Threads of the Soul

FWWOOOM!

A blue streak shot across the sky in an instant, and for those who hadn't seen Astra fire the rail cannon round, it would simply be impossible to know what it was. All they would have seen was a blue streak cutting through the sky as the crushed up car moved so blisteringly fast all that could be seen was its aftermath. Nothing but a trail of utter destruction, as even the air itself was annihilated by the unyielding, cleansing light.

Wherever the gradually fading light had touched, all that was left was a smouldering and sizzling hole the size of a beach ball. It had drilled through the tendrilled defence of the Rat king like it was less than paper before burrowing its way deep into its flesh, and back out the other side. As for Cynthia, who was positioned behind the Rat King as she held it up, she too was not spared. A hole drilled through her gelatinous body, causing a dams-worth of pure water to flow out of the hole like a waterfall.

Even the countless buildings far behind them had also tasted the cleansing lights wrath, holes melted through glass, concrete and steel alike.

The earth shuddered violently as the Rat King's puppeteered form collapsed after being released from Cynthia's grasp. It slammed against the ground with a deafening crash, as well as a splash that sent a torrent of water cascading into the air to make an almost artificial rainfall, as the mighty meat mech had lost its feeble little pilot.

A deafening silence hung in the air as the beasts colossal body settled into its final resting place, a hail of water drops falling on top of the stunned crowd who didn't seem to care or even notice that they were being drenched.

"It's... It's dead?"

"IT'S DEAD!"

"THEY KILLED IT! WE WON!"

After the first timid voice broke the silence, many were quick to follow. Whooping and hollering with uncontained joy at the prospect of living to see another day, and that this day they had been able to witness such feats of strength and human supremacy. Despite not participating in the slightest, the phrase 'we won' was the most repeated throughout the joyous crowds, as if it was a football match that had definitely only been won because you personally wore your lucky socks. Instead of, in reality, the outcome being completely down to the skill of those actively participating.

As Omelette landed next to Seth, he gave his baby boy some well deserved scratches on his head, which elicited some deep, rumbling purrs from the, supposedly, terrifying Wyvern. He could feel Astra's gaze on him, although it felt more curious and strangely envious instead of an angry death glare, but Seth opted to ignore it and instead enjoy the show presented to him.

When Cynthia had finally expunged all the water and returned to her usual, lovably petite size, she was immediately scooped up by Alexandra. The large Amazonian was mostly concerned with the bullet sized hole still in Cynthia's chest, but the gelatinous girl was having trouble making the fawning giant understand that she was fine.

It didn't help that Alexandra was so close and constantly touching her. Thus, Seth's endless amusement at Cynthia's stuttering attempts to convince the Amazonian that she was fine, all whilst her entire body had once again turned completely and utterly scarlet. Seth noticed the multitude of panicked and pleading looks she gave him, but once again he chose to ignore it. It was more fun that way.

He had no idea if Alexandra was intentionally feeding Cynthia's embarrassment to tease her, or was simply utterly oblivious to the worlds most obvious schoolgirl crush. Perhaps some slight nudging was required in the future.

The sound of footsteps drew Seth's attention away from the sapphic disaster show as he turned his head to see Alfie jogging over to them. It seemed like the enigmatic fox had simply disappeared once again. Seth had his theories as to how he was doing that, but he'd have to take some time to test them to make sure, but time was not something he had a luxury of right now.

"I can't believe we did it! It was so cool and I... uh, I mean. I'm sorry for getting in the way Sir, and Ma'am! I... I was just trying to be useful for once."

Alfie's jovial attitude quickly melted away as he was met with the sight of Astra's resting glare and Corvus' emotionless mask. The two intense gazes from his superiors quickly reminding him of the fact that he was told to stay away.

He lowered his head, unable to look at them any longer as he began to fiddle with the gas pipe duct taped to his arm. It was because of this that he missed the sight of Seth and Astra touching hands for a brief moment, just long enough for a river of ink to slither its way across their fingers.

Although, perhaps it was probably for the best he never witnessed that, since the ink was barely noticeable and such a sight that would have given him a slew of wrong ideas.

Unfortunately for Seth, such an action was witnessed by another, causing him to feel a brief, hateful glare from an unknown source once again. But that was something he'd have to deal with another time.

