Chapter 126: Confrentation With The KKK

"Ricky, I understand that, but right now I'm naked on a rock." Raven scrunched her eyebrows, pointing to the blanket being the only form of clothing she had.

"Yeah you are~" Ricky let out a sleazy chuckle, nodding to himself while looking at the skimpy Raven covering all the juicy parts with a comforter from the bed.

Sigh

"Can you at least leave me a fire-"

Boom

"Well, that was disappointing." Ricky muttered, exploding a nearby cactus in a towering flame only for it to dwindle shortly afterwards.

Cactus aren't easily combustible since they store a lot of water relative to their dry weight, which Ricky was now learning.

"Wait, hold on." Ricky walked to the side, Raven watching with a plain expression only for her eyes to widen as he picked up a huge hollow trunk and set it in front of her.

Boom

Controlling his pyrokinesis, he conjured a warm fire in front of Raven as the warmth slowly radiated towards her.

"Thank you." Raven said sweetly, smiling warmly at him as he kissed her forehead.

"I'll be back in an hour!" Ricky called out before dashing through the portal while Raven shook her head, clutching the blanket tightly around herself as she settled onto a nearby rock before nudging near the fire.

Arriving in the house stark naked, he pulled out the Necronium, which immediately began spewing massive torrents of water throughout the space. 

"Alexander! Chester!" Ricky shouted, bursting through the door to find the two amidst a pile of playing cards next to a passed out Asterion.

"I'm here too, jerk." Garfield coughed up from the side, pouting as Ricky scooped him up.

"ONE MORE CARD, ALL I NEED IS ONE MORE CARD AND I WIN-" Alexander screeched, trying to reach out his paws only for Chester to look at the scene.

Although Alexander had never won before, and letting him take this one would be the friendly thing to do, Chester's pride stung at the thought of actually losing to the hopeless Alexander.

"No time." Chester yanked Alexander backwards, swiping his wing at the disposable playing cards as they blew into the fire.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

BAM

The windows shattered from the fire, and Ricky glanced back to see Chester already taking charge of Alexander.

BAM

Ricky stomped on Asterion's white belly, but the latter barely reacted, his eyes slowly flickering open.

Ricky knew the flames wouldn't harm Asterion, but it was the principle of being a good companion that truly mattered.

"Ugh, wha-" Asterion groaned, holding his head as he looked around, only to notice the entire room engulfed in flames.

"Here, take this," Ricky said abruptly, shoving something toward him and Asterion instinctively complied, still too disoriented to question it.

BOOM

Within moments, Asterion's body was hurled out of the house as Ricky had formed a mental wall and forcefully pushed him out of the burning wreckage.

Turning back, Ricky frantically searched through the inferno until his eyes landed on an unconscious Jake pinned beneath a fallen wooden beam.

BAM

Ricky heaved the beam to the side, slung Jake over his shoulder, and sprinted out of the house. The moment he was clear of the flames, he carefully set Jake down.

Seeing Jake's body covered in burns, Ricky placed a hand on him, channeling psychic healing; a skill he'd barely practiced before but the desperation outweighed his inexperience as he focused all his energy on mending the damage.

Ricky felt the strain as using healing was far more taxing than his other abilities, but it was manageable. 

Slowly, a wave of energy pulsed around Jake, the burns and wounds gradually receding as his original form began to reappear.

GASP

COUGH

COUGH

Jake gasped, smoke billowing from his lungs, and Ricky let out a sigh of relief before slapping him across the cheek.

Smack

"What the hell-"

"WHO SLEEPS THROUGH A FIRE?!" Ricky exclaimed, baffled, shaking his collar as if he wanted to scold him as Jake scratched his head, glancing back at the burning wreckage.

"There was a fire-"

"Nevermind-wait, where's Marshall?" Ricky suddenly realized, his gaze darting around as he was certain he had checked the entire house.

"Chester, what happened?" Ricky walked up to Chester, looking at him as Garfield pouted.

"Why do you always ask him for help-"

"Oh my god, fine, what happened Gafield." Ricky faceplamed, looking towards Garfiled who looked to the side.

However Garfield, being the useless cat he was, didn't know that the local Ku Klux Klan had been monitoring Ricky's trial carefully.

As it proceeded, so did the updates and upon seeing the shocking fact that Ricky actually had a chance to win the trial, they finally decided to act and-

"Uh, the Ku Klux Klan took them." Garfield, actually being useful in his abilities, read the narration and interrupted the author's in depth narration.

"Oh come on, you can't blame me when you go overboard at every chance." Garfield scoffed at the author, but the cat was lying to himself and truly cherished the narrations that most people skip over.

"Yeah, whatever-"

"How could you have known that?" Chester said in a baffled tone, not at all expecting Garfiled to actually manage to be useful.

"Garfield, tell me what happened and I'll give you all the lasagna a cat can f*cking stomach!" Ricky grabbed the cat, shaking him vigorously as his mouth watered before looking towards the author as if waiting for the flashback.

