Prologue 1.4

Then…

"I believe that is quite enough, Ak'khenal", clicked the Inhibitor, his voice proper and taciturn, "if you continue to throw tantrums like this, you'll only sully yourself and us along with you."

As he said this, he strode towards Bahamut and with a wave of his hand, bubbly tendrils snaked their way towards both Bahamut and the carcass of the building he just destroyed. Slithering around the Definitive, the bubbles passed through him absorbed bits and pieces of his aura before returning to the boy who stopped to kneel, touching the pavement. Uttering a silent command, the bubbly tendrils evaporated into the ground, dissipating the collected essence deep into the earth, while the Inhibitor softly whispered "Kh'ioio Sosoyini.."

Wilhelm knew exactly what the Inhibitor was saying.

Return to the Mother, become one with the flow of life.

Standing up and dusting himself off, he walked towards Bahamut and the Connivant to stand in-between them facing the Master and Wilhelm. As he walked, he pointed out, "If what the Venerable One says is true, then it seems that the Prophecy of the 9 has come to pass. And don't pretend like you've not noticed the recent signs."

The Rahk'zh'gal clicked in agreement, and began opening its neck ribs to form a carapace hood, like a cobra. It was visibly agitated, but the Inhibitor understood and started to rub its crest, soothing the creature.

"It is therefore clear now", the Inhibitor concluded, "that the Prophecy of the 9 has indeed begun, and with the Eternatus aroused from their slumber, then the Paracausal Advent the Master's described is sure to follow."

"And if the Ascendant has indeed returned", said the Master, confirming the Inhibitor's assertions, "then this means that the Iliudo dan'Mrabus is upon us all." While he spoke, he turned towards Wilhelm, noting the young disciple waiting patiently and eagerly based on the subtle vibrations his muscles created from the tension and anxiety he tried to hide. The Master quietly chuckled before continuing, "If the Ascendant can be placed under our direct control, then the resulting Balance of Heaven can then be tipped in our favor and the goal we ourselves had set forth to achieve all those millennia ago shall indeed come to fruition."

"That, of course, is a big if", interjected another member of the 12.

Turning to identify the new voice, Wilhelm's gaze alighted upon a young man who looked no older than Wilhelm.

He was '6'1' with espresso-colored hair tied in a messy bun, the shade of sand at the tips. He had a light stubble with a long thin nose with cheekbones that rested at medium height so as not to overtake his small almond-shaped eyes. The pupils were crystal clear and the color of platinum, light moving in various directions as if his eyes were made of the liquid metal itself.

No, that wasn't light, it was platinum, pure platinum.

It was a common trait among the 12, or rather Others whose evolution had peaked at certain levels, to achieve a state of being in which their physical attributes would become attune to the earth itself, matching the nature of their branching deviations with their own individual predisposed sentiments and attitudes. As such, in the case of this man, his eyes which were literal platinum for pupils implied his genetic purity and affinity towards minerals and the shaping and manifestation of them. Of course this was all speculation on Wilhelm's part due to the nature of an individual Other varying as was their collective genealogy. As platinum was just as rare even for humans as a mineable metal, the same applied to all but a select few bloodlines that carried this genetic trait across their ancestry, and even fewer with the affinity tied towards it upon their awakening state.

This member of the 12 was biracial, half-Japanese/Chinese, and half-White, with a slightly muscular build that was hidden by his clothes. As Wilhelm looked him up and down, he noted that the man wore a dark turquoise yukata with yellow reeds stitched along the rims that slid off his right shoulder to expose his bare chest and right arm, which was heavily tattooed. Not realizing it, Wilhelm found himself enraptured by the intricate artwork before him naked on the skin, a scene of cranes standing in a pool near a waterfall at the base of Mt, Fuji. Clouds sailed behind the mountain, and as they reached the forearm, the landscape ended with a large azure dragon that covered the right side of his chest and Wilhelm could tell, no doubt his back as well as. The level of detail on the feathers and the eye of crane amazed Wilhelm, how miniscule they seemed on the surface before panning farther away so that one could realize the entire picture. A warmth crept in his bones that Wilhelm silently cursed himself for having, and blinking to distract himself failed as his eyes glossed over the rest of the young man's body. He was lean muscled, his 6-pack partially obscured by his tattoos while his left arm lazily rested in the fold of his nagagi.