Even when a shadow was cast over Alfie's form, he didn't dare take his eyes away from their spot on the ground, like a child about to be scolded. When he felt 'Lord Crow's hand land on his shoulder and squeeze it tight, he couldn't help but flinch and tremble slightly, his eyes scrunching closed as expected to be 'disciplined' or reminded of his worth the same way he had throughout the rest of his life.

Yet instead of his usual treatment, he heard an unexpected voice whispering in his mind.

[You have been transferred the Requital, Tale of Tails]

His eyes snapped open, trembling softly as he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing. As if to confirm to the young, bespectacled man, the Lord squeezed his shoulder again and spoke with a soft and almost paternal tone.

"You did good kid. Real good. "

***

Returning his soul to it's original vessel, otherwise known as Seth's actual body, Seth let out a muffled groan as he stretched his stiff limbs and a yawned. He had to give it to himself, this idea of letting his body nap while he possessed Corvus was working out better than he thought.

The sensation of his foot bumping against something as he stretched forced Seth to open his eyes, squinting slightly as his vision blurred before finally focusing and revealing the situation around him.

He was sat on the floor, which made sense since Omelette was originally protecting him, but he was now surrounded by... books? Well, obviously he was surrounded by books, he was in a library. But this was more in the sense that someone had built a little nest of books for him to sit in, or perhaps it was better to act as a wall.

After all, behind this wall of novella was a small ocean of blood. Gazing around the room, Seth couldn't help but notice the dozens of beast bodies filling the room. It was a mixture of Shadow Panthers and the giant rats, with the majority naturally being the rats.

Some of the bodies were pinned to various surfaces by steel edged feathers, or simply skewered by a shotgun blast of feathers so that they looked like a porcupine, but others were slashed apart. The only thing left standing, on the other side of the ocean of blood, was a living mannequin by the name of Bob, who was currently holding a book in one hand and a feathered blade in the other.

Upon seeing that Seth had awoken, Bob tilted his head like a puppy and spoke with his usual, flat tone of voice that was utterly devoid of emotion.

"Hello Fa- I mean, Hello Seth."

When Bob spoke, Seth felt a wave of happiness flowing through him. Although Bob was still learning how to better express his feelings to others, he had discovered the perfect way to express himself to Seth. Through their connections, Seth could simply feel what Bob was feeling, if he so allowed it, and vice versa. Such feelings could be hidden, but they couldn't be falsified. Not entirely.

It was his own unique little way of communicating his feelings. Even if it was restricted to just talking with his father, it was a method that Bob found much more superior to regular human conversation as it removed confusing ambiguity from the equation such as with the irritating notion of sarcasm.

"Y'know Bob, Sometimes I forget we share combat knowledge. You can be one scary dude if you wanted to. Perhaps I should bring you along on our next outing, maybe we'll even get you your own special equipment since you can't earn any yourself."

A flurry of unbridled joy flooded through Seth's system as Bob didn't even bother to try to hide how much he loved that idea, yet when he spoke a casual observer would think he was simply bored by the prospect and just humouring the one armed man.

"I would be most honoured to join you, anything I can do to be more useful to you. Any gift from you would be the light of my life.

As for gifts, it seems you have been given one. Unfortunately this is not from me but... I will do my best to get you one if you desire it!"

Seth shook his head, waving off the thought before Bob got too obsessed with it, before taking the so called gift that Bob was holding out towards. Although, since it was his own journal, the knowledge item he had acquired, he had no idea how it could be considered a gift since he already owned it.

That was, until he idly flipped open the book and landed on an unfamiliar page, one that was not in his own handwriting. That alone made Seth frown, as such a thing should have been impossible.

Even if he didn't physically write in this book, simply thinking it or verbally dictating it, the words would always be written in his handwriting. Bob himself wrote the exact same way, since he learned from Seth's memories. So how could someone else have written in his book?

Flipping through the pages some more, discovering countless pages of someone else's writing alongside different diagrams of runic letters he couldn't even begin to understand, Seth finally came to a page that held the answers to his questions.

The page in question was blank, except for the two sentences written in the middle of the page in blood red ink. It read,

"To be bequeathed to my student. The writings and studies of one Julius Reddington"

'Ah... So that was his name.'