Original Author's: (SkyRig) (TheStrangerThatCameFromNowhere) apparently it's a joint account i don't know who's the writer between these two Lol maybe both?
Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52280170/chapters/132249322
Chapter 1: The Royal Eminence
If you were to ask people what they thought of Cid Midgar, the answer was "average".
Born from a noble mother and a commoner father, Cid was raised in the royal palace alongside his cousins as though he were King Klaus' son. Many believe that the king's fondness for his nephew stemmed from his resemblance to his mother and the king's sister. The whereabouts of the father are unknown, but Sofia Midgar perished due to the stress of childbirth and illness. The physicians worried that, because of her illness, her son would be sickly and weak.
Fortunately, this was not the case. Cid Midgar was a healthy young man. He spent his childhood normally, albeit with the privileges and benefits afforded to a member of royalty. That was not to say the boy had it easy, of course. Royal blood or no, the boy's father was a commoner and born out of wedlock; a bastard child, in other words. There are all manner of rumors of what the relationship between the commoner and Sofia Midgar was like, the most popular being that the father forced himself upon her.
Despite the royal blood in his veins, Cid was treated with mild disdain by members of high noble society. To them, he was an eyesore and an annoyance. It seemed only natural, in that regard, that Cid didn't stand out in comparison to his cousins. Crown Princess Iris was a budding prodigy with a sword and even claimed victory at the Bushin Festival not long ago. Her sister, Princess Alexia, was not quite as talented with a sword as her older sibling, but only a fool would say she was an amateur. By comparison, their cousin was fairly middling. He has the potential to be a spellsword, but that is the extent of his "usefulness" in their eyes.
It also helps that, by all accounts, Cid Midgar is a wallflower who goes out of his way to avoid being the center of attention.
—It's in his "character bio", after all.
X x X x X x X x X
This sucks. This really freaking sucks. If I had known I was going to have my very own isekai experience, I would have at least liked to have gotten a heads up about it!
Okay, so first things first. I'm Minoru Kagenou. Well, I used to be Minoru Kagenou. These days, I'm Cid Midgar. I'm thirteen years old, and I'm a member of the Midgar royal family.
Some things you need to know about me before I tell you my story. You see, in my world, everything revolves around science and logic. I was your average joe, as in I never got anything higher than a B- or excelled in any sort of activity. In fact, that was the way I liked it. I didn't want to stand out and expose my true talents and abilities. You know how people like superheroes or shonen characters who stare down seemingly impossible odds? Well, I like the opposite. I like shadowy masterminds, the characters who lurk in the background and manipulate things from behind the scenes. They were my heroes.
I don't exactly remember when I decided I wanted to be an "eminence in shadow". All I remember is how badly I wanted to be one. To that end, I studied all manner of things that would suit an eminence, be it peak physical capabilities and mastery of all manner of martial arts or things you wouldn't expect from a mob like being able to play a piano or violin like a master. Ultimately, though, I realized none of that was useful.
Why? Because of the existence of weapons of mass destruction. Guns and katanas could be circumvented, but how do you survive being hit point-blank by an ICBM missile or a nuke? I agonized over this glaring weakness, despairing over how I might be able to overcome it. The answer was magic.
And so I trained in a variety of ways, up to and including meditating under a waterfall and spending several months in the wilderness by my lonesome to "become one with nature".
…and then I died. I honestly don't know how, but I think it might've been truck-kun.
Anyway, that's not important. What is important is that the answer I desired for so long was within reach. In this world, magic existed. It was similar to medieval times and other fantasy works you come to expect to see in manga and anime. Society was advanced enough that they had modern clothing and plumbing, not to mention decent sewer systems and trains (no planes yet, sadly), and they learned how to mix their technology with magic. I, of course, intended to take this a step further in my pursuit of becoming an eminence.
This isekai experience was a boon in that it made my dream but a hair's width away! …eeexcept for one problem. See, my original plan was that I would become a "mob" character. You know, a nameless NPC who fades into the background and is entirely irrelevant? Yeah, that kind of character. After all, who would expect a badass shadowbroker to be some nameless scrub likely to be killed off in the tutorial stage? Sadly, that plan was shot to hell before it could even come off the ground.
A prince couldn't be a mob, after all. Apparently, my mother is the sister of King Klaus Midgar, i.e. the head honcho of the Midgar Kingdom. My royal status alone would ensure everyone had their eyes on me, thus I had to re-invent my day-to-day civilian persona. It didn't take me long to create a replacement persona.
See, the nobles hate me not only because my parents weren't married, but my dad is also a commoner who supposedly flaked out sometime before I was born. I don't know the whole truth, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't care to know who my dad was. He was probably some lovestruck rom-com character like in that one trashy otome game I played out of boredom (please don't ask). So yeah, a royal bastard with commoner blood in him. A reeeaaal winning combo there. Most people would have despised or buckled under the pressure, but I saw it as a stroke of luck.
