The Definitive was shirtless save for a small breastplate he wore under a long duster cloak torn and tattered that extended more like a scarf, wrapping around his broad shoulders, torso, and waist before trailing down his back. He was tall, a towering 7 feet—8 inches taller than Wilhelm, who was ‘6’2’. When he moved, Wilhelm instinctively winced, noticing the exposed veins in the bulging muscles in his arms which were covered in burnt cuts and deep slashes, also X-shaped and maroon, which crisscrossed the limbs, while this monster of man openly scowled.

This asshole could easily rip me apart with his bare hands without even trying, he thought, as he noted the single –plated leather gauntlets on Bahamut’s forearms. A vibration rippled along Bahamut’s arms as Wilhelm noted the small details of reptilian scales on his hands, as well as the tips of his nails colored pitch black. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that the man before him was a Chimae: an Other born with the genetic aspects of the creatures born of the Earth itself. A powerful one at that, Bahamut was a rare Chimae also being Mutai, a natural born Other whose aspect awoke primarily at a young age allowing him to fully control his evolution at will once he reached puberty. His awakening at the age of 10, saw his strength, skill, and dominance unparalleled even among the oldest Others, but it was ultimately his ferociousness and the ability to change into a massive draconic sea serpent that made him a fearsome foe. It wasn’t for naught that humans believed him to be a biblical creature, due to the destructive power he wielded, and it was because of his ruthlessness and pride as a Dracconatoi that he was crowned the title “Khanae Salmud A’khal Dracconatoi”.

Khanae Salmud A’khal Dracconatoi.

“The Holy Father of Dragons”, Wilhelm muttered.

Silently growling, Bahamut’s whole body radiated an air of indignation against the two men before him. A glimmer caught Wilhelm’s eye, and his view trailed the source: a silver pendant that served as a pin for the cloak that hung from his shoulder.

The Master stood silent and unfazed, not answering his son but also not ignoring him outright.

In fact, it was almost as if the gentleman barely noticed the disdain that radiated from Bahamut. Tilting his slightly, the gentleman let out a soft sigh and proceeded to take out his suit handkerchief and blow his nose before continuing.

“Ah, yes”, the Master began, causing Bahamut to roll his eyes in annoyance. “While, I must admit that my timing was rather impertinent to say the least; alas, the trivial goings on of the day do tend to take their toll on the body as well as the mind. I’m sure you’ll then have no qualms to forgive me for my tardiness in tonight’s meeting. Though, of course, I must feign a level of my ignorance on the number of attendees present, I was not expecting to see—“

“You called us here on the grounds to talk, and yet here you are wasting our—“

“Ah yes, well, then allow me to—“

“ENOUGH WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS GAMES YOU OLD FUCKER!”, thundered Bahamut, gritting his teeth, “You have already wasted our time with your needless insistence on platitudes and deliberations. Bah! Only the most banal of the lowest of misbegotten whores would dare to address us in such a tasteless, disgraceful manner.”

“Ugh!” he fumed, “for fuck’s sake, why can’t you do us all a favor: just skip the goddamn bullshit and explain to us why we are here in this stinking shithole of a city!”

After his demand was made clear, for a moment no one dared to speak. Anyone tried was immediately silenced the aura radiating off of the Definitive as his presence reeked of murderous intent that stifled anything that opposed him. Wilhelm’s fist clenched, and his heartbeat quickened. The sense of fear gripped him, causing him to place his right hand on his chest, steadying himself by touching the hilt of Qualis.

It was deathly quiet for a moment, until even Wilhelm found himself growing exceedingly agitated when looking at the back of his master’s head, waiting for his response. The gentleman was quiet, until his calm demeanor and resigned expression suddenly frowned, and his eyes, which were often closed, opened to a serious, grim expression, and a furrowed brow. With a resolving hmph, the Master straightened his posture somewhat, and without so much as a shred of emotion, he said:

“The Ascendant has awoken.”

At the utterance of those words, the tension ceased.

What replaced it in response, was an overwhelming sense of dread and disbelief.

Wilhelm’s eyes widened, his mouth cracked open in pure shock.

The Ascendant? No. It can’t be. Was he serious? He thought.

That’s impossible. 

A soft chuckle broke the uncomfortable silence, causing Wilhelm to squirm under the sound. His ears grating, he turned from his master to see the origin coming from a voluptuous woman saddling herself to stand beside Bahamut.

