Chapter 123: The other one

Her gleaming eyes widened as her head whipped to the window of her office. A heavy frown sat on Lyra's lips as she narrowed her eyes. A radiating gold aura of mana was apparent in the vast distance. It was powerful and, most of all, it was all too familiar.

("Damn it, why her?") She gritted her teeth in annoyance.

"That is an abundance of mana," she heard the blank voice of Verdantis's mightiest, clad in his black armor adorned in gold and with his face obscured by his helmet. Dante gave no outward reaction, noting the mana he too saw. "Another Ancestor, then."

"You're right," she heaved a heavy sigh. "Once more, it's the worst possible Ancestor, Rhiannon. The strongest amongst us, but her arrogance leaves much to be desired though." Lyra's lips thinned. "Damn, who would free her soul?"

"Will it be a problem?"

"That would be putting it extremely lightly. Rhiannon only ever cared for her own enjoyment. She has great power, but she would only use it for herself. She's quick to anger and easy to bore. Once she has her bearings, she'll seek out entertainment. And that entertainment would be seeking me out. No doubt she'll want an opening battle." A sigh escaped her as she scratched her head in annoyance. "Rhiannon is terrifyingly strong. Back in the age of Gods, she fought Octavia as an equal. She has a record of killing Divine Beasts as if they were mere prey. Do you know how absurd that is? Divine Beasts have the power to turn this world asunder. That woman is just absurd. Wait, you are too, as I recall. You hunted your own Divine Beast, yes? I heard you wrestled it?"

"I'll handle her then."

Lyra shrugged. "Suit yourself. You might do some lasting damage. You are one of the strongest mortals in all the realm. Well, she would want to battle you either way."

"I see." He folded his arms, his tone remained neutral as if the threat of a powerful entity like Rhiannon was a non-factor.

("Well, I suppose if there is anyone maybe strong enough to face Rhiannon, it could be Dante or Mikoto. Still, it irks me that she walks through this era. Her presence complicates things drastically.") Lyra felt like sighing once more. "At any rate, why don't you go and inform Percival of this? He'd be a target of that wench too, you know?"

"I see." Dante turned on his heel and walked onwards, his armor clanking as he exited the office. Stepping onto the expansive hallways of the environment, he almost robotically moved through them, not even glancing at the expensive tapestries and paintings, the fine chandeliers, and ornaments. His journey was one of silence, but that was the kind of journey he was most accustomed to and most comfortable with.

The noise was irritating, and Exhibit A of that was about to make itself known.

"Dante!" Her annoyingly squeaky voice reached his ears clearly despite his helmet. He took note of that salmon-colored hair first.

"Isabella," he noted, the Inheritor of the songstress Goddess. He did not see the purpose of her and the other new Inheritor. They both were more liabilities than assets. He alone was enough. That was not pride talking; it was simply the facts of the matter.

"You're still walking around in all that armor?" She questioned with a smile. "Does that not get cumbersome?"

"It does not."

"Really? But you wear your helmet almost every time." She tilted her head. "It must be uncomfortable. You know we're all comrades here at the castle. We would not dare to judge your appearance."

("A meaningless sentiment I've no need of. You lot are not my comrades. What I am to you and the others is a babysitter.") Dante saw fit not to voice his opinion. He'd rather not involve himself in any drama. "I see. I have to meet with Archbishop Percival." He hoped she would see the hint and leave him to his own devices.

"Is it about that absurd mana signature that came out of nowhere?" Isabella surmised. He merely nodded his helmeted head as he started moving. Isabella saw fit to accompany him further. "Whoever that individual was, it seems they have a bit more mana than even Lucinda. Who could it be, another spawn?"

"No one important." She merely quirked up a brow at that.

"Really? Someone with that kind of mana isn't important?" She questioned before giving a small chuckle. "But I suppose to someone with your strength, that holds true, huh?"

"Maybe."

"Oh right! That reminds me!" She suddenly exclaimed excitedly. "My Arcane Ascendance training with Lady Lilith is coming along swimmingly. I can even keep up my transformation for five whole minutes now!" She stated with a proud smile. "She really is a great teacher!"

"Is that so?"

"Yep! Though I must say Reylthorn himself is quite adept. Despite being a child, he is quite knowledgeable. I must admit I could not pick up on most of what he meant." She stated with a sheepish chuckle. "Though Lady Lyraeth had also sought to give me some pointers, but I could not discern what she was trying to convey, she was....eccentric to say the least. Though Ser Aerinon seems like he's quite adept with Arcane Ascendance, but he rarely ever talks to me. Or anyone really." Isabella smiled. "But the Inheritors of Verdantis are formidable and inspirational in their own way. You most of all, Ser Dante."

"Is that right?"