10 minutes before the fire,

BLERGH

Asterion vomited mouthfuls of whiskey back into one of the barrels he had drunk from, as everyone around him let out a collective sigh.

"We literally told you, Asterion, don't drink the vanilla-flavored whiskey," Jake lamented from the side, his eyes drifting over to Marshall as he slipped on his coat.

"Uh, where are you going?" Jake asked, standing up, but Marshall simply waved him off.

"For a small walk out back, I need fresh air to think-"

"Buddy, hey, that ain't a good idea, especially with a community that has a tradition of hanging people like you," Jake said, waving his hands in an attempt to dissuade Marshall. But Marshall only gave him a stubborn response.

"I need this," Marshall said, his tone firm while wiping his mouth, hiding the clear concern in his already uneasy expression.

"I need to think about how I'm going to cross-examine Dewey and win this case. The judge is a piece of work, and I'll need every second of thinking that isn't filled with the pungent aroma of vomited whiskey." Marshall gestured to the side, watching Asterion having his back pat back by Alexander.

"I'm sorry~" Asterion murmured, looking up and wiping his mouth, as Alexander gently patted his human cheek.

"Fear not, Asterion, for all might is triumphed by alcohol. Show no shame in your efforts, but glory in your pursuits." Alexander declared, clenching his mighty paw as Asterion heaved up another mouthful of vomit.

"Give it back." Chester muttered from the side, squinting his brows, his focus not on the ongoing conversation but on Garfield, who was holding the sack of bird seed.

"Give what back?" Garfield asked, slumping back on the couch and swaying the bag side to side.

"That is my bird seed-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know your name was 'Nut Incorporated.'" Garfield chuckled, snobbishly reading the label on the bag before glancing at Chester.

"Garfield, I'm trying really hard to be patient with you but-"

"You're sick and tired of being treated like your opinion doesn't matter, huh? Yeah, me too." Garfield scoffed, clutching the bag as he looked toward the reader.

"I'm literally a cosmic cat, but I'm being treated like a handheld accessory that is only used when needed." Garfield pointed at his majestic and round self, scrunching his brows at his own unique description.

"I have feelings, I feel things!" Garfield thumped his chest, explaining his situation to Chester, the reader, and to the author who merely shrugged behind the computer.

"I understand, but Ricky is human, and it takes time for him to find value in things. Even I was neglected at first because of his own ignorance," Chester said, trying hard to get along with Garfield. 

However, unlike the other familiars who had bonded easily with him, the cat just didn't like him.

"But I found my place, within the fold due to hardwork and-"

"But I don't want to do that," Garfield said unabashedly, looking at Chester with a shrug. 

"I want all the things, and I want them now because I deserve them." Garfield spoke as if there was nothing wrong with his state of mind, thinking everyone around him needed to change to accommodate him.

"Wow." Chester replied, the only word he could muster, as Alexander let out a scoff from the side.

"Yeah, try being stuck with him for over a year. It only gets worse," Alexander added, feeling bad but not wanting to get involved with Garfield since he was just too much of a handful.

"Marshall-"

"I'm fine, anyways, don't worry about me and focus on the vomiting giant of a man over there," Marshall called out, gesturing toward Asterion before closing the door behind him and walking into the night.

This case was brutal for Marshall, and he knew deep down that if he wanted to stay on this path, it would only get harder. 

The blatant favoritism, the casual disregard for proper procedure, it was wearing him down. 

Judge Mason was making sure he never caught a break, always shutting him down before he could get a foothold.

Marshall had to work three times as hard just to scrape the surface of Hawkins' case, and that infuriated him. 

He knew Hawkins would object to everything he said against Dewey, dragging out every detail which is why Marshall had to steel himself, lock in his mindset, and brace for the fight ahead.

It was then that shadowy figures, cloaked in white, began to slowly circle around him. 

Marshall, too lost in thought to notice at first, finally snapped out of his reverie when three of them stepped directly in front of him.

"Hey, boy, nice night for a stroll, don't you think?" A man's voice chuckled from behind the white, drooping outfit, his thick Southern accent cutting through the air.

Marshall's eyes widened, his body convulsing with shock as the reality of the situation hit him. 

It was only when he looked around that he saw the members of the actual Ku Klux Klan surrounding him completely, their white robes blending into the darkness like specters closing in.

"GET HIM!" one of the men yelled, and in an instant, they all surged toward Marshall. 

Panic flooded his veins as he turned to run, his heart pounding in his chest, but the figures closed in on him with relentless speed.

Just as Marshall managed to break free and catch a sliver of daylight, he was yanked back by his collar and thrown violently to the ground. 

His body slammed against the pavement, pain shooting through him, before a heavy boot collided with his face. 

He instinctively raised his arms to protect himself, but it did little to stop the onslaught.

