There was an open space separating the three—Code, Greed, and Havoc—from the army before them.
"Is it just me, or do those three seem way stronger than the three maids we just fought?" One of the Nightbanes whispered to the other.
"D-Don't be ridiculous… They are only three men, and there's an army of us. Each one of us has enough skill to take down a mage knight on our own…"
"Yeah, but… Something about them doesn't feel right," The Nightbane trailed off. "It's like they're more than just the average mage knight."
They hesitated; though they had the numbers, something felt off to them. Like their power was on a different level.
"You two get the fodder. I'll take the giant," Greed said. "Whatever you do, don't touch him. He's mine…" His eyes remained unwavering toward Drakthor far ahead. "Any objections with that?"
"No, sir," They both responded.
The first to make a move was Code. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, he replaced himself with a random Nightbane in the crowd far from Drakthor's left. For less than a second, that same Nightbane was next to Greed, where Code had once been. He and Havoc paid no attention as that Nightbane whipped his head back and forth. Disoriented. Panicky.
When Code appeared amid the Nightbane group, he held a small, round object. He pulled the pin and dropped the spoon. Then just as quickly, he snapped his fingers again, switching places with that same Nightbane next to Greed and Havoc—placing him right back.
The moment he arrived, the small object fell into his hands, and he juggled it frantically. The other Nightbanes reactions rippled like a stone upon a pond all around him. He looked at his peers and then back at his hands, realizing too late.
An explosion emitted from that side of the field.
A Nightbane flew toward Drakthor from that direction, and he swatted the lifeless body away with the back of his hand, paying no mind as he shouted loudly—angrily, "What are you worthless shits doing!? Attack them! Attack them NOW!"
Greed faced Code, barking, "Bro, what the hell? What did I just say!?"
"The fuck you mean!? How was I supposed to know a bandit was gonna fly at him!? Keeper, you're unbelievable!"
"Don't play dumb, jackass! You calculated that, didn't you!?"
"Yeah, because the latitude and longitude of where he's standing were in perfect harmonization with the blast of my grenade… No, you fuckhole!"
"That's exactly what the Code I know would do! Now I know you're lying!"
"It only seems that way because your simpleton brain can't comprehend that sometimes things can happen at random! Like right now! Why the fuck are we arguing about this stupid shit!?"
"Keeper… you guys… Can we please just fight now? They're coming right at us…" Havoc interjected boredly.
"SHUT UP, HAVOC!" they both barked.
When Alice came down from the landing, she met the Arabella Maids and Yuna at the open entrance. She witnessed their tomfoolery, twitching a brow as she witnessed a whole army of Nightbanes charging them. Seriously, guys?
"Now…" Greed said, composing himself at last. "Keep the others distracted, the only attacks he's taking from here on—are gonna be from me."
"Ten-four, Captain," Havoc replied.
"You're the boss," Code said next.
The enemy arrived. And Havoc transformed entirely into his Behemoth form. He was now twice the size, and he fell over onto all fours, cracking the ground from his land. His hair hardened, forming like layered armor behind him as wicked horns grew from his head. A large tail extended out from behind him, along with large claws. His skin turned rough—gray—and his head took on the form of a dragonbull beast. Jagged, razor-sharp teeth shone from his monstrous face. And his one left eye remained sightless, letting its twin glow a deep red from its standard dark green as he let out a ferocious roar.
The Nightbanes stopped their advance as they witnessed his transformation. And before they could do anything, he swept a large arm over a group of them, sending them flying yards away.
He dashed forward and spun rapidly to another group while a cinder flared in his mouth. When he halted from his spin, he let out a concentrated flamethrower down a line of them—torching them.
"What the hell is even that!?"
"Another Primal type?"
"He's a Behemoth!!" The Nightbanes scrambled as they scattered away from him.
"We can take it! It's only a Grade 2 beast! Just like the Leomantoise earlier!"
"No…" another Nightbane said hesitantly as Havoc continued to rampage, having already taken out groups—more than Ulrich—in less than a second.
"Why does he seem so much stronger than the other one?" was all the Nightbane could say as a blast of dust blew past their faces.
