Saiyan

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Captain?"

One thing about Baphomet - love him or hate him - was that: He was right more often than not.

Pretty upfront too, as a matter of fact. He made no secret of anything. He was not adverse to admitting that he was out to coerce Zell into being his champion. He did not deny being a malevolent force of destruction - took pride in it, even. He conceded that he'd probed every channel in Zell's mind for weakpoints and that he lacked the necessary knowledge to understand half of what he'd found, which was something that had never happened to him before, when preying on a mortal. And now he'd come to respect Zell and see that he would get nowhere if he did not discard his usual ensnarement tactics and treat the situation as what it was: The crossed paths of two equal entities.

But yes; Baphomet was right more often than not. He'd called Zell weak because the swordsman was completely devoid of magical affinity. He was right. He said that the Englishman needed him and would not be so stupid as to want to seal Baphomet's influence and thereby seal The Black Sword's enchantments. He was right. He told Zell that his ceiling of potential was of mythic proportions, but, without external help, narrowed to a specific speciality. He was right. And he was adamant that they were a perfect match for each other. As much as Zell didn't want to, he couldn't help but agree.

"Captain Brooks?"

It was like fate had brought them together. Their uniquely powerful abilities synergized beyond belief, with Ascension only furthering already-insane implications. And then there were the possible pieces to the puzzle, if Zell were to embrace his pact with Baphomet wholly. Most notably, he would be able to 'borrow' the Prince's incredible affinity for the Dark Domain, enabling him to learn magic and covering up his major weakness. And with Zell having already pried open a passage to the criminal underworld, there would be unregulated access to Dark Domain secrets at his fingertips. Zell's cunning, creativity and willingness to take titanic risks in high stakes situations was the exact recipe of traits required to maximise this advantage. A glimpse of the potential results had already been seen at the finale of the fight with Zigmund.

A combat god with the magical capability of a Prince of the Oblivion Plane? With a glitched-out Source Crytal, no less?

They were a perfect match indeed.

What was Baphomet getting out of all of this? An unrivalled champion who would exert his influence by way of destruction. Baphomet didn't care about what constituted good or evil on the mortal plane. He didn't care for the Witch Queen or the Empire. It just so happened that it was usually horrible degenerates who were willing to entreat with the Oblivion Plane, using the power to commit atrocities, or falling to the price of a curse by virtue of being too weak to handle it. If the good guys wanted to use Baphomet's power, it made no difference to him, so long as they wielded power in his name. Influence in the mortal plane was worth political capital in Hell. And life eseence was like currency. Baphomet saw in Zell, his most powerful partner ever. One who could help him dominate the other Voidling Princes for aeons. Neither Zell nor Baphomet had to care about eachother's world to make this partnership work extremely well for both of them.

Then why does this feel so bloody wrong? Zell wondered. Do the Quinity not do the exact same thing? Is devotion and worship not their currency and capital?

"Zell," Sergeant Rawls said loudly, once he neared.

Zell was shaken from his reverie, and looked both ways before setting eyes on the Lion. "Yeah?" The block was looking for direction on the next training exercise. "Oh. Err... this will be the last day for heavy endurance. So let's make it a good one."

Zell gave out orders and the training continued. He halfway-apologised for day-dreaming and tried to put his mind back in the present, hard as it was. Ironing out his thought process about Baphomet (whether delusional or not) was actually his way of getting away from the real problems that were plaguing him, weirdly enough. The truth was, he felt like he was losing the two people closest to him. MacKensie and him were barely talking, the Frenchwoman putting up a bare-minimum level of conversation and courtesy to him when around the group, as to not arouse suspicion. Ever since their 'non-date' - which had been an absolutely amazing night, followed by a complete fucking catastrophe of a morning - things hadn't been right between them. And then there was James, who was smart enough to figure out that Zell was not being honest about the Baphomet situation, which would illicit who-knows-what feelings in him towards Zell. Not to mention, the Mexicano was harbouring Second Chance's nemesis in the most complex entanglement of thoughts and feelings that were humanly possible. What was once ultimate, pure unadulterated trust for James, was now poisoned by paranoia, uncertainty and guilt.