Stomps and kicks rained down on him from all sides, each blow harder than the last. 

The men surrounding him unleashed a brutal barrage of punches and kicks, pummeling him without mercy. 

Marshall could barely process the pain before another hit landed, each strike pushing him further into the grim reality of his helplessness.

The men were merciless, punishing him until he was on the brink of losing consciousness, his breath ragged and shallow. 

They looped a rope around his neck and yanked him backward, the sudden pressure choking the air from his lungs.

Desperately grabbing at the rope, he was pulled away with force as one of the older members glanced toward another group, his face cold and resolute. 

He handed them a lighter and a bottle of alcohol, the ominous gesture setting Marshall's nerves on fire with the growing sense of dread.

"Go set that negro lovers house aflame." The man spat, his words heavy with hatred as the others nodded, their expressions hardening, before they turned and left, heading toward the house.

Ripping cloth into strips, they stuffed them into the bottle, waiting just long enough for the fabric to dampen. 

Once the end was set ablaze, they hurled the bottle through the window as it exploded on impact, sending a burst of fire through the room, filling the air with the crackling roar of flames.

"AH!" Jake yelled as the Molotov cocktail hit him directly in the head as he stumbled backward, but before he could douse the flames, his head slammed against the wall, and everything went black as he fell into unconsciousness.

Present time,

"Well damn, now I feel like an asshole for yelling at Jake." Ricky rubbed the back of his neck, frowning while outside.

"But seriously, holy sh*t Garfield, how did you know all of that?" Ricky asked, bending down to the spot where Marshall was beaten to a pulp and picked up a drop of his almost dried blood.

It was then that the Seeker's Orb Integration slowly seeped out of his palm, coming out of his flesh before he put the drop into it.

"What can I say, I'm just the best." Garfield smugly shrugged, never knowing he could actually read all of the author's hard work then pass it off as his.

"You're no saint, constantly saying fat jokes about me and-"

SMACK

"Woah, what the hell?" Ricky recoiled instinctively, Garfield tripping and slamming his face right into a sewer cover as if perfectly timed.

Garfield simply gazed up at the author, holding his choice words back as Ricky started healing him.

"Anyways, good job Garfield." Ricky held up a thumbs up, smiling at Garfield who rubbed his arm.

"Thanks." Garfield didn't respond in a smug way, actually feeling thankful for Ricky actually appreciating his abilities.

"Alright, Chester come with me, along with Alexander, Jake and Asterion will stay here, and Garfield." Ricky ordered out, making his way to everyone before arriving on Garfield.

"Uh, just do you I guess, you've already done more than enough so take a breather." Ricky informed, grabbing Alexander and running in a certain direction as the cat crossed its tiny orange arms while raising his furry chin high.

"I will."

"What are you planning to do, Ricky? Slay the enemy? Claim penance in their deaths? I am curious." Alexander asked cautiously, nestled in the pocket of his shirt.

"Well, those guys f*cked up and it pisses me off that they think that everything's gonna go their way." Ricky scoffed, his eyes turning void black as he cracked his neck to the side.

"But on the other hand, I've been wanting to test out some of my abilities that I haven't had the chance to try yet," Ricky explained, glancing at his system panel before focusing on a specific one.

'Just to be safe.'

Digital Cloaking: ON

Ricky had turned it off, originally wanting to keep a low profile in the media for the trial. 

But with everything that could go wrong, it was reassuring not to have to worry about someone catching him off guard with something like surveillance.

Taking out Chastelfold, he watched as it hovered in the air beside him as he gazed at the first mythical weapon he had ever obtained, feeling the weight of its significance.

'But just in case.' Ricky thought, extending his arm as the Ebony Blade, currently dormant, in New York. 

He had left it behind in the city, not wanting to disregard its power, but the blade didn't want to come unless there would be an enemy or when someone needed to be slain

"What are you doing-"

"Wait for it," Alexander interrupted Chester, knowing he hadn't noticed it yet, as they ran toward their destination.

BAM

BAM

BAM

Trees exploded in a straight line toward Ricky until a dark object collided with his outstretched hand, stopping the onslaught in its tracks.

'You called.' The Ebony Blade asked out, Ricky putting the holster on his back and running with the blade while Chastelfold hovered to the side.

'Yeah, some dipsh*t's set my house on fire.' Ricky explained with a frown, still annoyed that they actually had the balls to do something to a mobster.

'Fair enough.' The Ebony Blade uttered, agreeing since at the end of the day, it was a sword.

Although it really understands human emotions or desires, it wouldn't go against Ricky since it was something so insignificant in its eyes.

"Why are you running? I thought you could fly now?" Chester asked, looking at Ricky but he smiled at the question, and Chastiefold suddenly hovered in front of him.

"Yeah but I want a running start." Ricky clarified, a mischievous glint in his eye as he jumped onto the weapon, swaying back and forth, ready for the flight ahead.

