Chapter 11: The Return… (Part 1)
"Did… he get into trouble of some kind?" Chief Ghira asked at last, his deep voice carrying a thread of worry. He stood at the head of the gathering made up of Captain Wolf and a portion of her Guard, a smattering of White Fang, a few non-believing Chiefs, and even a sizable population of excited Kuo Kuana civilians that were waiting at the jungle's edge.
The path that stretched out into the desert beyond was the same path Sam had vanished down days ago. Where he left was where he would return… or so they all hoped.
"I don't know what to tell you, Chief," Captain Wolf admitted, tail flicking with faint worry as well. "He told us to go on ahead since he had to… farm Aura?" Her voice faltered on the last words, uncertainty creeping in despite herself.
Ghira blinked. "What? What does that even mean? How do you 'farm' Aura?" He turned to the crowd as if someone might provide sense to the nonsense.
They only shrugged back at him.
Slinger scratched his cheek and muttered, "To be fair, Captain… wasn't he just a tiny bit delirious after last night's par—"
*Smack!*
He cut off with a yelp as Claire's palm cracked across the back of his head.
Ghira's eyes narrowed. "Party? Chief Bogo didn't mention anything about a party when we met this morning…" Suspicion laced his words as his gaze swept the squad.
Wolf cleared her throat, composure snapping back into place. "What my marksman means to say, Chief Ghira, is that it was part of last night's training. It was truly exhausting work. He just might mean getting some more rest." Her tone was cool, measured—almost too smooth.
Because of course she would never tell Ghira the truth. The truth being that Sam had made a habit of somehow getting entire outposts into late-night revels filled with drink and stories. The truth that she herself had joined in more than once despite her vows to keep him on strict training. Or that she had allowed it because guilt gnawed at her ever since the Emperor Taijitu ambush that she'd failed to warn him about.
She just wanted to see how the shark faunus was able to handle himself under pressure while also being a bit…overzealous at having to see a living deity in action and he had passed with more than flying colors.
Yet Sam had just brushed the constant apologies aside, unfazed as always, but Wolf couldn't just put it down after the weight of it still lingered. So, she'd chosen the only penance she could think of that would be appropriate… letting him cut loose. Letting them all cut loose after he insisted that they do so as well.
For the first time in months, she had felt something close to peace.
'Close' being the word especially since her precious sister somehow managed to snap a picture of her being absolutely drunk off her ass.
So no, she wouldn't be telling Ghira the truth.
The suggestion of calling Sam again on the Scroll died unspoken as a vast shadow suddenly swept over the gathered crowd, blotting out the sun. A sudden gust then followed as hot air whipped into a frenzy, carrying grit that stung the eyes and tugged at cloaks.
"Nevermore!" One of the Menagerie Guard shouted, pointing skyward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, panic threatening to boil over…until Captain Wolf raised a hand sharply. Her eyes were already locked on the massive shape cutting across the sky.
"Relax, everyone," she barked. "It's not a Grimm. It's a Stormbird. It's Sam's."
The collective tension shifted to awe as the metal beast descended, each beat of its vast metal wings ringing with a resonant clang that thrummed in the chest. Sunlight glinted off the overlapping steel plates of its body, casting flashes of white and silver across the sand. Its round blue eyes burned with an artificial glow, sharp and unblinking, like a predator that knew no fear.
Where the Nevermores inspired dread, this machine evoked something different.
Majesty.
The Stormbird spread its wings wide and let out a piercing metallic caw, a sound that resonated like thunder yet strangely harmonious, not harsh to the ear but commanding, like an announcement to all below that its master had returned.
The crowd ooh'd and aah'd, fingers pointing upward, scrolls raised shakily to record what their eyes could scarcely believe. Until now, most had only seen grainy clips and pictures sent from village to village.
But here it was, a real, breathing metal and living myth.
The Stormbird then pivoted in the air, tilting its gleaming head before soaring toward the desert. A parting sweep of its wings sent another gust of wind and sand rolling over the assembly.
As the construct flew into the desert once more, all eyes turned earthbound again.
From across the sands, a lone figure emerged. Step by steady step, he advanced despite the punishing heat, his outline wavering in the shimmer of the dunes. Broad-shouldered, unyielding, and undeniable.
Even at a distance, his piercing red eyes cut through the mirage. A black silken cloth wrapped him from head to toe but there was no mistaking the silhouette. His shark-like tail swayed behind him, side to side, a banner of identity no cloth could hide.
And he was not alone.