When it subsided, Havoc's enormous shadow was cast over them; their eyes widened and their faces turned pale when they slowly raised their heads to meet his beastly glare.
He pushed himself up and crashed back down onto the Nightbanes, causing a crater beneath him. Jagged, spiked stones erupted, rippling like a wave onto another group behind them; and Havoc relished their wails.
At Code's side, another group rushed him. Pieces of rock and rubble floated upward as they came. He pulled out both long swords from his back, then combined the hilts into a bow, holding it down the center; the two blades stuck out from both ends. A light blue aura string connected from the tips of the blades as he took a small rock that floated and pulled it back.
He aimed only at one Nightbane advancing toward him, and shot. The Nightbane saw this and swung his blade, but—like slow motion—Code snapped his fingers, replacing that pebble with a boulder-sized clump of earth.
It smacked past him and others from behind.
When the group looked up, they saw clusters of rock and rubble floating high in the air, forming large, heaping clumps. Code then took another pebble and shot it out to another group.
"Move! He's gonna switch!" one of them said, thinking the same result would occur.
The pebble tapped him on the head, and nothing happened.
Then three large boulders dropped from overhead where they had scattered.
"What!?" one from the back yelled, then looked above.
Unbeknownst to them, Code had been collecting, condensing, and moving large clusters in the sky. How they never realized was the true mystery.
"Spread out now!" another screamed.
Code inhaled casually from his cigarette. Calm, like he was playing some game. He flicked a finger down and let the clusters rain. Crash after crash sounded, mixed with the cries of the unfortunate, and he took another hit from his cigarette.
As both Havoc and Code caused mayhem and held off the Nightbanes, Greed ambled down the middle, on a direct course to Drakthor.
Chaos orchestrated all around him, caused by his companions—Havoc on his left, Code to his right; the Nightbanes didn't know who to focus on.
Explosions and magic blasted from every direction, but he paid it no mind, proceeding onward—tunnel-vision overtaking him.
He passed through explosions like they didn't happen. Stepped over fallen Nightbanes like they were poor obstacles. Not one of them could distract him from his route.
One of them even ran over, and without looking, he back fisted him in the face—spinning him away and knocking him out before he landed. Another one came from opposite him—and again, without looking—he grabbed his throat and lifted him up and over onto his path. The Nightbane spat as he crashed, eyes white from the impact.
Greed gently released his throat, not even looking at the one he had subdued, and slowly rose, casually stepping on him to a lift, then continued walking.
He cracked his neck with a fist like he was barely getting warmed up, as Drakthor had at last come into view.
Greed halted his advance only yards away—mayhem commencing around them all the while. Their eyes glowered, stuck in their own competition for who's was most void.
"Greed, huh?" Drakthor spoke. "My Master also has a sin's name. Are you perhaps his brother?"
Greed's eye twitched, remembering a bleak memory that passed for a short second. He disregarded it as soon as it came. "If he sent you, he is no brother of mine… consider me disowned," he said.
Drakthor bellowed a laugh. "How very interesting… Doesn't matter… I know what your power is. And I can do it too."
That statement alone piqued Greed's curiosity, but it was soon replaced by enmity.
"Listen," Greed uttered. "The only thing you're capable of doing is pissing me off." The ground cratered beneath him, and his fists tightened in bolstering fury. "Quit talking and let me beat your face to the ground."
"I hate cocky brats," Drakthor replied with equal fury. "I'm gonna shatter your arms and shatter your legs, but before that… I'm gonna shatter your spirit. After that, I'll watch you grovel in the dirt like the worm you are!"
They both bolted, throwing fist after fist—offense verses offense.
Their strikes emitted pulses after each impact, blasting away groups of Nightbanes by sheer force alone.
Fists slammed against each other and pushed shakily. Drakthor with yellow daggered teeth gritted, and Greed with no expression—only focus.
He reeled his fist back swiftly after a push off, and shot a piercing blow right back into Drakthor's same fist, shattering the black armor over it as it rippled up his arm. Drakthor threw his other arm in response.