Rickt waved his arms all about to stop him from falling but when he caught his balance on the hovering sword, he fist pumped as if his suspicions were right.

"This weapon is so f*cking cool." Ricky thought aloud, the ebony blade at his side emitting a faint, sour energy as if it was aware of his words.

'Ahem.'

"What? We all know how cool you were back there, I thought it went unsaid." Ricky glanced down at the pitch-black blade that sat silently, its dark aura almost unreadable.

'I suppose it goes without saying.' The Ebony Blade understood quietly, Ricky seemingly swaying through the air.

If Ricky had to describe the feeling, it was like surfing with a hint of longboarding; the way the weapon swayed under his feet felt strikingly similar, smooth yet responsive.

"Remarkable." Chester commented from the side, gazing at the spear that could bend to Ricky's will while holding his weight.

Then, in the next second, Ricky shot forward at a speed that left Chester in the dust. Chester flapped his wings tirelessly, struggling to catch up. 

As Ricky sped ahead, he noticed something in the horizon, something so distinct that it immediately caught his eyes, a burning cross. 

He glanced down at it, suspicion creeping into his mind as his eyes gleamed green, his sovereign aura radiating from him, as if the very air around him responded to his focus.

The Necronium hovered at his side, flipping open to one of its familiar pages as the spell 'Search' resonated in the air, guiding his gaze to a figure concealed within the distant treeline.

"Ha~" Ricky's eyes glinted, his gaze piercing through the trees as every detail sharpened in his vision. 

Instead of rushing to confront the ominous sight, he simply smiled, the mystery only adding to his sense of calm.

"Hold Alexander for me." Ricky said, handing the gerbil to Chester who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure, but relented nonetheless.

Hovering above the mass congregation of white-clad figures, Ricky's smile grew wider, his expression twisting with anticipation. 

Slowly, he took a step forward in the air, then, without warning, plummeted toward the ground, his descent as swift and purposeful as a storm unleashed.

"Today we judge not a man, but a beast-" The grand wizard announced as Marshall was bound up behind him.

BOOOM

A massive cloud of dust, dirt, and debris exploded into the air, the shockwave reverberating through the ground. 

All eyes that had been focused on Ricky now snapped toward the source of the commotion, the once-calm air now thick with tension. 

The figures in white froze, as if waiting for the storm to settle, unsure of what would come next.

"Woah, woah, woah. Why wasn't I invited to this party, I mean, I'm Marshall's plus one?" Ricky laughed out, walking from the debris and spreading out his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"Oh hey, look, I already see a familiar face. How are you doing, Marshall?" Ricky called out with a grin, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Marshall, blood drooling from his mouth, slowly lifted his head, his eyes dull with exhaustion as he sighed deeply, the weight of the situation clearly taking its toll on him. 

"Just peachy, Ricky." Marshall muttered with a slight groan, clearly not thrilled by the sudden turn of events.

"Good to hear man, probably would've been bad if you died before I got here." Ricky smiled, holding up his thumb as Marshall frowned.

All the members of the Klan stared at Ricky with contempt, their faces twisted in disgust at the sight of him. 

Ricky, unphased by their hatred, surveyed the scene of their ritual with a calm, calculating gaze. 

Holding up his hands in a square, he took in the details, the fiery cross, the robed figures, the oppressive atmosphere as he exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing with cold determination.

"You know what, at first I wasn't really into this whole burning cross thing, cause when you hear about it it sounds f*cking dumb, but I kinda see the appeal." Ricky tilted his head at the cross, rubbing his chin since seeing it is completely different then hearing about it.

While Ricky was busy looking at the spectacle, a member dressed in robes walked behind him as he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Now you listen here-"

SPLAT

Everyone froze, as still as a board, unmoving in the face of the sight before them as the oppressive silence hung in the air, thick with tension, until the only exception to the stillness was the one who had caused it, Ricky. 

His presence alone seemed to disrupt the unnatural calm, his stance unwavering, as if he were the eye of a storm, untouched by the fear that gripped the others.

"But I really have to hand it to you all," Ricky said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I didn't think you'd be this stupid." Ricky tossed the severed hand of the KKK member aside, watching it land with a sickening thud in the dirt. 

His gaze fell to the bloodied puddle beneath him, a grotesque mess of what had once been a person. 

Ricky's expression remained calm, almost amused, as the shock of his brutality sank into the crowd.

When the man touched Ricky's shoulder, he reacted instantly, summoning a beam of solid psionic energy that materialized above the unsuspecting regular man. 

Then, with a brutal motion, Ricky smashed it down onto the man with unrelenting force. 

The man was obliterated in an instant, reduced to mere paste; a bloody, unrecognizable mess that splattered across the ground. 

Now, Ricky stood over the puddle of what remained, his eyes cold, devoid of any emotion and yet, he had this smile that sent shivers down anyone who looked at it.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you weren't expecting retaliation?" Ricky chuckled darkly, his voice laced with amusement as he watched their pale faces, the fear evident in their wide eyes. 

