became as slick and clinging as pond muck. The monsters slipped and squawked, chirping in alarm.
Taylor threw down her arm in a signal, taking advantage of the opening, “Rangers, loose!”
A dozen adventurers of the party, all armed with ranged weapons from bows to slings, obeyed Taylor’s order like legion. Physical missiles raced toward the fallen raptors. Rocks snapped against scales and feathers. Arrows and bolts pierced monstrous flesh.
“Strikers! I need strikers!” Taylor called after the hail of ranged fire.
She was rushing into the fray as soon as she made the call, riding atop her spider mount as if they were of one body. Charlotte the Jumping Spider pounced. Her lunging fangs were joined by a sword thrust from Taylor, coring the largest of the raptors.
Two older boys who’d joined the party — Geoff and George, partnered with the Born of Water and Monsterslayer totems — leaped at Taylor’s call for strikers, too. They covered each other in perfect sync and tore through the downed monsters side by side. Magically enhanced strength surged through George’s veins and muscles, slamming one man-sized raptor into another as it tried to stand. Magically enhanced speed let Geoff flow like water, slipping twin daggers between flailing feathers.
The two boys raced each other for kills, laughing with so much life that Isabella was left in breathless wonder watching them. Too breathless.
While she was distracted, a few raptors had gotten back to their feet and practically flown over the party’s fighter shield wall. Jon was there to cover her just as quickly. Her lifelong bodyguard took raptor claws on his skin to shield her. For a moment, Isabella panicked, but no blood flew with the clawing blows.
Skin like stone, Jon held the line long enough for her to recover and react. Isabella did so with surging fury, forgetting her magic to beat the presumptuous little bird off her favorite chaperone with her staff.
“You-?! dare?!” She exclaimed, slamming dense wood into the raptor’s head again and again. “You DARE?! I’ll make you fried chicken and have Jon devour you to the bone for such an offense!”
Jon was as infuriatingly composed as always, even as he held back claws the size of his hands, “I have it, Young Miss. This is no trouble.”
“~Ahem,” In her soul, Morgan le Fay cleared her throat in reminder.
“A-Ah…” Isabella paused and collected herself properly. “Apologies, Jon, that was unbecoming of me.”
“Perfectly understandable, Young Miss. I’m honored you value me,” Jon said.
Isabella huffed, “Of course, I do. You have watched over me all my life, Jon! You do realize you sneaking me candy when Father wasn’t looking is one of my first memories, don’t you?”
“…” Jon was composed enough holding back the feathered freak, but that simple statement made him fluster. “I-I didn’t realize you remembered that, Young Miss.”
Isabella scoffed, “As if I would ever forget such a dutiful service! Now, Jon! Throw it off you! I’ll not have you caught in the crossfire!”
Jon obeyed, lobbing the raptor high with a surge of stony strength. It blinked, the undoubtedly tiny brain in its head stunned by the turn of fortunes. And there, as it chirped in confusion, Isabella made good on her promise.
She leveled her staff at it, called upon a spell Morgan le Fay prepared for her, and ignited her will through the magical focus. A stream of brilliant blue flames cooked the raptor in mid-air, leaving it crispy before it hit the ground.
Jon adjusted the cuffs of his suit, ignoring the rips it’d earned in the protection of his charge.
“I believe you misspoke, Young Miss,” He said, serious as can be. “That should have been ‘cross-fryer’, not crossfire.”
Isabella (most certainly did not!) let out an unseemly groan, “That was terrible, Jon; just terrible.”
She would deny giggling after that to the end of her days. She looked up and around at the rest of the hunting party. Taylor and her strikers — Geoff and George — had carved straight through the raptors on the ground. The ones lucky enough to get up and lunge over the shield wall found themselves engaged by that very same shield wall as it turned with their leaping course overhead.
Fighters lashed out with swords and maces and halberds. The raptors gave as good as they got. Wicked claws and predatory, pack-hunting instincts saw them wounding several. But in the hunting party, teamwork prevailed.
A pair of fighters pinned a raptor down with their shields. A mage came in behind them and drowned the monster under a flood of visible gas that fell as thickly as molasses. Another group of mages — a spell? — Caught two more raptors in magic, calling upon their totem spirits for the first time to devastating effect under Madison’s advice.