"Of course, you're an inspiration for all in Verdantis. The 'strongest' in the nation. They say your very presence would make entire armies quake in fear."

"An exaggeration."

"Haha, I don't think so. Even the governing body seems fearful of you. Even Lady Ysabel is not confident in her chances of beating you." The girl continued.

Contemplating on what short response to give next, Dante almost found himself happy as he finally came across what he was looking for. Large dark double oak doors stood before the two.

"Archbishop Percival is in the garden again?" Isabella questioned with a tilt of her head.

"As always," he grunted out. "I need to speak with him in private. Could you leave?"

She seemed taken aback by his blunt declaration. "O-oh alright then, I will not keep you. But you know I wanted to ask you if you wanted to see a play of mine here in the capital this afternoon. Only if you want to that is!"

"I'll think about it." That seemed to be enough for her as a bright smile enveloped her face.

"Really? That's great. Then I will see you soon, Dante! Farewell." She gave a small wave before turning to leave. She seemed to walk with an extra pep in her steps. He turned away from her as he pushed past the doors.

He stepped onto an expansive area, the array of different plant life of all colors and smells lined up in a riot of color. Exotic, otherworldly flowers bloomed all around as if in defiance of the snow outside. Their petals were shimmering with iridescent hues. Giant, crimson lilies, their stalks thick as tree trunks, stood at the entrance as he moved further in. Beside them, a grove of luminescent, bioluminescent trees cast an ethereal glow, their leaves pulsating with light.

He followed a winding path that led deeper into the garden. Along its sides, vibrant, alien flora flourished. There were plants with leaves that resembled shimmering, iridescent scales, and others with flowers that resembled tiny, pulsating stars. A peculiar vine, its tendrils adorned with glass-like blossoms, climbed a nearby wall, its reflection creating a mesmerizing pattern. In the heart of the garden, a towering, ancient oak tree stood, its gnarled branches large. Beneath its canopy, a small, crystalline pond shimmered, its surface undisturbed. A variety of aquatic plants, their leaves and flowers painted in vibrant hues, grew in the pond, their reflections distorted by the icy water. And there he stood, Archbishop Percival.

He was no longer draped in his Archbishop attire; instead, he was clothed in a white shirt with an elaborate collar, an extravagant blue robe was thrown over his form, along with baggy black pants and simple shoes. This is where the Archbishop spent most of his time, a garden only living on due to magic. Apparently, no one had planted the strange fauna found in the garden house; they simply came to be due to the mana spilling out from the oak tree.

It was odd; in this garden of absurd flowers and simple plants, an oak tree should not have stood out as much. Yet the mana spilling out from that simple tree was odd. Simply calling it mana seemed incorrect. There was something almost otherworldly about it; Archbishop Percival clearly knew why that was. He would often stand in the garden house, merely admiring the tree as he did now.

"Percival," he voiced, the androgynous man perked up, turning to him with a smile.

"Ah, Dante," he greeted with his soft-spoken voice, clasping his oddly calloused but delicate hands together. "What brings you here?"

"That mana, you felt it too, no doubt," he started, folding his arms as he took a glance at the tree before turning back to Percival. "It was an Ancestor, same as Lyra. Apparently, she's the strongest one. She might come for me and you, seeking battle."

"Oh? I hardly noticed; I was preoccupied with something more interesting," the Archbishop freely admitted with a chuckle. "Seems my once trusty blade has found himself his destined companion."

"Is that so?" Dante mused. "You speak of Sabre, correct?"

"Ah yes, that is the current name given to him," Percival muttered thoughtfully. "Alas, he seems happy."

"I see."

"But at any rate, another Ancestor is surprising, and one against us," Percival hummed at the thought.

"Lyra spoke highly of her, saying in the past she fought the Goddess of war and magic equally and slayed two Divine Beasts. A formidable opponent; should she choose to make trouble, it could spell the end of the festival before it even began," Dante surmised. "Should I interfere?"

"No, not yet. Let us wait and see for now; she may yet remain docile or hunt for other would-be prey," he frowned a little before his lips quirked up once more. "Do not stress yourself over such matters. You know, in the meantime, you could use some respite. You've been hunting lingering Vel'ryr forces all this time now, yes?"

"I don't need rest. There is much to do. Much to prepare for."

Percival chuckled, "Come now, you are still young, Dante. Even Aerinon has taken time off to be with his sister. Mayhap you should take Isabella up on her offer?" Dante merely shook his head.

"I'm busy; I've lots to do."

He got a wry smile from the Archbishop, "With how insistent you are with overworking yourself, you tend to remind me of an old friend of mine," Percival stated with a distant look in his eyes. "He was a loyal friend until a certain small...mishap, but I could not have asked for a greater comrade. He was someone I could always rely on when it matters most. A lot like you."

"Sounds like an interesting individual."