The Baphomet situation would feel like such light work, if he could figure out a way to fix his relationships. Honestly, he'd give up his soul right now, if the Voidling Prince could solve his problems with MacKensie and James. Perhaps if he could just get this coming battle out of the way, then he would gladly see The Black Sword destroyed, if it was that which would truly help him. But he did need Baphomet for this battle. He was simply not good enough to face the mountainous task without him. Valhiem was on the line. Just one more battle.

What a clusterfuck.

"Are you feeling alright, Zell?"

"Huh? What? Oh. Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just err... a bit tired, mate. No excuse, though. Let me jump in this training session! Show you lot how it's done, eh! That'll wake me up! Oorah!"

Just one more battle... I sound like a fucking drug addict. Do I really have this under control? Am I delusional?

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Last night had been arranged 48hrs in advance. The Thieves Guild was a pretty big establishment - big enough that it was never 'too busy.' Well, The Lions had put this notion to the test. All one hundred of them had descended on the place, filling the beer garden outside and a significant portion of the inside too. Zell had been prudent enough to warn the owners of this coming avalanche of patrons, so extra waitresses, barmen and bouncers were on shift. Still, it was all hands on deck and chaotic in the infamous tavern that night.

"We are The Lions,
Hear us roar.
The rabbits pounce,
The falcons soar.

The wolves will bite,
The bats will swarm.
But we are The Lions,
Hear us Roar.

OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
We are The Lions,
Hear us roar!"

OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
We are The Lions,
Hear us roar!"

Biff, Chip and Kipper didn't join in for the fifteenth verse of the tavern song that had been composed by Smithy, a Lion with a talent for drumming and pretty decent singing voice. The fact she had made up the song, right on the spot, was impressive to say the least. It was catchy and easy to remember, making it the new theme song for the family. Biff, Chip and Kipper were happy to sing it, but it was time for a break. There would be others not yet bored of singing, who would continue on without them and, no doubt, the song would still be going in one section or another, when the three men were ready to join back in.

"Ha, look at Kipper," Chip laughed. "The runt's wasted."

Kipper was swaying on his seat, a big goofy grin on his face. The young lad was an emergency draftee - barely into his adulthood and a total novice with a sword, but it was just like Captain Zell had said: He was the bravest Lion in the family, considering the context. He was no soldier but had stepped up to answer the call of his city, a deed worthy of great respect.

Biff, the longest serving Lion of the three, smiled and put his arm around Kipper. "This is your first time drinking, ain't that right, lad?"

Kipper nodded. "I've had a beer before." He hiccuped. "But never this many."

Biff and Chip laughed. "Aye, we'll get you a wench tonight, you'll be a man grown afore you step to the enemy, make no mistake."

"I'm not a man," Kipper shot back. "I'm a Lion! Oorah!"

"Oorah!" the other two returned in chorus, then practically dived on Kipper with congratulatory affection, giving him a headlock and tussling his hair.

...

Meanwhile, Zell who was working the room, making sure everyone was having a good time, spotted his face-tatted friend and contact to Valhiem's underworld.

He appeared next to Devon at the bar. "Alright, mate."

"Baby-face." Devon looked offended, but not because of Zell. "By the forked fucking beard of Hades, what is going on in here, tonight?"

Zell chuckled. "Bit busy, ain't it."

"Just a bit, aye." Devon got the beer he ordered from one of the three overworked men serving customers. He held the tankard as he turned about to lean back on the bar. "There's nowhere to bloody sit."

Zell mirrored Devon and put his back to the bar, elbows on the counter-top. "These are my lads, from the military garrison. I'm a Captain now, don't ye know. And we are The Lions."

"Yeah, yeah, hear us roar, I fucking got the message, the first fifty times." They both laughed. "Captain eh. You sure like to get around. And I've been hearing word about you and your party, Second Chance."

"Oh yeah?" Zell inquired coolly. Devon confirmed that Second Chance's name was everywhere. From the underworld to the wealthy lords. He also let slip, as he spoke of his new bodyguard gig, that he wasn't going to be around for much longer. "What do you mean? Where you going?"

"Uh, shit," Devon cursed. "I can't say. Said too much already."

Zell wondered for a second, then put two and two together. "Look, if you've got a way out of here, makes no difference to me, mate. Didn't you say that you were from down south? Valhiem's not entitled to your loyalty. I don't give a fuck what you do. And I'd be happy to look the other way, for a friend. I'm just fucking curious, is all." Devon glanced at Zell before his eyes returned to the taproom. The singing still hadn't completely died down. "Come on, Devon. Spill the tea, will ye."

