Chaoter 67 — Constellations (2)

(In the Distant Future.)

Slapped dead in the heart of Terrania, Mount Prometheus is a colossal rock formation where waterfalls, flora, and mystical beasts thrive; all nourished by the spilling Ambrosia of the God who supposedly rests upon its peak.

They need neither food nor drink, sustained solely by the Slumbering God’s Essence.

Many of these plants and animals were once ordinary, but the [Grace] of the God-King has mutated them until they possess the strength to battle Terrania’s greatest…

It is through this perilous land that a Paragon and his lowly Apprentice find themselves treading.

The mountain is typically off-limits to the public and even to the highest-ranking officials of the fracturing Terranian Empire—not like the young Apprentice’s aware of the political struggle and battles their Multi-Galatic Empire’s facing.

He’s just a six-year-old orphan.

Throughout his life, he's interacted with only a handful of people; come to know none but his Master and revere solely the God who founded the Empire that he and trillions now call home.

Skipping up the steps, the boy gazes in awe at the scenery, his attention then caught by the plump, nearly cat-sized squirrels with cheeks stuffed full of nuts… There is a joke here, but let’s not go there—one furry’s one too many for the Empire.

“It seems we’ve been noticed…”

Remarks his Master, a Paragon of the Starfall Legion.

Despite calling the man ‘Master,’ the boy has never seen his face, heard his name, or been taught anything by him.

Yet, the man feeds and protects him, which is more than enough for an orphan who has been scorned by everyone—his peers included, due to his strange ‘disability,’ or rather ‘Curse.’

“God’s Scorned,” They’d whisper so loudly behind his back, as if they feared the orphan might not hear them. In their eyes, the boy had seen nothing but hatred and disgust…

A plague that might infect them and rob them of their ‘Divine Boons.’

I’ll show them, I’ll show them all—the orphan would tell himself in the dark of night.

That is, until one day when his Master discovered him shivering in the cold and extended a helping hand. Unlike everyone else he had encountered in his admittedly short life, there was no fear in his Master’s voice;

None of the ‘divinely-ordained’ anger he had grown accustomed to…

And the rest, as they say, was history.

“Careful, Leonard. Phantasmal Beasts, even weak ones, can and will kill you if given the chance!”

Sure enough, moments after the words leave his mouth, the squirrels lunge at the boy, revealing rows of sharp teeth designed to break skin and pierce flesh. Terrified, Leonard leaps to the side, but as an ordinary human—lacking both SIG (Spiritron Integration Gear) and the genetic enhancements of the High Humans—he doesn’t stand a chance to begin with.

His head would have been torn off by the Beast’s sharp claws if not for his Master, who, with a swift and powerful kick, reduced the creature to a smear; its body hurled into its brethren.

Watching a swarm of them die to naught but a kick that seems near effortless for his Master, Leonard could only gape in awe. He had heard tales of the strength possessed by Paragons and Valkyries, and he had watched recordings, but nothing could have prepared the orphan for witnessing it firsthand.

As impressive as it looks, the achievement feels like salt slathered over the boy’s fresh wounds.

That’s why he’s despised; considered ‘lesser’ by everyone he has ever encountered, except for his Master, who is naturally an easygoing person to begin with.

“Phew! What a show… Did you like that, brat?”

“That was awesome! Can I really be like you someday?”

The Paragon nods with a chuckle. “You’ll be even better than me… We just need to make the journey up there, and your condition will be fixed.”

The orphan follows his gaze to the peak hidden above the clouds, his skin turning an ashy pale shade.

“We have to climb all the way up there?”

“Yes… Yes, we do. Now, how about we pick up where I left off?”

The Paragon suggests, casually jogging toward the moss-covered steps and gesturing to Leonard with a hooked finger, smile hidden beneath his polished helmet.

"Where was I?”

“His Majesty’s first meeting with the Constellation King?!”

The child offers eagerly; earlier reluctance scattered to the wind.

“Race me to the 10th step and I will!”

“That’s not fair!”

“As he once said: Life’s the furthest thing from fair, shit for brain. Get used to it and git good!”

— [Infinity] —

I don’t think the writers for DBS know what they were writing, because the amount of self-control it’d take for two Universal Destroyers to contain the impact of their collision in a life-and-death battle should have been beyond Goku’s ability at the time as a new Saiyan God. Hell, merely trying not to break the sturdy table I’m stepping on is giving me a damn headache. That, and accidentally killing someone in our ‘adoring’ audience.

There have been stories written about this topic, but ordinary humans are incredibly fragile.

Even the slightest gust from my swings can easily strip the skin from their faces if I’m not careful.

