“They’re artificial Travelers created by Jessica Gorlorne and someone else. Obviously we must look into this because Geratulm almost kicked one of the Traveler’s asses.” Kaladon sighs, opening his eyes and looks around at the General Viajeros, they are Sandy, Bellion Morgarien, Min Fang, Angus Audrina, Harald Lothbrok, Arrancar, Kashiron Jayagitsu, Jenaharo Valmada, Gernibel Pizzaro, Charlene Hundrinya, Keznpechi, Mulysses Ukinattox, Taton Mandon, Asciano Kyojakrun, and Vidar Tacticun. Some have their arms behind them like soldiers, others crossed, or one hand on the hip.
“With all due respect, Kaladon, how are we gonna manage this? I mean artificial Travelers might be bad in all but they’re not the real thing besides doing investigative work is not my thing.” Asciano says readjusting his floral robe hanging on the shoulders before getting hit in the face with a book.
“I was getting there Kyojakrun, artificial or not they could easily massacre Altdorf. I mean look at all of these people here, we had to reinforce the wall because all of your aura can and will kill millions of people at once. Now onto business at hand, I want Min Fang, Typhon Sorn, Angus, and Vidar to investigate if any of you find anything immediately bring it back.” he says, reaching into the coat’s pocket pulling out an item before putting a cigar to his mouth and lights it.
“At least we can keep track of Tacticun even though this is very risky, I can’t control his behavior so Gernibel will be following him.” Kaladon mutters to himself before walking off to this light filled room filled with mutilated children, not Vidar’s adopted sons. The three Viajeros disappear in different directions where he decides to find Vangron, Vidar jumps into the air and stands on it effortlessly surveying everyone. There is this place behind Malvena’s hell slum entrance shaped in a square that houses bunch of kids infested with spiders ripping their way out while oozing out an addicting sensational pleasure, the pheromone made them psychotically insane as when the exact same thing wasn’t in present inside, one would kill another to swallow those insects for as a vulgar dipshit would put it ‘they’re having messed up orgasms!’ Vidar had to watch his friends go through the experiment. Twenty minutes later, with nobody finding anything, Vidar stepped on solid ground that gave a sweet opportunity as someone impaled him through the stomach.
The blade has holes which make it sing when air whistles, he turns around grabbing the top crossguard and Vidar takes one deep huff then throws his opponent forward into a brick wall thirty feet away from them. People looked over to their sides at the assassin then went back to the usual everyday life, being a bystander is way more awesome than being in the Traveler’s debt or gratitude, Vidar runs up kicking his hitman’s jaw launching them in the air. He follows through by remorselessly punching the ever living shit out of her before grabbing one side with an iron grip on her face and slamming into a roof, destroying the building.
Taton walks around the institute’s corridors passing all sorts of soldiers ranging from guards, second seats, and Generals. His haori billows by how fast he’s walking.
“Where in the hell is he? Nereik, my third seat, it was funny when I pushed over the outhouse when you were in it but this is too much!” Mandon bellows, his sheathed regalia called Jiko Fukkatsu is clutched in Taton’s calloused hand, his inner entity likes to believe it was born only to reap lives and resurrect his master. Fear began to seep doubts slowly making the search even more frantic, reminding of his childhood when the everloving parents used to feign panic and parental love in order to lure Taton out, only to torture him even more. Guilt would always override his survival instinct, basically having a conscience can and will kill you. Nereik was outside laying on the ground where a group of people surround him.
“Shit, shit, fuck! Not them!” Taton swears, opening the window and jumps out, coming face-to-face with Viajero’s Mortality Committee. Vidar stands wobbling for a bit walking off his wound, his eyes become so heavy that someone would think they were gonna fall out and takes one long relaxation on a bench next to some brothel, he hears someone sit down but doesn’t look at them.