"Fine. But you keep this quiet, alright..."

Devon leaned towards Zell to talk quietly closer to his ear. Zell leaned in too. The words between them were muted under the ambience. Zell nodded as he listened, then suddenly went wide-eyed...

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

ambassador crane is a traitor and a spy. you heard it here first

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Yes, I believe my block are a good bunch. They vary in skill, but I cannot fault their heart or their work ethic."

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "Got a similar situation meself."

He nodded along as he listened to MacKensie's day. He was glad she'd found someone that would help her out, but truth be told, he was confident that she had all the qualities required to take full charge, if she was really pushed. MacKensie was a well-rounded woman - skills, brains, aura, heart... she was better than 'a mouthpiece.' But it was only the first day on the job. Zell had a feeling she would find her unique voice, for her soldiers, in the week ahead.

"I am to lead the block because of my strength as a Crystal Bearer. This, I can do. But I would be wrong not to delegate control of our days leading up battle, to my more experienced Sergeants."

"Well," Zell started, folding his arms. "Knowing when and where to delegate is an aspect of good leadership. It takes keen sight to see the strengths of those around you. And wisdom to take advantage of that. But listen; don't be too quick to take a back seat to experience, all the time. All the experience in the world hasn't won these dudes a single battle yet, you get me?" He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure Gildor was out of earshot. He'd rather not offend the blacksmith - a man who was keeping the secret of The Black Sword under wraps. "We've been brought to this world because they're all so bloody lost, they'd put trust in lottery-picked randomers from the universe next door."

That was the best way he could put it, without getting all corny about her 'having a hidden power within her heart' or some shit like that. He did want to say 'some shit like that' though. Ell-oh-ell.

"How about you?" she asked before smiling as she assumed, "I'm sure you got along just fine, no?

"Ha! You know me too well, darlin." Zell was all teeth with the closed-eyes grin he flashed. "My guys and gals have proved quite... what's the word... receptive, to my err, infectious confidence." He laughed as he thought about the day. "I just wish I had more time. When the time comes for The Lions to show their worth, our roar will drown out the din. Mark my words." He heard Gildor come back and wheeled around to pay for his shield. "Thanks, Gilly, bruv."

As Zell went to take the shield, Gildor pulled it away and looked extremely serious. "Never. Call me that. Again." Zell froze up for a second. "That's two things you cannot call me. 'Your friend' and especially not 'Gilly.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, boss." Zell held out his hands for the shield and Gildor held on for a further moment to stamp home the point, then handed it over and stepped away to sort out the money. Zell peeked at MacKensie and shot her the look of a cheeky schoolboy in trouble. It was then that his mind reminded him of what he'd thought when he first walked into the shop: MacKensie was dressed in casual clothes, looking extra amazing (she looked regular amazing even in ripped up Ranger gear.) It made him think of an idea he'd had a while ago, back when touring Valhiem for the first time.

What was that place called again? Zell thought. The Nightingale, that's it.

"Err..." Light-speed thinking - engaged. "Gildor, any chance I could trouble you to do a little job on my armour? Just a dent or two needs knockin out. A bit of a clean. Nothing too much." Gildor looked Zell up and down, then nodded and gave him a small price. Zell agreed. "You're a star, bruv. Do you mind if I jump in the back and take it off now?"

Gildor led Zell into the back and the Englishman stripped his armour pieces off, leaving himself in just his black trousers and white shirt, which he proceeded to rub down with his hands, trying to iron out the creases. He popped his collar a few times to give it some volume, then turned it down neatly and proceeded to start messing with his hair a bit. "Gildor, could you err... spare a belt strap for my sword. So I can where it on my hip?" Gildor narrowed his eyes at Zell's lowered tone. Or maybe it was mention of The Black Sword. Either way, his reply was that he was adding it to the price. Zell winked at him as he undid his the top button of his shirt. "Cheers mate."

Zell finally emerged from the back room, looking a little bit like a pirate, but definitely more suitably presentable to walk up those fancy steps to The Nightingale.

"All set?"

MacKensie reiterated her gratitude for Gildor's help and bid him a good evening, so that she and Zell could take their conversation outside. Zell too thanked the blacksmith and let him know that he would return tomorrow for his armour. "I'm eager to know what James and Adam have been up to."