"Predictable," Greed said, punching that fist with his left, doing the same to that arm as well.
The armor shattered off in a wavelet; both Drakthor's arms were now exposed.
And Greed merely stood before him, jacket fluttering in the wind.
Drakthor widened his eyes in disbelief as Greed withdrew his arm, readying another throw.
He unleashed it toward Drakthor's core. Followed by another. And another. And another. Until a barrage surged onto him, shattering his proud black armor with each strike.
He took the bombardment like he had forgotten how to block. While Nightbanes all around stopped what they were doing to witness the spectacle.
Greed let loose a low growl as he continued the endless assault, punches growing stronger with each land until all of Drakthor's armor was gone.
Drakthor's head thrashed backward slowly, then he whipped it back, blood-filled mouth stretching across his face. "More!" he roared.
And Greed responded with a world shattering pulse of ominous loom.
The throw seemed slow to Drakthor as he did nothing but watch it near him. His black void eyes dilated, reflecting the one named Greed upon them.
Then, just before the punch struck, his fist turned black, wrapping in black coated void.
Impossible! That's!—
All he heard next was the sound of a loud bang. His eyes turned white, and his mouth gaped, spewing crimson as the indent of a fist plastered on his abdomen.
He skidded back from the blow, catching himself back onto his feet as he dragged backward, arching his back with arms spread wide. He had minimized the damage somehow, regardless of how brutal that punch was.
Greed ungripped his hand, the black coating fading back into his jacket.
Something about his defenses felt similar, he thought. To my own power…
Drakthor faced him, seething as he yelled, "Fucking pooch! That's it. I'll just destroy what you're trying so hard to protect! That'll break you!"
He shot out his black-scaled armor, covering him from head to toe once more. Heavy plates began to pile and layer thickly until he became like a dragon as he had before. He exuded a massive aura, one that even manifested form.
Drakthor then charged a mass from his mouth. He faced upward, and it followed—a purple orb floating in the air. It grew progressively larger as it continued to manifest and collect energy.
At the same time, the black armor that the Nightbanes were all wearing began to shrink, disappearing one after another as it retracted into their skin.
Finally realizing, Greed whipped his head back to Drakthor, understanding where he was about to unleash that attack…
No! he thought. His target isn't me…
"Now… watch as I take away what's most precious to you!" Drakthor said, voice more altered. Half dragon, half human—if one could classify him as that.
"Shit! Master Drakthor's going to—" one of the Nightbanes yelped as he got slashed by Havoc's claws.
He looked to Greed after. "Cap!" he roared.
"I know!" Greed responded, not looking, eyes glowering more intensely at his foe. "So, that's what you're going to do, huh? When you can't harm your opponent, you harm what's dearest to them… A coward's path." His eyes blazed, flashing with justified rage. "I won't let you!" He dashed toward him.
Drakthor had gone on all fours as he completed the charge. And Greed was just inches away when he chanted,
"Dragonscale Magic: Massive Hellfire's Beam!"
He unleashed a blast so large it enveloped Greed whole, passing through him but having been lifted upon his arrival…
The blast lasted for fifteen seconds, dissipating in a thin line across the air. The Nightbanes, along with Code and Havoc, had stopped fighting to watch the massive beam peter out.
When it ended, all that was shown was Drakthor in his armored dragon form, head tilted up, with a thick trail of smoke seeping from his mouth. And all were at a standstill, looking for Greed.
"Did… Did Drakthor win?" One of the Nightbanes asked.
"He blew him out of the Valley!" another one laughed.
"That fucking wannabe Captain stood no chance against our leader!"
"Drakthor! Drakthor! Drakthor!"
Their cheering rippled across the clearing; Code and Havoc both had unreadable expressions as they did.
"You should give up now!" a Nightbane said, undeserving confidence oozing out his pores. "Our leader literally blew yours away! If you surrender now, we promise we won't kill you… Maybe we'll make you suffer a bit… but it's better than dying, wouldn't you say?"
Code said nothing in response, merely staring blankly back as he took a hit from his cigarette.