Draped over his shoulders like a cape, he had a silver hooded haori with emerald green petals that stretched past his ankles and with a gold chain that hung from the collar, a livery collar as Wilhelm noted. His expression was one of boredom, with a demeanor that was incredibly laidback, which completely contrasted the tense atmosphere of the conversation he was currently in. Exhibiting tiredness, he scratched his jaw, and clicked in his tongue in a way that Wilhelm's immediately realized who he was. He'd previously met him once before while attending to business in the east. Requiring resources from a faction of Others whose utmost cooperation the Master needed to fund his own operations in the region, Wilhelm was sent in to ensure their "loyalty" to the Master, and by chance was accosted by street thugs sent to kill him. They failed, but not before he intervened and lead him to his headquarters, being the contact that Wilhelm was supposed to meet.

It was 5 years ago, and he was a boy then. He couldn't have been older than 19 back then, Wilhelm mused. He remembered it all too well.

Pant.

Pant.

Pant.

You motherfuck—

Shring! Shlock!

Aack!

5 well-dressed assassins in an alleyway corner, each trained to hunt and to kill surrounded him from all sides while their comrade, the 6th was lying a fetal position with his face sliced open. Qualia was embedded hilt deep in his forehead, the blade sizzling the flesh while the smell of ginseng burned in a windowsill two stories above. Wilhelm was standing over the course, reloading Nona with bullets. One of the assassins reached into his pockets, and produced gold knuckles, spiked and dripping with corrosive acid in one hand, an M19 in the other. Wilhelm eyed him incredulously and huffed in amusement.

"Hmmm", he hummed quietly.

He knew his poking around looking for the so-called the "Black Lotus" would lead to such a confrontation with the underbelly of Hong Kong. It was to be expected as such, given this individual rarely made public appearance. In fact, as far as the underbelly was concerned, no one knew exactly who he was or what he looked like. Many information brokers clamored to find anything on the Lotus only to find themselves stumped, and then eventually slumped over dead from what authorities would deem "unfortunate circumstances". It also didn't help that the Lotus had a network of its own, the White Garden, that protected its leader as well as its members from incrimination of any kind. This level of security and protection was unheard of, even among the most elite organizations on the planet, which is why the Master had Wilhelm investigate them. From what he was able to gather, even as little as it was, the crumbs he found didn't paint much of clear picture either.

According to his sources, this group showed up out of nowhere roughly 4 years ago in the obscurest, most shadowy parts of the already darkest portions of the black web and market. Originally, they were considered low level thugs and miscreants, dealing in money laundering and faking government documents for criminals in bed with officials. Then the Pandemic threw the world into chaos, and their movements shifted. Instead of just helping petty criminal charges get dropped or looked over for a few bucks, they were now taking on senators and prominent cabinet members—airing out their dirty secrets like they were laundry. The act that truly put them on the map in the underworld was the Swiss Panic. Overloading the country's banking establishments, the Garden blanketed the financial markets with bloatware that crashed whole nodes of information and melted the infrastructure of several of Switzerland's most prominent databases.

Within hours of the cyberattack, the economy of Switzerland was in state of panic as hundreds of millions of offshore accounts were emptied and their financial records plastered over major news outlets detailing the entire banking history of some of the biggest corporations. The country as a whole and its citizens were spared and left largely unaffected, but the rest of the world, however, was practically foaming at the mouth as the financial underbelly was ripped from under them. The only evidence of the Garden's hand in this was their now signature call sign: a white tiger lotus with black spots on the tips of its petals, and striped leaves.

And this was just the first of their antics.