She was a few inches shorter than Bahamut, with vanilla skin, dark wine-colored hair, and deep velvety eyes. She wore a faded bolero with a neck string, and a six-star pentagram choker made of black lace. Her sense of style was largely Bohemian: a dark green corset covering a white peasant blouse with ruffles, with a brown ruffled frill skirt. Despite this, her movements and mannerisms gave off the deceptive likeness of a gypsy. Something that unnerved and annoyed Wilhelm to no end.

She started, “well, now this is truly perplexing. An interesting development indeed”, her words slow and amused, with a slight haughty tone, “things are definitely beginning to shaking up”.

Noticing Wilhelm, she gazed directly into his eyes, licking her crimson lips and smirking as he visibly shrank as if trying to minimize himself away from her.

“To think that with the loss of both the Intuitive and the Venalite when we failed to acquire last Ascendant, I’d thought it’d been quite a major blow to our organization. That one has awakening coincides with the arrival of Advent signals something suspicious in the air. Something vaguely familiar.”

As she spoke, her wrists chimed as her vast array of assorted jewelry, composing of metal bracelets and rings beaded with bright stones, all which was of tasseled silver, twisted in as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was beautiful, very beautiful in fact, and she knew it. But it was her beauty as well as her voice that ultimately were her greatest weapon, which is why many who had sense (Wilhelm included) new full well to steer clear of her at all times, lest they fall prey to her advances and lose themselves in the abyss that was her insidious machinations. Wilhelm immediately recognized her and disdain washed over him at the thought.

How could it not? He thought, when her very existence was naught but lies and betrayal?

She was after all the Connivant.

The Deceitful One.

“And tell us, oh Venerable One”,she said, in a tone mocking the Master directly, “on what grounds do you assumethis assertion to be true?”

Her accent was Portuguese, meaning she was possibly a fair-skinned Latina. Or was she a Spaniard? Did that count?

“That is something that I would like to know as well”, airily croaked the Affliction,“while I do not doubt the inquisitive ephemerality of your visions, to boldlystate such a revelation brings with it a deep suspicion of an accusatory naturethan not even you can deny.”

As the Affliction spoke, his body trembled with each utterance, before hefinally exploded in a series of hacks and coughs, which disgusted Wilhelm to noend.

Why don’t you just crumple and die finally?, Wilhelm grumbled, you’ve long since lived passed your prime you worthless sack ofshit.

The Master showed no inclination to acknowledge or regard for their sly remarks. Infact, it’s almost as if he enjoyed them, because once the shambling corpse of aman spoke his piece, he slightly smirked.

Hewent on, “yes. It would seem that the Ascendant has indeed returned, andwith it, the rising of the Eternatus, of whom you all know too fondly.More importantly, though…”

He turned to look directly at Bahamut, “it appears that she has alsoreturned in response, and so with her, them.”

At the sound of this, Bahamut’s eyes widened.

His mouth contorted, before barring his pearly whites into a snarl that couldshatter steel and concrete to dust. His corneas turned liquid crimson and hispupils glowed like pure gold. His hands balled into fists and shook with anger, steaming and smoking, as a bright red aura enveloped Bahamut while the groundbeneath him trembled and cracked.

The Connivant who by now hugging his arm shrank back insurprise, and before anyone else could react, with a great roar of anger, Bahamut reached for his sword. In a fit of rage, his quick movement saw the large blade swing violently with one hand as it struck a department store standing directly left of him. With that one swoop the building crumbled apart, disintegrating into rubble and dust while the energy released in the shockwavecontinued stretching for another 5 blocks before stopping in front of a largefountain, caving in the land underneath as the water was sucked deep into theearth. The shape of a straight gash was left in the result so perfect andclean, Wilhelm nearly gasped at the level of skill and precision it took tocontrol such a blade with that much force.

In less than a minute, Bahamut had single-handedly leveled 6 city blocks all byhimself and cut an incision deep enough to reach the subway system directlybelow. The force from the blast shook the earth, and more ruptured gas and water pipesburst and exploded, engulfing several spots of rubble in fires that sprang upin response. If it was bad enough the tremor that leveled much of the area earlier, this new act of violence would surely only kill more people. But as it was, none of them care, not truly.

Afterall, they were nothing more than mere humans.

What exactly could they do to stop them?