"Yeah, should be interesting to hear about their day," Zell agreed. It wasn't lost on Zell that the military garrison was completely bereft of magic users. Perhaps The Academy had it's own Defence Division. Zell hadn't heard any information to say either way.

"I wouldn't expect them to be on the front lines, but I still have no idea how the magic-wielding forces will be deployed. The flexibility of James with his blessings and Adam with his plants, will be boundless. A keen strategist's dream, I imagine."

"Oh jeez, Adam and James might, alone, be the turning point of this battle." The warm breeze was nice and after spending day-after-day in armour, Zell always felt so light and free without it on. Being with MacKensie always lightened the mood too. "I can see it now. Adam goes Bear-mode, starts throwing giant trees, firing laser beams and whatever else. Saladin has his most powerful cronies charge. James chants some wildly random blessing that turns the bad guys into clucking hens and Adam to double his size." The visual was hilarious for Zell, especially as he imagined, "Sil flys into the picture, swipes up a chicken and flys off with it." He laughed. "Seriously though, magic is wihout-doubt gonna be a decisive factor in this battle. Especially our two lads." Zell shook his head with awe as he thought about just how powerful Adam and James had proven to be. "Their impact will be immense."

Zell was sure to take a subtle lead when the time came to turn towards the street that would head towards The Mended Drum, instead he headed towards the roads on the other side of the river. "Just making a quick detour," would be his excuse if she questioned their direction.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell stood alone on the northeastern wall, in the zone that The Lions were designated to defend in the coming battle. A spot in the central body of the defence force. Close enough to make a dash for the North Gate, should the Left Flank collapse and gate need reinforcing, but right in the thick of the action, so far as Commander Thorn could calculate. There was no one else outside on the wall, only a few watchmen in the nearby tower.

There was no need to be out here. The power of the Ritual Barrier that protected Valhiem prioritised the sky. Every now and then a blast from the enemy Source Cannons, or the pyromancers or catapult fire got through when it came low at the actual city walls. No sense in being exposed, out on wall, increasing your chances of being in the wrong spot at the wrong time and getting hit by a one-off strike.

Zell didn't have much sense. And so he stood alone, feet planted, arms folded, right where he would be in seven days time.

The artillery bombardments had ceased for the last hour. A short break for the enemy. Normal. Zell could only guess that it stretched out the catapult munitions a little farther to have a few small breaks at random during the day and night, while not allowing the mages on Citadel Hill to plan any kind of rest break either. Clever. James said you were a clever old bastard... Saladin, Zell thought. From where he stood, he could plainly see Saladin's forces across the fields. He could see movements. He could hear them.

Of course, it was all just a wriggling mass to his human eyes. Just noise to his human ears. But here on the wall, facing the threat, the fields between himself and them felt tiny. Imagined or not, he could feel the evil. Feel the deadly intent. Feel sharper eyes than his, watching him back.

He was ready.

He slowly drew The Black Sword off his back and held it aloft, the barest trace of a smile on his lips, his green eyes fixed on the enemy camp. There the sword stayed, overhead, pointing to the sky from where Second Chance had come. Saladin? Did your queen tell you that she was begging for our allegiance? Did she tell you that you should fear us? As if on queue, the artillery bombardment started up again.

Then he brought the sword down to point ahead at the imagined foes watching.

...

Whatever business MacKensie had going on with Gildor Hammerfist, it was finished just as Zell came strolling in, the sound of the shopdoor bell ringing to signal his arrival.

"Oh, alright Mac," he greeted with surprise. "Fancy seeing you here. Alright, Gildor."

"Hmmm, you again," Gildor greeted with the enthusiasm of a depressed donkey.

"Remember me?" Zell grinned.

"How could I forget," was the reply. Gildor looked at MacKensie. "You two are from the same party? Quinity have mercy, I should have known."

"Ha," Zell smiled at MacKensie. "You annoying my good mate, Gildor?" Gildor interjected to correct the record that they were not friends. Zell ignored it. "You buyin something?" he MacKensie instead.

When he had a chance to speak to Gildor, he would tell him that his alcohol budget would not leave room to buy the shield he intended, so he would get the cheap buckler he'd seen instead. The small, round shield was terrible for absorbing physical damage, and would crumble under the pressure of a strong strike from a well-made sword, but it's purpose was not for regular combat. It was actually capable of deflecting a portion of mediocre elemental attacks and even fully blocking spells from weaker mages.