It's one thing to ask me to fight another Magus; another to restrain myself; but to do the first while ensuring the audience is unharmed is almost beyond my capacity… Almost.

The fact that some of these idiots are trying to join the ‘show’ by grabbing at my pants and shirt makes it even harder for me to keep my cool.

Unfortunately, as that one saying goes: ‘No rest for the wicked.’

Pulling my leg away from the curious grasp of a ten-year-old, I glare at the little troublemaker. If I hadn’t been careful, he would have been lil’ more than a bloody splatter on the wall.

“Get him!”

The boy shouts as I stagger around the table, batting away the stardust that cascades down from the ceiling.

In the dim corners of the room, the shimmering stardust gathers to form the snarling heads of a Hydra.

‘Hydrus Constellation?’

Mind you, I was never into Astromancy, but I was obsessed with myths and legends, and few constellations are as distinctive as Hydrus. Retrieving a wand from his pocket—the kind that comes with a cheap magician costumes—Athanasiou grins at the boy.

"Looks like I've got myself a little helper!”

Frustrated beyond words, I grab the kid and use him as a shield against the Hydra, which immediately recoils, hissing in anger.

Locking eyes with Athanasiou, I smirk.

The kid, blissfully unaware of the danger he’s in, giggles and flails—clearly happy to be part of the act. “Using a child as a shield? You are even more villainous than I thought.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Unlike his Spells, mine are a lot more straightforward and destructive, and he knows this very well… How can he not?

All fights in the Training Floor are publically available to everyone at a price, including mine. Athanasiou’s technically using everyone in the nightclub as well; they just don’t realize it.

“Catch!”

I toss the kid toward his idol, then use Senza Esitazione as a pole to vault over the Stardust Butterflies—Athanasiou’s version of suicide bombers that, while slow, swarm and explode like a horde of zombies.

Bringing my Swordspear down, I shatter the Big Dippers with ease and level the tip of the Swordspear at his throat while the announcer screams to hype it up.

[That Which Strikes True…] and [Flurry Jab] activate simultaneously, with the Swordspear and its Phantom twisting like gnarled, golden branches that slice cleanly through his cheek and temple.

For someone like us, these are mere flesh wounds, but caught off guard, even the Magus can't help but wince slightly.

“Oh Lord, is that real blood?!”

“Should we call the bobbies?”

“It’s fake blood!”

A loudmouthed drunk shouts. “I work behind the scenes in several movies; fake blood packs are cheap!”

He has no idea just how wrong he is…

The metallic scent reeks even from where I stand.

"It looks like the 'Constellation Lord' has found himself in quite the predicament! What will he do now?!"

Using the kid as a shield earlier didn’t exactly win me any favors with the crowd, as evident from the thunderous boos echoing around me.

Athanasiou smiles wryly. “You got me!”

The smile twists into a wretched, cocky smirk that rivals my own in term of overconfidence. “Or did you?”

From his pants, thousands of tiny Stardust Butterflies emerge, enveloping him and the boy whole in an instant.

With a swift swing of my Swordspear, I clear the area of the fluttering Familiars, only to find that both he and the child have vanished into ‘thin air.’

Suddenly, the stage crackles to life, fog generators hidden beneath the false floor roaring and flooding the entire nightclub with dense white smoke that all from view—smoke that I once again clear by turning the Mystic Code into a hand-powered fan.

“With the insidious Hanged-Man hot on his heels, Lord Athanasiou has opted for an escape! Can you spot him, ladies and gents?! He's—”

“There!” I finish, lunging toward the announcer; or more accurately the space behind him where the Magus has just reformed.

Screw playing nice. Above his head, another Constellation materializes; that of a man wielding a bow—possibly one of the most cohesive and easily recognizable Constellation he’s used to date.

“[Aegis Eclipse].”

Raising his bow, ‘Orion’ starts raining Tartarus upon me.

Under the warm light, the arrows glint menacingly as they descend. Instinctively, I swing the Swordspear to intercept them, but the projectiles, as if having a mind of their own, curve away from the blade of Senza Esitazione and veer toward my torso instead.

“The Moon’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?" Athanasiou remarks, and with a snap of his fingers, the ceiling splits open to reveal a skylight dome above the stage, allowing moonlight to pour in and amplify the arrows' strength.

‘Invoking Orion to borrow Artemis’ power…’

It’s such a roundabout way to perform a Ritual, but I suppose with the Orion Constellation not visible at the moment, .

I suspect the assault would be far more spectacular if the Orion constellation were visible.

Luckily, it’s not.

Twisting out of harm’s way, I grimace as the arrows curve back, evading my every counterattack. I could catch up to them with more force, but confined within human limits, that’s a much more challenging feat, especially since these arrows seem almost… Remote-controlled.

