Marvel: Impregnation System

Meanwhile In Otherworld,

Within the dead of night, at the highest spiral tower of Camelot, Merlyn sat hunched over his research, his quill scratching feverishly against parchment. 

Scrolls and tomes piled high around him, the bookshelves behind him already stuffed to their limits with the weight of accumulated knowledge.

Orbs flickered and hummed around his desk, each one depicting a different image, a live window into the many corners of his city. 

His eyes, ever watchful, darted between them, ensuring no secret, no movement, escaped his sight.

Yet, amidst all his wisdom and power, failure loomed before him. 

The horrors of his latest experiment lay bare on the cold table at the center of the room. 

His latest attempt at refining his chimeras had ended in ruin, the grotesque, unfinished form of an unborn creature standing as a testament to his miscalculation. 

He had tried, once again, to mold life where none should be, to fit unnatural pieces together in his pursuit of perfection. 

And once again, nature had denied him.

"Master Merlyn."

A voice rang out from the side, calm yet insistent but Merlyn didn't even spare a glance, his quill continuing its relentless scrawl across parchment as he theorized the possibilities of self-multiplying chimera's that could reproduce on their own rather than having to constantly spend his valuable time creating more.

"I specifically instructed Cedric that no one was to use his communication orb unless it was an emergency," Merlyn said lightly, though his hand paused just slightly before his gaze suddenly flickered toward the orb. 

It was not Cedric who stared back at him, but Morgana Frost.

"Ricky Luciano has acted and he suddenly called for all the coven members to take up arms and-"

"Oh?" Merlyn stopped, rubbing his chin, not with displeasure, but with amusement as a slow smile curled across his lips.

"So, I was right in my hypothesis of him suspecting me of planting a mole" Merlyn mused, his voice carrying an air of satisfaction as if more content with the fact that he was right rather than being found out.

With a quiet chuckle, he returned to his scribes, his quill gliding across the parchment as if nothing had changed.

"It is becoming almost a regularity that he surprises me once again." Merlyn smiled, pleased that Ricky was competent enough to grasp this much.

"Should we stall-"

"Of course not, speed up the plan in fact, I want it done before he gathers his sub-par army to attack Camelot." Merlyn chuckled, his eyes burning with ferocious intent.

"I can already see it now, the face he'll make when he learns the news and vows to destroy everything Camelot is. Oh, I can't wait~" Merlyn let out a horrid chuckle, tapping his quill against the paper, the ominous rhythm marking the beginning of a foreboding event.

"But let us skip to the main issue, the real reason you even opened this channel," Merlyn said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter before Morgana Frost could speak.

"The issue concerning your grandson." Merlyn barely spared her a glance, already piecing everything together with ease. 

Finally, he turned his face toward her, his expression unreadable yet knowing as she faltered, ducking her head to hide her expression.

"Samuel is a very isolated boy-"

"Every one of us has lost those who were close to us for the greater good, for the promised king," Merlyn interjected coldly, his gaze sharp as he watched Morgana Frost lower her head in shame.

"We sin so that he may not, we kill so that he may not, and we sacrifice to bring him, to bring humanity into its golden age because we can not." Merlyn's voice grew more and more lethal with each word, pressing down like an invisible weight onto Morgana Frost who paled, swallowing hard under his piercing scrutiny.

"To feel that love toward our king, to put him above all, we must give up what we hold dear." Merlyn returned his gaze to his writings, already sensing that he had driven the conversation to its inevitable conclusion. 

His quill scratched against the parchment as he continued, his voice devoid of hesitation.

"For you, it was your brother. For Cedric, it was his best friend. And for Samuel, well, he must either kill what is closest to him or forfeit his place in our golden age. Do you understand?" Merlyn's words lingered in the air, their weight undeniable as Morgana Frost closed her eyes, her silence the only confirmation he needed.

"Yes Master Merlyn-"

"Do you think of it as unfair, having to sacrifice for something that is supposed to be everything you dream of?" Merlyn suddenly asked, his question hanging in the air, laced with a quiet amusement that made Morgana Frost hesitate. 

Her lips parted slightly as if to answer, but she quickly closed them, swallowing whatever protest had almost escaped.

"I-I do," Morgana Frost admitted, her voice barely a whisper. 

"But I understand the necessity that the king must rise." Morgana added at the end, but it wasn't clear if she truly meant it or was trying to pacify him.

"Do you know the essence of sacrifice?" Merlyn's voice sliced through the silence like a blade, sharp and purposeful, savoring the weight of the question hanging between them as he watched Morgana intently, her hesitation speaking volumes before she spoke.

"I understand it as the price of progress, the cost of achieving something greater," Morgana replied, her voice steady but betraying the uncertainty within. 

She offered him the definition that she believed to be true, the one she had convinced herself of over time.

Merlyn's lips twisted into a slight smile, watching her seemingly at odds with this internal strife formed from what he called, Sacrifice.

"No, Morgana, it's more than that. Sacrifice isn't just a price you pay, it's a piece of you that you sever." Merlny's words whispered, almost slithered into her ears as she was forced to gaze up at its tempting sound.

"You tear it from your very soul, offering it freely in exchange for something or someone else, and you may never get it back. It may even leave a wound that never fully heals." Merlyn's gaze pierced into her, and he leaned in closer, his voice becoming a low murmur. 

"Now, could you live your entire life like that? Able to give up everything for people who would barely part from a single gold coin?" Merlyn genuinely asked, raising an eyebrow as Morgana's eyes flickered with a mix of discomfort and understanding.

"Of course not, we are greedy. Humans, by nature, are greedy. But the promised king would give his life for that greedy nature because he believes that nature could be more," Merlyn said, as if it were obvious but heavy with conviction, as if the truth of it was something he had always known and yet, so out of reach.

"We sacrifice to understand what our promised king desires, we do it not because we have to, but because we, too, want to glimpse that realm of selflessness that will always elude us. We chase it, even if only for a fleeting moment." Merlyn paused, letting the weight of his words settle into the air before speaking again, softer now but no less commanding. 

"You gave up what you loved for the greater good, you saw that sliver of doing something bigger than all of us, and you followed this far because you believed in it." Merlyn's words burrowed deep in her mind as she wanted to refute, but couldn't find the legs of reason to stand on.

"Help Samuel see it as well, help him understand that this is the path we must all take if we are to usher in the age that the promised king has in mind," Merlyn spoke, his tone condescending, as if Morgana were a child in need of a simple lesson. 

But his words carried this weight of finality, and his eyes gleamed with the certainty that she had no choice but to comply.

"Now get it done since the next time this orb speaks, I expect it to be the news I want," Merlyn continued, his voice hardening with impatience and with a dismissive flick of his hand, he severed the connection, the orb cutting off with a sudden, harsh silence.

"Oh Ricky, just because you expedite your little crusade doesn't mean I am not prepared," Merlyn sighed, muttering to himself as he sat up from his desk. 

The words were tinged with an amused but unsettling calm, as though he had anticipated this all along. 

His fingers traced the air before him, and with a calculated precision, he opened a portal. 

The rippling vortex glowed faintly with arcane energy, its swirling depths drawing his gaze with an air of cold inevitability.

"I always have a contingency plan."

At the center of Otherworld stood a floating obelisk, a towering form of beautiful architecture that seemingly pierced the heavens.

It floated within the contrast of an endless sky and an endless void, spiraling down towards both as its many spires stretched outward like the hands of gods, their peaks shimmering with an ethereal glow that wasn't simply fire nor magic, but of something older, something woven into the very fabric of fate of this dimension.

Walls of gleaming white stone, veined with streaks of silver and deep cosmic blues, pulsed faintly as if alive, responding to the ebb and flow of the energies that coursed through Otherworld.

Above, the sky was neither day nor night, but an infinite expanse where galaxies flickered softly, their distant light refracting through the Citadel's crystalline windows. 

Each pane captured not the present, but fleeting glimpses of potential futures, as if the Starlight Citadel itself stood at the nexus of countless dimensions.

Below, in the darkness that pressed in from the edges of the multiverse, the Citadel's radiant gates were the final defense against the unspeakable horrors lurking just beyond the veil.

Despite its ethereal beauty, the Citadel was not merely a sanctuary, it was a fortress, the last bastion of hope against the unknown terrors that lay beyond, that lay within this void.