"How did your day go, then?" Zell asked MacKensie. He hadn't seen her all day. "Did you get a good crop of fighters?"

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

rayliotta.gif

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

@Xenonsorry about the wait lol better late than never, though, eh?

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"If something is bothering you, you'll only make it worse by overthinking;"

Zell lingered on those beauitful blue eyes for a moment before letting out an amused snort, then relented with a tilt of his head. "True." The problem was that overthinking wasn't a choice, right now. He wasn't even sure if all the thoughts he was having were actually his own or some crazy psy-op plants by the Devil inside him. Still, if anyone's cocky smirk could make him feel better, it was MacKensie's. It, surprisingly, suited her so well. "Thanks doll. Not sure what I'd do without you."

He nudged her with his elbow in return, gave her a smirk of his own, then turned his attention to the inside of the Military Centre they had entered, looking around at the place before eyes landing on Vice Commander Jeremiah.

...

The Englishman walked up to his hundred-man block who saluted.

"At ease, Lions," he said casually but loudly. It was decided right then and there: They were The Lions. He didn't care if they had a name already. In fact, he wished someone would try to tell him that they went by something else. "Do you know who I am?" he looked into the eyes of as many soldiers as he could. The question was rhetorical, but he left a pause anyway. "I am a member of the Adventurer Party; Second Chance."

The reaction made it clear to Zell that enough soldiers had already heard of the them, which was perfect, because it would only take a handful to corroborate and spread the word throughout the garrison, in the days ahead. By Fight Time, the whole place would know the name.

"Also known as, The Heroes from the Sky, summoned by Emperor Quintus Young from another universe, who landed in Mytheria to the South just in time to save the village of Hommas and steal classified secret technology from the enemy." Zell moved off his spot and started to slowly move about. He started off just pacing back and forth in front of his soldiers, but eventually started to move through the ranks, his vocal projection good enough to capture the ten-by-ten block of infantry. "Also known as The Slayers of Aurok the Maneater." That one hit nicely. "Also known as the gang who's very first official act as a registered party of the Adventurer's Guild was a Gold Class contract that freed an entire region of Northern Central Mytheria... while being tailed by one of The Witch Queen's best assassins. We killed him, by the way." He stopped and placed a hand on one man's shoulder. "I cut his head off."

Zell strolled back through the ranks to the front again.

"Me?" he continued loudly. "Zell Brooks, Front line Fighter and Weapons Specialist for Second Chance. I know everything there is to know about infantry tactics, melee combat, every weapon, every swing, every stab... Why: I'm practically Ares him-fucking-self in human form." He put his hand on his hips and smirked evilly.

[[[After Image]]]... the soldiers were now looking at the perfect visual of hands-on-hips smirking Zell, until he got their attention loudly.

He was behind them.

"There might aswell be two of me, I'm that damn good."

The infantry unit turned around in amazement to see him, hands-on-hips, smirking - a perfect mirror of the fake image at the head of the block.

"Teleportation?" was a quiet but incredulous comment.

"Only the Wellsprings can offer that kind of power," was another.

He strolled back to the front, through his ranks, the one's closest taking a step aside to make way. Many jaws were dropped - eyes wide.

"We Lions are officially, now, the best block in Valhiem's garrison!" he declared. "Do. You. Get me!?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"There will be no fucking 'Sir's' from now on. And no more salutes either. I am not your superior. I am your brother. A Lion just like you. We are family, now. All of us. You will call me by my name; Zell. Or Captain Brooks, I'll also accept, if you absolutely fucking must. Instead of, 'Sir, yes Sir,' I want you to to roar like a Lion. Oorah! Let me hear it!"

"Oorah!"

Zell was getting hyped off his own BS, getting all gym broey and flexing that low, fists-together arms-n-shoulder-muscles pose. "OORAH! LET ME HEAR IT!"

"OORAH!"

"Nice," his voice came back to normal. "As I said; The Lions are officially, now, the best block in Valhiem's garrison. Not just because of me, either." He looked around and picked at a man at random. "You... where in the city do you live?"

"Cordon Street in the southeast quadrant, si- I mean, Zell, si- I mean... Captain."

