Flavio McLoren and Naoto Gan withdrew themselves from the crowd on the fifth level of the Alchemic Order’s Dark Side. The rabid cultists scattered like roaches exposed in the light, their panic dancing like flames upon a candle wick.
The source of the chaos was a particularly fervent young man by the name of Tenma. He was widely known as the young prodigy among the wave of followers initiated to the Dark Side. His power came not only from his impressive grasp of mysticism, but also his undying devotion to the Holy Mother Solest. “An intruder has infiltrated the Dark Side! Tighten the defenses of any and all exits as quickly as possible! The Tree must not be sullied by the hands of non-believers.”
…Tree? Naoto thought, allured by the intriguing mystery. I never heard about that in the report. They must be hiding something incredibly important deep within the Dark Side. This is a perfect opportunity for Desmond to prove his usefulness.
His fervent devotion gained him a mixed perception among the other members of the organization. Many found his faith to be a stalwart ideal that should be strived for amongst the younger generation. However, a select minority of believers saw his faith as a double-edged sword. While Faith was a necessary component of the Alchemic Order, blind faith could easily turn the brilliant into fools.
“Brother Tenma,” said a low-ranked believer, “Father Tellow has been defeated in combat. We have stabilized his condition, but the intruder is still at large.”
So the kid is still alive? How convenient… McLoren lampooned as he hid amongst the crowd in a traditional garb. Although, I cannot say this is entirely bad news. Hopefully the distraction will give me enough time to gather more mythical items, perhaps an Heirloom if I’m lucky.
Even in such a dangerous situation, McLoren could only think of his own material benefit. After all, how else does one survive as an underground merchant in The Hole? In a world where status, wealth, and strength determine your standing in society, one has no choice but to bow before such material desires as gods or face oblivion.
Naoto pulled at McLoren’s cloak, drawing him away from the frenzied crowd of cultists.
“What is it, detective?”
“It seems Desmond has created quite the opportunity for us.”
“How so?” McLoren asked with a tinge of irritation. Desmond Dantes, or rather, Derrick Foster, had already caused enough trouble with his little stunt of heroism and McLoren wasn’t exactly keen on exploring any more side-quests. He was a merchant far before he was a combatant, so he had zero incentive in pursuing any more danger. That was the job of mercenaries, illegal immigrants, and gullible idiots who didn’t know any better.
“I believe that the Alchemic Order is hiding something sinister within the depths of the Conservative Sector. I’m not sure what exactly that secret is, but that fanatic creep gave us some insight into what it may be. He said that the “tree” must be protected. Just what exactly is the tree, and why does it need such protection? It is clearly a place of great importance.”
“Perhaps, but we must stay focused. Delving deeper into this freak show will only result in an even greater risk.”
“That is true, but I am a detective after all. I may carry myself as a logical man, but my duty as a detective must be fulfilled. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Not quite,” McLoren quipped. “Even if we do explore the depths of the dungeon, who is going to find Reed Rowley? We are already a member short, so why fragment our forces even more? This isn’t a good idea.”
“How? Isn’t it simple? Don’t you have that at your disposal?”
McLoren looked at the man with apprehension, “what do you mean…?”
“Didn’t I already tell you I am a detective? You can hide anything from me. I know about His existence.”
“...”
“Ah, what was his name again? The Bloody Devil? The Blasphemer? Rabid Dog? He has so many aliases that I just can’t decide!” Under the dozens of layers of mystery, kindness, and amiability, Naoto Gan was truly a fickle snake, through and through. As a detective, his desire for knowledge far exceeded mere interest. It was a genuine obsession that stemmed from a desire for control. No matter how crafty you may be, the truth will be revealed under Naoto’s watchful eye.
Through this conduct, Naoto Gan gained himself the epithet “Oracle.”
“You can stop it with the crude mockery, I get what you are implying. Releasing Him isn’t exactly an issue for me, what’s more difficult is his advancement ritual.”
“Oh?”
“He is in a very unstable state at the moment. If I were to summon him right now, it can’t say for certain that Reed Rowley will survive, or rather, I’m not sure if anyone will survive…”
“McLoren…” Naoto placed his hand on the worrisome man's shoulder as he replied in a jovial tone, “I understand that you are a man of material desire. Business is your strong suit, so you avoid putting yourself in stressful situations whenever necessary. It is truly an admirable thing! However, you should be able to understand the opportunity I am presenting to you.”