Within all of that, a portal opened, and Merlyn stepped through. 

Contrasting to his cold expression from earlier, his smile now radiated warmth, capable of soothing even the most restless souls. 

Yet, beneath that serene exterior, his true nature, his darker, more sinister ambitions, remained concealed. 

Because to the people within this fortress, he was a savior, a hero. 

"Master Merlyn!" An attendant, surrounded by a diverse group of individuals, bowed before him as he chuckled, lifting his hand in a calming gesture.

"Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of my daughter?" Merlyn asked, his smile warm and sincere, as if he was nothing more than a grandfather to her.

The attendant nodded eagerly, her head bobbing up and down with a mixture of reverence and excitement.

Truth be told, Merlyn could have found his daughter with the snap of a finger, but this was for appearances. 

The gazes of admiration surrounded him like a vice, pressing in from all directions as he suddenly found himself at the center of this floating obelisk.

To these people, these beings who did not simply hail from the earth they stood on, but from realms beyond as this Citadel and its gateway represented something much larger. 

To them, the Starlight Citadel was not just a home; it was the first and last line of defense against threats capable of unraveling reality itself. 

It was a fortress built not to conquer, but to preserve, an unwavering wall against the unknown forces that sought to tear apart the very fabric of existence.

It holds the archives of all Earths, storing fragments of history, fate, and prophecy, a cosmic library that observes the rise and fall of civilizations across the span of time. 

The Citadel is the keeper of countless truths, a silent witness to the complexities of existence.

Its army, the Captain Britain Corps which is an elite force Merlyn himself had forged, housing a collection of champions drawn from the vast expanse of the multiverse, bound by duty to the Citadel. 

Their mission is clear: safeguard the integrity of Otherworld and ensure no single Earth grows too unstable. 

For the destruction of one world could send ripples through the entire structure of reality, unraveling everything that exists. 

Their role is to preserve the balance, to prevent chaos from spilling across the boundaries of creation itself.

At its core, the Starlight Citadel is both a fortress and a conduit, an interdimensional hub that regulates access between Otherworld and the countless Earths it governs.

However, though Merlyn presents the Starlight Citadel as the center of all realities, the truth is far more complicated than he lets on.

The Starlight Citadel does serve as a gateway but more of a linchpin of a single Otherworld, and rather than being linked to infinite Earths across the entire multiverse, it is tied to a specific cluster of realities, a localized multiversal web where each Otherworld governs its own unique set of Earths.

The multiverse, contrary to popular belief, is not a singular, infinite sprawl of endless universes.

Instead, it is a vast collection of reality clusters, each one a cohesive domain of existence.

Within each of these clusters lies its own distinct Otherworld, a mythical and mythic center that serves as the heart of those particular realities.

Every Otherworld is unique to its respective reality group, meaning that while countless Earths exist, they are not all governed by the same Otherworld. 

Instead, these Earths are divided into clusters, with each Otherworld overseeing only its assigned set of Earths. 

These clusters form pocket multiverses, distinct realms of existence where the Otherworld functions as a mythic higher plane, reflecting and influencing the destinies of the Earths under its jurisdiction.

But the interaction between two Otherworlds could lead to drastic, reality-warping conflicts that would unknowingly destroy the very realities they govern. 

The fundamental laws of each Otherworld are unique to their respective cluster of Earths. 

If two clusters were to overlap or collide, their mythic structures would clash, triggering unpredictable distortions in fate, time, and existence itself, affecting not only the Earths but the very realities they reside within.

This is why Merlyn is so meticulous in his management of Otherworld as his true purpose, his ultimate goal, is the preservation of his own Otherworld and its destined role within his plans.

However, if he doesn't assert his influence occasionally, his notoriety and influence begin to die out. 

Merlyn is fully aware that, without maintaining his power and presence, his position within the grand scheme of this cluster diminishes. 

His preoccupation with managing threats, like the one he currently deems Ricky to be, often distracts him from this delicate balance

Walking alongside the attendant, Merlyn eventually arrived at a corridor where the attendant quickly bowed and scurried off, leaving him to face the grand double doors ahead. 

With a subtle wave of his hand, he pushed the doors open, revealing a long, ethereal walkway as the space was dimly lit, yet the light shimmered with a soft, otherworldly glow.

Along the sides of the hall, figures lay on raised platforms, slightly dug into the ground. 

They were surrounded by a network of intricate orbs, each one pulsating with energy. 

The orbs were connected by threads of light, weaving a vast, cosmic web that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the universe itself. 

These individuals, quiet and still, were observing the realities managed by the Starlight Citadel, their eyes locked into the spheres that granted them access to alternate dimensions and the fates of this cluster.

At the end of the walkway stood a woman of quiet elegance, the acting guardian of the Citadel and Merlyn's daughter, Lady Roma. 

Her long, flowing black hair, as dark and infinite as the void between stars, cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves. 

Unlike her father, Merlyn, whose presence was overwhelming and charged with an olden authority, Roma's strength was far more subtle. 

She radiated a calm, steady force, a silent power that was felt rather than seen, a quiet yet undeniable influence that contrasted with the more forceful energies of her father.

Her eyes shimmer like polished obsidian, reflecting the vast knowledge she possesses, yet there's a warmth in them, a quiet wisdom that sets her apart from Merlyn's more calculating nature.

She is often seen in elegant yet simple robes, favoring shades of silver, white, and deep blue, reminiscent of moonlight on still water. 

The fabric moves gently, woven with faint traces of magic, but it is not overwhelming, just a reminder of her connection to Otherworld's mystical nature.

Though not a warrior in the traditional sense, she carries herself with quiet confidence, relying on her intellect and strategic mind rather than brute strength.

Her job within the Citadel was to aid in the grand design instilled in her from a young age, the same purpose that had been imparted to them all, to safeguard the fragile balance of realities.

As the daughter of Merlyn, Roma played a vital role in the empowerment and guidance of the Captain Britain Corps, the interdimensional legion of champions chosen to defend what she believed was the multiversal order. 

While her father orchestrated the grander schemes of Otherworld, it was Roma who stood beside him, ensuring that those who bore the mantle of Captain Britain were not only gifted with power but prepared for the burdens they carried.

Though she was not as manipulative as Merlyn, she understood his vision, or atleast, the vision she assumed they shared.

Beside her was her most trusted subordinate, a woman not from the earth Ricky transpired on but within the cluster, from Earth-9.

Her name is known as Opal Luna Saturnyne and contrary to Lady Roma, she exuded an icy, calculated elegance that inflicted a commanding presence without the need for overt displays of power.

Her blonde hair sleek, cascading in perfect waves down back as the silky texture exuded with every sway.

Her eyes, cold and piercing, gleam with intelligence and ambition, a shade of blue so sharp it seems almost unnatural. 

But unlike Lady Roma, they held no warmth, only the weight of calculations and expectations, as if she was always assessing, always judging.

She wore a pristine white robe, embroidered with delicate silver patterns that shimmer faintly under the ambient glow of the Starlight Citadel.

"No, he is not ready to wield-Father?" Lady Roma, who had been carefully assessing a hero candidate for the Captain Britain Corps, suddenly paused mid-sentence, her gaze shifting to her father walking down the pathway.

"My dear, how are you?" Merlyn's voice was filled with warmth, and his eyes glowed with an immense, unmistakable love as he spread his arms wide, continuing his approach toward her.

"Stressed due to Earth-9's civil war, but a little relieved after seeing you," Lady Roma sighed heavily, walking toward him and collapsing into his embrace.

"Look at you, all grown up and running the Citadel," Merlyn said, feigning a dramatic cry. 

"It feels like just yesterday you were clinging to my robes, and now you're wearing your own." Merlyn's voice was filled with mock sorrow as he exaggerated his emotions, and the others who had been observing couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. 

Merlyn's reputation as a doting father was well-known, and moments like these only reinforced that image.

"Father, please~" Lady Roma, embarrassed to her core, tried to stop Merlyn, but he only placed a dramatic hand on his forehead, as if struck by the overwhelming weight of emotion.

"Ah, my dear Roma." Merlyn sighed theatrically, prancing around as if he were but a mere jester for their entertainment.

"Oh, how you would always cry and beg to sleep in my bed because of the monsters in your closet-"

"FATHER!" Lady Roma blushed, her face turning crimson as she quickly covered Merlyn's mouth with her hand.