“So,” the figure says in a neutral voice, “what is Vidar, General of 16th Division doing here instead of finding evidence of pseudo Travelers? Surely you have some reason or excuse but don’t tell me because I probably know why. I’m Typhon Sorn, third seat of the Mortality Committee, all of us hate morals!”
Vidar jumps back after he says mortality. They follow this philosophy called charisma which is individualism and survival of the fittest with a little mix of totalitarianism, so the strongest individual can bring their desire into reality because it has merit while others ignored. Vidar opens his eyes and Typhon's appearance is emerald dead eyes, neck length gray blonde hair, muscular, and young androgynous features. Ragged wide high circular collar black hussar tailcoat, Sorn had the epaulets and any toggles removed, fur trim on the ends of each tail, spotted black and white fur cape, a muffler scarf covering the upper section of his mouth because the jacket’s collar doesn’t reach, and black pants. He pulls the two down revealing a wide smile because it was slit ear to ear, there are some holes between each cut, Typhon slices an enemy’s head trying to sneak up behind him. More rogue soldiers or gang members come out of the shadows, Vidar pushes Sorn away from a ballista bolt when his eyes catch the figure aiming at them, taking the full brunt of it in the head, he falls on his knees. The latter had a oh shit moment pulling him closer trying to pour his Jenseitiger but failed.
Vidar puts his hand on Sorn’s cheek. “Don’t cry because I’m too stubborn to die that nothing will ever kill me.”
He stands up taking out Purgans and fires a Caelum Piercer at the person operating the ballista. City guards appear brutally slaughtering remaining stragglers.
“You’re a ripoff version of an unicorn.” Typhon says touching one of the whistles while the massacre is still going on, Vidar spots a child that was recently hanged and pointed his thumb at it, Typhon watches the stubborn bastard jump and touches one leg. It sparks a competitive challenge as they took turns trying to get the highest place, Travelers are just internally human children because they want to have shenaniganry fun. Their mental growth gets stunted by the amount of stress, battles, and wars.
Always being the first and last line of defense ruins your laidback innocence so being a Traveler while having free time is something they can’t take for granted. The two look at each other then fist bump, Typhon concealed his face when Malvena’s guards showed up to save the day. Vidar checks at the sun realizing he’s going to be late for dinner, Arrancar will never make him live it down even if perpetual sucking on candies addict is dead.
The two arrive at the institute, outta breath, “You guys could’ve Mico Motus here. And I know Vidar, it’s unnaturally hard since you’re training. But since I’m absolute lazy at doing anything productive, this is out of my hands, whoa. Nice try my voluptuous darling but you miss and-”
“Sorry about, I’m Malollin Agenus, second seat, pleased to meet you. Wait… what the hell is sticking out of your head?”
“Sup Malollin, by any chance do I need to make an introduction?” Vidar asks to which she shakes her head.
“No, kinda famous for being able to touch Traveler’s Regalia and that giant one on your back.” she says then they go their different locations. Malollin has beautiful features, violet black hair with wavy bangs half obscuring hazel brown eyes, and glasses with oval black frames and clear temples. A black, red, and gray Han empire hanfu swordsman dress, she traded the footwear for tabi socks and waraji sandals, and wears a red hussar jacket when they go to meetings.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Vidar’s children are in the kitchen still wearing their rags but have stockinged feet, yeah some Travelers below second seat have weird fantasies. They run to hug him and he takes the bolt out, giving it to Velano while saying early birthday present. His face contorts into a confused look before accepting it. Simo, Grando, Deronimo laugh when Vidar’s brain matter leaked onto his hands, the massive hole begins to restore everything back before the number one stubborn ass was hit.
They see the brain matter dissolving then reappearing in his head, Taton and the Committee’s head walks in seeing this clusterfuck, “You’re Vidar Tacticun! Holy shit, can I get an autograph!”