And thus I created the guise of "Wallflower, Cid Midgar". To the world at large, he was a young man who knew his way around the sword but recognized how utterly hopeless he was compared to his more successful cousins Iris and Alexia, so he didn't put any effort into excelling in his swordplay or his studies out of fear of ridicule and criticism, both of which followed him everywhere he went.
It was perfect. Better yet, it worked! Except for some of the kind maids, my cousins, and the king, hardly anyone paid any real attention to me!
An extra benefit and silver was lining to me being a royal as well. While I'm not in the running for the throne, I do get a rather sizable allowance, all of which went straight to my eminence funds! At this rate, I'd be living the cushy lifestyle in no time! I even have subordinates!
Oh, right. I should probably explain that too. In this world, there's a rare affliction called "Possession". No one knows the cause beyond that anyone unlucky enough to suffer from it will inevitably turn into a lump of rotting, living flesh. There's no cure for the condition beyond the sweet release of death. The church practically made it a social norm for people to give the Possessed to them so they could "purify" them with the excuse of purging demons.
The truth, however, is that Possession is not an affliction, but a curse placed upon the descendants of the Three Heroes by Diabolos, a great and mighty demon who terrorized the world thousands of years ago. The persecution of the Possessed and the ones taking advantage of their plight are the Cult of Diabolos, an evil organization that wishes to revive the demon and rule the world from the shadows.
…that's all a lie, by the way. The Cult doesn't exist. I made it up to a Possessed I cured three years ago. If wanted to live out my fantasy as an eminence in shadow, I needed to create some vile group to oppose. I'm pretty sure the girl and our new friends realize it's all just pretend at this point, but they're still going along with the lie. Hell, they even like to expand on it!
Speaking of which…
"How much further, Alpha?"
"Their base is just up ahead, Lord Shadow."
Today we were roleplaying. A group of traffickers set up shop here in the royal capital. Ballsy guys if you ask me, but that only made them all the more worthwhile to target. If they had the guts to base themselves right under the royal guard's nose, they must have a lot of scratch. The girls believed they were members of the cult and were conducting experiments. I didn't see any reason to correct them. It was nice being able to roleplay every now and then.
Our group consists of four members: Two therianthrope and two elven women. They were all women around my age, or at least I assumed the elves and therianthropes were. Elves were long-lived, after all.
Alpha was the girl I cured of Possession three years ago and my first recruit in Shadow Garden, the organization I created to combat the (fake) threat of the Cult. We've even got our own little badass moto, "We lurk in the shadows, and hunt down the shadows."
Back on topic regarding members, Alpha is a blonde-haired elf with blue eyes. Once a petite girl, her figure filled out the last three years. It wouldn't be remiss to say she was the type of girl who could get any guy she wanted with her looks alone. Thinking about it now, the same could be said about the other members. Beta is at least three years older with a mature figure that definitely didn't belong to a teenager, and Delta and Gamma had petite but developing womanly features with looks to match.
Ah, for the record? I'm not a harem protagonist. I have no interest in romance. You would think that being surrounded by such beauty, I would be a horn dog, right? Well, I'm not. Even as a thirteen-year-old boy (and technically a thirty-year-old man), my libido and attraction to the fairer sex were middling. Maybe the girls just killed my desire for romance, or at least physical attraction?
Meh, whatever.
We finally came up on the traffickers' base of operations. From what Alpha told me, the place is a storage warehouse for a manufacturing company. Whether it had ties to the cult was something Alpha is investigating at the moment, but she did confirm there were an unusually large number of people coming in and out of the warehouse. If you ask me, it's a little cliché, but who was I to say no to free loot?
"Lord Shadow," Beta says. "Your orders?"
I smile and cross off yet another phrase off the bucket list. "Let the shadows fall."
And just like that, we're off.
X x X x X x X x X
Viscount Grease wonders how many times he must damn himself to the bowels of hell before he grows accustomed to the sight in front of him. He and several others stand behind a glass panel, their attention focused on the chained Possessed beyond the glass. At such a late stage, most Possessed would be reduced to misshapen, discolored lumps that barely looked human. They would writhe in pure agony, their ability to scream and cry tears long gone. This was not the case with their current specimen. Most of her body is rotting, ruining the otherwise voluptuous beauty Grease came to know for the last five years, but she managed to retain a human shape.
"This goes beyond our wildest dreams!" one of the researchers exclaims excitedly. It sickens him to know these are the sorts of people he's assigned to protect.
Grease grimaces. He met this girl five years ago. She just discovered she was Possessed and fled her home in the middle of the night. A brave girl, just ten years old. She reminded him so much of Millia, but that didn't stop him from taking her. She put up a good fight, but he beat her in the end. His superiors wasted no time in using the girl for their own ends. Grease would have protested were he a lesser man. He consigned himself to this fate, knowing it was fruitless to oppose them. These people control the world, their grip absolute. Challenging them was suicide. As much as he pitied the poor girl, he had his orders.
