…

Submerged underwater, Joran could feel senses returning to him, and as he tried to move, he could feel his body slowly obey. But not nearly as much as he would've liked.

Were his eyes open? They were, but at the same time closed. He could see around him deep turquoise water. The murkiness of the light hardly pierced into the darkness of the depths that laid below him, and it was now that he could distinctly tell that he was sprawled on his back, descending slowly into the depths below him; the surface of the water slowly growing farther away from him. A dread filled him, but not of terror, more of uncertainty of what was happening.

Finally, the light faded away around him, and he could see naught but the faintest glimmer of the surface from where he was; he felt a sensation of equilibrium, noticing that he had stopped his descent.

What was down here? Why am… I here? The difficulty to realizing the second question grew mild concern, but without much delay, there was a voice that echoed through the water around him. But did it echo through the water, or through him?

A gentle, ethereal voice of a woman spoke, clearly in the water, clearly in his mind, "So you are the supposed Joker?"

A shudder went through Joran, but his conscious remained stable, as he tried to shrug off the shivers he possessed from the now freezing cold water.

"Interesting," the voice spoke with clear amusement, "With how much was spoken of you, I forgot how much has changed."

Joran opened his mouth to respond to no avail, as the water pervaded him, water freezing him from the inside out.

"You do not need to speak right now. Wake up, and be what your people need. Or don't, either way works for me."

With a start, Joran's eyes opened wide, letting sterile light of an all too familiar place invade his senses. As he got up and let his eyes adjust to his surroundings, he could still faintly hear an echo of a laughter.

… Was it that voice?

… Was that a dream?

Shaking his head of the wildly fantastical thoughts in his mind, he could feel searing pain hit his head as if someone smacked him from behind. Instinctively shutting his eyes, Joran could then hear a laughter that was tinged with concern.

"Please, Joran, don't get up so suddenly, you're fine. Well, for the most part."

Groaning out the rest of the pain, Joran popped open one eye to glance around the room. As expected, it was the same clinic that Hando and him were in when they first made it to the Metropolis. The person with him was none other than Hando as well.

Recalling the memory of what had happened, Joran fought back the chill that came realizing he had a brush with death. He looked over to Hando and sat in silence for a little bit. Which Hando had no issues reciprocating, as they both looked at each other thoughtfully.

Light filtered through curtains on the other side of the room. The clinic seemed calm and peaceful, aside from the bustle of a few doctors and technicians out in the hallway, a few curt conversations sporadically intertwined. Joran looked over Hando, surprised and deeply relieved to see that he wasn't injured.

Hando chuckled at the relief, "That's how I should feel, you know?"

"Feel what?"

"Relief, Joran! I mean, that was an orc! That was a tree it bludgeoned you into… Reigan swooped in to save you in the nick of time, and if he hadn't I…"

Hando bowed his head down, and tears dripped down to his legs. The atmosphere grew bittersweet as Joran carefully got off the bed and hugged Hando, to which he strongly hugged back as he sobbed.

The two men embraced for a few minutes, before Hando broke it, taking off his glasses to wipe them, and his eyes, "Hah… Sorry."

Joran shook his head, "No, I completely understand, I'm just so glad to see that you're okay, Hando…"

Joran replayed the moment Reigan swooped in, the flash of utter strength and decisiveness. The slash that he hadn't even realized happened on the pale giant orc. Looking at his own hands, Joran gripped them tightly, resolving himself even further.

I still have more to do… I need to get stronger… With that thought, he looked back up at Hando as he sat back on the bed, and asked the question that weighed on his mind.

"How… How long was I out for?"

Hando sighed, having finished collecting himself mentally, "You were out for about three days. When the doctors had a look at you the first night, they weren't entirely sure if you would've made it. But of course, Reigan didn't like that answer…"

"Pffft, ahahahaha," Joran couldn't help but laugh at that, even though he could feel the soreness of his ribs complain, "Yeah, I'm sure he didn't."

Hando pointed his finger accusingly at Joran, "You clearly don't seem to understand the impact you've had on the Realm Monarch, my friend. I wouldn't be surprised if he would adopt you at this point."