"What's wrong? Can't believe it? That's okay, we'll let you take a few more smokes before we take you hostage. I like to think we're generous after all!" the Nightbane mocked as he invited the others to laugh with him, armorless as they were.
Code took one last puff of smoke, blew it out into the air above, and said, "Not sure where this false confidence is coming from… You're that sure you've won, huh?"
The Nightbane that was talking dared to get closer, hovering over him. "Didn't you see that attack just now? There's no way that punk survived that. He's dead. That will be you soon if you don't stand down. The sooner you understand that, the better off you'll be. Accept it. You lost."
He understood then. An intimidation tactic that only worked on the weak.
"I envy you," Code replied as the Nightbane looked with an incredulous expression. "I envy your naivety."
The Nightbane shadowed over Code, visibly taller and broader than him; Code didn't even flinch. "Come again?"
He took another puff from his cigarette. "Look again."
When the Nightbane craned his neck to view Drakthor, the thick smoke exiting his mouth had already begun to clear out.
A silhouette appeared, slowly revealing distinct features. A silhouette balanced effortlessly, keeping Drakthor's mouth open with a boot on his upper jaw, and a boot to the lower.
Eyes from within the clearing smolder glowed a deep and resolved red as a voice pierced through. "You know, I'm offended." Drakthor shuddered at the voice he was hearing. "Offended that you thought you could end it all with that weak ass spell."
Drakthor trembled some more when he saw him, watching in horror as the haze lifted—revealing him.
Though he had taken the heavy attack at point-blank range, only his clothes had taken any real damage—disintegrating his jacket, tattering his black pants, and ripping his white tank underneath.
One new feature about him now, however, was the vantablack coating that covered parts of his body. Like parts of him had vanished into a void, yet remained all the while.
Drakthor saw that half of the male's face had been semi-transformed into something more sinister. The left side, from his jaw down, had white, jagged teeth, and the parts of the vantablack that shrouded over his ink had inverted it into a faint, glowing white.
His black hair was a mess. His bangs covered one of his eyes, fluttering. Head tilted where the bangs had draped. He knew that this would be the last picture Drakthor would see. And he took his time, letting the image etch itself in the beast's eyes and mind. A pristine and unbreakable void.
"You… You redirected my attack… You redirected it at point blank…" Drakthor muttered, voice trembling. "And yet you—you're still unscathed? How? Even if you used that ability, you'd still… No… That vantablack coating… Who—What the fuck are you!?"
All eyes around them were widened in disbelief; Code and Havoc wore smiles, knowing what the outcome would be.
Finally, Greed replied, "No one special."
He raised his black coated fist high in the air. The motion deserved its own stage as all eyes glued onto it like some beacon.
And when he let it fall, all color moved out of the way of its inclination. The air shrieked, and his knuckles met metal, shattering it as it met Drakthor's pale face next.
His cheekbone cracked, and his body bent backward from the impact. At only forty percent strength, Greed had nearly obliterated his foe.
Drakthor was already barely conscious as his body arched, almost connecting to the ground. "That was for Tubs…" he heard Greed say, reeling in another punch.
He sent the punch down, striking his face again with the same fist. Drakthor's head crashed into the ground, bouncing back up and spitting blood. His large legs stretched out, scattered plates of armored pieces flying off from him, and striking down unaware Nightbanes that idly solicited by. This strike—at sixty percent strength. "That one's for Tall chick…"
Another fist reeled back.
Greed's fingers clenched even tighter as he shot it back down to his face again. His body straightened from shock, malfunctioning like a robot.
His arms and legs flailed back down, and his head bounced back up again; more blood spewed out from his mouth, and his eyes were clear white. This one at eighty percent… "That one's for Doll face…" Greed went on, making sure his foe was still conscious for what was to come.
Remorse had no place here. He lifted his fist in the air one last time.
This was a warning. Not just to Drakthor, but to every uninvited guest present. This was a warning to never cross the Black Wolves' territory ever again, or lay a finger on any of its people—unless this was the outcome they wanted.
"And this one…" Greed uttered as he reminisced about Asura's teachings.
Rule number one. Black Wolves don't kill… unless it is out of our control.