Why do you continue to endure? Grease wants to ask her. He doesn't understand what drives the girl, or why she continues to resist and fight back. Even now he sees her thrashing around in her bonds like a wild animal. You have nothing left. You gave up your family. You let them go. You have nothing. So why…?
He closes his eyes and turns away. The facility is secluded, safe from prying eyes and in a place no one would suspect. There is little reason to continue protecting the researchers when they are in such a safe location. Even if someone did discover this place, they would ultimately fail. None of Grease's men were on par with the Named, but they could handle the average peon and fool.
—Little did he know the ones who found this place were no peons or fools.
The attack comes suddenly. It happens so quickly he doesn't even realize what's happening until the building starts to shake and a soldier stumbles in front of him.
"Viscount! We are under attack!"
"What!"
Grease wonders who could have found their facility before shaking his head. "Where are they?"
"T-they're making their way down to the lower levels! They're slaughtering us like flies! They'll be here any minute!"
"Tch! Guard the researchers and escort them through the tunnels." Thankfully they prepared for potential incursions such as this.
The soldier nods and charges into the research station while Grease goes to back up his men. He doesn't know who is attacking them or why, and in the end, he doesn't care. What matters is that he does his job and protects those blithering idiots. He climbs up the stairs and sprints down the halls before making it halfway across the level. He crashes through the door, his sword already drawn and expecting to find his men waiting for him.
Instead, he finds a slaughter.
Iron overwhelms the air, invading his nostrils with such potency it makes his nose burn in irritation. His men are all dead, scattered about the room and lying in pools of their blood. Some have even been ripped apart, limbs torn off and chests ripped open. He sees one of them hanging off the hand of one of the attackers. The sight of the invaders makes him wonder if he's hallucinating.
"Children?"
With the exception of the young woman with strawberry-blonde hair, the others are pre-pubescent teenage girls with petite bodies, all of them clad in black-and-gold bodysuits. He can't tell what race the young woman is, but the blonde-haired girl at the head is an elf, and the two girls covered in blood are therianthropes, recognizable by their tails and extra ears.
Grease isn't sure what he's seeing. The idea that these girls were responsible for killing his men is outlandish, yet the sight of the black-haired therianthrope holding up an armored corpse with her arm buried in his chest is proof enough. What disturbs him even more is the ecstatic smile on her face.
"Who are you?" he demands, pouring mana into his sword. Even though they are children, they're still meddlers and he must deal with them like anybody else.
The blonde elf stares at Grease coldly. "We are Shadow Garden," she announces coldly. "We live in the shadows, and we hunt down shadows."
Grease's eyes widen. He recognizes the name almost immediately. Shadow Garden was a whisper on the lips of his superiors, a group interfering with their operations. They knew nothing about them save that they were becoming a thorn in their side. Grease never imagined that the group challenging his superiors was made up of young girls.
"We know the truth." The oldest of the girls speaks. In comparison to the blonde elf, her words are as cold as the icy tundras of the unmapped northern continents. "About Possession, the descendants of the Three Heroes…and the Cult of Diabolos."
Ice seeps through Greace's veins. "How do you know that?!" It should be impossible for anyone to know about the cult's existence. Even he, a member of the nobility, knew nothing about them until they came for his daughter.
"How we know is none of your concern," the young woman replies. Magic power fills the air. "The only thing you should be concerned about…is your death."
It takes him a second to raise his sword just in time for the young woman to close the gap between them and swing her sword down on his head. Their blades clash, and almost immediately Grease realizes he has no chance as he is now. The Cult of Diabolos taught him many techniques to increase his power, as well as giving him something to push past the boundary between "normalcy" and "superhuman". The power on display in front of him is on par with his superiors, if not stronger.
The thought that he faces someone stronger than someone in the Cult terrifies Grease. As the ground beneath him cracks from the clash of power between them, the viscount looks at the young woman's eyes. In them, he finds nothing but iron-clad resolve and fury. He knows then that the Cult robbed this woman of her happiness. A victim of their cruelty.
Anger boils in his chest, born from feelings of regret and self-loathing. "You are a fool!" he shouts, mustering his strength and pushing her back. He tries to cut her down, but she's faster than he is, dodging with incredible speed. "You think you can challenge them?! The Cult… This darkness is greater than you could possibly imagine! It will swallow you whole!"
The blonde elf intercepts his next attack, suddenly appearing in front of him as he's in mid-thrust. Like the young woman, her eyes are filled to the brim with resolve. "Then we will sink deeper into the dark."
You are all fools, Grease wants to shout. There's nothing you can do to stop them! Just give up!
These girls remind him of the poor child locked up in the level below. They fight with a powerful resolve, one he utterly fails to grasp and understand. He doesn't understand. What cause do they have to push on, to challenge the impossible?