"Your parents born here?" Zell asked. He got a yes in reply. "Grandparents?"

"Err... I think so."

Zell was satisfied and nodded, then started slowly pacing again. "Three generations, at least," Zell said, gesturing to the man. "The blood runs deep." And there was his first word. "Blood! The blood of the people, past and present. The blood of the future. That's what we fight for." He threw his arm up and pointed outside the grounds. "Those scummy, evil fuckers out there...? What do they fight for, eh? What do they have to lose, if they lose this battle? I'll tell you what... FUCK ALL! - that's what." Then he smiled and opened his arms to them all. "And that is why we will win, brothers. I've seen it. It's already written. We need only fulfill our end and fight with all our heart."

"Oorah!" one man's voice among them, prompting a second,

"OORAH!" from the Lions. Zell was pleased.

"This land. This soil underneath our feet, was probably once just that... soil. Soil and some settlers' dreams. And now look at it. Look at what's built. Civilisation. Community. Culture. Tradition. All from this fertile soil. This is what we fight for. Because it will be fucking GONE for good, if we don't. This is our land! Our home! Our SOIL!"

"OORAH!"

"Lions. Let me hear you roar; BLOOD AND SOIL!"

"BLOOD AND SOIL!" was the chorus

"BLOOD AND SOIL!" Zell roared back as he paced, snarling at the front ranks.

"BLOOD AND SOIL!"

"We are invincible, Lions. It is written. Our time has come to grow up and fulfill our destiny. To be the heroes of this era." {'...noble...'} "Noble." {...dignified...} "Dignified. And in a thousand years, they we teach about the first city to successfully repel The Witch Queen... about the first time The Empire bloodied the nose of it's greatest threat. They will teach about The Lions that roared on the walls of Valhiem!"

"OORAH!"

"Sergeants," he called out. "Let's get some work done. Combat training. Pair up according to experience level. Let our Lions show their claws."

The Sergeants got to work with gusto and efficiency. Pretty soon, The Lions had their own space in the yard and were sparring. Zell walked among them, making adjustments, giving advice and showing off his deep knowledge of combat to even the most skilled pairs of sparring partners. It wasn't long before he halted the entire session and called for attention.

"Brothers," he started. "We will be fighting on a wall. Space will be hard to come by. Accuracy will be required. Energy conservation for a long and drawn out battle will be essential." With that understood... "I want to see minimal movement. Efficient actions. Tight footwork. Try not to move off your spot. More stabs. Keep your arcs small - No wild swings. Let's go."

And they were off again, Zell continuing to coach. Spotting those he knew he could depend on to be on the flanks. Spending more time with the noobs who had been drafted upon the emergency of the siege. He gave pats on the back and high fives often. Instructed his men and women to do the same for eachother whenever a good landed hit was scored. Arms around the shoulder. Reminders to call him Zell and not Sir. The Englishman was doing his best to completely deconstruct the standard military discipline that was instilled in them, so that they could become... well... basically, a sports team.

They would be different to everyone else: Unique. Their language would be their own: Oorah. Their behaviours would be their own: Family. And in this, Zell hoped they would find a strength of hope, an illusion of grandeur and the courage of a zealot. Togetherness. Absolute faith in him. Invincibility.

According to the odds and the atmosphere, they would need something more than the garrison could currently offer, so why not shoot for the stars?

Typical Zell Brooks. But maybe not quite so typical as usual...?

Maybe.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell stayed off Citadel Hill this morning. He wasn't interested in making himself a nuisance for the guards.

This early morning exercise was a test of the limits of his Ascended strength. The results were extraordinary. One-armed pull-ups - Suprisingly doable. Handstand press-ups - Relatively easy. Upside-down hanging sit ups - No problem.

He needed to find a gym, at some point - Lift some real weight. This power was insane. Question was, was it all just Ascension? Or was it Baphomet?

He got back to the Mended Drum at around 7am, no usual dumb grin for his friends. Just a neutral 'Alright mate' for any greeting. A straight-face. A quiet demeanor. He'd been on auto-pilot since he awoke, his thoughts pulled all over the place... none of them in a happy or positive direction. His shower was five times longer than usual, causing Frederick to mistime the Englishman's breakfast (Not the innkeeper's fault, of course, Zell was usual up, in, out and downstairs in less than fifteen minutes.) He added a little to the conversation among his friends at breakfast, gave eye contact and showed a base-level attentiveness, but he definitely lacked the jovial and confident present-mindedness he normally had. He wasn't moody. He was just 'elsewhere' in his head and not doing the best job at hiding it. And wow; he wasn't even first to finish his food!