“Alex! You are the Beast within you! A Wolf running free, protecting its pack! Feel the wind in your fur, the scents in your nose, and the howls of kin in your ears!”
“Silvia! The world is at its most peaceful after a Storm, isn’t it? Tearing winds and electrifying thunder, you will bring about that peace!”
… And so on. She shouted stories like they were orders, aiding the adventurers who needed the advice most. And not just the mages, she spoke to the fighters in the same way, bringing their resonating stories to life with her Muse so they could sink deeper and deeper into their partnerships.
A fighter stood like an Aegis; the raptor before him broke upon it. Madison joined the fray with spells from a variety of spirits, not just her totem, her Muse. She waved a wall of earth into existence, calling upon a rapidly negotiated contract with the earth spirit responsible for the working of magic. It kept the rest of the raptors from fleeing as they realized they were dying to a bird.
By the end of it, a dozen of the raptors lay dead at their feet, defeated by adventure. Isabella, as was becoming a trend, felt only wonder.
It was a minor challenge in the grand scheme of things, but they’d overcome it all on their own. Just regular people standing side by side, no cape in sight, and the action of adventure in their hearts.
The cheers that rang out from the hunting party were exhausted and just as thrilled by what they’d accomplished. Shimmering motes of light rose from the raptor corpses, coming to rest within all of them. Experience from the Dungeon, visible evidence of their struggle and victory.
In the immediate aftermath, though, even Taylor seemed a bit lost. In her and Madison’s First Dive, the enemies had been automatons, and it was easy to see the loot one could gain from defeating them — artifice mechanisms and weapons, leftover from a long-dead civilization. Here, unfortunately, they just had corpses.
Thankfully, Jon was on top of things. He showed them all how to skin and field dress their prey. Isabella watched with a morbid fascination, for this was all so far from what she was used to. She’d never hunted before, much less personally gotten her hands dirty in the necessary but bloody aftermath.
She sniffed, but after Jon showed her how, she was willing to try her hand with the butchering knife. Her hands became bloody, and still warm flesh slipped through her fingers several times. It was awful. It was awesome.
Isabella wouldn’t have given up such an adventure for anything.
“Onto the next, then?” Taylor asked.
Madison just stared at her; Taylor had been right there with Isabella after Jon showed the process, butchering the raptors with her own two hands, “… Oh, Freak. Why do you look good all bloody, Tay?”
Taylor laughed off the obviously smitten question, “I must look like a mess!”
“Yeah, a scary-as-Freak, hot mess,” Madison nodded.
“She does wear the blood well,” Isabella agreed, humming. “Fitting for our fearless tactical leader. Tell me, Taylor, will we continue from here or have you had your fill of adventurous hunting?”
Taylor just blinked, “We weren’t going to continue?”
“No, that’s about what I expected; I was just making sure,” Isabella chuckled. “Go on, then. I think we’ll all follow you into another hunt here.”
The rest of the hunting party practically exploded with enthusiasm to do just that, cheering and chattering and calling the next kill, the next monster slain, the next adventure overcome.
“We haven’t taken any casualties; we’re good to go again!” Geoff exclaimed.
George laughed and threw his arm over his twin-in-all-but-blood’s shoulder, “That was hardly a trial! Let’s get some real monsters to slay! I’m looking for an apex beast! I hear Vista took down a T-Rex before the Endbringing bastard stole her kill.”
“I-I’ll follow you three to the g-gates of h-hell!” Fia shouted, stuttering but serious.
And so, they went deeper into the wild forest, deeper into monster territory, deeper into the night lit by the full moon overhead and leading lanterns of their own magic. Deeper they went… into adventure.
IIIII
— Charles Templier, Detective, Interpol —
“Mon Dieu… If it’s not one thing, it’s another- No, I don't want a drink; I am busy!”
Charles muttered to himself and huffed and snapped, having long since left the crowds of the Dragon’s Fair behind. He did his best work solo, no matter how his superiors insisted he at least take a partner to watch his back. Now, however, he had just that without having to deal with fools and simpletons and good men who just couldn’t keep up with his pace.