Grease grits his teeth and puts distance between him and the invaders, digging into his pocket for the bottle. He doesn't bother trying to uncork the top, there's no time. With a burst of magic power, the bottle shatters in his grasp. He feels the glass shards digging into the skin of his palm and ignores it. The pain is nothing compared to what will come next. He grabs the pills, all of them, and throws them into his mouth in a single gulp.
The Cult calls these pills "tears". They increase one's power beyond imagination, at the cost of their humanity. Grease hoped he would never have to use it, but in the face of such a dangerous threat, he has no choice.
The Awakening occurs within seconds of ingestion. His power swells well beyond what his body can handle, but Grease doesn't care. He lets it flow through his body, ripping apart his muscles and intestines. Even if it was only for a few seconds, even if it was only for a moment, Grease wanted to impart these children a lesson.
"Hraaaaaaaaagh!!" He pours all the mana he has into his sword, aiming to kill at least one of them in a single strike.
Contrary to Viscount Grease's hopes, however…
…wait…is that…the ceiling…?
His body feels oddly light.
Within a second, Grease realizes he's flying through the air. The massive power surging through him is gone in an instant as if it was never there. It isn't until his body starts turning and sees a headless corpse wearing his armor and cloak that Grease realizes what's happened.
The last thing that goes through his mind as his head hits the ground is his daughter.
Mil…lia…
After that, he knows no more.
X x X x X x X x X
Sheesh, I'm so fricking lost. I got so distracted by the promise of loot that I ended up taking a different route than the girls…and by that, I mean I accidentally blew a hole in the wall. Conveniently, the hole revealed a hidden corridor. The corridor was designed differently than the rest of the bottom floor, and my curiosity got the better of me, so here we are.
Chances are the girls snatched up most of the loot by now. Hopefully, they got something good.
I pause mid-step as I hear voices coming further down the hall. It sounds like arguing.
"You idiots! What part of, we have to hurry, do you not understand?!"
"Shut up, you fool! Do you not realize how valuable this specimen is?!"
I follow the voices and find a room made out of solid concrete and walls of steel. To my left was a glass panel with people behind it, mainly guys in robes accompanied by knights. Sheesh, even the knightly orders have corruption. To my right was a Possessed girl, maybe two years older than me, with long black hair and bloodshot eyes. She was chained to the wall and thrashing around like a wild animal. Like every other Possessed I've run into, her magic is running wild, more so than others.
"Waaah! W-who the hell are you?!" The traffickers are staring at me, the knights readying their swords.
Just as I open my mouth to reply—
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!"
The Possessed girl lets out a beastly roar, her magic practically exploding off her in waves. The chains binding her shatter to dust. The traffickers all scream in panic, but they don't have any more time to react. With another roar, the girl jumps at them, smashing through the glass. What follows next is an R-Rated bloodbath and limbs flying off.
"Eesh. And here I thought Delta and Zeta were bad," I muttered. I was no stranger to gore, but this is pretty visceral! "Uh-oh." With the traffickers dead, the girl now set her sights on me. To my surprise, she managed to make a semi-physical sword with her wild magic. My slime suit responds to my commands and creates a black sword. Our blades collide.
I slip into my shadowbroker persona, recognizing a good opportunity. A shame no one's around to see it. "You wish to dance, do you? Very well. I'll be your partner. Do try and keep up."
I'm not sure whether she took it as a taunt or not, but the girl attacked me either way. There was no force or finesse, much less technique. It was all just wild swings, each relying on pure magical prowess. Her swings tear through the metal panels and the concrete like they were paper.
She reminds me of a cornered animal. The only difference is that animals tend to know when they're outclassed. They recognize they are in the presence of a powerful predator and either submit or flee. She did neither of those. Actually, watching her flail, I don't think she even realizes what she's doing. She's on autopilot, attacking anything and everything around her. More specifically, she's attacking what she thinks is the biggest threat, i.e. me.
The girl's magic explodes in her hand as she swings her mana sword. My sword ripples on contact, the force of the magic threatening to undo its shape. I'm almost impressed! If this is what she's like when she's out of it, what's she like fully conscious?
I throw off her mana sword and send her flying. She responds by sending crescent arcs of magic power my way. I jump and evade the arcs, watching them tear apart the ground. She pursues me even in the air, using magic-enhanced legs to jump up and reach with her mana sword to impale me. In response, I bat her blade away and snatch her by the hair, slamming her back down into the ground. It doesn't keep her down for long as she explodes with magic power again. Within seconds she's back to charging at me and swinging her mana sword recklessly.
Now that I look more closely, her magic fluctuates wildly. Its crescents and peaks at irregular intervals, weak one moment and strong the next. It's probably because she's Possessed, but still, this is weird. At the very least, I'm learning some very interesting things. I've tried making mana swords in the past, but it was a no-go. Creating something with magic was easy, but giving it a corporeal shape for prolonged periods was next to impossible. It was why I used slime to create my weapons since they're excellent conduits for magic power. In a manner of speaking, my magic is the "ore" and the slime is the "anvil".