But Merlyn, undeterred, continued to speak, his eyes twinkling with mischief, chuckling through her palm that pressed against him.

"Master Merlyn, a pleasure," Opal Luna Saturnyne, or as everyone called her, Saturnyne, greeted with a formal tone and offered a respectful curtsy.

"Father, if you're here to embarrass me, I have duties to attend to-" 

"Actually, my beloved, dearest, lovely, insightful-" Merlyn interrupted, launching into a tangent about all the remarkable qualities his daughter possessed, seemingly forgetting what he was about to say when his voice filled with affection for his daughter.

Lady Roma's face turned a deeper shade of red as her hair began to flare up with magical energy. 

"FATHER!" Lady Roma yelled, trying to control her flaring emotions, but her embarrassment was palpable as she struggled to calm the magic surging around her.

Cough

"Apologies, my dear," Merlyn coughed, regaining his composure as he pulled out a shimmering orb from within his robes and held it up, letting it float in the air between them. 

It was then that images began to emerge from the orb, swirling around Lady Roma. 

Her eyes were filled with the sight of Ricky Luciano, clad once again in his black knight attire, facing off against the Ordo Draconum. 

It was then that eye, the very one pressed the skull of a random member, the very same used to attack him, wasn't merely to observe; it sought to capture every detail, every moment of his battle, and record it, for this moment.

This contingency plan.

The dialogue was conveniently cut short, leaving Ricky's actions isolated and disconnected, presenting him not as the man they had come to know, but something else entirely.

"Isn't this the Ricky Luciano from Earth-58008?" Saturnyne asked, her voice steady but with a hint of recognition, as she studied the images around them. 

She was clearly aware of his existence, having seen his name on the potential recruits list, one that required more careful monitoring.

As previously noted by none other than Alexander the Great himself, Ricky's actions had not only painted him as a hero to his marginalized group of mutants, but to the outside forces observing his actions.

While his world had certainly begun to take notice of him, whispers of his name were now reaching the ears of those from other planes connected to Earth. 

His influence was growing, expanding beyond the boundaries of his reality and drawing the attention of many.

The Starlight Citadel being at the forefront.

It was because of this very perception that the events unfolding before them were truly horrifying.

Ricky's fighting lacked the refined elegance that his actions eluded too. 

In fact, to them, it was nothing short of barbaric. 

Some of the spectators nearby recoiled, covering their mouths in shock, as the image highlighted Ricky severing a man in two with one of his spectral arms. 

The brutality was undeniable, and the contrast to the hero they had come to know was f*cking stark. 

It was as though the very essence of his being had shifted, revealing a far darker, more violent side.

Even Saturnyne was taken aback, her expectations shattered as she had known Ricky as a mobster, but she had always assumed he carried himself with a certain level of refinement, maybe a gentleman type. 

But now, watching him cleave through another man with ruthless precision, any remnants of that image were swiftly torn away.

"H-How did I miss that?" Lady Roma whispered, her voice trembling with horror as she covered her face in disbelief as Merlyn nodded slowly, a quiet acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.

In Lady Roma's eyes, she could never question these images that came directly from her loving father.

After all, the Starlight Citadel was at the forefront of protection, and Merlyn stood at the heart of that trust. 

However, something felt off. 

Merlyn had oddly cut out the part where Ricky had exhibited his Nethergod traits and instead, the image focused on a far darker moment, showcasing Ricky stepping on Angela, with the image freezing on his face, how he was smiling ear to ear. 

The smile was chilling, unsettling, and for Lady Roma, it sparked a deep, gnawing unease that she could not easily shake.

"He might present himself as a savior, but beneath that facade lies a wicked man, one who hides evil behind his smile," Merlyn said ironically, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he glanced at Lady Roma.

"As you know, I forged the Starstone into many artifacts for heroes to wield and I had asked him to meet so as to discuss a possible partnership, but when I unearthed his wicked deeds, he retaliated against my poor order," Merlyn said, giving a sob story, wiping his eyes as he had actually learned how to cry on command.

"Those poor souls, those poor souls~" Merlyn's sorrowful voice rang out, his expression reflecting deep disappointment in Ricky that showed on the faces of all those around him.

"His retaliation sees no end, and I am here because he will soon depart for Otherworld, and we must stop him," Merlyn spoke, deliberately emphasizing the gravity of the situation as Lady Roma's eyes widened at the realization.

"You don't mean-"

"I'm afraid so, he seeks to free the wicked Morgana," Merlyn covered his mouth, as if recalling something truly dreadful. 

The faces of everyone in the room turned ashen, the weight of the revelation settling over them like a dark cloud.

There are multiple Morganas across the clusters they monitor, all wicked and evil beings, but only one had to be personally trapped in Otherworld. 

Only one was powerful enough to nearly destroy not only Camelot but the very heart of the Starlight Citadel itself.

"I must make preparations to shield Camelot from this unlikely invader but I need time, it's why-"

"Father, speak no more," Lady Roma said, halting her loving father's words as she puffed out her chest, exuding an aura of authority and leadership.

"I shall send the Captain Britain Corps to guard the gateways located on Earth-58008," Lady Roma declared, signaling with a firm gesture as she nodded her head to Merlyn, who smiled warmly in response.

"Thank you, my precious daughter, truly." Merlyn smiled, his eyes gleaming with pride as Lady Roma returned his smile. 

Letting it rest in her hands, a swell of pride hit Lady Roma as she realized her father trusted her enough to shoulder such responsibility. 

She stood there for a moment, her heart filled with purpose, before the task ahead settled in and with a deep breath, she steadied herself.

"LISTEN UP, EVERYONE!" Lady Roma suddenly proclaimed, commanding the room's attention with fierce authority. 

Her voice echoed through the chamber, sharp and clear, cutting through any murmurs. 

Everyone in the room turned toward her, sensing the gravity of her presence as she stood tall, her aura radiating leadership and strength.

"RICKY LUCIANO, FROM THIS POINT ON, WILL BE LABELED AS VILLAIN STATUS AND MOVED TO DANGER LEVEL RED!" Lady Roma's commands rang through the room, her voice unwavering. 

As soon as the words left her mouth, the workers nearby sprang into action, swiftly bringing up holographic images of Ricky Luciano. 

The images were stamped with bold red markings, clearly indicating the new orders, as the room filled with the quiet hum of technology processing her decree. 

"Send teams to the Ring of Standing Stones in the Cheviot Hills' Darkmoor, Stonehenge, Avebury, Buckingham Palace, Hadrian's Wall, Cragside in Northumberland, Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol, Cavern Club in Liverpool, Karl Marx's grave at Highgate Cemetery-" Lady Roma's voice echoed with unshakable command. 

As she spoke, the locations flickered on the large display, each marked with bright red lights to signal the urgency of the mission.

Saturnyne, standing off to the side, narrowed her gaze, her curiosity piqued as she observed the image of Ricky Luciano. 

The display, now flooded with images of the marked locations, highlighted Ricky's growing presence within not only the world, but the universe as a whole.

"And send team Excalibur to Big Ben!"

While Lady Roma focused on her preparations, Merlyn returned to Camelot, but not to his study.

Instead, he made his way to a grand hall where a single round table stood in the center.

Moments later, six men entered, each adorned in armor crowned with golden highlights, a clear symbol of their significance to Camelot. 

Their presence was commanding, and their movements deliberate as they approached the table.

These six knights, the harbingers and protectors of Camelot, and the dutiful servants of the fallen Arthur Pendragon, who guarded his honor with unwavering loyalty, were as follows:

Sir Galahad: The purest of knights, achieving the Holy Grail and upholding the highest ideals of chivalry and never once wavered in his loyalty to Arthur or the kingdom.

Sir Gawain: One of Arthur's most trusted warriors during his life, his strength increased with the sun, and has remained loyal throughout the periods of Camelot's life.

Sir Bedivere: The knight who returned Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake after Arthur's final battle and failing to die with his majesty at the last battle.

Sir Gareth: The knight known for his kindness, humility, and unwavering service, Gareth refused to betray Arthur, despite his family ties to traitors.

Sir Bors the Younger: The knight with the greatest devotion and morality, one of the only three to succeed in the Grail Quest.