"He was," Percival smiled.

-------------------

"What rubbish!" Aegraxes found himself sighing as he deftly stepped out of the way to avoid a gold goblet thrown his way. It collided with the wall before bouncing off and falling to the ground, the contents being revealed to be wine, seeping into the velvet carpets. He looked at the culprit; her long golden-blonde hair was in slight disarray, yet that seemed to do nothing to her clear beauty that was still apparent. No longer with her eccentric golden armor, she wore nothing but a long white cloth wrapped around her waist and chest adorned with golden lines. She was seated in a rather plush red armchair with a scowl. The room they found themselves was extravagant in its own right; expensive paintings lines the walls, clean wooden wardrobes leaned to the side and an overly large bed in the center along with a chandelier hanging atop.

"You call that wine!? I've seen horse piss more appealing," she bellowed.

"Then mayhap you should drink that. Or better yet, not drink wine so early in the morning," Aegraxes shot back, ignoring how dangerously her eyes narrowed.

"Do watch yourself, Fate Walker. Or should I wipe you and your pathetic race from the face of the realm," she threatened with a low hiss.

"Hmm, you could do that, but you won't, right? Rhiannon, mightiest of the Ancestors and only driven by pleasure. Something we can provide."

Rhiannon scoffed at his words, "Worthless babble coming from you. I'm only staying here because of that Prince. He seems as though he'll be some fun sport, though he's not the only one. I sense someone with distinctly similar mana to that of Octavia."

"One of the magic Goddesses' spawns," he answered, taking note of how the Ancestor quirked up a brow at his words. "Ah yes, you've been asleep since the age of Gods. So, I'll keep this brief. After the great war, reality was reshaped, Aethel turned into this world you now inhabit. There were varying effects on the universe due to that war, my kind's metamorphism being one of them. And the creation of newer races, the demons first, who reside deep within the underworld or the abyss as you could call it. They're poor mockeries of what we were; their existence being due to our mana spreading and fluctuating with the reshaping of the world. After them came others: elves, fairies, Solkari's, and of course, humans. The Gods took a liking to them, bestowed upon them blessings to remake them in their image. Those who receive such blessings are called spawns; the one you sense is one of the spawns of Octavia."

Rhiannon cracked a smile at the information, "I see, seems you are not as useless as I thought. But how interesting, for a mortal, that is quite the abundance of mana. Alas, still too ripe; I'd accidentally kill her in battle. But what of the other spawn of Octavia? You mentioned this one was merely one of them, I can't seem to sense this one's mana."

"You'll find him more interesting; he is quite powerful-"

"Oh?" She suddenly blurted out, turning away from him, suddenly staring at the room's wall. With how focused she was, it was as though she was staring at something interesting.

"That mana there, I know it... hahahah! Telluris! That damned Beast is here as well!" She exclaimed rather excitedly, shooting up from her chair.

"You intend to battle her?" Aegraxes questioned.

"Of course, it's been naught but worthless idling since coming here. I need some form of entertainment, lest I die from boredom," she grinned wildly, and a soft golden glow enveloped her form, outfitting her with her armor. "Though before that, I just must ask, do your comrades know?"

"Know of what?"

"That you intentionally summoned me?" She asked with a smirk. Aegraxes's expression remained unreadable as she continued. "You Fate Walkers were always an emotional bunch, always clinging to one another like a pack of wild animals. I am surprised you would sacrifice the soul of one of your own just to bring me forth." She chuckled. "Annoying as you are, I always repay my debts."

"I see, that is good."

"But do not get your hopes up, cur. I need to see if you are worthy of my companionship." Her red eyes seemed to gleam more and more as she spoke. "Tell me, Fate Walker, what is it you intend to accomplish."

Aegraxes remained silent for a while, though his silence only hung in the air for but a moment. "The seven great calamities, do you know what they are?"

"I suppose, that God Arcturus foresaw the realm slowly coming to ruin in the distant future; seven calamities would strike, slowly rendering this realm asunder. What of it?"

"Hm, the lost child, the red and white ones, the one from beyond, the blue swallow, the one free from all, the leader of wars, and the last one, the Typhon. Those are the ones that would be responsible for the following calamities. Yet if the first calamity does not start, the others cannot follow." Aegraxes snapped his fingers; a tear in reality occurred, and suddenly within the small tear, she saw a girl. Gray fuzzy hair and pitch-black horns nervously conversing with a girl with long tousled dark-blue hair. "That is my 'spawn,' so to speak, and with her, I shall start the first of the calamities."

"Is that so, huh?" Rhiannon's expression was blank for a moment before she scoffed and turned away. "Interesting as that may be, I will not aid you nor stand against you. Though that festival you had mentioned sounded interesting. For now, excuse me, I've another Beast to hunt!"