Pat. Pat. Pat.

  Ozymandias’ footsteps echoed throughout the ground as he was walking directly toward Medea. The bright hazy green sun blaring on his back, about to set as he led the group closer. Around them was a western town.

  Tumbleweeds blowing past them, there were rugged wooden buildings side by side on the right and left. Trapping the foreigners into a linear path towards an imposing larger timber building. The silhoutte encompassing the entire behind of the endless world far far ahead. Oak saloons on the right side, inside of it were identical figures which flickered in and out of reality. Cattle and Bison were being drawn across the dirt road by a man wearing a bleached straw hat, hooking them towards some type of barn. Ozymandias laid his right hand across the side, touching the tip of some cacti planted in the sand before giggling to himself. Just where they were all before was a prairie now, full of grass and nature.

  “Guess the Lord is feeling quite Old World today.” Ozymandias leaned his head behind, looking at the ensort. “Some of you may not know this but the Lord changes the environment of the world within a whim. It’s tough to get used to.”

  Felix stared at the lime sunset, “So he controls space too?” Trudging behind Peria, Castor, Pollux and Merlin who stomped in front of him. Their feet coliding with the lane, making footprints which were trampled on by the people behind.

  “It’s quite unclear.” Ozymandias smiled, his face returning to staring at the front of the path. Closer to his left was a familiar bulky silhoutte who sat in a treen Sherrif’s House. A grey bowler hat covering their face. He winked before continuing to lay his fingers along the cacti.

  “You really enjoy doing that, don’t you.” Babael grinned. He was walking beside Beelzebub, Azrael and Lianous at the back of the group. A winged helmet ontop of his head, covering his eyes but still revealing attractive and flowing auburn hair. A large horn sticking out the right of head, curving toward his tawny face. Sharp and pristine black with red tips at the jagged points. Dressed in a hazel training gi, a white band attached at his hip. Feet exposed as they slapped against the sand below, his trousers matching the same colour as his top.

  “It’s a stimulant, keeps me awake. Believe it!” Ozymandias shot up a thumbs up with his left hand.

  “Keeps you awake? But that’s a prosthetic.” Merlin growled, pointing at Ozymandias’ metallic right arm. “What happened there buddy?”

  Ozymandias audibly grumbled before exhaling, “One of our Pucks— the first commander, got really mad at me so then he cut my arm off.”

  “For someone who was speaking about how strong you are, you lost to someone who is weaker than you? If you try and act as if you are a powerful opponent but you have no credentials, it makes you seem more pitiful. More disgusting, less of a King of Kings and more of a liar.” Beelzebub spun his staff around, passing by the Sherrif’s House as he glared at Ozymandias. “He’s a complete and utter counter to me, I let myself get beat by a necromancer. I feel like that’s—”

  “You lost to Lichness Evergard?” Felix smirked, “Last time I remember, he was a red shirt. For someone who talked a big game, you really are a fraud. Well what did I expect, I never get high hopes for a potential ally or foe because they always dissapoint. As Bub stated, you are pitiful.”

  “Sure I am, but don’t down play Lichness. His arsenal is quite strong now he’s in Ostra. Well, wanted.” Ozymandias lifted his right arm and pointed to a wanted poster of the Lich. “Well, I got a question for all of you guys.”

  “Speak it at once please.” The Wilson twins spoke in unison.

  “Well my question is, do you find any meaning now?”

  “P-Pardon?” Peria bleated.

  Ozymandias stopped walking, turning around in the middle of the road. The movement of the street stopped, the figures all stared in synchronisation. His voice went stern and serious, as he peered at all of the survivors.“I mean, you guys are going to fight out here so I just wanted to ask if you find any meaning. Your homes are destroyed, everyone you loved is probably dead. There’s no stopping that, nothing at all. Even as an Medean, someone who lives in Ostra, I feel some sadness for you guys. Even though you guys are our opponnents, it just hurts doesn’t it?

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Just wanted to ask if you think that coming here to Ostra gives you meaning. Do you seriously think that even if we defeat Samiel, that’ll make everything better?

  You guys are smart right, can’t you see that after this threat is eliminated that there is no use for you people.

  Best scenario for you guys would be to forced into being low ranking Pucks, worst case would be a betrayal. That’s not an optimal outcome is it?

  I personallu believe revenge is the only way to truly forget something but is that the same for you guys?A pit of abyss, an empty hole will still be lodged in that chest of yours. Even with God’s wishes you’ll decay inside. A withered flower of your own heart, a desolate fern flower. But can you really do anything now?