Beside him strode the whispered Faux-nus, the constructs of steel and circuits. Their hulking frames moved in perfect cadence with their master's pace despite the difference in size and shape and each footfall sent a faint hum across the sands, a reminder of the power thrumming within them. Their luminous blue eyes matched the Stormbird circling above, a shared light of loyalty and hidden connected intelligence.
The very air itself seemed to hold its breath as every Guard, every civilian, every elder chief knew instinctively that they were witnessing history at that moment.
Then the desert stirred.
It began as a subtle tremor, felt more in the soles of the feet than in the ears. Dune sand sloughed away in rivulets, whispering down unseen slopes. The Guards stiffened, hands tightening on their weapons. The crowd muttered, fearful, the word "Grimm" hissing like a contagion through the ranks.
Then the sound rose with a grinding bellow, stone shrieking against stone, the roar of something vast and subterranean.
The ground burst open in a cataclysm of sand and dust. A geyser of grit and sunlight blinded the watchers as a colossal machine erupted from the deep. Twin drills, each the length of a man, whirled like ravenous fangs, spitting fire and sparks into the open air. Its bronze-and-steel plates gleamed dully beneath the sun, the monstrous form dwarfing every living thing in sight. A parody of a mole, yet magnified to the size of a small house.
It screamed—not a beast's cry, but a metallic shriek that reverberated like a bell struck in the marrow, shaking both sky and soul. The dunes themselves trembled beneath its weight.
The crowd recoiled in terror. Some fell, others clung to one another, their awe smothered by primal fear. It was no Grimm. And yet, to the trembling hearts of those watching, it may as well have been.
With a thunderous crash, the leviathan dove back into the sands, swallowed whole by its chosen sea.
When the dust settled, he and his steel entourage remained. Dust clung to him and sweat streaked his skin yet his red eyes burned bright. His grin, sharp and undeniable, cut through the haze.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then voices stirred—hesitant at first, then swelling. Murmurs gave way to cries, fear transmuted into fervor. The same civilians who had moments ago cowered now shouted his name. Guards exchanged shaken glances, their discipline cracking into awe. Even the chiefs who stood in solemn judgment, found themselves caught silent, their verdicts forgotten.
Sam had not merely returned.
He had arrived.
"Well now! I wasn't expecting a welcoming committee!" I called out, easing to a comfortable distance as the Faux-nus machines halted in unison at my gesture. Their glowing eyes dimmed to a watchful simmer as they were programmed to do so.
Honestly, I thought they'd wait for me back in the city. Not trek all the way out here, through jungle and sand, just to meet me at the border.
"I appreciate it though!" My grin widened, even when the cheers that had carried my name through the dunes tapered into silence.
"But of course! It was the least we could do for all that you've done," Ghira boomed as he stepped forward. The crowd parted instinctively, making room for the chieftain's bulk. His shadow swallowed mine as he came within arm's reach.
"Whoa!" I yelped as Ghira swept me up in a bear hug that squeezed the air right out of my lungs. He spun me around like I was his long-lost nephew.
"Hahaha! Samuel, my boy!" His voice rolled like thunder. "You have returned more than victorious!"
"I did, didn't I? But hey, I didn't do it alone. Not without Ilia's help, Captain Wolf, her team, and the Menagerie Guard." I patted his arm insistently until he finally set me down.
Once my feet hit sand again, I scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for a few people in particular. But no such luck.
Ghira must have read me like an open book, because his grin hardened into a wince. "Blake and Ilia… were busy. They couldn't make it."
"Whisper too, if you're wondering," Captain Wolf added from the side, her tone dry as ever.
I nodded, feigning nonchalance though a pinch of disappointment sat heavy in my chest. Still, it wasn't a big deal. They had their own lives to live.
The silence stretched. Then the chief of Kuo Kuana spoke, his voice carrying clearly over the hushed crowd.
"Now tell me, Sam. How was your aura farming?"
…What?
"Uh… sorry?" I tilted my head, certain I'd misheard.
"Captain Wolf informed me you were delayed because of it," the chief said, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Tell us—were you successful in your venture?"
…Ah.
The memory hit me like a wet towel and my brain flicked back to the night before, where I'd been more drunk than a skunk.
"Yeah. I guess you could say that..." I scratched the back of my neck and forced a laugh.
The real reason I was late was because I slipped away for a very important summoning and I didn't want to take the chance that something would go wrong.
Especially for the CEO of Hell.