A shift in pace, as the 2nd assassin widened his stance, silenced pistol in hand.

Wilhelm pretended not to notice him, and casually walked over to the corpse of the 6th to retrieve Qualia. The bladed glowed green in the man's forehead, the eye sockets smoking and charred, while the left side of the man's face was completely cauterized to an unrecognizable degree. The right side was bruised and bloody, with a black eye, but otherwise clean.

The man on the pavement was American.

Bill Katter his name was legally, the codename "Antebellum" was his moniker as Wilhelm knew him.

Officially they'd met only once, when Wilhelm accompanied the Master to a gala in Vienna. Katter was tracking an Albanian arms dealer who was sponsoring a military coup in Tunisia. As far as assassins go, Katter wasn't very unique. He was capable, obviously given his 3-star rating, but his brass attitude and chauvinistic ways made him unbearably contemptible to his peers. Personally Wilhelm never really liked him, more accurately he never cared to know him in any way; as such it was rather a shock to him when Katter openly declared him a rival—something Wilhelm never understood, given the difference in their professional directions.

"I'm not here to entertain, Mr. Katter", he said a monotone voice, "I'm here on business under the service of my master."

"Bullshit", retorted a slightly drunk Katter, "you're just goddamn kook with a stick up his ass who thinks he's better than everyone."

Katter was on his 5th drink of Austrian vodka, which he drank with no ice. He was boisterous, but clever, a combination that amused Wilhelm, given his strong tolerance to alcohol.

"I've traveled around the world to as many shithole countries as there are shittier ones", Katter chided, "and every single one of them offered me very little in the way of a true challenge. Yet here you are, a walking litany of combat."

He finished his drink, his view darting temporarily towards his target. The Albanian was busy laughing and drinking away his recent paycheck, a young and upcoming Italian supermodel glued to his arm. His window to kill the bastard was slowly approaching.

He went on, "I've heard about you, Mathos."

At the sound of that name, Wilhelm's brow beetled. Very few people knew that name, and ones who did were no longer among the living. He's persistent, Wilhelm thought amused. Impertinent human.

Click, click, click.

Wilhelm had reloaded the 2nd of the 3 chambers never once taking his eyes off the corpse of Katter. Examining him much closer, he noted the Y-shaped scar on his right cheek and smirked. A souvenir he gave Katter in Libya, when the two encountered each other in the Sahara not long after the gala. Katter was defending a convoy on its way to Egypt, while Wilhelm was attacking. Using the Parcae, alongside a few other similar weapons, Wilhelm completely demolished the convoy, and single handedly picked off each member of the security detail assigned to it, leaving Katter the only survivor. That scar was a trade for the item being ferried: a relic of the Others discovered in a tomb in southern Libya.

Wilhelm had thought that Katter had died after their confrontation, and was surprised to to find out he'd been tracking him since that encounter.

"I knew I'd find you eventually you fucker", he said in his usual haughty tone.

He thought he'd gotten the 1-up on Wilhelm by cornering him in the alleyway. Too bad his corpse a few minutes after showed just how foolish and incredibly outmatched he truly was.

The 2nd assassin went first, lunging at him with a bladed tonfa. Having casually retrieved Qualia, Wilhelm bent down on knee and ducked his heard forward, narrowly missing the serrated edge by a mere fraction of an inch. Using the man's momentum against him, he quickly swiveled his ankle, and using a capoeira-style kick, caught the man by his neck trapping him between his thigh and calf in a headlock. The assassin grunted, gasping for air and struggled under the grip of his leg muscles, cursing in Mandarin. A sudden click broke his thoughts, and looking up his anger quickly turned to shock as the barrel of Nona was placed right on the center of his forehead. The sudden realization didn't change matters, but the resulting blast was still powerful enough explode the back of his head as his brains were splattered about on the pavement behind in.

His shock frozen forever as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, the assassin convulsed, and then collapsed in a heap as Wilhelm loosened his leg to release the corpse between them. Taking in a deep breath, he turned towards the 3 other assassins, each one poised and waiting for their turn.