“...”
This is a secret organization that’s origins can be traced back to the 16th century. They are bound to have a gold mine of mythical items, potions, and even heirlooms. Isn’t that what you came here for to begin with? I can see it in your eyes, you know.”
Naoto read his mind completely, leaving McLoren with a lingering unease. “I suppose that is true…but you don’t understand anything about him. If he loses control, we will surely die.”
“What’s life without a little risk? After all, every investment carries its own risk, and that is what makes the transaction valuable.”
McLoren resisted Naoto’s forked tongue, yet the detective’s sly reasoning shattered his defenses and broke down his will like a toxin.
“Then…it cannot be helped. I’m sure you will be compensating me for this, yes?”
“Of course! That is what business partners do best, yes?”
___
[Depths of the McLoren Estate]
Out in the countryside of Sani, just a few dozen miles from Mathers City, a young man covered in bandages lay restrained on the ground by dozens of spears and talismans. Sealing and warding off evil spirits is the specialty of the Solari tribe that has been passed down since the Gordou Age.
“Mmm…”
The young man writhed and moaned in discomfort. His restraints were strong enough to repress his frenzied spirituality, but the talismans themselves were old and worn down. It wasn’t like he cared about escaping to begin with. His mind was barely his own. He had no name, no past, no present, nor future. He was merely a tool fit to exercise Flavio McLoren’s will.
[Son…]
“...?!”
Suddenly, the young man heard an all too familiar voice. Despite being miles apart, the young man’s exceptional hearing made it possible to receive messages from his owner, regardless of circumstance.
[Come to me, my son!]
The young man’s sedated state instantly dissipated upon receiving the order. His muscles expanded and regained the explosive power that earned him the name “Bloody Devil”. With each movement, flesh and bone tore through the metal spears that adorned his body as though they were wooden sticks.
“Fa…Fath…Father…” His brain slowly regained its cognitive capabilities upon being released from the seals. With a solitary desire swelling within the man’s soul, he roared a frenzied roar.
“FATHER!!”
The final seal had snapped, revealing the man’s true power. He broke through the countless layers of the McLoren dungeon and gazed upon the city from the top of the estate.
“I’m coming…father…”
Flavio McLoren and Naoto Gan withdrew themselves from the crowd on the fifth level of the Alchemic Order’s Dark Side. The rabid cultists scattered like roaches exposed in the light, their panic dancing like flames upon a candle wick.
The source of the chaos was a particularly fervent young man by the name of Tenma. He was widely known as the young prodigy among the wave of followers initiated to the Dark Side. His power came not only from his impressive grasp of mysticism, but also his undying devotion to the Holy Mother Solest. “An intruder has infiltrated the Dark Side! Tighten the defenses of any and all exits as quickly as possible! The Tree must not be sullied by the hands of non-believers.”
…Tree? Naoto thought, allured by the intriguing mystery. I never heard about that in the report. They must be hiding something incredibly important deep within the Dark Side. This is a perfect opportunity for Desmond to prove his usefulness.
His fervent devotion gained him a mixed perception among the other members of the organization. Many found his faith to be a stalwart ideal that should be strived for amongst the younger generation. However, a select minority of believers saw his faith as a double-edged sword. While Faith was a necessary component of the Alchemic Order, blind faith could easily turn the brilliant into fools.
“Brother Tenma,” said a low-ranked believer, “Father Tellow has been defeated in combat. We have stabilized his condition, but the intruder is still at large.”
So the kid is still alive? How convenient… McLoren lampooned as he hid amongst the crowd in a traditional garb. Although, I cannot say this is entirely bad news. Hopefully the distraction will give me enough time to gather more mythical items, perhaps an Heirloom if I’m lucky.
Even in such a dangerous situation, McLoren could only think of his own material benefit. After all, how else does one survive as an underground merchant in The Hole? In a world where status, wealth, and strength determine your standing in society, one has no choice but to bow before such material desires as gods or face oblivion.
Naoto pulled at McLoren’s cloak, drawing him away from the frenzied crowd of cultists.
“What is it, detective?”
“It seems Desmond has created quite the opportunity for us.”
“How so?” McLoren asked with a tinge of irritation. Desmond Dantes, or rather, Derrick Foster, had already caused enough trouble with his little stunt of heroism and McLoren wasn’t exactly keen on exploring any more side-quests. He was a merchant far before he was a combatant, so he had zero incentive in pursuing any more danger. That was the job of mercenaries, illegal immigrants, and gullible idiots who didn’t know any better.