Sir Tristan: A noble knight, known for his tragic love story with Isolde, who lost his greatest love and then devoted his life to fight for Camelot.

All of these knights were the men deemed worthy by Merlyn to fight and live alongside Arthur, which was why they had remained in their youthful forms throughout the years. 

The only thing that seemed to have aged was their mourning for their fallen king, yet through it all, they remained steadfast in their loyalty, dedicated to safeguarding his legacy.

"What is it, Master Merlyn? We haven't received a call to the Round Table in ten years," Sir Gawain asked, his voice tinged with worry as he walked over to the table as he gazed at Merlyn, who greeted him with a gentle smile.

Although they were all within the capital, each of these knights had other duties that kept them occupied, and Merlyn, too, had his own projects to manage.

"I'm afraid this reunion of ours isn't a pleasant one," Merlyn said, his expression heavy with sorrow. 

As his words settled, the faces of the knights grew solemn, their eyes reflecting the weight of what was to come.

BAM

"Is a Nether God raid afoot?" Sir Bedivere spat, his fist slamming against the table with a resounding thud at the mere thought and Merlyn slowly shook his head, his expression remaining somber.

"No, a wicked man, attempting to join hands with Morgana, is trying to set foot upon our great city, our great domain," Merlyn spoke sadly, his gaze dropping to the ground as Sir Bors scratched his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concern.

"But isn't that impossible? Your sealing spells are impenetrable unless they're cut by the wielder of the Ebony Blade-" Sir Gawain began, his voice laced with disbelief as he glanced at Merlyn, hoping for a more reassuring answer.

BAM

"DO NOT SHAME SIR PERCIVAL'S LEGACY LIKE THAT, SIR BORS!" Sir Bedivere shouted, his voice filled with anger as his fist slammed against the round table, making it reverberate as Sir Bors simply shrugged, unfazed by the outburst.

"Unfortunately, Sir Bedivere, Sir Bors is correct in his assumption." Merlyn's words struck like a thunderclap, and in an instant, all six knights wore expressions of shock and disbelief.

"You don't mean?" Sir Tristan asked, his voice filled with disbelief, as the gravity of the situation seemed too heavy to bear as Merlyn slowly shook his head, confirming the unsettling truth.

"Yes, I'm afraid the wielder of the Black Knight does not fight for justice, but has succumbed to the world's evils." Merlyn said and almost immediately, his words hung heavily in the air. 

Each of the knights were shaken, despite the fact that it was known for Black Knight wielders to lose their sanity over time. 

But the mere thought that such a noble weapon had fallen into darkness left them all in a state of stunned disbelief, for every previous wielder had been a man of honor who had fallen into depravity rather than starting in it.

Even one of these empty seats should have belonged to Sir Percival, but he had died just before the great war, an event that claimed King Arthur's life and, in turn, preserved the knights' immortality.

"Oh, how sorrowful this is~" Sir Gareth murmured, his voice thick with emotion as tears welled in his eyes. 

He wiped them away hastily, grief-stricken by the thought of Sir Percival's descendants tarnishing the legacy of such a noble knight.

"It can't be, it just can't be-"

"Sir Bedivere, I assure you, this is the truth. Do you truly believe I would lie to you?" Merlyn asked, his expression softening into that of a wise, weathered grandfather. 

Sir Bedivere, humbled, lowered his head in response, his pride momentarily silenced by the weight of Merlyn's words.

"No, Master Merlyn, I apologize for accusing you of such things," Sir Bedivere said, his voice heavy with regret as he lowered his gaze, feeling his misjudgment. 

"I should not have doubted you."

"Don't worry, Sir Bedivere, I could never hate you." Merlyn smiled warmly, his voice full of reassurance as he then turned to the others, his expression shifting as he prepared to address the looming threat.

"We must lock down Camelot and fortify it against this threat while I send out scouts to assess the danger." Merlyn's words instantly shifted the mood in the room. 

Each knight's expression grew solemn as they nodded in agreement, fully aware of the gravity of the situation.

Merlyn continued to list various areas that needed to be protected and fortified, ensuring that every detail was accounted for in the event of a siege.

"Oh valiant knights, Camelot is in your hands." Merlyn said, bowing deeply as the knights gripped their hands tightly, nodding with resolve as they bowed in return, determined to carry out the tasks required to defend the good people within its walls.

Soon, the doors behind the knights closed, and with it, the smile faded from Merlyn's face as he side-eyed the shadows, his expression turning from a smile into disgusted frown.

"You can come out now." Merlyn's deep, commanding voice echoed, his gaze fixed on the shadows with a mixture of disgust and disapproval and slowly, six figures emerged, their twisted and grotesque forms stepping into the light.

For there to be light, there had to be darkness. 

These six figures represented that darkness, those who had sinned and betrayed their king.

They were the shadowed counterparts to the knights of the round table, carrying their treachery and bearing a portion of the blame for Arthur's fall.

Each of them had been reforged, their bodies twisted into monstrous hybrid forms, neither knight nor beast, yet somehow both. 

Their armor had fused with their flesh, their noble features reduced to grotesque echoes of their former selves. 

Now, they served as Merlyn's enforcers, unwilling slaves bound to his will, cursed to exist in a torment of mind and body until the end of time.

These were:

Sir Agravain: A knight who once prided himself on his cunning, he had been left faceless, his head encased in a mirrored helm that reflected only darkness. His body was deformed, his limbs unnatural in their movements, as though he were a marionette without a puppeteer. Every step he took was soundless, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal he had wrought upon Camelot. 

Sir Mordred: Arthur's own flesh and blood, his bastard son who had schemed against him and with Morgana to betray him, killing Sir Percival. Now serpentine in form, his once-proud visage elongated into a fanged maw. His armor had become a chitinous exoskeleton, ridged and spiked, pulsating with dark magic. 

Sir Gwaine: Once a man of mirth and camaraderie, he had been transformed into a creature of ceaseless hunger. His once-handsome features had withered, his flesh turning gray and lifeless, his eyes now glowing embers set deep in sunken sockets. His once-proud sword had become a blackened fang, a blade that fed not on steel, but on the very life essence of those it struck.

Sir Kay: Arthur's foster brother, transformed into a winged abomination, his once-proud form now a fusion of man and machine, with jagged metallic wings grafted to his back. His fingers had become talons, his jaw unhinged like a carrion bird, his voice a grating screech that spoke only in riddles and curses. 

Sir Gaheris: The fire of his mother's murder still clung to him, his charred flesh forever smoldering, trapped between life and death. His armor was blackened and cracked, revealing glimpses of burning sinew beneath. His blade, jagged and rusted, left behind embers with every swing. He did not speak, not because he chose not to, but because his mouth had melted shut, sealing away whatever regrets he might have held.

Sir Lancelot du Lac: Once the greatest knight of Camelot, now a gilded horror, his once-pristine armor fused into his skin like a second layer of bone. His eyes, hollow and void of recognition, wept molten gold, a cruel mockery of the purity he once upheld. His right arm, elongated and grotesquely warped, ended in a blade of living steel, forever bound to battle yet never again for honor. 

"Take my stored hoards, divide it between the six of you, and attack when I give the signal." Merlyn's voice, laced with disgust, echoed through the room as he watched the six horrifying figures nod in unison. 

Without another word, they turned, silently retreating to carry out their dark commands.

"Use the tunnels. If a single soul sees you, other than Ricky Luciano and his little army, then, well, you can already understand what I'll do." Merlyn's words rang out coldly, his gaze unyielding. 

The creatures paused momentarily, whispering in horrid, eerie tones before they resumed their dark march, vanishing into the shadows once more.

The light filtered in through the window, bathing Merlyn in a soft glow, while another half of the room remained cloaked in darkness, shielding the horrors from view. 

He closed his eyes, letting the cold, creeping silence settle around him as he stood amidst the contrast, torn between the light and the shadows.

"Now, we wait to see if it is another failure."

BAM

'Is this all that you have managed to muster?'

BAM

"Your elbow is too high, when striking you have to bend with your knees."

BAM

'This is who you picked, eldest?'

Within Ricky's mind and through his ears, a storm of criticism raged as he warmed up, all while trying to strategize.

Alexander often emphasized the importance of thinking on your feet in the heat of battle, claiming that some of his greatest strategies were born in those very moments. 