You're lucky, Greed thought. That mercy was drilled into me. For the old me wouldn't have hesitated… He thought of a dreadful past with hordes of lifeless bodies scattered all around him atop a pool of crimson. And his face—hollow. Like the taking of ones life was as easy as breathing. Don't you dare think I've forgiven you. Yes, you will live today… Just as a cripple.
What came next was a roar. A roar of a man with a vengeance—retaliation for what he had done to his friend—his family. And the roar of a fist—at one hundred percent strength.
"This one's for Alice!"
The ground cratered, rupturing from different points of view all around them.
Drakthor's face caved in under the heavy fist that plastered against his cheek, his once pale skin now turning completely red. His giant arms and legs flailed uncontrollably—straying in the air before passing out cold.
The sound rang in the ears of all who witnessed. And the sight of their giant of a leader getting destroyed by someone half his size had tattooed itself in their eyes.
Drakthor lay unconscious beneath his feet as Greed let out a battle cry that sent shivers down the spines of the enemies—simultaneously lifting the spirits of his allies.
He yelled with all his might. And when he had finished, he inhaled deeply, looking over his shoulder to find Alice, watching the whole time from the Den.
"Alice!" he shouted. "Who do you follow?"
She gasped, beholding him as the morning sun's rays beamed over him like the answer.
"Tell me that they would do as I have done!" he went on, shouting amid the silence of a hundred eyes. "And if they can't, why do you follow them? Fear?"
He purposely waited for a response that would not come, then concluded, "Fear is reserved for my enemies—not my allies. Not my friends."
Her eyes had begun to water once more. Code smiled, head lowered with a palm to his mouth, eyes closed, smoking easily. And Havoc with a wicked grin upon his monstrous face.
"Don't ever doubt yourself again. Not when you know you have friends like us by your side. Wherever you are, I will be there with you. Hold your head up and never look down. Never waiver… You got that… pipsqueak?"
She cried tears of joy. Gratefulness.
That's him. The one I follow.My Captain. Sparkling and triumphant rivers streamed down her face. The sunlight beamed over her next, but by then, she was already smiling.
Greed heard her thoughts. He pretended he didn't…
***
The tide of the battle now leaned completely in the Black Wolves' favor. And though the remaining Nightbanes were still in the hundreds, with their leader Drakthor defeated, their morale had been shot through the heart.
Now defenseless without the Dragonscale armor protecting them, there was no way they were going to succeed here any further even if they tried. Their only option now was to run… If only it were that easy.
High above the Wolves' Den and smokestacks, Belle sat just over the balustrades of Greed's balcony. Her fair bare legs and pretty bare feet hung off the ledge, watching her lover.
When she gazed upon him, her face lit with a Duchenne smile. "My Greed…" she swooned.
***
A short distance away, some of the bandits outside of the clearing were fleeing back into the grove.
One of the Nightbanes bumped into a tall, muscular male, blocking his path. The bandit fell on his hind onto the dirt as he stood there with a sleeveless dark gray gilet with a black fur hood, bolstering his well-earned muscles.
He slicked back his yellow-orange hair with a calloused hand, thick gunmetal braces clinking all the while.
"Who the hell are you?" Nash asked, heavy voice making them tremble.
After him, a brazen female's voice answered, "Pathetic trespassers… Die! All of you!" Though her words were harsh, it was an easy rasp compared to Nash's; like ASMR to their ears. They couldn't help but be soothed just as they were all punctured from the ground with bone spikes.
"Star…" Nash said as he looked to his side to see he had also been stabbed with bone. He pulled it out, and a clock gonged, restoring him to pristineness. "I was still talking to him, damn it."
"Well, now you're not. I win." Star counted the enemies she had perforated. "There's about twenty of them here—which puts me at forty-three to your measly twenty-nine," she bragged.
"It wasn't a competition…"
"Of course not. When I am your adversary, there is no competition. You poor fool." She winked at him.