  I’ve already seen one of your people leave and I see him as smart for that. He was the lowest ranking Saint whose already lost a brother in arms years ago, would he really be able to do anything? He’ll just die in vain, dying for no other reason— he gains nothing.

  Micheal Pendragon would’ve gained nothing from fighting this war.

  Wouldn’t it be better just to live the rest of your lives in memory of those you’ve lost?

  Don’t take this as me being an asshole. I only speak because I’m confused, do you seriously think there’s a meaning to what you’re doing?”

  .

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  .

  .

  “Alabendo was killed by someone I trusted.”

  Peria spoke up admist the silence, “I was there on the battlerfield and no matter how much astreoids I pulled down from space. Nothing would phase that creature, nothing.

  But maybe this time I’ll be able to pull down a moon, a planet. Maybe this time I’ll be able to do something, I’m taking your advice about training because without that really what can I do? I’m the Second Ranked Angel, or atleast I was and I did nothing.

  Elaine died.

  Prosser died.

  Riolo died.

  Apparatus died.

  Blarae died.

  Lerais died.

  Even before that, I saw Arvo die before my eyes and I did nothing about it.

  I guess the meaning I see is what you said, just die. Die in battle against the God of Monsters, it may be in vain or it may be in success but…

  I never know until I try.”

  “You were right about Micheal leaving us.” Merlin scratched his neck, his claws scraping against his fur. “I don’t blame him for ditching, I would too if I was like that. He was one of the younger ones despite his appearance so he’s not like me.

  Due to being blessed by Thidos, I’ve been around for around eighty years. Lived in Invalia’s slums for most of that before I ran to Floria and beat a trial. Joined the First Grand Reprisal at twenty-oneish.

  But living for so long without growing grey hairs means I’ve seen others grow that, or not even make it to that stage. I’ve seen people grow and depart but also I haven’t seen many of my former colleagues— Saraline, Gabriel, Miles. I haven’t seen their faces in years now, but I’m used to it.

  So what meaning do I gain from this all-together?

  Revenge, Samiel really destroyed the Realm. The skies are all fucked up and the only thing in existence within that ‘universe’ or ‘realm’ or ‘world’ are the fragmented parts of Floria. Not even space or stars exist, we have no day, no night, no time. Nothing.

  It’s Hell personified on Earth.

  Worst part of it, I wasn’t even there the first time to fight her.”

  “Does that fit the rest of you?” Ozymandias questioned.

  Majority of them nodded whilst some stood with their faces staring at the sand.

  Jangle Jangle.

  The sound of chains echoed in the town, but Ozymandias ignored it.

  “I’m sure the Lord will understand, he has ears everywhere in Ostra. He knows exactly what to do. Enough with the self-loathing, I’ll give you what you really need…

  Well you guys do really need help. We’ll help as fruitfully as we came. I promise on behalf of all the Slavi— actually…”

  “What is it?” Felix retorted.

  “I’m pretty sure the fifth slot of the Slavi is opened. Zero went insane.”

  “Isn’t that damn Imp already insane?”

  “He killed Gabriel and Mog. Went on a charade about being ‘The Savior’ then got blasted to Floria by the Lord.

  If you see that Imp, I’d walk away without it recognising your face.”

  “Speaking like he’s a real threat.” Lianous snorted.

  Jangle Jangle.

  The sounds of chains echoed once more…

  “He’s worse than he’s ever been.” Ozymandias shook his head before posing. “Survivors of the Florian Massacre, I Ozymandias King of Kings declare that you must begin your first training exhbition.

  Now face a man that’s been within Ostra since the beginning of the Realm.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  Within an instant, a figure darted out of the Sherrif’s House. Denim long-sleeved shirts which were about to burst, high waisted trousers with buckles and iron chains which clacked at the ground. Leather belt and cowboy boots.

  The man lifted his head, sky-blue dreadlocks seeping out of his wide-brimmed bowler hat. He grinned, pitch white.

  The group got into a battle-stance as they stared at the hulking man dressed in a wild west attire.

  “I am Devil.” Ivory Timpleson punched his palm as he grinned, quaking his thighs which sent shockwaves throughout the town.

  “I don’t like the feel of this.” Felix Nightingale grimaced, he blinked causing his exo-skeleton to snap on the helmet. The face-plate illuminated as darkness befalled the night-sky.

  “The First Slavi, strongest man of eternity.” Ozymandias stepped aside, leaning on the wanted poster’s sign.

  “He is Ivory The First.”