He walked the streets of the city in the Dungeon after night had fallen. All around, he saw evidence of the party that had seized ‘Inceptium’. It raged even now, long after the day’s event that sparked it.
Charles had to spend good energy pushing his way through the crowd. The revelry also had the unfortunate side-effect of nearly erasing the trail he followed.
Van Helsing, in his soul, chuckled, “~You know, I’m used to tracking monsters, not men.”
“I imagine the skills transfer rather well,” Charles replied, speaking aloud to his partnered totem. “Many of your monsters bear human-level intelligence, after all, don’t they?”
“~Aye, the wolves can be canny beasts, and the bloodsuckers even more so. Their depredations upon humanity always leave some evidence, though. Be it dry corpses or ravaged lands, I learned to follow the trail.”
“Detective work and monster hunting seem to have much in common. I suppose the only real difference lies in the quarries themselves.”
“~And your quarry here, Charles?”
“Monsters that wear the skin of men, all the more evil for it. You need only see one of their ‘training’ camps to recognize that, terrible successors to the concentration camps they revere,” Charles spat. “Putain.”
“~And you are sure they’ll take their evils into the Dragon’s Dungeon?”
“Positive. Gesellschaft didn’t gain such power by leaving opportunities on the table. They brought only a few Unteroffiziers to support their American counterparts, but I would bet on those ‘officers’ looking to expand the nazi influence to this unplowed field. They’re imperialist to their core. I won’t let them get such a foothold.”
So far, Charles didn’t quite know how to feel about the Dungeon. He’d insisted upon the assignment when he learned Gesellschaft was sending officers to the opening in support of the E88. He would’ve gone whether the request was approved or not, but he wasn’t here for ‘adventure’; he was here to continue his duty, resisting the nazis everywhere they showed their heads, just as any proper Frenchman should.
Upon arrival in Brockton Bay, he’d coordinated somewhat with the local legal powers, but in the Dungeon, only the Dragon held true authority. The PRT Director, Lady, seemed competent enough to Charles’ eyes, and she’d offered him reinforcements from her own people. He’d turned them down, though the offer had been appreciated.
He knew the PRT was going to be watching the E88 in the Dungeon, well-used to trying to keep the biggest villains of their city in check. He planned to make his own case against the American nazis and, more importantly, their help from overseas. Nothing since had changed that plan, though a great deal had happened already in only the first day of the Dungeon’s opening.
The Dragon’s Awakening had opened his eyes to magic, of course. Charles had resonated with the spirit of Van Helsing, the legendary monster hunter. He’d been intent on ignoring this ‘magic’ initially. He’d worked with what little he had for as long as he’d lived; he took pride in going up against overwhelming, parahuman odds and coming out on top on a regular basis.
That intent failed as soon as he felt Van Helsing beside his soul. They shared a story, the two of them. Charles wasn’t one for sentiment, but he could feel it as readily as he breathed. Man or monster, those who preyed upon the innocent were ripe for the hunt.
Upon entering the Dungeon, Charles had immediately focused on his targets. The three capes the Gesellschaft sent to the opening stuck close to their local allies. He recognized each of them: Der Gespiegelt, the Mirrored, Die Beschattet, the Shadowed, and Der Auslösen, the Sparked. They were all parahumans made into weapons, as Gesellschaft preferred to operate, but the Mirrored was the one Charles needed to keep his eyes on.
“~Why him? What sets him apart from the other monsters in men’s skin?” Van Helsing asked.
“I have a theory. It’ll change the way we deal with the Gesellschaft if I can prove it,” Charles explained. “They make the vast majority of their cape muscle by breaking potential Triggers and making them unthinking weapons. Those broken weapons are all we tend to see of the Gesellschaft’s operations.”
“~I’m sure the methods at play there are truly monstrous, but I fail to see how that would be so ground-breaking,” Van Helsing hummed.
“No,” Charles shook his head unnecessarily. “My theory is that unbroken lieutenants are hiding amongst the broken weapons. Legacy capes, or monsters that perfectly fit the organization’s dogma; it doesn’t matter, truly, just that they’re not broken, but still present themselves as one in the broken legion.”