Though in her usual Black Wolves jacket—oversized and falling off a shoulder, her attire was slightly different today. Underneath was a cropped, asymmetrical off-the-shoulder black shirt with fishnets underneath, flowing from her arms like sleeves and up her neck and down her stomach. She had a black choker with a hoop at the center, black short shorts with a pink V.P.L. that curved up and over her structured hips. Her legs were also covered in fishnets that trailed down into her black combat boots. Nails were pointed and pink, and her horns were adorned with silver jewelry like a gaudy tiara.
Nash sighed. "You need to learn how to control that awakening; it can be dangerous for others. You're lucky it was me that got caught in the crossfire. If you were paired with someone else, you would have seriously harmed them just now—" He stopped himself, catching her picking her ear with a pinky. "Of course you're not listening."
"Nope," she replied.
Nash glared at her blankly. "You also remember Asura's 'no killing' policy, right?"
"And they're not dead, are they?" She gestured to the nearly slaughtered Nightbanes; each one was severely wounded with countless spiked bones projecting from them—all with 'non-lethal' pierces, apparently…
"Please… please just kill me…" one groaned.
Nash loosed another sigh, tilting his head upward to view the pockets of light through the trees. "You know what? Never mind. We're home now, and I don't give a fuck anymore. I need some fucking sustenance."
Star cackled, walking up next to Nash who had begun walking.
She pranced next to him, bumping her shoulder against his large arm. "Stupid Nashhit," she teased.
"Shut up, troll," he teased playfully back, throwing his hands in his pants pockets.
They were both minutes away from the Wolves' Den, their Black Wolves logos displaying from their backs as they went on their way.
***
At another side of the grove, two others had just finished wiping the Nightbanes in the area.
The bandits here were scattered and laid out, unconscious over these uneven grounds. Some hung off trees, and one was even headfirst into the ground.
A boot clicked, crunching the dirt and leaves as the wearer casually strolled through the battered bunch. He was tall and wore a Black Wolves uniform.
His mask was black like a screen, devoid of eyes for the moment. And his build was like that of a cyborg.
His long, gray hair shot out like waterfalled spikes in the back, and his voice was almost as mechanical as him. "This area is swept, lady Raeyn, lady Ophelia," he said too formally.
Her outfit—similar but different—was a cropped Black Wolves jacket with buckles hanging at the ends. Paired with a cropped white tank top inside that fitted her tightly, she was accustomed to exposing her very small waist.
A black choker was strapped on her neck with a silver dangling cross down the middle. She wore dark gray high-waisted short shorts with zippers purposely unzipped all over.
Her black sheer tights were ripped in random places, finishing her look with black ankle boots.
She looked over to the cyborg with a stark yellow eye—black eyepatch covering the other, silver and purple ended hair shimmering from the pockets of light.
Her elaborate scythe faced downward, looking as if it glowed darkness as she stood atop a large boulder. "A trivial matter," Raeyn replied flatly with a soft-spoken voice.
She closed her eyes and opened them, changing her bright yellow eye into purple in less than a second. Her hair had also changed from silver and purple to black and blonde. She dropped the scythe and let it slip into her shadow completely.
When she spoke again, her tone had changed like night and day. "Nice work, Brandy! Let's head back home, shall we?" Ophelia said, holding out a hand.
Brand's screen of a face seemed to turn red as he reached out a hand to grab hers. But before they could connect, a Nightbane snuck up behind her, using Camouflage magic.
She looked back obliviously as he thrashed away in a blink. The Nightbane was gone—too quick to see.
At a nearby tree, Brand had slammed that Nightbane's head onto the surface of a trunk, holding his head in place as he gritted his teeth at the cyborg's blank face.
"H-How?" The Nightbane hardly got out.
"That shouldn't even be a question. I'm the fastest Black Wolf Knight in the Guild. You messed with the wrong group," Brand said as he shoved him fully into the tree, puncturing a hole with his head.
"I'm the fastest Black Wolf Knight in the Guild. You messed with the wrong group," Ophelia teased. "Such a cutie!"
Brand nervously broke composure, facing her after her comment.
"You should have said, 'This is what it's like to go straight through a tree! Fool! I did it backwards!" She laughed.