That's why Alexander emphasized that if Ricky ever found himself in a rut, he should swing his sword and get his blood pumping to clear his mind.

Right now, Ricky was trying to process the information he had received from Veredelt while forming a plan for what to do once he entered the portal. 

Ricky was sure he'd encounter something on his way to Britain, but that didn't concern him as his focus was entirely on Merlyn.

Ricky had a plan, sort of, a personally crafted approach for how he wanted to deal with Merlyn. 

Instead of relying on all of his abilities right away, Ricky focused solely on his sovereign aura, his force field, and his swordsmanship, which encompassed all the weapons wielded by his astral hands. 

If he and Alexander were right, Merlyn would have only just begun watching him, which meant Ricky could hold back some of his cards for the inevitable confrontation, unless he was forced to use them sooner.

"Focus, Ricky! You need to center your fighting around your swordsmanship!" Alexander yelled, pushing Ricky to hone in on this specialty. 

He believed it was better for Ricky to build his entire fighting style around one core skill, allowing it to influence and enhance his other abilities rather than sporadically using his skills when it suited him.

'Is this really it-'

"I expected more-'

'He is the sort to grow on you-'

"Ricky, no, don't use the shield like that-"

"JESUS CHRIST, LET ME THINK!" Ricky yelled, a green aura pulsing around him, spiking as he spoke not only to Alexander but also to the three voices echoing in his head.

SIGH

Ricky sighed, holding his face in frustration as his spectral arms swayed behind him, each gripping a weapon, Chastiefol, Stormbringer, and the bow,Sun Flare.

"Just let me think." Ricky said, lowering his already strained tone as the voices in his head, and the gerbil, fell silent, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to focus.

"Okay, what I think-"

"Ricky, do you have a moment?" Veredelt asked, approaching from the side, his eyes briefly scanning the book in his hand before he looked up and paused.

"Is this a bad time-"

"No, it's the perfect time, where everything goes perfectly, and perfect things just happen!" Ricky said in a mock-cheerful tone, sarcasm lacing his words as his annoyance bled through.

"Just-......nevermind. What?" Ricky said, seeing the awkward tension grow as he gestured to Veredelt, who slowly nodded and handed him a book.

"This is a characterization of my earlier words, along with what I suspect Merlin's army possesses, as well as the quality of force-" Veredelt began explaining the book, walking over to Ricky's side and giving him a brief introduction.

Veredelt documented everything, categorizing history as he saw it without bias, while noting significant figures from both the past and present.

Merlyn was one of these figures.

It covered the history he knew, connecting Camelot to the Starlight Citadel, along with his rough estimation of the number of Chimeras he possessed. 

It even included a character sheet detailing what he had discovered over the years.

"What the-where was this when I was fighting Dracula?" Ricky asked, watching Veredelt adjust his glasses.

"Dracula inherited the powers of Varnae, but they were so watered down that I could never properly deduce anything beyond his magic core and overall magical power." Veredelt explained, walking him through this perfectly executed description as if planned beforehand.

"But I never could have guessed that he had infused the Van Helsing bodies into his own to become that hybrid, it was beyond me." Veredelt concluded, trying to play up this notion that a man who had collected knowledge for centuries just happened to be unable to collect some on Dracula.

"Uh-huh," Ricky said, raising an eyebrow at the lie,staring at Veredelt who kept a composed face before eventually frowning.

"Alright, fine. I didn't know whether you were a tumbling stone or a formidable force, and this information is a vital piece that requires proper trust, not just in the person, but in their abilities," Veredelt explained again, his lie evident as Ricky rolled his eyes at the excuse.

"Uh huh."

"Fine, I didn't think you would be able to kill Dracula at first which is why I didn't want to risk my outline falling into his hands." Veredelt finally told the truth, taking a gamble on Ricky with his hoards but unwilling to let his knowledge slip into Dracula's grasp, showcasing what was more important to him.

"And what are these rankings? You got human then superhuman, then lesser god and-"

"I have a strict system for categorizing power that I've used as a foundation to describe everything I come across," Veredelt quickly explained, giving Ricky a brief rundown of the power structure he had developed over the years, having lived through the age of gods rather than heroes and villains.

To Ricky, the world was divided into the strong and the weak—those who could kill him and those who couldn't. Veredelt, however, saw it in a more structured way.

His method of assessing a person fell into distinct categories, each fitting into a defined rank or wedged somewhere in between, yet categorized nonetheless. 

These were:

(Human) – Ordinary individuals with no enhancements, bound by natural human limits.

(Peak Human) – The absolute peak of human potential, with Olympic-level feats, heightened senses, and near-perfect reflexes.

(Superhuman) – Enhanced beings who surpass human limitations, lifting cars, dodging bullets, and demonstrating extreme resilience.

(Demi-God) – Individuals with divine essence but still bound by mortality. They can command immense power, rival armies, and manipulate supernatural forces.

(Lesser God) – Younger or minor deities, powerful but still limited in scope. They may rule over specific aspects of existence.

(God) – True deities who govern a portion of a law of reality itself. Their strength is immeasurable, capable of shaping worlds and bending the laws of physics with ease.

(Greater God) – Above typical gods, these beings possess influence that can manipulate the law in which is bestowed onto them with a greater portion of will, able to reshape entire dimensions.

(Elder God) – Architects of creation, beings of unfathomable power that have full reign of their laws as their power alone can shape existence itself.

(Outer God) – Beings that exist beyond the known multiverse. Their minds are incomprehensible, their power is limitless, and they are not bound by any laws of reality.

Each of these categories contained various sub-groups, but this was just a broad approach to define beings.

Merlyn's body was ranked as Demigod, his magical powers powerful enough to bridge the gap to Lesser God, but he couldn't transcend that rank due to his inability to attain true divinity which always intrigued Veredelt since he should be on the level of at least a God.

There were also other factors, as Merlyn's method of using magic defied his own rank and transcended into the godly realm. 

However, he was bound by his physical form, preventing him from fully accessing that power.

This, as Veredelt observed, was why Merlyn had remained as he was for so long and hadn't taken over the world.

To Veredelt, Ricky was in the superhuman realm, bridging toward the Demi-God level, but unable to fully grasp the verge of power that beings like Asterion possessed.

However, he only guessed this based on Ricky's body, as it was as strong as that category.

Frankly, he didn't know how powerful Ricky truly was, since it seemed like he had a new power every time Veredelt saw him.

It was why he wanted to maintain this connection, this link to Ricky, because for all that he didn't know, there was so much Ricky could become.

Because of that, Veredelt was willing to invest not only in the idea of Ricky Luciano, but in the man he was, the man he had been, and the man he was becoming.

Veredelt had seen so many exceptional people throughout his life, so many, in fact, that he had forgotten some of those who had triumphed and achieved far more than the figures in history now celebrated.

Ricky seemed special, but there was something about him, something that Veredelt personally didn't understand, that made him want to know more.

"Thanks," Ricky muttered, flipping through the pages as Veredelt took out the white flute, which connected to his little pocket space that held his massive hoard.

"Don't die, Ricky Luciano. I still have much more I need to learn about you," Veredelt chuckled, slipping the flute between the pages he was skimming before slowly backing away.

"It's not for me," Ricky muttered, his words catching his own ear and just as Veredelt was about to turn away, he paused.

"Pardon?"

"I said dying ain't for me. I might win or lose, but I won't die," Ricky smiled, tilting his head up.

Veredelt looked at him for a long moment before returning the smile with one of his own and nodding.

"I truly hope that you do not become a tale, but an everlasting story," Veredelt parted with those words. 

Ricky raised an eyebrow as he placed the book into the fiery paws of Alexander, who immediately took it.

"Ah, I see, I see~" Alexander hummed, passionately reading anything that involved warring, defeating, and conquering the enemy.

But now, Ricky was left with a different problem, specifically, the ebony siblings who were now bickering inside his head as he closed his eyes and focused, trying to focus in on their voices.

"Why must you patronize me?!" The Ebony Shield, now replicating Ricky's appearance with a crew cut, shouted at the Ebony Blade.

"I am not patronizing you. I said you are holding my attacks back with your stubborn refusal to be used as your intended form, which is the truth." the Ebony Blade scoffed, raising his gaze to the Ebony Shield, who gritted his teeth.