I quickly grab a glass, reinforce it, and shatter it intentionally to deflect half the arrows.

But it’s just a temporary fix, as Orion continues to unleash more arrows.

The audience erupts In astonishment as glass dust gently settles around me.

The more I fight, the less irritated I become.

In fact, I find joy in the act… I’ll even go as far as to say I’m in my happy place.

The Magus must feel the same, judging from the slight smile on his face.

With most of the projectiles dealt with for now and the Orion Constellation still charging his attack, Athanasiou is nearly defenseless.

Of course, a Magus is never truly defenseless, but this is as close as it gets.

My foot nearly shatters the table beneath me as I leap forward to finish the fight, just as a loud scream echoes: “STOP! Tonight’s show is over!”

The sudden stop almost sends me off the table, but I manage to regain my balance just in time to avoid crashing into the front row of tables near the stage. To his credit, Athanasiou doesn’t exploit my mistake, even though I know many Magi would in his position, then claim it was an accident.

I nod at him, and he me as the remnants of our Spells—his mostly, fade away.

Neither of us is satisfied with the outcome of our brief skirmish, a sentiment clearly shared by the booing audience, but since the House’s spoken… “Fine.”

With as much flourish as the Magus, I compress the air molecules and hide behind a curtain of fire ignited by [Vibration] to de-summon Senza Esitazione.

“Sir Hangman; Lord Athanasiou, our owner wishes to have a word with you two.” Athanasiou and I exchange glances, and I shake my head. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood.”

“I must insist, sir.”

The messenger requests with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though it’s clearly not a request judging from his tone.

“He wants to meet us?” Oddly enough, Athanasiou looks almost eager. ‘Strange…’

“Of course we’d like to meet him.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.” Setting a hand on my shoulder, he looks at me pleadingly. “I’ll throw in a tidbit of information if you do this. Promise it will be of utmost importance to you.”

“Your promise means nothing to me after that stunt of yours. I don’t even know what your name is, and don’t presume you can order me around just because you outrank me.” I hiss back in whisper, trying to stoke the flame I felt earlier to no effect.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself, have I? Alexios Athanasiou, at your services!”

Smiling sheepishly, the Magus awkwardly scratches the back of his head and adds. “Will a Geas fix the issue?”

“… It may, but I’ll require more than that.”

“What’d you lik—”

“Ehem, gents—?”

Interrupted, both the Magus and I glare at the announcer, which effectively silences the man instantly.

Even the tough-looking bodyguards—scarred and battle-hardened—seem unsettled by our intense stares.

“What do you have to offer?” I ask as we resume negotiations, muffling the soundwaves so it sounds like gibberish to the surrounding staff.

“I own several buildings 5 kilometers east of here.” He replies. “I can sign them over to you right now if you agree to help me.”

“How many are we talking about?”

“Five luxury apartment complexes near the supermarket…”

Holy shit. No wonder real estate prices in London skyrocketed in my last life. With how effortlessly he’s forking them up, I bet the guy still has a dozen more in London alone, not to mention elsewhere in the country.

“A meeting with the boss is worth that much? Why are you doing this, and what aren’t you telling me?” I press further.

The Magus hesitates, then sighs and explains, “The owner’s Van-Fem.”

My synapses reach for a distant memory, but nothing significant comes up, so, I decide to reinforce the neuron.

I never understood why Magi warn against brain augmentation—I’ve been doing it for a year, and it’s really not that hard or dangerous. Granted, the first few times did cause me to bleed from my orifices, so don’t quote me on that.

“The Dead Apostle Ancestor?!” I exclaim, stunned. This close to the Tower and, more specifically, to Lorelei?

“One among the 21,” He confirms. “He’s known as the Lord of the Business World.”

A capitalist Vampire?! Now I’ve seen it all…

“I’m following a lead on an Apostle who… Greatly wronged my House, and the only clue points to this vampiric geezer. Setting up a meeting with him isn’t easy… I’ve been coming here every night for the last five months. It’s not easy to find an Ancestor. Please…” He pleads again.

“Fine… I expect those complexes in my name by the morning with all expenses covered. Got it?”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Shaking on it, we turn to the announcer, “The information?”

“I’ll tell you afterward.”

I don’t get upset at his dismissive response.

Let alone businessmen, even your average Joe knows better than to pay up-front without an insurance. “If you cross me, I’ll kill you.”

“I do not doubt your words, lord Hangman. Q23sDon’t worry, I won’t swindle someone from my own camp.”

“You’re an Aristocrat?”

“I work under Lord Animusphere… I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” No surprise there.