If this girl could make a mana sword, maybe I could give it another shot? I'll observe her technique a little while longer. Hehehe, dance for me, my friend! I'm getting so much EXP from this encounter!
X x X x X x X x X
Although her body was lashing about like a feral dog, Claire Kagenou was dreaming.
She's two-years-old in her dreams. At that point, she could speak clearly and was at least partially literate. It wouldn't be until she was three that she could read and write as well as everybody else. She's in her room reading a children's book about knights when her parents come into her room with good news.
"You're going to be a big sister, soon!" her father told her with a bright smile.
Claire couldn't begin to describe the happy feelings in her chest when she hears the news. While the maids were pleasant company, she always found it a little lonely to play by herself. She wanted a companion, someone she could share her toys with. Having a little brother to play with and maybe dote on was the best news ever. Like every child, though, she thought she had a brother at that point. It was weeks until her parents properly explained that her baby brother was growing in her mom and it would be months before she could see him.
She spent months making all sorts of diaries and day-planners, dreaming of various ways she could spend time with her baby brother. She imagined walks through the town, playing with toy swords, going to school, and so on. As months went by and her mom's stomach swelled, Claire got more and more excited.
Eventually, her mom gave birth. That was the day Claire's dreams came to an unceremonious end.
"Why… Why isn't Cid breathing?!"
Claire didn't understand what was going on. Her mom was crying while her baby brother slept on the bed. Her father, also crying, hugged her and apologized.
Her little brother was stillborn. He died in their mom's womb.
Her little brother was dead.
It wasn't fair. She never got the chance to meet him. She never got to see him open his eyes. She never even got to hold him.
They couldn't play house.
They couldn't play hide-n-seek.
They couldn't play pretend.
They couldn't play with wood swords.
They couldn't spar.
They couldn't hang out in town.
They couldn't go to school together.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair!
itwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfaiitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfaiitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfaiitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfaiitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfairitwasntfair
IT WASN'T FAIR!
The dream ends abruptly. The last thing Claire hears before her eyes open is the sound that haunts her dreams, the sound of a baby crying. The wonderful sound she never got to hear.
It takes Claire several seconds to realize three things. The first is that she is not in pain. She feels groggy, but that is the worst of it. She moves her fingers, wriggles her toes, rotates her jaw, and finds no discomfort. The second is that she's fully cognizant of herself and her surroundings. She's lucid enough to realize what's happening to her and where she is. Finally, she's not in that horrid place anymore. She's in a room with black curtains and an open window. The sun is dipping into the horizon, tinting the sky dark orange.
"What?" Claire blinks in bewilderment and slowly sits upright. The rags she was forced to wear are gone, replaced by thin pajamas. "Where-where am I?"
The door to the room suddenly opens. Standing there holding a silver tray with a pot and cup is a woman older than her by a few years with platinum blonde hair spilling across her shoulders and a small smile. She's easily the most beautiful woman Claire's ever seen, enough to make her feel self-conscious about her own figure. Oddly, she's wearing a maid uniform.
"I'm glad to see you're finally awake," she says pleasantly. "You've been unconscious for three days now."
Claire furrowed her brow. Three days? As curious as she was, she was more curious about where she was and who the maid is. "Where am I? A-and who are you?"
The maid sets the tray down on the nightstand next to her, then turns to face her properly. "My name is Victoria, a humble maid in the proud service of Midgar's prince. This is the guest room here at the royal palace."
Claire's jaw threatens to kiss the bedsheets. "What?!"
As young as she was then, everyone knew who Prince Midgar was. He was the nephew of the king, his mother having died from childbirth. Although his father was a commoner, the king warmly welcomed him into his family and formally recognized him as a member of Midgar's royal lineage, albeit to the chagrin of most of the nobility. That he was born out of wedlock didn't help.
Learning Victoria is the prince's maid was surprising enough, but hearing that she's in the royal palace? She almost fainted on the spot!
"W-w-w-w-why am I in the royal palace?!" Claire stammers, suddenly fearing for her life. "Am-am I going to be executed?!"
Victoria laughs as if amused. "Oh, hardly. The prince brought you here out of the kindness of his heart after we found you unconscious in the streets."
"What? But that doesn't make any sense. I'm…" Claire suddenly trails off and looks at her hands.
Her skin is pale and smooth, nary a cut nor blemish anywhere to be found. Her flesh is without flaws.
"…what? But, how is this…?"
Claire didn't understand how this is possible. She's Possessed, the very reason she fled the Kagenou household at the age of ten. It was common knowledge what happened to the Possessed, much less how people would respond to the families. Noble houses suffered the most when members of their family became afflicted with Possession, even though it was not their fault their child was cursed. Even so, people made up all sorts of things, spread all manner of slanderous rumors and accusations. The house's reputation would suffer regardless.
