‘Hurt’.
‘Tired’.
‘Hungry’.
There were no words in Gaelic’s current state of mind. Only sensations. Only instinct.
He heard three voices. One belonged to a human friend: the one with a nice smell. Friends always smell good.
The other two? Can’t recognize. He had a feeling that he should. But, it’s not clicking together at all.
They also had a dog. More fur than meat. Still good eating. Very appetizing. His mouth watered at the thought.
Add poison. Paralyze.
Don’t let it escape.
Gaelic snapped at the dog. Instead, he caught a fish. One of the unknown voices -- a small human child -- tossed it straight into his mouth.
‘Fish is food. Food is good’.
He’s not picky. So, he settled for the fish instead.
The friend-smelling one started patting him. She spoke in comforting sound-symbols, devoid of any meaning.
In the sea of songs, there was only one word that he recognized:
‘Almighty’.
It’s a name… belonging to someone. Except he’s not connecting the dots again.
The three voices began to exchange tunes. Their efforts were not as melodic as the chirps of birds and insects. Not so pleasant a listen, but not distasteful either.
At the end of their tune, the tall bony one stood up. He tried to get everyone to move to the city.
Then, there was a loud bang. Heat. Light. Fire. Fumes of wrath. The rampage continued unabated.
Danger compelled him to pull his friend to safety.
‘Go to the ocean. Swim home,’ he tried to say.
She resisted. Why?
‘First, live. Later, ask.’ So he continued to drag her across the sand.
The skeletal stranger wrestled him away from his friend. Strong, that person’s arms wrapped around his pelvis.
Then, the sky turned to sand, and sand turned to the sky.
It’s like that land fish all over again…
Ground… on the back.
A sense of alarmed vulnerability kicked in.
Gaelic screeched.
Thrashed.
Lashed out against his attacker, whoever he may be.
Amidst his distress, a gloved hand touched his skull. It’s not red, therefore it did not belong to the unknown aggressor.
The voice commanded: “Come out of the darkness, child. You don’t belong there. Everyone here is a kindred spirit.”
A gentle warmth rushed through his bones. The sound-symbols -- ‘words’ -- they now have meaning. It’s as though someone lit up a torch, bringing light into his mind.
Gaelic stopped struggling. Clarity returned. The tall one let him go in response.
“Hey, look at that.” It’s the friend-smelling one. “You didn’t bite me this time. Grade ‘A’ improvement! Okay, who am I?”
Gaelic answered: “Cenna.”
“Good. Remember this guy?” She pointed at the male skeleton in a trenchcoat.
“Mondie. Cousin. Garamond Blanc.”
His efforts earned him a praise and a pat on the head. “Hey, look at that. You’re recovering your speech back within the hour. New record there!”
The fingers moved on to the small human. Gaelic shook his head. He doesn’t remember.
Next was the suplex skeleton whose face was wrapped in a red magic-imbued scarf. He had a vague feeling that they had met before. Talked about something over a cheetah.
“Cheetah,” so he answered.
“I’LL GIVE THAT AN ‘A+’ FOR EFFORT, NYEH HEH HEH!”
“BY THE WAY, THE NAME IS PAPYRUS.”
“P… Papaya,” Gaelic muttered. He recalled that they had a nice lunch together. It’s a good memory.
“I’M NOT A TROPICAL FRUIT!”
“Okay, last guy on the list.” Cenna pointed towards the masked man in robes.
The recognition was almost instantaneous. It’s the ‘Grandmaster’, father to his most beloved. The awareness of his shameful misconduct made Gaelic want to bury himself into the sand and die.
And that’s exactly what he tried to do.
The snake rolled over and submerged his body into the grains.
Such a screw-up from start to end.
“Leave me,” he whimpered.
“Don’t be silly,” said the Grandmaster. “Your Lord and Lady still need you.”
Why?…
They had so many other options.
Why this excuse of a slave who can’t ever get things right?
That particular mystery was one of the many reasons that kept the flame of love alive. He doesn’t understand. Yet, because of that, he can’t resist.