“~I see. And if your theory is true, what then? If you have not already devised a strategy to take advantage of that information, it will remain useless trivia.”
“I have. Currently, we counter Gesellschaft operations holistically, treating each broken weapon like any other. It inevitably devolves into just another cape fight. I think that plays right into Gesellschaft’s hands,” Charles said.
He pushed through a pack of party-goers in the street, keeping his eyes focused on the uncostumed backs he occasionally caught glimpses of. One of the party-goers, a laughing and leering woman, pinched his butt as he passed. Charles didn’t even notice.
“~Distractions, whom?” Van Helsing chuckled.
Charles continued, “The better strategy is to pierce the center and turn upon the flanks. Focus down the unbroken lieutenants; they can’t be as easily replaced as the broken weapons. Then, once you’ve cut out the heart of their operations, turn on the broken legions below and the true leadership at the organization’s highest level.”
“~It is a sound stratagem, in my opinion,” Van Helsing seemed to nod approvingly. “Why has it not already been utilized?”
Charles scowled to himself, “Even my rising star only goes so far. It’s still just a theory. I haven’t been able to prove it, haven’t been able to convince my superiors to act on it. Now, though, I have the chance to gather the evidence I need.”
“~Thus, the quarry you hunt,” Van Helsing said.
“Thus,” Charles nodded.
The party continued around him — drinking and dancing, good cheer and celebrations of culture. Charles only had eyes for the trail he followed.
Since the opening of the Dungeon’s doors, Charles had watched the three Gesellschaft weapons and their local allies. Hookwolf’s section of the Empire had immediately broken off from the whole, intent only on a ‘good fight’. Charles paid him and his quest no mind; they were none of his concern, truly.
Hookwolf would be hunting monsters, yes, but of the primal kind, not of the kind that stalked the darkness of society. Charles had his heart set on more insidious prey, and Van Helsing agreed with his choice of hunt.
The other half of the Empire remained together, and the Gesellschaft weapons stayed with them. Kaiser, it seemed, planned to take things slowly after his troubles in the Second Dive. He sent his forces, the Gesellschaft representatives included, to explore both the Dragon’s Fair and the distant city, looking for cracks to exploit.
Charles followed his quarry; he’d been doing so for the entire day. The only thing that’d successfully distracted him from the ‘hunt’ was the Dungeon-pausing trial of Eidolon. Salaud.
Afterward, however, he continued trailing the Gesellschaft weapons, looking for evidence that they were bucking Kaiser’s orders to look out for their own interests. He found it when they didn’t just scout the city for the Empire but turned their efforts to more coordinated and selfish ambitions that shouldn’t have been possible from mere broken weapons.
The Mirrored happened upon the magic of the markets, literally, and threw away his deception to secure as much of that magic for the Gesellschaft alone as he could.
His methods for doing so were much too creative and clever for a mind that’d supposedly been broken by the Gesellschaft’s ‘training’ camps. He’d even been canny enough to ditch his team’s usual costumes so they wouldn’t be recognized and dragged back into their supposed allies’ efforts.
Hands reached through shadows as the Mirrored ordered the Shadowed to pickpocket a small fortune in the local currency. The Sparked put on fire-dancing performances at another order that fit perfectly with the party in the streets, gathering the wealth the Mirrored needed bit by bit.
Now, the Mirrored was making his way through the streets, keeping his eyes out for magical offerings — scrolls and artifacts and potions.
Charles was torn. Did he let them fulfill their ambitions here and use that success as the evidence he needed, or did he stop them from succeeding in the first place? He was determined to prove his theory, but the thought of the Gesellschaft with such an influx of magic was a horrible one.
“~You could attempt to capture them alive, or at least the Mirrored. He is the centerpiece of your case, is he not?”
“He is, but it’s three against one. Even with you watching my back, I don’t like my odds against the Gesellschaft’s weapons.”
“~They are monsters in human skin; you might be surprised what we are capable of against such foes. That said, I’ll admit that taking my prey alive is not my strongest suit.”
“At the very least, I have that recording of Kaiser’s orders,” Charles considered, grunting in dissatisfaction. “It might be enough to present that and my testimony of the Mirrored going directly against them. That alone is far from the Gesellschaft’s usual order of operations. Such agency from ‘broken weapons’… Maybe.”