The messenger almost came and went without his notice. He just about saw James giving a nod to the goverment official before the man from The Citadel departed. Second Chance's leader relayed the message to the gang - a summons for each of them. Seems as though it was time to get the offical promotion to Captain of the Garrison. Although Adam had been given a seperate summons to Golden Tree Park, and James to the Citadel. Zell could guess why for Adam, that one was obvious, but James' individual instruction was interesting.

"I'll go get my gear on," Zell told Fenna and MacKensie, who'd also been summoned to the Military Centre. "Back in a sec."

...

On the walk there, he had to admit that he was relieved to be away from James. How ridiculous was that?! Baphomet had really fucked up his head with this bullshit narrative that Zigmund was was biding his time, within James, to make a move for revenge. Zell knew, truly, it was all BS, but he couldn't stop thinking about it... about that 1% chance that Tin Can had the actual power to override his best friend. Still... bullshit, for sure. What was more substantive was that he owed James an apology for the performance at the Thieves Guild, but Zell being Zell (foreign to the uncomfortable feeling of remorse) and James being James (pretty laidback and cool enough to not make a big deal about it, but smart enough to know that Zell had done him wrong, however big or small that 'wrong' was,) Zell had lacked the courage and decency to take the initiative and just say something to his best friend.

Speaking of apologies; the woman walking beside him kinda deserved one too. It was actually James who'd done all that crazy shit, that night, while looking like MacKensie, so from one perspective, one could say the cleric was the one who had done wrong. But then there was another perspective and that was; James was drunk and probably forgot who he looked like. Zell was the one who could clearly see the disguise and was, all night, in a position to remind his friend of this fact and pump the brakes on the increasingly wild night. So all of this wasn't just on James. Zell was just as culpable.

And if Zell wasn't man enough to take accountability for his actions, even with his close friends, how could he possibly take steps towards being the hero that Mytheria needed, and not just some fool with a Source Crystal's worth of power?

"Makes sense that they'd spread us out as Captain's of soldiers, rather than let us fight as a party," he said, at one point, trying to rid himself of the air of 'mood and brood.' He glanced sidelong at his friends as he walked in step with them. "The difference in power between even a well-trained soldier and a silver tier adventurer must be huge. Remember those ambushers outside the temple. They lost their element of suprise and we wiped the floor with them in seconds, without a scratch." They turned a street corner, the oppressive ambience of a city unsure of it's survival past next week... it was palpable. Citizens eyed them overly long as they passed. Not out of malice - out of hope. Out of desperation. "We'll be more useful to the defence, this way. And I know that we have the ability to lead. Each of us can do this job. I believe in you both."

Though he was talking for the sake of talking, just to halt his intrusive thoughts, he was not talking crap. He truly believed in them. Fenna was a natural when it came to making tough decisions with clarity under stress. MacKensie was a bright light of righteousness and will power. They could lead, for sure.

As for himself, Zell had no qualms or doubts about being able to lead. For Zell, the questions were not ones of capability - what he doubted was his worthiness.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

James was thick-skinned enough to not make the walk back to The Mended Drum awkward. Both he and Zell even cracked a little banter along the way. But in the back of Zell's mind, something resembling a conscience - weak as it was - was niggling at him. It had all started, at The Thieves Guild, when the beer got flowing and Zell decided that he wanted all the boisterious and dodgy energy in the room. Typical Zell fucking Brooks. And this time, it was at the express expense of his best friend. No 'Out' for the polarizing rogue, this time. No, "Oh shit, I wasn't thinking," or no, "Silly me, I forgot about that."

Nope.

He'd just been told by James, some ninety minutes beforehand, that the cleric was dealing with a complete absorption of the memories, emotions and personality of their enemy, Zigmund Mugba-Zarak. And he decided to celebrate in front of a bunch of strangers, the death of said enemy. And he'd realised too, what he was doing, less than two minutes into his performance, when trying to drag James into it - he realised that he was putting his best friend in the most awkward emotional position in the world. But Zell had let the atmosphere and attention drown out respect and consideration for his comrade - the man who had just pledged to help him deal with Baphomet, and to keep his secret. To have his back, the way a friend should - and Zell being Zell, carried on, full steam ahead.

