The old man sat across from Mr. Wyvern in the tavern as the last few customers supped and left. "How is the young one doing?" he asked, sipping tea.
"Not too bad," Mr. Wyvern replied, glancing out the window. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do, sir? What if the Puppeteer also decides to make his move earlier as a result?"
The old man stiffened and placed down his cup. "If that happens, then we have to get that person to help us."
"It's a shame. I really did want to kill that one," Mr. Wyvern sighed. "Regardless, I have to look for the boy with ice, correct? And then, after the final showdown, we can move to the North and be done with all this."
"Yes," the old man paused. "Alexander, you have been ever so loyal to me all this time, so if anything goes wrong, take the kid and run, no matter what."
Mr. Wyvern sighed and chuckled. "I trust you, sir, so yes, by your wish I will. But if I see an opportunity to trade my life for yours, I will."
"Do as you wish. The safety of the Gambit comes first." He yawned and leaned back, sipping his tea, glancing at the TV. "Hmm, now that is strange."
Breaking News:The Eastern King is in uproar as his son has left to become a hero in the North Kingdom. Live at the scene is Amy interviewing the head of Nexus as well as Eastern rank 2 Spitfire.
"Good morning. I'm Amy Sanders here at Nexus Main HQ in the East Kingdom. The king has just left after having yelled at the Nexus head officer. Here he is now." The camera panned left to the man in grey sitting at his desk.
"Good morning," he said calmly—no smile and no anger, just a blank expression. "To answer the main question of the hour, yes, Prince Kawata Noboru has been taken to the North Kingdom by the Monarch to complete a Hero Course."
"Can you tell us what brought about this decision, and what the king had just talked to you about?" Amy said, pushing the mic closer towards his face.
The man in grey sighed. "As everyone knows, if the kingdom's top 3 make a decision, it's the equivalent of the king himself making a decision. The Monarch was sure Spitfire and Scarlet would also agree with him on this matter, and he was right."
Spitfire flicked a flame towards the camera, and the cameraman panned the camera to him. "It was an easy choice," Spitfire snarled with a smirk. "You don't just see heroism like that and lock it up in some castle to file paperwork. And if what the Monarch told me is correct, then holy hell, that kid's gonna be one hell of a force."
The camera panned back to the man in grey as he coughed into his hand. "Anyway, since the top 3 and the king had opposing votes, the government—more specifically me—is next to vote as a tie-breaker. And I chose to give the kid a chance. I simply don't see the problem in letting the kid be a hero. If he serves his country and saves lives, why would I be against that as the head of Nexus?"
Amy adjusted her microphone. "And what of the Monarch? You said he took the prince to the north, but outside rumours and reports have allegedly spotted him heading south."
The man in grey tensed, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he cleared his throat. "The Monarch is not just the rank one hero in the east but also a widely respected and well-known powerful hero, so he has important business in the South Kingdom, I assume, and has dropped the prince off. He will return to the north to train him later, once he deals with other matters. A true hero, is he not?" The rest of the interview got rushed, and then the TV switched off.
Mr. Wyvern's fingers twitched. "How likely is it that…"
"100%... at the very least." The old man stiffened. "We can't let that man find him first," he said as Mr. Wyvern stood up.
"I'll get going then," he said, putting on his trench coat and gloves.
"Observe and don't fight. Both of them are far beyond your capabilities," the old man said shakily, sipping his tea.
"Tell the kid…" Mr. Wyvern said, opening the door, "that he better not slack off while I'm gone." And he exited, shutting the door behind him.
The old man just sat there, lost in thought. Worst-case scenario, the Monarch and Mr. Wyvern die. Best case, they get crippled for life. How should he make his next move? Neither of these outcomes would ruin his plans, but it would make them so much harder to achieve. Was he ready to die a meaningless death? Was he ready to become a slave to that man… of course not.
***
On the platform of the Western underground railway station sat Mr. Wyvern, waiting for his train to arrive. If he were to enter the south by any other means, he would be chased, and that would only slow him down—and he could not afford that.
"Excuse me, sir," an officer walked up to him. "Are you headed to the South Kingdom or just lower west?"
"South," he answered without looking up from his newspaper. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes," the officer pointed to a sign in the back. "There are no trains headed to the south currently. You'd be best taking one to lower west, then using a bus."
"Ah," Mr. Wyvern said, getting up and folding his newspaper into his pocket. "Well, thank you for letting me know." He shook the officer's hand and walked back up the steps.
It was only when he saw the homeless man eyeing him from a small makeshift tent that he realised what had just happened. Quickly spinning round and blocking the blade before it slashed his neck, he locked eyes with the officer whose face was now half-melted.