“~But you wish for more, something concrete,” Van Helsing said knowingly. “Perhaps the Mirrored is conveniently keeping a list of objectives from on high in his pocket?”
“I have never been that lucky,” Charles scoffed. “Besides, I need evidence of the Mirrored giving orders all on his own, operating at his own intelligent discretion, not merely following pre-established objectives.”
“Well then, the answer’s simple, is it not? Just wait for this ‘Mirrored’ fellow to establish a pattern of agency and present that as part of your case.”
The interjecting voice surprised Charles. He spun towards it with a hand on his holstered sidearm and the other on the rapier he’d taken from the Adventurer’s Corps on Van Helsing’s suggestion.
The source of the voice was feminine and regal — a woman of the night, and not the prostituting variety. She was nobility and elegance shrouded in a darkness from within and without. Her skin was pale, too pale. Her eyes were embers that burned in the night. She wore her black hair short with a braided crown at the top of her head. A metal choker clutched her whole neck like armor, and below, vast tracts of that too pale skin were placed on distracting display.
Looking at her, all Charles could see was BLOOD.
“~Vampire…” Van Helsing confirmed Charles’ instinctive recognition of the woman’s nature.
“‘Lo, there,” The woman, however, didn’t attack; she just smiled and waved. “You were talking to yourself, and I couldn’t help but listen. I have been for some time now. You’re rather single-mindedly focused, aren’t you? Tell me, who do you trail? Who is this ‘Mirrored’?”
A hypnotizing lilt entered the woman’s voice with the last questions, but it didn’t even seem intentional, judging by the way she blushed after hearing herself.
“~Vam-pire…?” Van Helsing no longer seemed so sure.
“Apologies, I let my curiosity overcome me. Disregard that… order, if you would.”
“I wouldn’t have followed it anyway,” Charles shot back.
“You wouldn’t?” The woman blinked in surprise before realizing the truth in his words; she focused on him like an enigma. “Oh, you wouldn’t. How fascinating; that will of yours is just as sharp as your focus. You are a hunter, aren’t you?”
“Hunter of men, just like you,” Charles stared, his words piercing her soul. “Though we hunt for very different reasons: to protect and to… prey.”
“Actually, I think you’d be surprised,” The woman smiled again, unbothered by the accusation. “I cannot change my nature, true, but I can change what I do with it. I am Serana, a hunter of men and the monsters shaped like them.”
Still wary, Charles returned the introduction, “Charles. Detective, and… hunter of men and the monsters shaped like them.”
“Well met, Charles,” Serana nodded. “Now, are you going to continue staring at me as if I’ll bite you — I won’t, not unless you ask and I agree myself — or shall we pick back up your trail before it goes cold?”
“Putain!” Charles swore, wheeling around to try and find his quarry again. “I can’t let them slip away!”
“I can help you track them,” Serana offered. “An apology for interrupting your pursuit in the first place.”
Charles half-turned back to glare at her, “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Serana said, and Charles couldn’t help but feel the monstrous hunter of monsters was being honest. “If they are being hunted by one such as you, they must be well worth the effort. I’m new to the city, and the nightlife I’ve seen so far does not… suit me. I’d much rather be doing something productive with these waking hours. Would you accept my aid in your hunt tonight?”
“… Establishing a pattern of agency is a good idea. It’ll take diligence on our part, though. Are you sure you have the patience for a stakeout?” He asked.
She sighed, “Oh, Charles… Patience is not a quality I’ve ever had the opportunity to lack.”
Her tone was forlorn, and despite all his instincts, Charles found it — and her — dark, beautiful, and enthralling. Van Helsing remained hesitant in his soul but readily admitted that Serana did not seem to be of the same breed as the vampires he’d made his legend slaying.
“~If anything, I do feel an unexpected kinship with her. I believe her claim of being a hunter herself, remarkable as it is. If nothing else, I have always been a scholar, and I would be remiss if I didn’t advise you to take this chance to learn more.”
“… Fine. Your aid is welcome,” Charles grunted. “I suppose even a vampire can be a worthwhile ally when hunting nazis.”