Claire's reasoning that if she left the household before her Possession became public knowledge, her family would be alright. Did she feel bad about the trouble it would cause them? Of course she did. Even so, it was better than having a Possessed daughter.
Am-am I…cured…?
Claire didn't want to believe it. This was a miracle, but did she dare believe it to be possible? Was she dreaming?
"Is everything all right, miss?" Victoria asks.
Claire isn't sure how to answer.
From there, things fell into a blur. Claire's still suspicious of how she came to be in the care of the prince no matter what Victoria says, but she otherwise takes the opportunity given to her. The maid explains a few things, including the condition they found her in, which doesn't make sense to her. Claire can barely remember anything from three days ago. Her Possession left her in so much pain it hurt to think some days. She vaguely remembers a man in black appearing before her, but not much else. Victoria also pleads ignorance as to knowing anyone by that description.
Claire hoped she could leave her bed and stretch her legs, but Victoria insisted she stayed a while longer. To her annoyance, Claire realized the maid had a point. Even if she is better now, she found walking a surprisingly difficult task. Reluctantly, she stayed in bed for the time being. Fortunately, she was not without entertainment as her room has access to a variety of books, including those about spellswords and knights.
To Claire's immense delight, they even had her favorite childhood story, "The Errant Knight of Oriana." It was a popular children's tale that speaks of a fictional spellsword who wanders the continent. She lost count how many times she read it when she was younger.
I must be fifteen now, Claire thinks to herself, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is longer and her features matched her mother's. She forgot how she looked in the time spent as a lab rat.
Now that she thinks about it, who even were those people? She recognized Viscount Grease, but the others never bothered to introduce themselves. She didn't understand their interest in her or her Possession. Wasn't it common to kill or hand a Possessed over to the church? Why keep her for experiments? Something just didn't add up. There had to be more.
The man in black… He must have the answers!
The question now was how to find him?
Night descends before Claire realizes it. She's preparing to go to sleep when she suddenly feels a presence behind her. She whirls around, magic wrapped around her fists. Before her are two people; the man in black from before and a petite blonde-haired elf girl dressed in a skintight black bodysuit. At a second glance, Claire realizes the man is actually a boy two years younger than her.
"Claire Kagenou, I presume?" The boy's voice is quiet, but it carries power. Beautiful red eyes seemingly glow like hot coal under the shadow of his hood.
Claire eyes the boy warily. "W-who are you?"
"He is Shadow," the elf answers her in his stead. "And I am Alpha. We are Shadow Garden. We live in the shadows so that we may hunt the shadows."
"Shadow…Garden…? Then, you are the ones who saved me?"
"That is correct."
"How?" Claire asks. "I was Possessed. Once someone becomes Possessed, there's no way to save them. I should still be…"
Alpha shakes her head. "Contrary to what you believe, Possession is not a death sentence. We have the means to cure it." Claire chokes and nearly calls her a liar. The only reason she doesn't is because she's seen their handiwork herself. Her Possession is gone, not a trace of it left. It's as if she was never cursed at all. "What you know as Possession is in fact a curse placed upon us."
"Us? You mean…?"
She nods. "I was Possessed as well. Lord Shadow saved my life and told me the truth about Possession, and those who take advantage of them. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Cult of Diabolos?"
Claire frowns. The name is vaguely familiar and is certain she's heard it somewhere before, but cannot remember where from. The two take her troubled frown as confirmation and continue.
"The Cult controls everything from the shadows. They worship the demon Diabolos, who once brought ruin to this world, and plot its resurrection. For that end, they need the Possessed. Those who suffer Possession carry the blood of the Three Heroes within them."
"What?"
"Possession is a curse placed upon the Three Heroes by Diabolos in its dying moments."
"You mean…" Claire's head swims in confusion. None of this makes any sense to her. "I-I don't understand. Why do they need us?"
"What else?" Shadow scoffs. "To control this world. To become as gods."
Become…as gods?
The thought fills Claire to the brim with anger. "How many?" she asks quietly.
The meaning of the question is not lost to Alpha. Her face is serene, but her eyes burn with the same fury. "Too many."
Her hands ball into tight fists. Claire thinks of how many others suffered like her because of circumstances beyond their control. If what they say is true, and there are people taking advantage of the Possessed for their own purposes, then there is only one recourse.
"Then I will find them!" Claire declares with fiery fervor. "I'll hunt them down and drag them kicking and screaming from the shadows into the light!"
"Are you sure?" Shadow asks. A pressure falls on her shoulders. Standing before this boy is like standing before the king. "This path is filled with naught but strife. You will struggle, and you may fail. Knowing this, would you still embark? To cull the darkness from this world?"
"Of course! If I must be damned to hell, then so be it!"
Alpha looks up at Shadow with a knowing smile. The boy steps forward and extends a hand. Purple magic flows around him like water. Claire gasps as she feels it wash over her like a wave. Its potent and dense, threatening to swallow her whole. It's the most intense feeling she's ever felt, and yet…it was warm. Comforting almost.