To be fair, she wasn't nearly as bad as the games portrayed somehow. She was oddly loyal, obedient even, though I chalked that up Chaos Gacha nonsense. She'd proven more helpful than I could have imagined—her command of Hell flames gave me a small push towards effectively using the Amaterasu jutsu. Our little "meeting" had been productive.
Though, I was in dire need of pancakes…or crepes sooner or later. They look more like crepes to me in-game. But hey! I'm not arguing with the sexy demon lady.
And no way was I spilling that to this crowd.
"Now then," I clapped my hands together, breaking the tension. "Let's get out of this heat, shall we? I think I've had enough sand for a week."
That got me a ripple of laughter from them, lightening the air as relief washed through the crowd. The guards straightened, the civilians smiled, and for a moment at least, the desert's weight had been lifted.
Feat achieved!
You have survived the trials of the desert and returned stronger for it!
+1 Silver Trait Gacha Ticket
Thank the higher powers. For a while there, I thought I'd lost the ability to roll. Two whole days without a payout had me sweating harder than a stuck pig.
With a cheerful chime, the Gacha accepted my ticket and spat out my prize.
Congratulations!
[Edible Fluids]
|Common Trait|
Somehow, in some way, your bodily fluids such as sweat, saliva, blood, and ejaculate, are nutritionally and calorically dense while also being very healthy. They also taste surprisingly good. Consuming your own fluids does nothing for you.
…
I blinked at the screen.
I mean… it's not that bad.
Especially when my mind wandered back to that night with Ilia and Whisper. A memory that managed to find its way back to me in pieces was now whole.
There had been… well, a lot of biting.
And sucking.
And—
Heat flared across my face as the memories replayed with alarming clarity. Yeah, that Trait might actually be… useful when I thought about it.
Very useful…
"Samuel, are you okay?" Ghira's deep voice suddenly cut through my daydream before it could get too detailed.
"Hm? O-Oh, yeah! Just peachy!" I coughed into my fist, forcing the blush down before anyone else noticed.
I clapped a hand on his arm with a too-bright grin. "Say, tell me—what've you guys been up to while I was out?"
…
The walk back through the jungle was easier the second time around. The path felt shorter, the roots less troublesome, the shadows less oppressive, though that might have had more to do with Ghira's booming voice carrying through the trees than anything else.
The chieftain seemed determined to introduce me to everyone. Names and titles tumbled out of his mouth in an endless procession, and before long I found myself nodding politely to a lizard-tailed chief, a hawk-eyed matron, and at least three different faunus who all insisted they were cousins of cousins to someone important.
Not that I minded. The villagers and even some White Fang operatives I passed greeted me with wide smiles, claps on the back, even the occasional bow. Honestly? They looked more excited about my return than I was!
While I was in the middle of trying to figure out whether the lizard-tail guy was joking about eating his own shed skin was when Ghira cleared his throat… loudly. Suspiciously loudly.
"Oh, would you look at that? It seems we're here!" he declared in a voice that carried a little too much cheer, cutting me off mid-sentence.
I blinked at him, one brow arched. It seemed that subtlety was apparently not a word in Ghira's vocabulary.
Sure enough, the city-village's main entrance loomed ahead… except something was off. Large palm leaves had been lashed together into makeshift blinds, draped across the entrance and blocking any view inside.
"Oh…Were you guys doing some construction or something?" I asked, already half-suspecting the answer.
"We were…" the Chief of Kuo Kuana replied, his tone so deliberately vague it only deepened my concern.
Before I could prod further, one of the civilians standing off to the side piped up. "Ah—pardon us, Lord Samuel. We must have forgotten to take down the blinds. It's perfectly safe to enter, we assure you!"
"Uh-huh," I muttered, suspicion crawling higher as I ordered the machines to enter Idle Mode. Still, I shrugged and grabbed the edge of the leaves. "Well, it's not a big deal. There's no need to apologize too, since it's not like it really matters whe—"
The rest of my sentence was lost as I pulled the leaves aside and stepped through.
…
A thunderous roar hit me like a tidal wave.
Cheers, whistles, voices shouting my name, all crashing together in a wall of sound that made my heart leap straight into my throat.
It wasn't just a few dozen people. It looked like the entire city-village was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, every street and rooftop available nearby was crammed with faunus. Banners fluttered overhead, flowers were thrown into the air, and a sea of faces stared straight at me with shining eyes while I heard a cacophony of drums and other instruments play their tune overhead.
Truthfully, I felt a bit… overwhelmed.