They stood frozen, caught between disbelief and terror, unable to fathom what had just transpired. 

"Y-You can't kill us-"

"Oh, I'm going to stop you there." Ricky held up his finger at a young southern boy no older than nineteen.

"Listen schmuck, I get what you're thinking, how I was supposed to be some noble knight who wanted to do just a little good for mutant kind, right?" Ricky asked, the southern boy backing up only to have his collar yanked by him.

"Right?" Ricky's eyes gleamed green, staring deeply into the brown eyes of this naive and barely adult man.

"Y-Yes?" The young man stammered, his voice shaking since he didn't understand why, didn't know how, but as he gazed into Ricky's eyes, it was as if a shadow of death itself had settled over him.

"And that's how it was supposed to be, I was going to play this stupid fcking role of a goddamn savior then you, the racists, were supposed to hold the picket signs and tell me how much you hate me until I won then moved along from this godforsaken sht stain of a town." Ricky laughed out, disbelief in his own laugh as the guy started convulsing in his grip.

"That was it, that was all you had to do!" Ricky's voice raised to a higher octave along with his sovereign will, his green aura fluttering around him.

"But of course, you just had to go and ruin it, make it more complicated since change, regardless of whether it's good or bad, is never that easy." Ricky raised gaze, watching the guy foam at the mouth as his anger seethed to another degree.

"But why, THE F*CK, DID YOU GUYS HAVE TO COME AT THE TIME WHEN I HAD A BUSTY BEAUTIFUL NAKED WOMAN IN MY GODDAMN ARMS!" Ricky roared out, slamming the guy onto the ground and breaking his vertebrae.

"WHEN MY HANDS WHERE CRADING THAT GORGEOUS BODY WITH MY FINGERS NESTLED ON HER TITS, BUT NO, I COULDN'T F*CKING HAVE THAT!" Ricky yelled out, showing where his real frustration lay as the members backed up.

"Help-" The guy reached out towards his colleagues, trying to escape only for Ricky to unsheathe his sword.

SPLAT

Horrified gasps echoed through the air, each breath laced with terror as all eyes were fixed, wide and unblinking, on the gruesome scene unfolding before them. 

Ricky's hand remained steady as the ebony blade sliced through the air with brutal precision, cleaving the young man cleanly in two as the halves parted perfectly along the seam, collapsing to the ground on either side.

A sickening slice echoed, embedding itself in the ears of the onlookers as they witnessed the gruesome yet precise spectacle. 

The man was severed so cleanly that blood erupted from the halves, cascading like a grotesque fountain.

"I know what you're thinking 'this guy is crazy'." Ricky said with a chuckle, drawing there attention, appealing to their point of view as he could almost hear the thoughts echoing in their minds, the fear and disbelief clouding their judgment.

"But if you could, try to look from my point of view, okay?" Ricky continued, his voice now dripping with an eerie calm as he pointed to himself, the gesture almost mocking. 

Sigh

"I mean come on, I can't let you just roam free after you threw a molotov cocktail into my house." Ricky laughed, turning to the side while wiping his mouth and then shrugging.

"I already made the mistake of letting that little sh*t run free and look where I am now, well, whatever. Mistakes are only mistakes if you don't learn from them." Ricky tapped the ebony blade on his shoulder, looking at them before he then pointed the sword at them.

"But like I said, I knew something like this would happen, in fact, I kinda expected it." Ricky placed a hand on his chest, explaining how it was supposed to go.

"At first, I was just going to kill you all and be done with it after I won the trial, sending a message to your little community of white-robed assholes when this stupid case gets appealed so you wouldn't bother me later." Ricky gestured to the group before him, his eyes never leaving their terrified faces. 

They tried to scatter, tried to run away from this monster before them, but an invisible barrier stopped them in their tracks, a wall of dread closing in on them. Ricky smirked, enjoying the sight of their helplessness.

"But man, I'm just really f*cking angry." Ricky continued, his voice colder now, sharper, but still keeping his smile. 

"Like, instead of coming to me and trying to kill me, you took the sh*tty way out. You went after the people around me." Ricky shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping him as the members banged against the barrier.

"Because all of you didn't have the balls to face me directly, did you?" Ricky shook his head, waving his finger dismissively, a look of almost sick amusement on his face. 

"Not that I'm upset you tried it, I mean, you're cowards, but the fact that you thought you could do it right under my nose? Come on now, really?" Ricky let the silence hang in the air for a moment, savoring the weight of his words.

Now, Ricky would honestly do the same in their position, he'd take the cheap shot, the underhanded approach, if it meant getting what he wanted. 

But that was the thing about him, he was a hypocrite, and he knew it as he didn't care about fairness or playing by the rules. 

The only thing that truly mattered was that they had crossed a line, his line, by going after the people around him.