"If you would walk in the shadows," Shadow says. "Then do not walk the path alone. Stand with us, Claire Kagenou."
Claire looks at the offered hand, and then at Shadow. With no hesitation, she clasps her hand in his. She feels the magic surge through her. That warm feeling grows by leaps and bounds, pushing through her whole being.
"Henceforth, you are Epsilon. Welcome to Shadow Garden. From today forth, you shall live in the shadows, and hunt down the shadows. That is the sole purpose of our existence."
X x X x X x X x X
Our newest member is a little surprising, to be honest. When Alpha said we should recruit Claire Kagenou, I wasn't sure what to think. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to Claire for giving me new ideas about how to make a mana sword, but I didn't think she was Shadow Garden material. She seemed a little mature for that. Regardless, we extended the offer to her…and she accepted.
Maybe Claire has a childish side? Or maybe she was just indulging Alpha, who knows? She is pretty young and Claire is older. Whatever the case, we have a new playmate so to speak. Which, of course, meant we divulged our identities to her the next day. Delta and Gamma didn't come since they aren't officially employed at the palace and Alpha preferred being at the estate and going through various references to expand the Cult's lore, which left Beta and myself.
Claire didn't seem all that surprised to learn Sigma was part of Shadow Garden. The same couldn't be said about me. In fact, she was…staring at me pretty heatedly.
"Miss Kagenou," Beta says with a frigid smile. "Don't you think you are being awfully rude?"
Claire pales. "I-I'm sorry! Forgive me. It's just… I-I wasn't expecting Shadow and Prince Midgar to be the same person."
"Few do," I reply cheekily. "Also, do be careful about how you address me in public. When around others, you can call me Your Highness or Prince Cid."
"…Cid?"
"Yes. I am Prince Cid Midgar. Officially, I am a member of the royal family on my mother's side, but I have no claim to the throne. I'm a bastard child, you see."
A strange expression flies across Claire's face, but it disappears as quickly as it shows up. Maybe she was having second thoughts? Well, she's more than happy to leave anytime she wants.
"Officially, you are a guest here until you have safely recovered," Beta tells her. "However, it is only a matter of time before the maids and nobles start asking questions."
It was inevitable people were going to talk about me bringing an unconscious girl back to the palace. I can already imagine the rumors. It doesn't help Claire's a knockout beauty like every other woman in my life. Worse, it'll hurt my standing as a "wallflower". The ideal choice here is for Claire to go back home or get her a job at the palace.
"You have one of two options," I say. "You can either return home for the time being and settle any outstanding affairs with your parents, or be employed here at the palace as a servant. Regardless of whichever decision you choose, I would imagine people will talk about how the missing heir of House Kagenou has been found."
Claire's face crunched up. "If I'm being honest, I… I don't think I can face my parents right now." What's with that reaction? Was she abused or…? Oh, wait, is she a runaway? Did she not want to follow the path her parents laid out for her? Was this a case of teenage rebellion? If so, she has my newfound respect! "What sort of job would I have here at the palace?"
"Ideally, we would have you work as a maid."
"What about as a knight?"
Beta and I blink in surprise. I didn't expect her to pick that option. "It's possible," I shrug. "But incredibly difficult."
I'm not joking, either. To officially register as a knight, you need to have either graduated from the Midgar Royal Spellsword Academy or complete the knightsworn exam. Since Claire was fifteen and came from a noble house, she met all the necessary qualifications to enroll at the academy, though it would take her five-to-six years before she could become a knight. The knightsworn exam is the shortest route in that, as its name implies, all you need to do is complete an exam. The problem, however, is that the exam is brutal. According to Iris, only 5% of applicants complete the exam.
"You would need to get back into proper shape before you can even think about taking the knightsworn exam, so you will have to continue resting in the meantime."
Claire nods. "I understand."
Beta smiles slightly. "Very good. By the way, Lord Shadow. His Majesty wishes to see you. He said it was urgent."
Great, more royal affairs. "Thank you, Beta. I'll see him now. I hope you get better soon, Claire…no, Epsilon." With that, I stand up and leave. This was probably a good time as any for the newbie to learn the ropes from a senior member, seeing as how Sigma was my second recruit into Shadow Garden. I'm a little proud of that one, actually.
Seriously, how many people can brag about getting a holy woman to join your little group of larpers?
Uncle Klaus was probably waiting for me in his personal study, so I went straight there. As I turned the corner…
"Cid!" A budding red-haired girl with matching eyes five years older than me smiled. As usual, her clothes were in a state of disarray from her long hours of training, one sword at her hip and another strapped to her back.
This is Iris Midgar, the crown princess of Midgar and my cousin. As you can probably tell, she's a total tomboy in comparison to her younger sister Alexia.