Mr. Wyvern sighed, snapping the blade. "Come on out. I'm in a bit of a rush," he said. The officer now lay as a puddle, and from the ticket booth a woman stepped out.
"Evening," she smiled. "You have quite good reflexes. You are the Devil's Butler, no?"
Mr. Wyvern extended his arms down, and the metal plates on the sides of the tunnel walls flew off into his hands, forming two daggers that he sharpened together. "How much was the bounty? I'd be disappointed if they lowered it."
The woman glided her hands over each other and snapped her fingers, and a clone of her climbed out of her back. "40,000 gold nox."
Mr. Wyvern glanced at his watch. "Not only will I be late, but they also lowered the bounty by three times. How disappointing," he said as he leaned back, dodging the clone attempting to kick his head off. It went for a right hook and he parried it, then a left, a kick. It pulled out a dagger and repeatedly slashed until he knocked the blade away and chopped its head off. The body of the clone crumpled and bled out of the neck.
He crouched down and pulled out the spine, yanking it hard, causing the body to wiggle and deform further. "Now that's interesting." He took a bite of the bone, and it crumbled to dust and the body melted. "I thought you could make clones of people that die on impact, but this one is surprisingly sturdy. Just what is your power?" He wiped the dust off him.
"Why would I ever tell you?" she said, pulling at her skin, creating more clones. "Die quick. I really need to pay my rent."
He spun the blades in his hand. "You could've helped the world so much. How sad you fell into the wrong crowd." He darted forward, stabbing a clone and it turned to dust. "Ah, these ones are weaker." He fought off 60-plus clones, dodging and slicing off their limbs. The ones that were made quickly blew to dust, and the ones that she put more effort into were crippled and lay twitching as their organs slid out of their bodies in pools of blood.
The woman fell to one knee, panting as sweat rolled down her forehead. She clutched her side as her other hand twitched, attempting to snap her finger and make one final clone.
"Your power is a privilege, not a right," he said as he flicked his wrist while adjusting his tie, causing a metal pipe to fall and crush her hand. The sound of each of the bones in it breaking only lasted a second before she screamed out in agony as blood slowly crawled out from under the pipe, crimson staining the ground further.
He walked over and stabbed a dagger into her other hand, causing her to burst out loud—the sound of her pleas echoing down the tunnel—then called an ambulance service, placing the phone next to her as it rang before walking off.
And as he walked up the stairs, the sound of her cries and screams got muffled by the traffic in the streets up above. He exited into the fresh air of the city—it tasted like ash and burning dreams, but that was what the west was—so he sat down at a restaurant that was right next to the tunnel entrance and ordered dinner, listening to the sound of sirens making their way here.
After eating, he got up and walked over to the nearest bus stop, and right as he got there a bus had pulled up, so he paid his fare and took his seat. As the bus made its way down the road, it passed the tunnel entrance. The woman was being carried out on a stretcher, and when her gaze landed on him through the bus window, she started to seize and knocked her and the workers back down.
Mr. Wyvern smiled. 'How many more will I meet?' he thought to himself. Hopefully not enough to make him far too late.
And about 4–5 hours later, he got off his bus and took a new train, sleeping in the bed of his room and dozing off as the train made its way.
The sound of what seemed like water droplets echoed in his ear—slightly annoying, but he could ignore it—until he felt a strange hum at each drop.
He leapt out of his bed, grabbing the knife that was only a few centimetres from his neck, and holding the knife was the train conductor. "The Devil's Butler himself."
"Are you also after the bounty?" Mr. Wyvern said, pushing the conductor away and straightening himself, adjusting his tie. "If so, I must say you won't kill me. So how about I offer you 1,000 gold nox to be on your way?"
"And miss out on the other 39,000 gold nox? I would be a fool," the conductor said as his knife was engulfed in flames while he repeatedly slashed at Mr. Wyvern.
While dodging, "You're a fool for not knowing your limits," Mr. Wyvern yawned as he did one last sidestep, punching the conductor in the gut, slamming him against the wall.
He slowly got up and spat. "Not bad, but seems you're not as strong as you think."
Mr. Wyvern glanced at his watch. "If that's what you choose to believe," he said, elbowing the window behind him, shattering it. The glass fell out of the moving train, vanishing. "Well, this was not fun. Maybe next time." And he dived backwards out of the window, using the metal soles of his boots to hop mid-air onto the top of the train.
He walked down the length of the train as a fire erupted behind him and the conductor climbed out the melted cabin roof.
"Well, you are persistent, at the least," Mr. Wyvern sighed, glancing at his watch. "I don't have the time, though, sadly, so if we could do this dance at a later date."