Dark blue eyes with multiple gradient rings, long dirty blonde hair, tall, sharp facial features, and snow pale skin. Short sleeved blue leather trench overcoat with Mortality Committee symbol on the back and hem, under it is a red Jungarian noble marriage jacket, and black coat pants. Now that is one big name. Vidar grabs a piece of napkin and writes ‘Tacticun’ on it. Qego Sevatarius holds it against his chest breathing contently, “Thank you. I will treasure this even after I’m dead.”
Everyone in the room smiles at the two interacting. Maybe, just maybe, humor and friendship can make the hellish world a little bit better.
Qego’s torturous killing methods are on Justinian’s level but he isn’t afraid to question and point out flawed ideologies or philosophies. In some sense, he’s strong, smart, admirable, ruthless, honorable, efficient, and a very strong sense in justice conflicting with the Committee’s whole motto. Having grown up in Vocturnio, which is a city beyond Altdorf and Malvena where no sunlight reaches. They couldn’t grow food or raise livestock made citizens become horrific criminals, some resort to cannibalism for little nutrients because everyone is starving, tons of babies were cooked alive then served as one massive feast.
Sevatarius sits down and reads books about war and logistics, Vidar eats alongside the six other people. It goes well between all of them, Taton banters with Deronimo almost about anything. Grando lays his head against Tacticun’s chest falling asleep, he smiles still giving warming care. After some time, Vidar looks at Typhon, who chews food in a weird way. Flesh extends into four narrow lines between the holes after he opens his mouth, “Typhon, do you want to hold Grando? I wanna check something out.”
The aforementioned person gazes at the two debating it for a second before nodding, Sorn always wanted to comfort young people but was deeply afraid and insecure because of what happened to his face. Parents would talk about this monster with a mouth so enormous that he can eat and swallow children in one bite, scaring them to where the kids hated him. Now Typhon has his chance to do that same desire, once Grando unconsciously or maybe deliberately buries his head into Sorn’s chest, he literally smiled ear to ear.
“Where the hell are you! Typhon, come here now!” A woman yells in a poorly maintained orphanage residing in Yittinum, an equally shitty place as Altdorf or Malvena. Ruled by corrupted, narcissistic, jingoistic leaders only seeking more power and money. Typhon runs to the screaming headmaster who slaps him across the face.
“You ungrateful bitch! I lifted you out of that forsaken hellhole while repaying my saintly kindness with fucking insolence and insubordination! I will fuck you up either by physical, mentally, or sexually. Do I make myself clear!”
He glances at her unflinching, before slowly gaining a smirk pointing at the murdered boys behind them. Sardonically saying, “Did those not bring your ‘true happiness’ back when you decided to fuck their brains out.”
After Typhon said those truthful words, the headmaster was on top of him in a instance holding a chipped knife, quickly slitting his mouth without cares in the world for precision cuts. He pushes her off looking in anything that isn’t broken then found one non shattered mirror, it was crudely cut leaving holes where flesh connects them together like large, flesh like stitches but instead of wire. It’s human flesh, at first Sorn was in denial trying to snap out of the dream but accepted it before proceeding to beat the headmaster within a inch of her life.
“What are you doing? Let go, help, someone get this monster off of me!” she says to which nobody responds, trying again but was stuffed with paper.
“How ironic,” Typhon laughs while gut punching her. “You brought this on yourself, understand that. Choosing personalities on nature versus nurture! You’re the monster, not me!”
Once all was done, slit face ran away to multiple places eventually ending up at Malvena’s Viajero institute after they found he was a Traveler. The previous acting director kindly gave him the clothes that covered his mouth. Yittinum largest orphanage headmaster is still alive and actively hunting for Sorn.
Kaladon sneers in disgust hiding behind half open door, maybe that’s a fetish? But anyways, it the time of the month when Malvena’s blood ritual commences. He carves sharp objects from wood into thinner arrows or shivs.
Qego appears in front of him pointing his sealed weapon at Vlaxon’s throat, the latter tried to fake surrender but was hit in the face with Qego’s blunt side sword. “Damn, did you grow balls or just happy to see me.”