It wasn't about right or wrong, it was about him. 

They had made a move on his territory, and that was unforgivable in his eyes as the hypocrisy didn't bother him. 

If anything, it made the whole thing more satisfying since Ricky didn't care about fairness, he cared about power, control, and making sure no one ever threatened what was his, not even indirectly.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" The members screamed, banging desperately against the barrier. 

Ricky stood unmoved, his gaze cold and unfeeling as he watched the squirming humans with not even a shred of pity flickered in his eyes.

Ricky knew that after this, he would kill many more, too many to count and yet, there was no flicker of hesitation. 

It was unsettling how little he felt as he looked at the mass of people before him. 

Maybe it was because they had gone after Raven when she was in his arms, or maybe it was because they had targeted those in his circle. 

Whatever the reason, the anger within him burned hot, but the emptiness remained where his hesitation of taking another human life should be.

But Ricky honestly felt more angry with himself for letting it happen right under his nose. 

Even now, he struggled with keeping the people around him safe as it was a painful realization, he wasn't as invincible as he thought. 

Still, this was a valuable lesson, one he couldn't afford to ignore as he knew that even when things seemed to be going smoothly, everything could twist in an instant. 

And whether these screaming men wanted him to or not, Ricky would learn from this situation.

"Now, let's see what Chastiefol can really do," Ricky muttered, his fingers moving with precision as in an instant, the weapon shot forward, impaling one of the men with a sickening thud.

COUGH

"Oof, brutal," Ricky narrated, watching the scene unfold. 

The spear pierced through the man's neck with ease, like molten butter, its sharp tip jutting out the other side. 

The man's hands grasped at his throat, gasping for air as he slowly sank to the ground before Ricky flicked his finger casually.

Then Chastiefold spun in a full circle, its edge slicing through the air with terrifying precision, ripping the man's head clean off. 

Ricky bit his tongue, focusing intensely as he controlled the spear's movements with a steady hand. 

The decapitated body crumpled to the ground, the head falling a few feet away, still fresh with the brutal mark of Ricky's power.

'This is way harder than I thought.' Ricky muttered to himself, his focus sharpening as he guided Chastiefol with precision. 

The spear sliced through the members one by one, each movement a delicate balance of power and control. 

With every swing, the weapon's lethal edge tore through flesh and bone, sending bodies falling to the ground in a bloody heap. 

Ricky's grip tightened, his jaw clenched, as he fought to maintain control over the chaos unfolding before him.

It was like playing a game of Galactica for the first time as Ricky could feel the input lag, a frustrating delay that made it hard to fully grasp the controls. 

The spear obeyed his commands, but there was a slight hesitation, a lingering moment between his intention and the weapon's movement. 

It wasn't a huge delay, but enough to throw him off just when precision was everything. 

Despite the challenge, he pressed on, his focus unwavering as Chastiefold cleaved through his enemies, each swing more deliberate as he adjusted to the rhythm of control.

The members were scurrying around like headless chickens, desperately trying to escape as Ricky turned them into mincemeat. 

One by one, they were sliced apart, their bodies falling to the ground in grotesque pieces. 

Ricky moved with ruthless efficiency, treating them as nothing more than training dummies, each swing of Chastiefol cutting through flesh and bone with ease. 

The Grand Wizard, watching the carnage unfold, realized he had only one means of escape, Marshall.

As he reached out, desperate to grab him and flee, a barrier suddenly materialized around him, freezing him in place. 

The invisible force held him fast, and his gaze turned to Ricky, now standing at the center of the chaos, with a cold smile on his face.

"There we go, I was waiting for someone to go after him so I could just crush anyone's last bit of hope," Ricky chuckled from the side, his voice dripping with amusement at the Grand Wizard, realizing his escape was futile, slowly turned to face Ricky. 

His body trembled with a mix of fear and disbelief, his once-confident demeanor crumbling in the face of such overwhelming power. 

He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing into the dirt as he gasped for air, the weight of his impending defeat sinking in.

"You can't kill me! Do you know who I am?" The Grand Wizard stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and arrogance and Ricky, recognizing the familiar tone, walked slowly toward him, his expression unreadable.

"Judge Mason?" Ricky said in a scooby doo voice, unveiling his hood and looking upon Judge Mason. 

"You can't get away with this, I'm-"

"Oh, thank you, Lord! Oh, thank you!" Ricky interrupted him with a sharp, mocking laugh, mimicking a prayer toward the heavens before swiping his hand across the air with a sweeping gesture.

SPLAT

THUMP

All the members around Judge Mason were decapitated in an instant and Ricky, opting to use his psychic powers rather than Chastiefol, found the maneuver far more efficient. 

The swift turnaround felt far more satisfying, as his mental control sliced through them with surgical precision.

There was no way he would leave them alive, not after everything that had transpired. 

But he needed at least one alive for his plan to come to fruition, and it only made the discovery of Judge Mason within the fold all the more satisfying.