“I believe that the Alchemic Order is hiding something sinister within the depths of the Conservative Sector. I’m not sure what exactly that secret is, but that fanatic creep gave us some insight into what it may be. He said that the “tree” must be protected. Just what exactly is the tree, and why does it need such protection? It is clearly a place of great importance.”
“Perhaps, but we must stay focused. Delving deeper into this freak show will only result in an even greater risk.”
“That is true, but I am a detective after all. I may carry myself as a logical man, but my duty as a detective must be fulfilled. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Not quite,” McLoren quipped. “Even if we do explore the depths of the dungeon, who is going to find Reed Rowley? We are already a member short, so why fragment our forces even more? This isn’t a good idea.”
“How? Isn’t it simple? Don’t you have that at your disposal?”
McLoren looked at the man with apprehension, “what do you mean…?”
“Didn’t I already tell you I am a detective? You can hide anything from me. I know about His existence.”
“...”
“Ah, what was his name again? The Bloody Devil? The Blasphemer? Rabid Dog? He has so many aliases that I just can’t decide!” Under the dozens of layers of mystery, kindness, and amiability, Naoto Gan was truly a fickle snake, through and through. As a detective, his desire for knowledge far exceeded mere interest. It was a genuine obsession that stemmed from a desire for control. No matter how crafty you may be, the truth will be revealed under Naoto’s watchful eye.
Through this conduct, Naoto Gan gained himself the epithet “Oracle.”
“You can stop it with the crude mockery, I get what you are implying. Releasing Him isn’t exactly an issue for me, what’s more difficult is his advancement ritual.”
“Oh?”
“He is in a very unstable state at the moment. If I were to summon him right now, it can’t say for certain that Reed Rowley will survive, or rather, I’m not sure if anyone will survive…”
“McLoren…” Naoto placed his hand on the worrisome man's shoulder as he replied in a jovial tone, “I understand that you are a man of material desire. Business is your strong suit, so you avoid putting yourself in stressful situations whenever necessary. It is truly an admirable thing! However, you should be able to understand the opportunity I am presenting to you.”
“...”
This is a secret organization that’s origins can be traced back to the 16th century. They are bound to have a gold mine of mythical items, potions, and even heirlooms. Isn’t that what you came here for to begin with? I can see it in your eyes, you know.”
Naoto read his mind completely, leaving McLoren with a lingering unease. “I suppose that is true…but you don’t understand anything about him. If he loses control, we will surely die.”
“What’s life without a little risk? After all, every investment carries its own risk, and that is what makes the transaction valuable.”
McLoren resisted Naoto’s forked tongue, yet the detective’s sly reasoning shattered his defenses and broke down his will like a toxin.
“Then…it cannot be helped. I’m sure you will be compensating me for this, yes?”
“Of course! That is what business partners do best, yes?”
___
[Depths of the McLoren Estate]
Out in the countryside of Sani, just a few dozen miles from Mathers City, a young man covered in bandages lay restrained on the ground by dozens of spears and talismans. Sealing and warding off evil spirits is the specialty of the Solari tribe that has been passed down since the Gordou Age.
“Mmm…”
The young man writhed and moaned in discomfort. His restraints were strong enough to repress his frenzied spirituality, but the talismans themselves were old and worn down. It wasn’t like he cared about escaping to begin with. His mind was barely his own. He had no name, no past, no present, nor future. He was merely a tool fit to exercise Flavio McLoren’s will.
[Son…]
“...?!”
Suddenly, the young man heard an all too familiar voice. Despite being miles apart, the young man’s exceptional hearing made it possible to receive messages from his owner, regardless of circumstance.
[Come to me, my son!]
The young man’s sedated state instantly dissipated upon receiving the order. His muscles expanded and regained the explosive power that earned him the name “Bloody Devil”. With each movement, flesh and bone tore through the metal spears that adorned his body as though they were wooden sticks.
“Fa…Fath…Father…” His brain slowly regained its cognitive capabilities upon being released from the seals. With a solitary desire swelling within the man’s soul, he roared a frenzied roar.
“FATHER!!”
The final seal had snapped, revealing the man’s true power. He broke through the countless layers of the McLoren dungeon and gazed upon the city from the top of the estate.
“I’m coming…father…”