"Just die so I can get paid," the conductor slammed his hand on the train, and a ring of fire circled him and Mr. Wyvern in. "Where's the confidence gone now, Butler?"
Mr. Wyvern simply flicked his wrist, and the metal of the train bent and morphed, eating up the fire before turning back to normal. "You chose to fight me on a metal train. Think about that for a second." And with one last flick, the metal under the conductor's feet shot up and wrapped around his hands, cuffing him in place. "Have a lovely time," Mr. Wyvern said as the train slowed down at the Southern Kingdom's station, and he hopped off, walking down the path, adjusting his tie as he walked through the doors of the station, taking in the fresh air of the South Kingdom—the smell of fresh lavender and pastries in the air, truly a step up from his home.
"Now, that is concerning," he said, glancing at the wall where the map was supposed to be. Half of it had been ripped off by who knows what, and all that was left were the upper 4 districts, but Javerstone was in the lower 6.
He walked over to the ticket booth. "Good morning, sir. A ticket to where?"
"No ticket, thank you. I would just like to know which way would be the quickest to Javerstone. The map wasn't quite helpful, as you may know."
"Ah, yes. Javerstone is the 3rd of the 6 lower districts. You'll want to walk to the Flood District and ride the canal towards Javerstone. The canal ride should skip through West Bank, getting you to Javerstone quicker."
Mr. Wyvern bowed and thanked the ticket man and walked off towards where he was guided—a good hour of a walk through city streets, not clean but nowhere near as dirty as back in the west. The lights flickered on as the sun began to set. Some shops closed while others opened. The smell of food distracted his mind on this walk until he saw the blue neon signs above a boat: Flood Zone Canal. And under it, small boats with 2 seats—1 for a driver and 1 for couples—so Wyvern took a seat on an empty one.
"No date, sir?" the boat driver asked as he adjusted the boat.
"None at all, and possibly not any time soon."
"I see, I see. Well, enjoy the ride." But before the man could start the boat, a woman hopped on board and took the second seat.
"I overheard this seat being empty," she said, yawning, "and I need a ride to Javerstone." Mr. Wyvern tensed at that. Is this another woman who was after his head, or maybe after that boy?
"No problem. Now, no rocking," he said, steering the boat down the canal.
Mr. Wyvern sat ready the entire journey in case this woman decided to attack him, his hands tensing each time she reached into her bag to check her phone. She herself also kept tense, always eyeing him, yet neither spoke.
It was only once they were near Javerstone that the woman spoke. "What are your intentions?" she said blankly, waiting for an answer.
"You'll need to be more specific," Mr. Wyvern said, straightening his body, ready for any situation.
"You've been tense this entire ride and keep eyeing me. I know I can be an intimidating figure, but unless you've done something stupid, you have nothing to worry about," she said, narrowing her eyes.
Mr. Wyvern paused for a second. "What? I don't know you. I'm just not comfortable with strangers, so I picked an empty boat," he lied as he straightened his tie.
"You don't know me? The kingdom's rank 30?" she said, surprised, since everyone knew the top 50 of their kingdom.
"Oh," he sighed. "I see. No, I'm from the west," he said, a fake smile forming on his face. "I don't know you, so I was just concerned for my safety as a foreigner."
"A foreigner? That's rare to see, especially one travelling to Javerstone. What business do you have here?" she said calmly, but her hand slowly twitched next to her pocket, and Mr. Wyvern paused.
"Family. My brother lives in Javerstone, but I've been oh so busy with work that I couldn't come visit," he said, showing his legitimate work ID for the tavern. "My boss recently hired more staff, so I got a few more days off." He lied, pretending to scroll on his phone. "What about you? You make it sound like you have some secret hero business going on. Anything dangerous I should know about to keep my distance?"
She tensed. "No, just regular hero work—check-ins here and there. I've got a meeting as well with a hero from the east you've probably heard of: the Monarch. Just official stuff."
Mr. Wyvern sighed and relaxed a bit. She thought she'd reassured him that there was nothing dangerous, but he was thinking that if this lady was coming to have a meeting with the Monarch, that meant he hadn't gone for that person yet.
"Ah, well, I wish you the best of luck on your meeting," he said as the boat came to a stop.
"Good luck with your brother," she smiled and climbed off as he followed. She headed down a path as Mr. Wyvern went in the opposite direction. As he made his way through narrow alleyways, he eventually looked back to make sure he wasn't being followed, then jumped into the air, hopping off walls, landing on the ledge of a building.
He now just needed to find and track that person, and it was only when he saw an explosion far off in the distance that he darted forward, keen to see what caused it.