Joran waved him off, clearly skeptical of the declaration, "Yeah, yeah, I'm absolutely going to believe that Hando. I mean, he has Drekor and Drason. Sure, Drason is still a few years out in the Central Districts, but come on! Why would he take me as an adopted son?"

Folding his arms, Hando sighed, "I don't care if you don't believe me! I'm telling you what I think, and I'm pretty sure I'm not too far off the mark."

"Whatever," Joran sat there and thought for a few moments, "How did Reigan even get there so fast anyways?"

"Hmm, fatherly instinct?"

"Okay, seriously Hando," Now Joran was getting annoyed and threatened to pinch Hando's nose.

With a laugh, Hando pushed Joran's pinching hand away, "Fine, fine! He said he had eyes on us for the most part. It wasn't until we had gone off into the deeper parts of the forest that he apparently didn't know what was happening. That's when he personally investigated and found us when you had gotten that strike that almost tore off its arm!"

As Joran listened, he recalled a certain line that Chief Ruben had said when they first were properly introduced.

"If the Realm Monarch was planning on sending you to me, then it was to be expected news would travel."

Joran gulped; thankful he wasn't on the Monarch's bad side in any way… No, he hoped he had never actually been on his bad side ever.

"I see," Joran coughed once and straightened himself up, nodding to Hando's explanation as he finished.

"Isn't that awesome?"

"… What is?"

"He saw you injure the orc!"

"… Oh, yeah. Well, I'm glad it's over, but… What about Joseph."

The emotion on Hando's face vanished like morning mist, as he blankly realized he'd been so worried about Joran, he forgot about Joseph.

"Ah," was all he could muster in the newfound silence in the room.

Joran slowly got up, and walked out into the hallway, flagging down a doctor to see what happened to Joseph Jura.

Although he was sore. Although he was supposed to stay in the clinic for another day or so to get check ups and make sure he was okay again, he refused and left. Joran traipsed restlessly to his destination, to where Joseph was buried. They had set him in a cemetery off on the edge of Portsmouth, in between that town and Kaywood, just outside the walls in the Inven Forest. The vegetation was sparse on the ground, only the occasional flowers, and the canopy of trees that stood solemnly over it like the rest of the forest. While there were a plethora of graves, few had actual engravings to mark them. Most of them were nondescript, muddled ground.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Which also included Joseph's, the only reason Joran found it being the abundance of flowers that laid on top of it. Most of them were chameleon flowers that had bright kaleidoscopic pink hues shimmering in the bright daylight that filtered through the rustling leaves of the trees.

Joran came alone, without asking Hando to come along, whom did not for reasons Joran didn't inquire for; Hando had probably departed back to Crown City, after Joran left. He came not because he knew Joseph personally, nor because he sincerely liked him as a person.

He came because he was another person that died in front of Joran. Another person he could only helplessly watch as their breath faded. And he knew all too well what it meant to lose someone dear to whoever he was close to in the Heca, Jura, or any of the other families.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

Joran glanced sideways to see a tall figure that stood beside him. He didn't need to ask who it was, as the deep, regal voice was all too recognizable.

"My parents weren't my fault. They died doing what they felt was the best for everyone. Even if I hate the Gouriki Family for that, I respect my parents at least that much.

But Joseph… Was very much my fault."

A few moments were filled with silence besides the rustling of leaves intensifying as the wind grew at a steady pace.

"So what now? You going to beat yourself up senseless and isolate yourself, like you did when your parents passed?"

"No," Joran closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight, breathing in the crisp wind. He recalled the exact moment he came here to remember.

As he remembered it, he recited the words to Reigan, "'It never gets easier… We just get used to it.' But I will never let it be an indifference to me."

"Hmm," Reigan grunted in agreement, giving a single nod of affirmation, as the two stood above the grave in silence.

A few minutes passed just like this, before Joran glanced around the area before talking to Reigan again, looking back at the grave, "Brandy was there with Joseph. Is she also buried here?"

"I wouldn't know that. But she did put in a report to Ruben after the incident."

"…"

"Do you want to go back and look around again, Joran?"

"What did she say on the report?"