“The false angel, Sans Serif.” Replied the Grandmaster. “He has captured the SOULS of our precious allies. We must retrieve them before they’re put in grave danger.”
That man.
That man.
That man.
Just hearing the name ‘Sans Serif’ reminded Gaelic of the troubles that blue shorty had caused. Especially on Cenna.
How many times had her blood been spilt? One timeline after another, she died because of him.
The desire to express his hatred boiled over. Words, he could not find. It frustrated him because he knew they existed somewhere in his head.
Growl. Snarl. He wanted to rip that heretic apart. Crush his bones to dust and lick the remainder off his hands.
Cenna’s touch snapped him out of it.
“Whoa whoa whoa, calm down buddy. I know you’re not happy. But we got a job to do, yeah?”
“Job?” That’s right. “Job!”
At the corner of his eye, Gaelic noticed the unknown human inched closer to ‘Papaya’. They’re trying to hide behind their friend.
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Was it concern? Worry? Fear? Discomfort? Uncertainty?
Whatever it was, it’s the same anywhere his beastly self went. Can he blame that child?
The Grandmaster explained the plan to everyone in the meantime. Some of the fancier words slipped through the gaps. But, he understood the key idea.
Trap Sans Serif.
Rescue the monster Psychia.
Return to the living world with the prisoner in tow.
Papaya’s Eye glowed. Instead of accepting the plan, he shook his head. Refused.
“I CANNOT ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN. IT’S DOOMED TO FAIL.”
The Grandmaster asked: “Why is it so, Gifted One?”
“THERE'S RED LIGHTNING. IN THE WATER.”
‘Red lightning?’
Gaelic knew only one man signified by that very symbol, and he was none other than the worst of worst:
Persona.
They first crossed paths a long time ago. Even before his becoming a Tracker, Gaelic was always around to protect his Lord from the shadows.
Dark recollections of that fateful day crawled out from the depths.
“Hah!” that man huffed. “The Vampire got himself a pet. How appropriate. What is your name?”
“Gaelic? That’s not a name. That’s a label given by your parents for convenience.”
“Wild beasts don’t have names.”
“Nameless.”
“Useless.”
“Vile.”
“Pathetic creature. Nothing more than a mangy vile excuse of a nameless, useless dog.”
“You have no reason to exist. Therefore… this is where you’ll die.”
That thundering flash of his Mark will never leave Gaelic’s memory.
“Your god commands you!”
Cenna’s screaming distracted him from his internal downward spiral.
“OLD MAAAAAAAAAN!!! Why in the damn fuck did you include HIM?!?!”
Persona and Mezil working together? Impossible. There’s no such thing as ‘teamwork’ between them. Only one forcing the other’s hand.
“Is there any way to avoid the bad outcome?” asked the human child.
“I HAVE TO TALK TO MY BROTHER,” said Papaya. “ONE ON ONE.”
“But will Sans listen?”
“I HOPE SO. MY EYE COULDN’T SEE ANYTHING BEYOND THAT.”
“We have to try.”
Turning to the rest of the group, Papaya said: “I’M SORRY, BUT WE CAN’T JOIN YOU.”
The two strangers started running towards their steed, rejecting the Grandmaster’s plans without room for discussion.
Such arrogance. Talk? What is this ‘talk’?
Already foul in mood, Gaelic grabbed Papaya by his short blue pants. It resulted in a minor tug-of-war.
Papaya yelped. “WHAT THE?! CEASE THIS INDECENCY AT ONCE!!!”
“You’re being hasty,” Garamond criticized.
“Ahuh, my senior is right.” Nodded Cenna, “Becaaaause if you run off now you’re not gonna get this sweet, sweet piece of protection.”
The Vanquisher friend pasted a Gram on Papaya’s back.
Gaelic remembered. It was the reason why they had chased him across The Void, through the labyrinth, and up the tower.
“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Papaya asked, confused.
“Something to keep your bike safe.”
It turned into delight soon enough. “OH. THANK YOU VERY MUCH, MISS AUNT!”