"Eldest, are you saying that you, in fact, merely accepted this 'Ricky Luciano' when you first met him?" The Ebony Crown, also adopting Ricky's image but with long hair, asked the Ebony Blade as the Ebony Blade frowned but didn't reciprocate the words.

"Of course not." The Ebony Blade said, speaking without lying or altering the truth, as the two of them scrunched their brows at his words.

"Then why would we assist this man you didn't initially help?" The Ebony Crown asked, impatiently awaiting an answer, while the Ebony Blade merely raised his gaze.

"Isn't it obvious? You two cannot compare to me," the Ebony Blade's words were harsh but just as the Ebony Shield was about to roar in response, the Ebony Crown stopped him.

"Elaborate."

"I consumed myself with self-loathing and biased views that didn't allow me to see the common goal I could achieve with his assistance." The Ebony Blade revealed, leaving out key pieces of information to benefit his reasoning.

"You both complain, whine, that Merlyn is superior to any of my users, but what good is superiority when you are chained, stored away, discarded?" The Ebony Blade genuinely asked, looking at his two siblings who remained quiet.

"Merlyn treated you, treated me, like mere tools, just like all my past users before me." The Ebony Blade reflected, lowering his gaze at those unpleasant times.

"I was a killing blade, to be blamed and tormented for abilities that came with a price."

"But not one of them treated me like a living being, not one of them listened to me. And for all that Ricky lacks, at least he sees me as something more than just a mere curse," The Ebony Blade revealed since despite Ricky being more vain and hateful compared to his predecessors, he listened.

None before him had ever truly listened to the Ebony Blade, even when he hatefully tried to torment Ricky. 

For that, he was grateful.

Ricky saw him not as a curse, as his ancestors had alluded to, but as a blade meant to be wielded, with its user bearing the burden that came with it.

"He's right since unlike that dipsh*t Merlyn, I'd actually use you two," Ricky revealed his presence, walking from the side as they all turned towards him.

"Why the hell would we help you kill our creator?!" the Ebony Shield roared, stomping in place. Ricky shrugged.

"Because he basically sent you to me for free, to be used, so might as well go with his intentions," Ricky replied casually, gesturing towards them to turn to his side cause it was better than doing nothing.

"What are you-"

"What do you mean?" The Ebony Crown scrunched his brows, taking a step forward to confront Ricky.

"Oh, come on. Do you really believe that nimrod Merlyn wouldn't know I'd kick that Angelia or Angela-whatever her name is, ass?" Ricky genuinely asked, looking at the two who went to say something but paused.

The Merlyn they knew, their creator, would never do anything without a purpose and if Angela was crushed so easily, there had to be a reason.

"N-No, our creator sent us here to slow you down with our power-"

BOOM

Ricky's body exploded in a green aura, his eyes glowing as his sovereign aura pulsed throughout his mental space. 

They weren't here because they wanted to be, but because he wanted them here.

The Ebony Shield and Ebony Crown both erupted, their own presences flooding the space. But the Ebony Blade simply swiped its hand across the aura with a single decisive movement.

WHOOSH

The blazing purple and blue auras surged forward, only to be sliced in half instantaneously as both of the Ebony Artifacts stared, pupils dilated, at this sudden revelation. 

Then, the green aura smashed down on both of their images, pinning them to the ground as every time they tried to spark any resistance, the Ebony Blade would cut it down without hesitation.

"How the hell is this slowing me down?" Ricky asked, genuinely confused, as he looked towards the two of them, struggling to muster any form of resistance.

"You cannot do this-"

"OH PLEASE!" Ricky shouted, laughing out manically at their attempts to suddenly play the victim.

"You wanna live in my mind and f*cking cry about how life is so unfair? Then do it, go wild," Ricky laughed, walking over and leaning down, his eyes peering down at the two of them, their foreheads pressed into the black pool they used as a floor.

"But if you wanna stay here, you gotta start paying rent." Ricky's words hung in the air as he stood up, with a tired and stressed expression.

"But above all, I ain't begging you. Either hop on the bandwagon or get off, and you have to decide now." Ricky's tone was sharp, his gaze unflinching as he stood over them.

"Maybe if this was another time, one where I was mouthing off like I did with the Ebony Blade over there, I could stay here and really get to the bottom of this, to the bottom of all of whatever trauma you both have, but I f*cking can't." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his voice as he took a step back.

"I don't have time for your issues that make you so distrustful towards people, the reason why you just drool over your creator, that dickbag Merlyn, who's just breathing down my back." Ricky's voice grew more biting with every word, his frustration with the situation mounting.

"So if you don't wanna help, then I'll throw you in a room like Merlyn did, only bringing you out when I need to get rid of you. Or, you can come with me and actually be used for what you were meant to be." Ricky said, but it seemed like his frustration was mixing with his stress to bubble out something he had held back.

"I ain't a masterclass fighter or a centuries-old wizard, but I'm gonna struggle, claw my way through every fight, and use you as much as possible to win. That's what I'd do," Ricky sighed, finishing his whole tangent and looking down at these two unruly Ebony Artifacts, wanting it to just go his way.

"So, what's your answer?" Ricky asked, extending his hand toward them, his gaze unwavering as he watched the two siblings glance at each other, then back at him.

"No." They both responded in unison, their voices firm and resolute.

Ricky's lips curled into a grin, and he let out a laugh, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully as he side-eyed the Ebony Blade, who simply shrugged.

Ricky really wanted it to be that easy, but in reality, these two artifacts were bound by a loyalty and respect that Ricky couldn't ignore. 

They didn't want to do anything that might harm or betray their creator, Merlyn. 

Unlike the Ebony Blade, who had grown disillusioned with Merlyn and the way he had been treated, the Ebony Shield and Ebony Crown still held some form of respect for their creator, despite everything.

"Do you guys want to sit down for a heart-to-heart about your pasts and how they turned you into such assholes-"

"Don't you understand? Merlyn is coming for us," the Ebony Crown said, crossing his arms and raising his gaze at Ricky, who responded with a laugh.

"Oh really?" Ricky chuckled, finding their delusions more than a little amusing. 

However, a tinge of frustration began to seep in, mingling with the weight of the stress he felt.

"You wouldn't understand-"

"Try me." Ricky gestured to them, watching as the two Ebony Artifacts rolled their eyes.

"Because it seems to me that he just handed you both to me on a silver platter for a reason-"

"We were obviously meant to slow you down, to keep you occupied!" The Ebony Shield blurted out, his words causing the Ebony Crown to smack his shoulder.

"Shut it-"

"How, the f*ck, are both of you slowing ME down?" Ricky asked, spreading out his arms at the two of them as they both turned their gaze toward him.

"You truly don't understand, do you?" The Ebony Crown asked, marveling at Ricky's apparent stupidity as he scrunched his brows.

"The Ebony Blade never told you, did he?" The Ebony Crown laughed, glancing at the blade, who Ricky now turned to as well.

"Let me guess, are you guys like puzzle pieces, where when all of you unite, it's like some sort of power-up?" Ricky suddenly said, just as the Ebony Blade was about to speak as the Blade opened and closed its mouth, then nodded.

"Figured as much." Ricky shrugged, turning back to the two artifacts, who were now weirded out at how he could just shrug it off.

"Are you not mad, when all of us siblings unit the Black Knight's form is complete and-"

Sigh

"You know, if I'm being honest, not really," Ricky said, plopping down onto the floor and oddly enough, it looked like he would sink into it, but the surface was solid.

"After coming to the supernatural world, from all the bullsh*t I've gone through, the one thing they all have in common is that they have layers." Ricky held up his hands, stacking them as if layering something on top of another.

"Like how Dracula wanted to kill all the Van Helsings," Ricky said, holding up one hand and waving the other.

"Then the reason is because he wanted to cure his weakness by absorbing them into his flesh, which was f*cking disgusting, by the way." Ricky added, chiming in his own opinion as he stacked his waving hand on top of the other.

"Or like when his stupid son came to New York and started acting like Dracula, then it was this big deal when he revealed he wasn't." Ricky continued, his voice mounting with the annoyance of all the sh*t he had trudged through.

"And another time when Abraham said all his descendants were dead, but that was a lie since his granddaughter, Rachael, was still alive became he didn't want her location to be found out by Dracula because he'd hunt her-"

SIGH

"And then it just repeat again, and again, and again but sh*t can't be cut and dry in this world, there has to be like fourteen million layers in it." Ricky interrupted himself, sighing heavily at the exhaustion of it all as that stress poured into his eyes and the frustration into his mind.