"Oh, Chester~" Ricky hummed, his voice dripping with amusement as he grabbed Judge Mason by the neck, yanking him to the side. 

With a swift motion, he raised a wall of earth to shield themselves from prying eyes.

Chester landed gracefully on Ricky's shoulder, his eyes gleaming with understanding as he instinctively knew what Ricky wanted and without a word, he settled in, prepared for whatever came next.

"And Chester, make sure to break his mind into mush, for me," Ricky joked, his tone light but with a dark edge. 

Chester's eyes shifted to Judge Mason, who began to gasp for air, his body trembling in fear. 

The judge's eyes widened, and the panic in his chest was palpable as Chester's gaze locked onto him, a silent promise of the horrors to come.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Far away, hidden in the treeline, Dewey and Hawkins stood frozen, their eyes wide with horror at the nightmare they had just witnessed. 

The chaos and brutality unfolding before them felt like something out of a twisted nightmare, yet it was all too real. 

Neither could tear their eyes away, the scene etched into their minds as they struggled to comprehend the violence they had just seen.

"I-I didn't know-" Hawkins gasped, his voice trembling as he shook his head in disbelief, sinking to his knees. 

The weight of what they had just witnessed seemed to crush him, his body unable to handle the sheer horror.

Meanwhile, Dewey remained motionless, the camera in his hands clicking with a steady rhythm. 

His eyes were fixed on the unfolding carnage, almost detached, as he captured the twisted scene before him with a maniacal smile.

"We got him, we f*cking got him!" Dewey laughed maniacally, his voice rising with a twisted sense of triumph. 

His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and filled with a dark satisfaction as he looked through the lens of the camera, capturing the destruction.

Hawkins stared at the scene in utter horror, his gaze shifting from the carnage to the attorney general beside him. 

"Y-You knew, you tricked me-"

"Oh, can it, Hawkins. You wanted to win just as bad as I did, and we succeeded," Dewey sneered, clicking the camera as he adjusted the hood of his jacket. 

Hawkins stood frozen, his face pale as he tried to make sense of what was happening as his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the ground beneath him. 

"I mean, forget just winning this case." Dewey continued, his voice growing darker with every word. 

"This will propel not only my career, but yours as well." Dewey laughed, the sound hollow and cruel, as his mind raced with the endless possibilities of what he could do next. 

He could already feel the power slipping into his grasp, the illusion of control intoxicating him. 

The twisted things he could unleash on Ricky danced in his thoughts, each more devious than the last and dreaming about all the things he would do to retaliate for all the years he had suffered under his shadow.

"We'll be heroes, saving our country from the evils of this bastard." Dewey spoke manically, his eyes wide with a feverish gleam. 

He pictured himself standing on a grand stage, surrounded by adoring faces, the crowd chanting his name. 

In his mind, the accolades poured in; awards, recognition, the respect of everyone who had ever doubted him. 

The applause was deafening, and he basked in the glow of his newfound power, as if the world owed him everything for ridding it of Ricky.

"Now come on, we need to get this film processed before the start of my cross-examination," Dewey said with a cold, determined tone, grabbing the camera and quickly retreating as his footsteps were confident, almost too sure of himself, as he headed toward the car.

Hawkins remained where he stood, his eyes hollow, staring at the ground as he felt a heavy and grueling weight in his chest, the sense of dread sinking deeper with each passing second. 

As Dewey disappeared into the distance, Hawkins remained motionless for a moment longer, the sound of his own shaky breath filling the silence.

"What about judge Mason-"

"Oh, who cares? He dug his own grave, and now he has to lay in it," Dewey said dismissively, shaking his head as he walked back to the car. 

"Besides, we can just find a stand-in judge." Dewey paused, glancing back at Hawkins with an almost mocking smile as his words were coated with a cold, unfeeling certainty.

"You coming or what?" Dewey asked, his voice impatient as he turned toward the car.

Dewey hadn't even realized it, but the bravado of justice that he once wore so confidently, like a shield of dignity, had completely evaporated. 

The air of superiority, the puffed chest he'd carried like armor, was gone as in its place was something far more vulnerable, far less certain. 

Ricky's intervention had shattered him in a way he couldn't immediately comprehend, but the toll was clear in the subtle ways Dewey moved, spoke, and even breathed.

He wasn't the same man who had so easily deluded himself into thinking justice was a game he could win. 

The truth had hit harder than he expected, so much so that it left Dewey oblivious to what he had become.

The righteousness that once coursed through his veins felt hollow, replaced with a gnawing desire for vengeance, anything to regain some control after the humiliation he'd suffered. 

His focus had shifted and even the notion of justice didn't matter anymore, all Dewey cared about now was finding a way, any way, to finally break Ricky, to win this twisted war between them.

As he glanced at Hawkins, sitting quietly in front of him, even Hawkins could see the weight of his own change pressing on him. 