“Still going with that nick, huh?”
Cenna’s scent changed. Her body language too, it slanted toward the emotion called ‘embarrassment’.
Curious, curious.
“You. Forgot?” Gaelic asked.
She tensed up. “Shhhh!”
Her flustering made him chuckle. They had been friends long enough. What he didn’t expect… was that the human child joined in their merriment.
“Figures!” They said.
“Awh c’mon Frisky, not you too!”
‘Frisky’ was their name? Wasn’t that a word?
When he switched his attention to the child, Gaelic expected them to shrink back behind the adult skeleton. But they didn’t. Not this time.
Was their bravery genuine? Or had they forgotten their fear?
Questions, questions.
The Grandmaster tapped his war-spade on the sand to catch their attention. It’s a habit shared with his son-in-law.
“I’m afraid we will have to postpone the comedy skit. Gifted One. Crimson Keeper Frisk. Do you realise the implications of your proposal? An answer sought is not always an answer accepted.”
Papaya glanced at Frisk. “WHY NOT? IT’S THE BEST OF THE BEST. HE’LL HAVE TO ACCEPT IT SOONER OR LATER. OTHERWISE, I CAN NO LONGER CONSIDER HIM A SCIENTIST!”
“Very well. In lieu of this vital information, we must change the roster. Garamond, you are now in charge of the rescue. Gaelic and Judge Caraway will stay with me.”
“Yes, Sir.” The other Blanc bowed, and rushed toward the bike posthaste.
Gaelic waited in anticipation for his cousin to show his ultimate skill. Sans Serif doesn’t have it, and how fortunate that was.
When Garamond sat down on the back end of the seat, his Dichromatic Eyes lit up once. His form vanished into thin air soon after.
Papaya and Frisky dropped their jaws.
“Invisibility?!”
“WHAT TRICKERY IS THIS?!?!”
Cenna grinned at their reactions. “Oh man, it’s SOOOO much more than mere invisibility. He’s neither here, nor there, if you get my drift. I think Lucy called it a ‘frequency-shift’? My senior’s one of the few who’s super good at it.”
“That’s cool!” The child exclaimed.
Renewed with optimistic spirit, they tugged at Papaya’s arm; “C’mon, let’s go!”
The bone bike -- mounted by Mondie, Papaya, and Frisky -- thus sped off towards the direction of the crater. It’s fast. Gaelic wondered if he too could hitch a ride someday.
“Judge Cenna Caraway.”
“Yeah, Grandmaster?”
“I’m afraid I must make an unreasonable demand on you.”
She raised a brow. “What level of ‘unreasonable’ are we talking here?”
He pointed his spade towards the distant crater.
For a moment, it was dark…
The next, fire had claimed that place too.
“Ascend to the stars and beyond, Judge Vanquisher. Strike Sans Serif from this very beach. It’s too dangerous to search for a closer point.”
But. But. There’s no way she could do that!
The terrain stood too low for her mere human eyesight, and too far to make an accurate estimate of any sort.
Gaelic offered himself without hesitation. “Scout, ah go.”
He tried to run but stumbled. The fall on the soft sand brought more pain than he had anticipated.
The ache came from his right side. The shoulder. Looking there, he realised that he had large pieces of metal sealed into his bones.
“Frustrating!” He hissed.
The Grandmaster helped him up.
“Hold on a little longer, valiant knight. Become Judge Caraway’s eyes. That way her duty may not be too impossible.”
Cenna stretched her arms and neck, preparing herself for the task at hand.
“In other words, tag team time!”
Golden wisps of sacred power blessed her being. Floated and fluttered about as the very air around her tasted sweet from the output of her magic.
It’s been ten years since he first saw her Justice shine. Back then, Cenna was just a teenager. Lord Mezil brought her to the Berendin Manor for official reasons.
At first, Gaelic didn’t care. Humans come and go all the time.
Until, Lady Lucidia assigned her as a temporary assistant. Said she needed a place to stay after the ‘tragedy’.