"Now that I'm really ranting about it, my god, there's always something underneath what's said, and I already know, I ALREADY KNOW, that Merlyn is gonna do something and needs me for it for some fcking reason that is tethered to everything he's fcking made." Ricky threw his hand into the air, his frustration palpable as he realized the layers behind Merlyn's actions as he sighed heavily and fell back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Then, why are you walking into the trap-"

"Because he fcked with my sht!" Ricky shot up, his voice rising as he glared at the two ebony artifacts. 

They flinched at the outburst, but quickly regained their composure, eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and calculation.

"It wasn't like I asked to be on that old dude's radar, he just attacked me!" Ricky laughed bitterly, his stress seeping through the cracks of his facade. 

The two ebony artifacts exchanged glances, then shifted their gaze between themselves, processing his words as if trying to make sense of this new layer to Ricky's frustration.

"All I wanted was to f*cking prove that I can be the guy everyone thinks I am, the guy I want to be, but noooooooooooooo!" Ricky yelled, his voice raw with frustration as he sat up quickly, his eyes blazing as he took a step forward, the two ebony artifacts instinctively backing up in response to his intensity as Ricky's anger swirled around them.

"There's always some asshole, some conniving btch, and crazy old guys out there who just can't have that, CAN'T HAVE RICKY LUCIANO TRYING TO FCKING MAKE SOMETHING OF HIMSELF!" Ricky yelled, his veins bulging as his anger surged.

 He paced, taking his fury out on the ebony artifacts, who had been caught in this sudden storm of frustration, drafted into the winds of his words as his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

"I'M A FCKING LEADER, I CAN BE LIKE MY POPS AND BE A FCKING LEADER WHILE FCKING LEADING, YOU FCKING GOT THAT, HUH!" Ricky yelled, his insecurities bubbling up to the surface while spewing out a curse word every other sentence.

"I CAN STILL STAND UP AND BE RESPONSIBLE, OWN UP TO BEING THE MAN OF MY FAMILY, AND F*CKING LEAD, LEAD, LEAD!" Ricky roared, his voice breaking as the words repeated like a broken record. 

His frustration boiled over into a full-blown breakdown, each word laced with the weight of everything he had been carrying.

 His hands trembled, fists clenched so tightly they were turning white, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around him was closing in as the artifacts watched, silent, as Ricky unraveled before them.

"I-f*ck~" Ricky was about to say something only to turn away and cover his hand into his face.

"I just wanted to build sh*t, and literally, the second it all starts going smoothly, some old guy from a goddamn myth shows up out of nowhere and throws a chimera crab monster at me, then threatens my family," Ricky sighed, his hand clutching his forehead as the situation pressed down on him, a massive headache pounding at his temples. 

The frustration in his voice was palpable, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but the exhaustion, both physical and emotional, was what truly showed.

"And I can't just sit back, brush it off, cause I'd look like a pussy." Ricky said, throwing his hand into the air since if he ignored it then he would be seen as weak.

"But literally, LITERALLY, the second I go around and have this f*cking reunion tour with all the women I boned and then dipped, saying I'll be around and then all of sudden, I have to leave," Ricky muttered, letting out a deranged chuckle at literally going back on his words.

"And then this whole sht with my like, eight trillion abilities, that all have to center around that motherfcker over, having to center everything around the sword 'cause Alexander gets on my ass, every, single, time, and I'm just sitting here having to smile!" Ricky snapped, pointing off to the side at the Ebony Blade who raised his hands in mock surrender, not wanting to be drawn into this tantrum.

Ricky's eyes were strained, his hands balled into fists and the weight of everything, the expectations, the pressure, the endless complications, just bore down on him. 

It was like no matter how hard he tried to carve out his own path, someone or something was always pulling him back into their web of drama and control.

SIGH

"Like, what kind of dude just gets all this power and immediately knows what to do? 'Cause I don't," Ricky said, his voice softer now, more reflective. 

He looked at the Ebony artifacts, his frustration momentarily giving way to vulnerability. 

They awkwardly rubbed their necks, unsure of how to respond to his honesty as Ricky exhaled a sharp breath, shaking his head.

Just because he was strong, people assumed Ricky would have some five-course plan all neatly laid out for everyone to delight in. 

But Ricky didn't know sh*t. 

He was the guy who went with the flow, reacting to whatever came his way, but now, he had to manage a criminal empire with meticulous planning, all while dealing with a constant stream of people trying to tear him down. 

It wasn't just a day-to-day lackluster grind; it was survival, and he was barely holding it all together.

"I don't know what the fck I'm doing, I don't know what's about to happen when I portal us to fcking Britain, where I only went on a whim because my baby mama had her lesbian girlfriend hang herself there." Ricky ranted, frustration choking his voice, laughing at how convenient it was in the first place.

"On a side note, it was just like super f*cked up, and I know she's struggling, but like, how do I approach it?" Ricky suddenly derailed his rant, asking for advice towards literal weapons who were literally made of metal and have never known any other love that wasn't battle.

"Do I just go, 'Hey, baby, sorry the girl you've been dating for centuries went and hung herself, wanna go shopping?' Like, how do I approach that?" Ricky asked, the ebony artifacts opening then closing their mouths since they were speechless.

"Seriously, any tips? Like, I know I gotta go through this portal, and it probably won't be that easy. Hell, I already bet my ass is about to get ambushed the second I step foot in that rat hole of a city." Ricky laughed, expecting it to be some showdown the literal second he steps into Britain.

"Then I'm gonna have to go to Morgana's castle, who I already know might f*cking betray me, but I'm still gonna hit it 'cause she's hot." Ricky said personally, the ebony artifacts all looking at each other, unsure of how to even approach this spiraling conversation.

"Then I'm gonna fight Merlyn or whatever, hear his sob story, then-AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ricky yelled, gripping his hair, while the ebony siblings all looked at him, uncertain of how to react to his outburst.

"Am I the crazy one? 'Cause I feel like I'm the crazy one," Ricky asked, his gaze shifting between the two ebony artifacts, who just stared at him in silence.

"Y'know, maybe if I was a little more reasonable I'd really go through the steps, but I'mma need that power of yours, so you in or out?" Ricky asked, staring at the two ebony artifacts, who, oddly enough, seemed more concerned about Ricky's deteriorating mental state than their own plans.

"No?" they both said, as Ricky let out a laugh, rubbing his mouth before breaking into a manic chuckle as he exited his mental landscape.

When he opened his eyes in the real world, he immediately threw the shield and the crown to the ground with a forceful clang and without a second thought, he unzipped his pants.

"Fine, have it your way."

2 minutes later,

"Woah, that was the craziest stream," Ricky laughed, feeling a little lighter after finally relieving himself. 

He couldn't even believe how long he'd been pissing, but the others around him weren't concerned with the length of it, they were more impressed by the stream.

Sniff

"Oh man, that reeks!" Ricky laughed, walking up to the pissed-on ebony artifacts as he summoned a water spout and rinsed them off, the stream of water cascading over them.

After giving them a quick rinse, Ricky touched both artifacts and closed his eyes as he could feel the two ebony objects curling up into a ball, shivering as if being violated.

"How bout now?" Ricky asked, gazing at the horrified ebony artifacts who gazed back at him.

"NEVER-"

Before they could screech at him, Ricky let go of the artifacts and scanned the area as his gaze fell on Asterion, who was sniffing the nearby roses.

"Aye, Asterion, could you do me a favor?" Ricky called out, his voice carrying a hint of casual command.

Asterion turned, flashing a warm smile before looking away, his expression shifting to something more focused as he approached.

"Of course, what do you need?"

3 minutes later,

Clap

Clap

Clap

Ricky was currently clapping his hands, impressed by the sheer duration Asterion had just displayed, completely outlasting his own impressive performance as Alexander shook his head, as if they were amateurs in comparison.

A bull's bladder capacity is roughly 4.6 liters and can hold up to 26 gallons, but Asterion, being an enlarged pseudo-Demi God, could easily surpass that limit by miles.

Sometimes he forgets, as his body can go actual days without needing to piss, only occasionally letting the gates flow when the pressure becomes too much to ignore.