Dewey wasn't the imposing figure he used to be, the one he read about in his briefing as the dignity, the poise, all of it had crumbled, replaced with a man desperate for victory at any cost. 

Even the way he sat in the car was different as his back was hunched, shoulders tense, as if the weight of his failure and the knowledge that he had to do something, anything to restore his sense of power, were too much to bear on his own shoulders alone.

The battle was no longer about law or justice, it was about personal redemption and that shift had changed everything, which only made Ricky smile while the car retreated.

"Is that a good idea?" Chester asked, noticing the headlights shining through the trees, while Judge Mason sat slumped over, drooling from his mouth.

"Yeah, tomorrow is going to be hilarious," Ricky laughed, already imagining the stupid look on his face.

Ricky wanted to destroy Dewey, push him to the brink of despair and seeing how the fear of him was already creeping into Dewey's mind delighted him. 

As he surveyed the corpses, a relieved expression crossed his face, feeling a little better as his anger settled.

"Now let's get to work."

10 minutes later,

With all the bodies thrown into a pile, Ricky had already drawn the necessary ritual symbols, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

'Now get the f*ck up.' Ricky raised the power output in his hands, the dark energy swirling around him as the corpses slowly began to stir, bathed in the twisted arts of necromancy.

DING

(Common) 50 x Crawler: A zombie with its legs damaged or missing, forcing it to drag itself along the ground. It's slower than other zombies but can surprise unwary victims by attacking from below.

"R-Ricky, what have you done-"

"Chester." Ricky nodded to Chester, his voice calm despite the chaos. 

Marshall clutched his head in distress, his eyes darting around at the carnage, unable to comprehend the brutality that had unfolded.

"I-how could you-why?" Marshall asked, seeing how brutal Ricky was in his actions and second guessing everything he was led to believe until now.

"Just relax, Marshall. Look into Chester's eyes," Ricky said, his tone almost soothing despite the bloodshed around them. 

Marshall hesitated, his gaze slowly shifting toward Chester, who stood still, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling calm. 

As Marshall locked eyes with Chester, his blinking slowed, a trance-like daze beginning to settle over him.

"Marshall, you okay?" 

Then, in almost an instant, the scenery shifted as Marshall's surroundings seemed to warp and distort, his eyes wide with panic as the world around him spun into an unfathomable blur. 

The once familiar landscape of corpses and blood faded away from his thoughts and sight.

"W-What, where-"

"Easy there, calm down." Ricky's voice was soothing but firm as he placed a hand on Marshall's shoulder, steadying him as Marshall's eyes darted around in confusion, still caught in the haze of panic. 

He reached up to touch his head, feeling the bandages wrapped around it, his fingers trembling as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Listen, Marshall," Ricky began, his voice casual but tinged with a hint of concern. 

"You went out for a walk, but some dickhole threw a brick at your head. You almost died, man." Ricky paused, watching Marshall closely as the details of the false story took root. 

"How're you feeling?"

Marshall's head throbbed slightly, but the lingering fog in his mind made it hard to piece everything together. 

The vivid memories of the chaos, the blood, and the strange, eerie feeling of death crept in, but they were already starting to fade, replaced by the fabricated narrative Ricky had woven.

"Was it-"

"Yeah, some Klan members were spotted in the area, but I found you and brought you back here," Ricky explained, gesturing to the half-burnt house around them as Marshall blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim surroundings as he took in the dilapidated state of the place.

"THE TRIAL!" Marshall immediately stood up, his mind racing as he forgot the massacre Ricky had just orchestrated. 

He sprang to his feet, his urgency clear, as Ricky rose with him, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Relax, it's in an hour-"

"I have to prepare, I have to-"

"Calm down, you'll be fine. Besides, I think we've got this in the bag," Ricky said with a reassuring smile, his confidence unwavering but Marshall, however, let out a heavy sigh, still visibly shaken from the ordeal.

"If you say so."

Meanwhile at a hotel,

A gate opened, and Raven sat on the bed, engrossed in a book since after the entire scuffle, Ricky had returned to her, holding a bouquet of flowers. 

Raven accepted the bouquet with a smile, placing it gently on the nightstand as the vibrant colors of the flowers added a touch of brightness to the room, contrasting against the otherwise somber atmosphere. 

She'd decided to stay here with Ricky until he found a better place for them, though she couldn't help but appreciate the small comforts that came with this temporary arrangement.

As he stepped into the room, she looked up, a playful glint in her eyes. Spreading her arms wide, she gave him a welcoming smile.

"Hey baby." Ricky chuckled, Raven putting the book down and crawling into his arms.

"Hey tiger, how was the hunting?" Raven asked, pecking his cheek while laying in his arms as he kissed her head.

"Good, but I need a favor."

Author's Note: Sorry for the late post I think fcking caught the flu again cause I woke up feeling like sht. So i ended up taking a nap for like half the day.