Reigan shrugged, "Right now, Drekor is in my stead there. We might be better off investigating right now while we're here. Our eyes to see it for ourselves if you will."

"Well, I'd be honored for the Realm Monarch to grace me with his presence."

Chuckling, Reigan lead the duo deeper into the forest. Although he had been in the jeep that day, Joran could gauge roughly where they had ran off the path into the forest. And sure enough, after a few hours, they came across the tracks of the jeep. And eventually, he came across the same kobold tracks he had ran into that day. But before they trekked any further towards the clearing, Joran grabbed Reigan's arm, a deep dread filling him.

"Shouldn't we have more people with us? What if there's more than just the kobolds and… orcs?"

In a half playful, half serious tone, Reigan smiled coyly, "Don't worry, you have me here, Joker Joran. Let's go."

With that, they pressed on into the clearing that Joran dreaded coming back to. Fighting back the red that clouded his vision, he looked on the multitudes of footprints and havoc that was clearly wreaked here. The bodies were all gone, but Joran could see them there as if it were still in the moment, not because of his Sacred Sight Arts either. Keeping his breathing steady, he studied the crater the orc left behind for a moment, not wanting to see the remnants of Joseph in anyway, and looked on to where the kobolds had been. If his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, there were 5 kobolds strewn across the clearing, all downed in one or two hits at most.

"At least Joseph didn't go down without a fight," Joran stated as he observed and explained what he saw to Reigan.

"Hm, something isn't adding up."

"What do you mean?"

"You said there were 5 kobolds?"

"That I see out here yeah. I see very clearly 5 sets of kobold tracks, along with Joseph's tracks, the Orc, and then one track of footprints I'd assume was me or… Brandy, somehow."

"Look again, did you follow the track that we followed here all the way to its end?"

Joran was confused but followed Reigan's instructions, retracing back to the original set, and then followed it. Much to his surprise, it shot straight across the clearing into a set of bushes on the far end. Reaching there, he could see a body that was clearly deceased, blue blood pooled as dried stains on the ground, the scales of the lizard-like creature decaying.

And then the smell.

Almost retching once the smell hit him, Joran grabbed his knees and went off to the side, trying to fight it back, as Reigan looked into the bushes to see for himself, to which he nodded to himself.

"That's what I thought. If this is an Invasion, what we had to deal with were coherent and organized goblins, and… distinct packs of kobolds. 'Always in 3 pairs in the same group. Always 6 in total.'"

"… Why?"

"Each pair had elements that complemented the other. It made them exceptional threats…

"As long as they were in groups within the rest of the Beasts from the Beyond. You were right, Joseph didn't go down without a fight. In fact, he didn't go down at all with these Kobolds."

Brows scrunched and confused, Joran pressed on the subject, "Meaning?"

Reigan pointed at the crater left by the wooden club that the orc used, "He was there not because of the kobolds. Something else did him in, especially because an orc would've been too slow for a Blood Gazing Arts user that had killed 6 kobolds."

Before asking, Joran thought to himself, and talked half to himself, and half to Reigan, "The reason being, Blood Gazing Arts will allow users to accentuate themselves based on beast scents around them? And killing something directly ascends that to enrapturement?"

Reigan nodded, "Excellent memory, Student Joran."

"Hah," Joran sneered casually, "So how does one take down a Blood Gazing Arts user like that, then?"

"They do come off the high eventually, nothing lasts forever, naturally. But there is a fatal flaw to the Bloodhounds in that way. If something, someone, or a beast slices at major ligatures of the Bloodhound's body, their Arts will stop working completely."

Joran pondered on what the Monarch had relayed to him, "So if you sliced at their arms, or their legs, they're rendered ineffective?"

"Specifically across both ankles, or across both wrists. In some way it disrupts their flow, and renders their 'high' spoiled. It could even be paralyzing depending on how accentuated a Bloodhound is."

"You know… Assuming they aren't just incapacitated because of the lack of mobility in the first place."

Reigan rolled his eyes at Joran's impetuous remark, and thought to himself for a moment before frowning, "But really, no one knows that besides select members of the Swift Clan, or people who are Bloodhounds. A Beast wouldn't necessarily know that, let alone accidentally pull that maneuver."