"The sweet scent of morning dew, oh, how today will not only rival, but triumph over the last," Asterion spoke beautifully, pissing on the ebony artifacts while reveling in the foggy morning.

"Damn, Asterion, that was actually kind of beautiful," Ricky suddenly said, surprised by the poem, as Asterion smiled.

"Thank you."

"Are you, like, into poetry or stuff like that?"

"I have been dabbling since I enjoy the beauty in every word."

"Well, it's rubbing off."

"Why, thank you, Ricky."

"You should pen that shit down, I'm serious, not even flattering you."

"Then, I shall do that after I finish."

They had a pleasant conversation, talking about Asteiron's sudden hobby of poetry all while he dumped his bladder on these unruly ebony artifacts.

5 minutes later,

"Annnnnnnnnd, done." Asterion said warmly, adjusting his loincloth and stepping back. Ricky waved his hand at the stench, clearly unimpressed by the lingering odor.

Instead of immediately washing the artifacts down, Ricky let the stench settle in, watching as it slowly began to taint the ebony surfaces. 

Even the Ebony Blade seemed to recoil, a strange sensation creeping into its being as the once proud artifacts, now soaked in the foulness, began to feel the weight of the situation.

"Are you alright?" The Ebony Blade cautiously inquired, watching Ricky laugh maniacally as he glanced at the piss-stained ebony artifacts.

"I mean, if they're gonna piss on my goodwill then I'm gonna piss on them." Ricky simply said, looking down at the Ebony Blade with a crazed smile.

'I-I see.' The Ebony Blade said, knowing he should say something but would rather not cross Ricky at this moment since his sanity was really called into question.

"Now listen up, 'cause I ain't repeating myself." Ricky bent down, his eyes locking onto the piss-soaked artifacts with a cold intensity.

"You can b*tch and moan all you want, but here's the thing, I don't care."

"I don't care how hard your lives were and how devastating it is to part ways from your loving little sh*t of a creator, so I'll make a deal with you." Ricky said, looking at them with a raised gaze.

"You'll help me defeat everyone in my path, then sit out the fight against Merlyn. Or I get every. single. one. in this goddamn castle to use you like toilets, and yes, it does mean sh*tting." Ricky undid his belt, slowly and methodically as if to really sow in the tension.

"And I've got a real stinker cooking up if the words coming out are no." Ricky dropped his pants, his boxers revealed as he put his fingers around his waist band.

"Now, flare your powers if you agree and if you don't, well, I already have toilet paper on me-"

WHOOSH

The two ebony artifacts flared out their power in a heartbeat, not even sparing another second to even imagine what Ricky had in store for them.

Clap

"Good, 'cause I'm already uncomfortable with the fact that I gotta wear a crown and hold a shield that me and Asterion both pissed on. I'd rather not add the image of smearing my shit all over you too." Ricky clapped his hands, rubbing them together since truth be told, he really didn't want to wear armor he took a dump on.

"Uh, Boney and Chuck, could you two handle this? And make sure to really scrub between the grooves," Ricky called from the side, motioning to his two high-ranking undead. 

They were currently busy outfitting his makeshift undead army with weapons, specifically, the throwaway ones he'd gotten from the system earlier, which included:

(Common Item) Wooden Shield: A simple, lightweight shield made of wood, providing basic protection in battle but vulnerable to heavy attacks. X 15

(Common Item) Stone Knife: A primitive, yet reliable tool for cutting, skinning, or preparing food; it has a simple stone blade affixed to a wooden handle. X 45

"I think this is a supreme task that should be fulfilled by Boney-"

"No way." Boney suddenly interrupted Chuck's intellectual speech, catching him off guard.

"Why not, you always want to take the initiative?" Chuck questioned, scrunching his brows metaphorically since he was a skeleton.

"For feeding on the souls of our master's enemies, vanquishing the foes in his way, and condemning them to be my strength is where I take the initiative, not scrubbing pee pee off his equipment," Boney retorted, holding up a finger as if it was a matter of fact.

"I like that one," Alexander chimed in from the side, holding up his gerbil-sized thumb as Ricky let out a deep sigh at the coming exchange. 

"Why-........why did you say it like that?" Chuck asked, squinting at Boney.

"Like what?" Boney replied innocently, unable to understand what he did wrong this time.

"Pee pee?"

"Oh, because little Danielle calls it that."

"Really?"

"What do you call it?"

"I call it what our master calls it, piss."

"That does roll off the tongue better."

"That is what I thought, but if it's pee pee-"

"How about this, you guys each take a piss-stained ebony thingy and go talk about it while rinsing it off?" Ricky asked without actually asking, watching the two skeletons exchange hesitant glances.

"I call-"

"I CALL DIBS ON THE CROWN!" Boney yelled over Chuck, thrusting his hand into the air as Ricky immediately pointed at him. 

"Sold."

"What is this 'dibs' you speak of?" Chuck recoiled in horror, left with the big ebony shield as Boney lightly picked up the crown.

"Well, it's-" Boney started, wandering off to the side while Ricky lounged around, waiting.

Meanwhile, the witches and warlocks finally gathered after finishing their meals from the servants' quarters.

"All right, here's the plan. We're gonna teleport into Britain and-oh my god, what?" Ricky finally got to the point, eager to move past this hurdle and just get to Otherworld, only for a wizard, Dexter, to raise his hand.

"In the middle of the day? Isn't that too conspicuous?" Dexter asked, using a word big that Ricky didn't exactly know. 

"No, it's fine. Now-Jesus Christ, what?!" Ricky waved his hand in exasperation, only for Cedric to raise his own in return, clearly trying to buy time but also genuinely pondering another matter.

"Do we have a cover story? One that we'll use if anyone asks why a hundred men and women are gathered together in robes?" Cedric asked, bringing up a good point since these were the only clothes they brought and would probably stick out like sore thumbs.

"I don't know-ugh, we're missionaries-"

"We don't look like missionaries," Eldric interrupted Ricky, eyeing his warlock attire. 

It actually had a slight resemblance to a priest's robes, but the stubborn old man refused to acknowledge it.

"Does it really matter? Seriously, does it really matter?" Ricky asked, laughing at how stupid this conversation was as his frustration, which had settled earlier, began to rise again as the coven all exchanged glances.

"Yes." They all said in unison, showing how important it was to them even if it was insignificant to him as Ricky groaned, dragging his hand down his face. 

"Fine. We're tourists from New York, all here as f*ck buddies to see Big Ben." Ricky said, pulling the first thought he had out of his ass since Morgana said the portal was in there, somewhere within it, at least.

"Can we be from San Francisco?" one witch asked, practically bouncing with excitement at the idea, as Ricky lazily pointed at her.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Ricky waved his hands, completely unaware that he was about to ignite a heated debate.

"If we get to pick where we're from, I want to be Canadian," Another witch chimed in, grinning widely and raising her head.

"F*ck that, I want to be from North Dakota."

"No way, let's be from Hollywood."

"What about Florida?"

Suddenly, their expedition came to a screeching halt as the entire group erupted into chaos, each one insisting on having their own specific place of origin. 

The witches and warlocks bickered, arguing over whether they should be from California, Canada, or somewhere else entirely, each person stubbornly defending their choice. 

The noise grew louder, with no sign of it dying down anytime soon and Ricky, standing at the front, ran a hand down his face in frustration.

"I know it is frustrating, but let it play out." Alexander sighed, knowing just how difficult it can be to command so many voices since he had led entire legions with arguments like this before.

The legions he had commanded had often been in worse disarray, men clashing over battle tactics, egos colliding over honor, and soldiers demanding better pay or better rations in the heat of a campaign. 

It was never easy to silence the clamor of many voices, but it was always necessary. 

A leader who didn't understand when to let the storm rage and when to calm it would never find success as he had learned this in the trenches of war, and it had served him well.

"Fine, I mean, how long can this take?"

4 hours later,

"ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME!"

Author's Note: Yo, I know I went really into it with the cluster thing but I wanted to add my own twist when it came to the mutiverse cause I'm not saying their aren't differnet worlds, there is, it's like a web but every dot connecting them is like a cluster. Wanted to know if I got that across and if I didn't just let me know. Also, I might just do a three-chapter week since I really need to study on Monday, but after that, I should be good to return to normal.