"L-L-Lady Ophelia! That instance was only a one-time occurrence! I assure you that has never happened before! I am not an idiot!" He spat, failing to save face.
Ophelia continued laughing. "Brandy… No one is calling you an idiot…"
Brand jeered off into the distance with Star in his mind, as if the thought alone had summoned her there—tongue out, drooping her bottom eyelid with a middle finger. "That fucking barbarian woman…" he griped, fist in the air.
Ophelia jumped off the boulder just as Brand slid down the side of it, meeting her there and holding his hand out like a gentleman.
Once her hand met his, they permeated underground, leaving the scene of raided Nightbanes from this area.
***
At the front of the clearing, more Nightbanes were attempting to flee. It was a larger group that merged into one big cluster.
"What about the girl!?" One of them asked, referring to Alice.
"These—These guys are like monsters! Especially that guy! We need to get the fuck out of here. I don't care about the girl anymore!"
"Did you see the way he crushed Drakthor's face!? If Drakthor can't take him, none of us can!"
"Fucking move! Out of my way!" They frantically moshed as they toppled over each other in the same direction.
However, from deeper in the grove they were all heading, the footsteps of a figure echoed step after step as she walked ominously slowly toward them.
The ground beneath her froze, leaving an icy mist in her wake. The air chilled as a group of Nightbanes from the front stopped in their tracks at the sudden temperature change.
"Why's it freezing now? What's going on?" one asked.
"It doesn't get this cold in the Valley Kingdom… does it?"
"I said fucking move, you idiots!" An abrasive one pushed his way through the group shouting, "Why are you all just standing here? You wanna get wrecked that badly? Keeper, if you won't go, I will!"
"It's suddenly freezing here in this area—"
"Oh boohoo. You fuckin' baby. Fine. Stay here and die. I'm getting the fuck out of here!"
The Nightbane ran ahead, running a good yard before freezing completely past the next tree.
"What the—" Was all he spat before becoming an ice statue in a matter of seconds.
"Something's in the forest! Turn back, turn back! Turn back now!" another panicked.
"But those Black Wolf monsters are back there!"
They then saw the silhouette of a female emerging from the freezing shadows.
Her eyes glowed a haunting emerald green, halting them all with fear at the mere sight of her.
"Goddamn it, we're done for! We're fucking d—"
The whole grove froze over in a blink with the sound of clashing glaciers.
And a multitude of Nightbane ice statues had been set. The entire area was now a crystal forest, sparkling frozen glitters upon the entrance of the court-clearing leading back to the Wolves' Den.
A young girl with a thick oversized Black Wolves jacket continued to saunter through.
Her black fur hood was over her head, adorned with custom fake dragon horns. Her hair was short, black as night, and ombre'd to a green that matched her gemstone eyes.
She wore a black choker, short black bodycon dress, sheer stockings that strapped to the bottom of her dress, and glossy, heeled Mary Jane shoes.
On her back was a green backpack with small dragon wing decorations—carrying on the theme. Her countless dangling zippers and charms echoed a chime throughout this now silent grove. And her bottom lip had snakebite piercings stained from the drip of her matching green popsicle that she savored.
She strolled casually through the scene like she hadn't just cast a massive wide-range spell like it was nothing at all.
"Why's it always like this when I come home? They always make such a fuss… What a pain…" she said boredly, her tone matching the look of her face.
She maneuvered past the ice statues, and the grove began to open; the sun shone brightly across the vast clearing, illuminating a court of dirt and grass patches.
Three males stood amongst a heaping pile of those same Nightbanes she subdued—with the biggest one like a hill in comparison, laying within a crater in the ground, like he had become one with the dirt.
And above him, was another male—like a deity who bestowed punishment onto him—basking in the sunlight of his win.
When her lazy eyes met him, they widened, finally taking on a different expression, opposite to her defaulted bored and tired persona.
"GG!" she shouted, like the sight of him alone was dopamine to the soul.
When his eyes found her, his expression was like her previous one. But he was pleased to see her, nonetheless.
"Welcome home, Jojo… You took your sweet ass time, as usual."