Here Gaelic thought he would never make a friend again. Not at his worst. Her positive energy captivated his curiosity, making him leave the safety of the wilderness.
She was a fresh wind of motivation to serve his masters better.
“Hey Gael, mind helping out? I need a mantra to psyche myself up. Mez complained that I’m not able of activating my Ascension reliably.”
“Meh. I’m not like that old man! He’s super talented and he’s got yeeeears of experience! I swear, he’s not human.”
“What if we make this a pleasant surprise for Lucy too? Ahuh? Yup! You two love poetry, right?”
Offering her hand, Cenna invited him to join her for her superior’s tall order.
He accepted.
Gaelic decided it's best to act before the curse of madness reclaims him. It could happen tomorrow, or once he leaves The Void. But, that was the unknown future: not the immediate moment.
“You know how it goes, right?” she asked.
“Aye.”
They held the magical bow together.
Cenna acted as the string’s release, while he’s the bow’s scope.
Due to her Ascended Justice trait, she just needed a general zone of impact. It compensated for Gaelic’s lack of Cyan.
The Grandmaster then touched The Vanquisher’s shoulder. A Mark appeared on her right arm.
“One more blessing,” he said. “That Ace will imbue a piece of my lifeforce into your next shot. Karma won’t be able to consume our efforts.”
Cenna laughed out loud. “Here I thought you’re gonna leave me high and dry.”
“No matter where the cosmos turns, I’ll be here to guide the best I can.”
Arrow, summoned. The Light of Victory travelled down to her fingers, giving the yellow magic a warm and reddish tint.
Gaelic breathed in the beautiful scent of what he identified as ‘life’. It smells of fresh blood: pumping through the body of a healthy individual. Others find it detestable. To him, it’s something that will never tire.
After one final breath to steady himself… the wildling burned his Eye.
There, in the distance, the detestable false angel fought against the delicious land-fish woman. Concentrated beams of magic rained upon their foes. His Skull Cannons lived up to their fame: plentiful and destructive.
In return, the fish and fire tried to pin him down. Rains of water spears. Spikes of flaming oil. Ropes of compressed flames.
But something’s wrong. There’s two Monster Psychia in palm-sized capsules within the Seraphim’s possession.
Gaelic hissed. They cannot deal the final blow. Not while he has hostages.
How he hated the criminals who use others as a shield.
Persist. Persevere. He had a prey. Small in size, short in stature. Smelled of ketchup. Trying to flee from the flames. Heading towards cool waters.
That bugger refused to stay still. Erratic.
If Cenna could see, she would have made instinctive adjustments. He, however, doesn’t have her level of skill.
Cenna’s arm had already started to shake from the strain. There’s a limit a human could bear, more so for weapons magical in nature.
She tried to say something. However, her words had turned into illegible sound-symbols again.
Did that happen the moment he activated his sight? Most likely. His powers come at a hefty cost.
Not good. He must sing the right tune to give the signal.
Gaelic tried to produce the sounds of Cenna’s mantra. Mimicked it. Hoped that with action he’ll recall their meaning.
“Glo-wing kind. Pere-vere.”
That didn’t sound right. He tried again, but failed.
The friend-smelling one began her song. She kept it slow and in small parts, which made it much easier to follow.
“Glowing kindness,” said Gaelic. “Be our shield.”
He heard a positive response. Laughter. Praise. It means he got it right.
“Persevere. And never yield.”
The all-obscuring mental fog began to clear.
“Sacred Justice heed my call.”
They’re in sync.
“Smite this evil, make them fall!”
Gaelic meant every word.
Sans Serif had since reached the ocean’s edge, ready to dip his magic gadget into the cool, cool waters.
Angle, correct. Trajectory, confirmed.
Then, the visuals cut short. Blacked out. Time had distorted around Sans Serif.
It’s the Seer’s time-freeze. Activated on the perfect moment for trickery, and also at their last chance of ending his ploys.
“Now!!!” Gaelic screamed.
Cenna let the arrow fly. It zipped in an arc, faster than any bullet in existence.