As they conversed during this time, Joran had been surveying the area, and he finally came across focal points of the kobolds' tracks, where it distinctly takes off in a direction, "Reigan, I've found their tracks to where they came from, should we go?"

"Yes, let's."

They followed the tracks along for a little while longer, the sun once again beginning to angle lower in the sky, though the red-orange hue hadn't quite colorized yet. Eventually, they came across another set of 6 tracks of kobolds to go along with the original 6 that they were following, which both came as strange and concerning. Reigan had just said earlier kobolds are always in 3 pairs in a pack. Yet, there were 2 separate packs that went in the same direction and then split off in different ways later on.

Why? It was the only question that filled both of the duo's minds as they pursued the tracks deeper into the forest.

Here, the rhythm of clearings, dense shrubbery, and mild vegetation began to become more and more predominantly dense foliage. Walking had become synonymous to working through bushes, vines, and low hanging trees. But because of the Sacred Sight Arts, they could continue on, until finally they came across something neither of them expected.

Out of the wall of foliage they had worked through, they clambered out and into a wide-open clearing, where there was a clear encampment of goblins, kobolds, and a few orcs intermittently in the camp.

And for the first time since he could remember, Joran heard Reigan sharply breathe, before cursing under his breath, "Blessed Seiki!"

But only for a moment, before Reigan collected himself and took strides to the edge where the clearing ended, and the encampment began. There were no structures of any kind, it was more accurate to say the land was flattened by constant movement, and there were specific places where the ground dipped down into blatant holes or mild depressions that these Beasts probably rested in when night came. So when Reigan walked up to the open dirt, it was apparent that the entire encampment had noticed him, and had all charged at him without hesitation.

Needless to say, Joran felt as if the Realm Monarch had lost his mind. But he planted his feet solidly into the ground, unable to run or scream at all. He just stared intently at the back figure of Reigan, whose broad shoulders and posture was open and proud as at least 3 dozen goblins, 3 or 4 packs of kobolds, and 2 orcs charged him.

Without turning his back, Reigan called out to behind him, "Joker!"

"Y.. Yes, Realm Monarch?"

He couldn't see it, but Joran could intuitively tell that Reigan had smirked as he brought his right leg back, and primed his hands in front of him, clasping them together, pointing the index fingers out towards the group that was nearly upon him.

Reigan uttered his next words that were as cold as ice, the pitch dropped drastically. In the back of his mind, Joran could tell this was Reigan being truly, resolutely serious.

"Witness the might of the Idaten."

As the sunlit earth changed subtly to the red-orange hue being cast by the low sun. As the goblins almost hit Reigan with their sticks and mangled twigs. As the kobolds began to rear up and start wielding their elements, some fireballs, some icicles, and some lightning bolts. As the orcs lumbered with open hands ready to bludgeon the small human before them, Reigan whispered indiscriminately, yet provocatively to Joran, a declaration of what he was about to do.

"Ray-Gun."

In the next moment, Joran was already pushed back by the supersonic shockwave that threw him into the foliage they had clambered out of, and the entire encampment was already smashed into the earth, blood smeared across the dirt from goblins that popped like balloons, kobolds whose scaly skin shattered, and the 2 orcs whose bodies were flattened like pancakes. The entire earth was literally pushed into itself, the entire clearing now a solid foot lower than it was before.

In the moment after that, the sound shattering explosion that followed pushed back trees violently, uprooting the ones that surrounded the clearing, erupting the leaves on the ones that resisted the explosion, scattering them into the sky. The tree Joran found himself in was almost snapped in half, but then catapulted him back to where he had been before the explosion set off. Planting himself into the ground, he groaned slightly from the pain, but he was more in awe of the visible shockwave that had gone through the entire area. The form of the man standing in nearly the exact same position he was in before, only now looking at Joran, with a toothy grin, as if the surrounding landscape hadn't drastically changed by a single move.

Joran scoffed in absolute incredulity, as he got up, and coughed out some of the dust and wind he caught, and looked up at Reigan once more, thinking to himself only one thing.

I really don't want to get on the Monarch's bad side.