He sighed. This is gonna be a long night, he thought. He still needed to find the Black Lotus, and he'd already wasted precious time just dealing with these assholes. Sure enough confirming his thoughts, the 3rd and 4th moved in tandem to enact a pincer attack. He smirked as he jumped back, missing a punch to the gut and a swipe to his neck. They were most likely a team, given their coordination and support for the other as they fought, which amused and annoyed him at the same time. They're good, he thought. If these were under normal circumstances, Wilhelm would've bought them a drink and talked with them, maybe even offered them a place one of the many under the service of the Master. These weren't, however, and as far as Wilhelm was concerned, they were nothing more than a hindrance. The 4th, who used an electrically charged compact Billy club, swung at him against, this time aiming for his heart.

Wilhelm cursed, and using his sharp reflexes, brought Nona to his chest having activated its dagger mode after killing the 2nd assassin. The resounding clang that reverberated caused his ears to pop and teeth to jar as electricity coursed through his body. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, huffing at the human's futile attempt to disable him. Damn volts, he grunted internally. He'd been trained to be immune to elemental attacks such as this, but for the life of him, it still unnerved him how easy it was for human ingenuity to undercut him at times like this. Cursing under his breath, he parried the 3rd assassin, who sought to capitalize on what he assumed was Wilhelm getting paralyzed by the jolts. He managed to graze his jaw when a rush of air knocked the assassin on his ass, a gaping hole burning in the pavement where his foot used to be. Before either one could respond, Wilhelm grabbed the wrist of the 3rd assassin, twisting and snapping it like a twig, and using the adrenaline rush it gave him threw him into the 4th, careening the two into a group of trash cans flip-flopping them like pancakes.

As he recovered his bearings, a hooded figure jumped down from a 3 story ledge onto a puddle right next to him. He was shorter than Wilhelm, about '5'7'. He wore a bomber with a gold dragon insignia on the back with and origin pants with Adidas. The ensemble itself was colored black and silver with gold imprints, the only white article on his body being his shoes. As Wilhelm beheld the newcomer, he realized he was surprisingly young, about 18, maybe 19.

"Took you long enough to show-up", the teen said, cocking his head in a sly nature, "and here I was cooling my heels wondering where you'd run off to."

As he speaks, he pulls out a baseball bat black and cracked at the handle. Wilhelm notices bandages on his knuckles, before coughing as the youth bends to down and stretches his hand to him. Not realizing he's kneeling he grips the hand and is swiftly pulled to his feet, where he's brought face to face to the teen. He had lip ring on the right side of his lower lip, and thin rimmed glasses, while black lotus rings hung from his ears. Wilhelm was amused by how young he looked, noting way his cheeks were soft and flushed, but bruised, indicating that he'd fought, while a cut dripped small traces of blood from the left side of his face above his left eyebrow. He was handsome as fuck, he knew that much, his velvet eyes were mesmerizing to say the least.

"You're late", Wilhelm managed to reply in a tired monotone voice, "had you taken your sweet time, they'd be dead by now."

The young man smirked, "I doubt that'd be the case, seeing as how your main concern is extracting info from them."

A rustle and crushing of glass interrupted their conversation as the 3rd and 4th assassins recollected themselves, and together with the 5th, began moving in tandem to take the two of them out.

Stretching his arms out and yawning, the teen moved to stand perpendicular the 3 opposing assassins and laying his hands behind his neck, he eyed the 3 with indifference.

"Well, looks like we have ourselves a good old beatdown on our hands", he said as Wilhelm saddled up beside him, "so tell me princess, how d'you want to proceed from here?"

Wilhelm pulled out Nona, and proceeded to load up the 2nd and 3rd chambers, priming the KFA while not once taking his eyes off the 3 assassins. "I'll take the twins", he said decidedly, "try to keep up."

The young man chuckled, "whatever you say princess". Motioning in a dramatic bow, the young flirtatiously batted his eyes.

"After you."