First MacKensie. Shit, at least regarding her gripes with him, he could say that it didn't even occur to him, in the moment, the ramifications, or that anything bad would come of it. Now it was James feeling the burn of Zell simply not giving two fucks about anyone but himself.

Niggling niggling, but hell, the Englishman wouldn't let it show. The buzzed bants continued until they were back in the inn they called home.

"One more?" Zell asked, before he and James parted ways. "Alright, bruv, catch ye later." He nodded to Frederick as he took a stool, pausing before his bum hit the seat to get back up and declare, "We're gearing up to win a battle and show the Witch Queen what's what! Lift your heads and throw your fears in the gutter. Round for the house on me! Give us a war song, lads."

There was barely a reaction, but the musicians did play something different. Zell didn't know if it was a war song or not. He didn't care. None of his bravado gave him any company... he was left alone with that crippled little thing people called a conscience. Well, there was at least one person he could bring in for company and that was the man who was collecting a gold piece off of him. He sipped half of his beer before he said anything.

"I'm a piece of shit, Fred," he started. Fred was taken a little by surprise, but took it in stride and started buffing down the bar near Zell with the towel that'd been over his shoulder.

"You seem an alright lad to me, Zell."

"You know what I did in my last life? Under the guise of a student, I filled the academy campus with contraband." Fred raised his eyebrows. "Anyone who tried to do even a fraction of the same thing, I set my dogs on them. Anyone who failed to pay me got similar treatment. Very persuasive. And of course, I was insulated. Hands clean. Popular all around the campus. Captain of the football team. I used everyone close to me - people I called friends." Zell took another swig. Fred was unreadable. "I died in a traffic accident before I landed in this world. You could call it a coincidence, but I'm starting to think that fate was just excising a cancerous fuck out of the universe."

Everyone in Second Chance he considered a friend. But James and MacKensie were closer than that. And here he was in a second life, with a 'second chance' doing the same old selfish shit that Zell Brooks was known for.

"Just today, I considered trying to set up a contraband distribution network in this world." He caught Fred's cautionary look and waved it off. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna. But it's like... just the thought, ye know... shows that I've not changed at all. I'm supposed to have a fresh slate. New life. Source Crystal. A Hero." It is not cringey... ...It noble and dignified. Zell shrugged. "How can I be a hero if I'm about as far from noble and dignified as the fucking cretins outside the city walls, right now."

While Fred served customers, Zell moped in his own world. Fred did come back to him though. "Listen lad, you're not so far gone that you can be compared to the evil out there. And if you can recognise what's wrong, then you've taken the first step. You can save yourself. I've heard worser crimes from men sat in that stool there than you've spoken tonight. And I keep it to myself because it's none of my business. But trust me, you're a big, strong lad, with a big strong backbone... use it. Instead of crying like a little girl." Zell nodded as he looked at the barman who nodded back and held his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Zell agreed.

"Your friends... you care about em?" Zell nodded. "Well, that's not enough. I hate to say it, but you have to want to change... for you."

Zell thought about it. Did he want to change? He wanted his friendships. He wanted to help protect this world that he now had to live in. But did that mean he wanted to change for his own sake?

...

Zell found himself, quite expectedly, stood in a familiar void of impenetrable and unending darkness.

"Ugh... I'm not in the mood for this," he groaned, letting himself fall backward onto his back. But he did not hit any kind of floor. In fact, the entire void seemed to rotate around him so, while he did fall backwards, he ended up still standing. Just now with an additional wave of motion sickness.

"Seems as though you need me now, more than ever." That voice was like metal scraping along metal inside his head whilst simultaneously echoing throughout the void.

"How so?" Zell asked, about as unenthusiastically as humanly possible.

"You took his sword. You took his pride. You took his life." Zell knew where this was going and he didn't like it. "And now he is closer to you than ever before. What would you do, if you were in Zigmund's position?"

Zell tiredly rubbed his eyes. This was a proposition he did not even want to consider.

Baphomet chuckled. "Oh, what interesting tales you mortals weave." His chuckling turned to outright laughter. "He will try to take his revenge. One day from now or one year. And you will not be ready, without me."