All Astromancers are sworn to the House that will later form Chaldea… Athanasiou might be my way into the Department.

Maybe his antic isn’t that annoying, after all.

We reluctantly drag our feet to the VIP section, where we are led to an elevator which goes up to the office of a blonde whose eyes are red as blood and hair’s a shade paler than Gil’s.

He’s sporting a suit and, of all things, a white fedora.

Surprisingly, the Apostle Ancestor pulls off the look effortlessly.

No one I know could confidently pull off that style, except maybe Gil herself.

Then again, it is still the late ‘90s.

Just as I’m about to walk toward the Apostle Ancestor, I’m stopped in my tracks by an arm that’s thicker than my thigh—and that says a lot, considering I am a 6’1 guy who has never skipped a single leg day since being thrust into the middle of the Fuyuki Great Fire. “Stop!”

The owner is a balding man with a belly so large it could bury me under the beads of sweat rolling down his jiggling stomach. Kinda reminds me of the King who tossed Griffith’s ass like a salad, but bigger and even uglier somehow. “New Money, I’m talking to you.”

I don’t stop, going forward and dragging him along for the ride.

He’s not a Magus… No matter how much money he has; how much political influence, I can annihilate him with a flick.

“I’m going to make you regret that! I was only after the blonde, but now I’m going to make sure all four of them suffer! My men ain’t had bitches like them in months!”

He laughs loudly, turning to his men for support and successfully drawing attention of the entire room to us.

“… What did you say?”

“Lord Hangman, it’s not wor—”

“No, no. What did you just say?” I don’t know what to feel—amusement, or anger. “Repeat that.”

“As we speak, my men are—” He starts, so giddy to the point of annoyance.

“Being slaughtered.” I finish. “Call them… Call them or you’ll miss it.”

Everyone stares at us, hoping to get a fun show, and it’s a fun show they’ll get. “Call your men now.”

Looking every bit as confused as the rest of the participants in the V.I.P section, Papa Nurgle’s ‘Nurgling’ pulls out his phone and dials.

"Is it—"

His words are cut off by the wet gurgles of his men, followed by Stella's quiet, almost imperceptible exhale.

"Wha- What's happening over there?!"

"—I’ll kill you next." The Homunculus threatens, which is my cue to step in.

"No need, Stel! I’m right next to the guy."

"—Sir? Is that you?"

"Who else? Get everyone back safely for me!"

I instruct, knowing that Gil's handmaidens must be terrified, as for the Queen herself… I would be surprised if her heckles are even raised.

"—Understood… Will you require help?"

"No. I got this."

Grinning at the fatso, I hurl the tableware at his gun-wielding goons, watching as the porcelain slices through them like hot knives through butter.

That leaves only the poor fool who thought it wise to send ordinary humans after a resurrected Heroic Spirit, an Einzbern Homunculus and the worst offense of all: To anger me.

What a fun night... Just when I needed a way to unleash my pent-up aggression, some idiot chooses to attack us.

“Do you know who I am?!”

“No.” Almost a head taller than I am, the ugly-bastard-wannabe retreats, cowering behind his seat. “But I know what you’re going to need in a sec.”

“Lord Hangman?” The Magus jumps in.

“If you want to save him, it’ll cost you more than an arm and a leg.”

“Of course not! Just make it quick, Van-Fem’s a patient man, but he’s still... Well… You know.”

An Apostle Ancestor.

Compared to him, what is this fat pig?

"Guess what you're going to need!" I ask, clapping my hands before swiftly sweeping the legs out from under the scoundrel.

Then, I squat down in front of him, meeting his gaze. “Wha- Wha—?!”

“A hand.” With a violent motion, I tear out the arm he tried to stop me with, quickly slamming my free hand over his mouth to stifle the bloody screech.

Even though the VIP section is equipped with soundproofing, that’s no reason to be careless.

Then, I raise the bloody limb and start beating him with it, making sure to use just enough force to avoid completely crushing his skull.

“Why’re you hitting yourself?”

* Thud!

“Why’re you hitting yourself?!”

* THUD!!

“Stop hitting yourself!”

* THUD!!!

By the time I’m done, what’s left of him doesn’t even look remotely human; more minced pork.

Cleaning the blood splatters from my cheeks, I smile at the rest of the V.I.P.

“Sorry ‘bout that… Go on. Go back to enjoying yourselves! What’s the matter?”

Everyone who meets my gaze quickly looks away, shivering like leaves in a storm, as I drop the bloody limb and approach Alexios, who offers an apologetic smile to the group as we head to the elevator to make our way up to Van-Fem’s office.

“Sorry everyone! It’s been a very stressful day for him!”