"Princess Iris," I say just as she bodyslams into me. While most of the kids here at the palace try and avoid me like the plague, Iris did the exact opposite. Like the king, she welcomed me into her family, even confessing I felt more like her younger brother than her cousin. "How was your training session?"
"It went great. I even managed to convince my teacher to let Alexia spar with me!"
Oh? That was a little surprising. Alexia wasn't as good with a sword as Iris, mainly due to sticking to the "common sword technique" that relied on effort than established schools of swordsmanship like the Royal Bushin. Because of this, some nobles wrote her off and focused their attention on her older sister. It also didn't help that—
"Your Highness."
Ah, I was wondering where that murderous gaze was coming from. I swear, this guy is more assassin than a sword instructor.
"Sir Adist."
Knight-Commander Jack S. Adist (yes, that really is his name) is an accomplished knight responsible for numerous successful defenses in the capital city from all manner of nefarious scum. He looked the part, dressed in heavy-plated black armor with red accents and a cape over his right shoulder. The man has the unfortunate pleasure of being bald, though one might argue it works in his favor because of the badass collection of scars that cover almost the whole dome.
Some consider him comparable to the master swordsmen of Velgata, though for some reason he never participated in any of the Royal Bushin festivals. You would be hard-pressed to find any who didn't admire him.
Sadly, he is also a raging prick. Pureblood believer and all that. Naturally, he despises me.
Adist looks at me in contempt. He doesn't even bother hiding his disgust from Iris, either. "Princess Iris, you shouldn't associate yourself with garbage like him."
"Don't say that, teacher. Regardless of who his father is, Cid is still my family," Iris insists, not seeing the problem. Adist clicks his tongue, but knows better than to talk back to the crown princess. Iris looks back at me and smiles. "Cid, listen. There's going to be a tournament tomorrow celebrating the kingdom's founding. Do you want to come with?"
Oh yeah, the staff was talking about that, weren't they? Honestly, it just sounds like a massive hassle to me. It might be better if I skip out, though if I did that, Iris might redouble her efforts to get me to socialize more. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
"…I'll think about it. I'm sorry. His Majesty wants to see me about something."
"I see. I won't keep you then. Give me a proper answer later, okay?" Iris smiles and walks away. Adist gives me another glare before following Iris.
Without further interruptions along the way, I eventually reach the king's study. As you might expect from royalty, the room has all manner of valuable furniture and decorations, ranging from some of the most expensive-looking vases I've ever laid eyes on to beautiful portraits of previous Midgaran rulers.
Klaus Midgar, the king, sits at his desk. He bears a regal figure worthy of a king, dressed in gold, red, and black colors with crimson hair and matching eyes. He barely even notices me entering despite having announced myself at the door.
"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"
"Sit. I'll be with you in a moment, Cid," Klaus tells me without looking up.
Ten minutes later, he sets his pen down and joins me. "I heard you brought a girl from the streets home with you." He doesn't bother beating around the bush and gets straight to the point. How troublesome. You couldn't even bother to have some tea to make this conversation go any better? "From the less savory parts of the city no less."
"You shouldn't worry, Your Majesty," I tell him. "I haven't given myself to my carnal desires. I was simply being a good samaritan."
Klaus frowns. "You can call me uncle, you know."
"Sorry, Your Majesty, but I feel it would be disrespectful. I am—"
He cuts me off. "Cid, you are my beloved sister's son. No matter who your father was, you are family. Nothing will change that." For a moment, his face softens. I've noticed him do this often while we're in private. He must have really loved my mother a lot. "Besides, we are in private. You may address me however you see fit. No one will hear you otherwise." He clears his throat. "In any case, while I do applaud your efforts, you should still be mindful of your actions. No matter the truth, people will talk. Now more than ever."
"What do you mean?"
"You will be turning fourteen later this year," Klaus says. "While you fall short of your cousins, you are still a member of the Midgar royal family, therefore you have a duty to fulfill certain obligations. It's time to fulfill one such obligation. Tell me, what do you know about the Oriana Kingdom?"
"Our northwestern neighbor. It's a small kingdom, but their artisans are second to none."
Klaus nods. "King Raphael and I have been engaging in talks lately. For years, our kingdoms have been stalwart allies with each other in the face of national crises and hardships. We feel it is time to strengthen our bond."
…wait. Is this going where I think it is? Please tell me he's not seriously planning on—
"Send her in!"
Entering the study are two young women, one a noble and the other her maid. They were of the same age by the looks of it. The maid sported short brown hair cut at the chin, curtsying before us. Her master was a beautiful girl in a dress fit for royalty dyed navy blue with white frills. Her honey-blonde hair even had the typical "noblewoman" design, styled as pigtails with ringlets at the end.
The noble lady smiles at me. "Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Cid Midgar."
"Er, you as well…?"
"This is Rose Oriana, princess of the Oriana Kingdom and King Raphael's heir," Klaus says as he confirms my worst fear. "As of today, she will be your fiancé."
Son of a bitch!