“Not really… considering you’re a massive asshole to all of us. At least Melissa is actually caring, gifting us food, clothes, and medicine while you sell the last one to snobby nobles for an exorbitant amount of money.” he says, now pointing the tip at his carotid artery. The main director pauses for a second to look at his expression, then snow white says. “For too long have you gone through life by trampling and exploiting people and resources. That is a little fucked up.”
Qego punches the wall beside him, trying to keep his cool with maximum effort from flaying Kaladon and using the skin as a cloak. But that compares little to Masigualse, which nobody doesn’t want to know. Fortress made out of human skin from gang members, isn’t that absolutely fucking funny. “I will never agree with your ideology. Even though you did save me and provided me with a place to stay I don’t agree with the way you think. It’s not possible dipshit!”
Vidar travels to Roniam castle to talk with former lady Gorlorne, she’s still wearing that frayed gown from Valmada’s battle. “Gotta be smart about this… she might immediately try and kick my ass.”
Tacticun imagines about multiple scenarios when opening the throne room’s door, Jessica is laying on a tattered mattress and Vidar shakes her shoulder. She looks up at him before scooting away, he takes Purgans off and puts it twenty five feet away from them. “I’m not here to cause harm but just want some help from a beautiful woman.”
“You think my body’s desirable? Tell that to my adopted son.”
“Jessica, I will never lie when talking with you. So please… help me.” Vidar says, clasping her hands together in his palms. Gorlorne looks down, takes a breath and nods making Tacticun smile.
“He’s becoming a fucking man!” one said with a smug smirk, looking on at the two chatting comfortably.
“Can you at least be quiet and let me sleep,” someone says, laying sideways on a floating bed not looking. “Doesn’t it occur to you, that if they knew Vidar was talking with Jessica, there are gonna be more battles.”
“Now… that sounds like paradise! He can use Vollversion and prove the Tacticuns are better!”
“Goddammit! Shut-”
Gernibel Pizarro paces around his room, having a mother of all emotional breakdowns. Ever since Vidar used that Caelum infused arm during the fight, he has been resenting everything because the disintegrating poison didn’t so much as stop him. Servants don’t go near Gernibel’s room when these outbursts occur.
“Why in the hell is he this absurdly stubborn? No one could have ever survive it… what makes Tacticun special, did the slums made him like that or built up an immunity? So many fucking questions but few satisfying answers!” he exclaims. Slashing a poster of Kaladon, making it all tattered and Gernibel storms out. Coming face to face with Bellion, regaining his composure then puts on the smile.
Maids quickly disperse faster than countries declaring war. “I’m gonna use Broń Boża against him and use Vollversion.”
“You finally decided to calm down or still having a massive temper tan-” Bellion smugly says, but was interrupted by Pizzaro’s Regalia, an auxiliary sword shorter than longswords but not classifying as a short sword. The tip pointed at his eye, it’s directly facing at the retinas, but doesn’t lessen Bellion’s smirk than it only increases.
“Fire to slaughter, Broń Boża.” Gernibel says. Swinging in a arch and Bellion kicks it upwards before punching him in the stomach, he broke through multiple walls. Gernibel was laying on piles of destroyed pieces of the building.
“Wait a minute! Pseudo Travelers are genetically engineered by you and Vangron?”
“Yes, they are, Vangron wanted to use them for megalomaniacal ambitions. Basically genocidal as well with the boss of the institution,” Jessica says. “We were so desperate that our goals was justifiably right and good. I’ve endured horrific things to become a noble but it severely broke me. Is that even normal or just… what’s wrong with me! Just leave Vidar, please.”
Vidar silently grabs Purgans, before reassuringly patting Jessica on the head and mico motus out of there. He gets back to the institute, realizing people were surrounding a walkway then bundles of chains finally materialized, wrapping themselves around his forearms. Vidar moves without any free will before hooking to the door’s entrance.