Sure, I could handle a crowd that was in awe as I won a high-stakes poker match, or a ground floor full of tourists and hotel-goers cheering when I broke the bank across half a dozen slot machines.
I was no stranger to the spotlight, especially now with my [Adept Performance]. Performing before interested audiences in spinning tales by bonfire light, singing old sea shanties to faunus workers and villagers alike, that came naturally now.
But this?
This was different.
The air throbbed with celebration. Drums pounded, laughter carried through the humid evening, and every voice seemed to chant my name in rhythm with the music and a language that seemed familiar yet not. I wasn't just a performer tonight, I was the axis the entire island spun around. The decorations, the fire pits, the banners strung across the street — all of it had become a stage without warning.
I felt my body freeze. The cheers and music crashed over me like a wave, heavy and deafening, pulling me under before I could take a breath. My mouth smiled in reflex with that old gambler's grin but my hands twitched and my pulse thundering in my ears.
It wasn't until Ghira's heavy hand landed on my shoulder, steady and grounding, that I finally managed to breathe again. He gave me a small smile as though he'd seen this happen a hundred times before.
"We call it a luau."
He gestured broadly toward the feast, the dancers, the fires already being stoked for the night. His voice carried pride, not just in the word, but in what it meant. "It's one of our traditions we hold here in Menagerie. A launch of a canoe, a coming of age, a warrior returning from a hunt…"
He paused, eyes lingering on me.
"Or a beloved person returning to their people after being gone for a long time."
I should have been surprised to hear a word I'd only ever known from that faraway island nation back on Earth, but honestly? I wasn't. I'd already pieced together that Menagerie carried a Hawaiian vibe in everything from the food to the chants to the words I'd picked up in the outposts and villages we visited.
Still, I forced a smirk, trying to play it cool as I let Ghira guide me toward the crowd. "It was only a few days, though."
His smile widened, deep and knowing. "For many of us here," he said, his tone warm but heavy with meaning, "it felt longer than that."
And damn it if that didn't make the whole thing hit even harder.
"Consider it to make up for that other festival you missed when you brought all that fish a few days ago," Ghira said with a knowing smile—one that told me without words there was no wriggling out of this one.
I chuckled awkwardly. Well… guess it was as good a time as any to rise to the occasion.
As we moved deeper into Kuo Kuana, the festival opened up in full swing around me. Torches lined the streets, their flames swaying in the warm ocean breeze. Music drifted on the air—drums and chanting that made the whole village thrum with life. I returned smiles where I could, clasped hands, exchanged greetings, and let strangers shove skewers of sizzling finger food into my hands. A few clapped me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth, but I forced the grin, swallowing down the nerves that threatened to resurface.
Ghira eventually peeled away to do his "chiefly things" along with the Captain, which left me to fend for myself. Halfway through draining a coconut bigger than my head while returning a few more greetings, I heard a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Mr. Shark! Mr. Shark!"
I froze mid-sip. I knew that voice anywhere.
Her long, floppy bunny ears bobbed as she darted through the throng, red-and-white dress fluttering with every step. Cream had clearly dressed for the occasion, down to the little white gloves she proudly showed off. In her arms, I noticed, she still carried that square egg but it had been decorated again, this time with painted flowers curling across its sides.
But that wasn't what stopped me.
No, what made my eyes wide was the familiar cubic chicken perched proudly on her head like it was some kind of crown, swaying with each bounce of her stride.
"Cream! Bok! How are you guys!?" I called, arms wide, knees bent and my drink placed on the wayside.
The rabbit Faunus launched herself into my embrace, giggling as she squeezed me. "You came back! Just like Mommy said!" Then her expression suddenly turned serious. She wriggled free, landing with a soft thump, and planted herself in front of me with crossed arms and a huff.
"You made Bok very sad! He said you needed help, and you didn't call him!"
"Bok," my blocky chicken familiar added, perfectly mimicking her with a stiff little turn of his square head.
I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out as I stood. The two of them were in perfect sync, and it was almost unfair how adorable they were.
"You have to say sorry!" Cream stomped her foot for emphasis with her ears flopping along with the motion.
"Bok," the bird echoed like some feathered executioner.
I sighed dramatically, putting on my most pitiful face. "Alright, alright. I admit it. I should have gotten you to help me, but I was just that dumb. Will you find it in your feathered heart to forgive me?"
Bok stared at me with those unblinking square eyes. Then, with all the dignity of a hangry barnyard god, he flapped forward and began pecking and scratching at my face.
"Aaagh! My face!" I cried, flailing for show while my Aura harmlessly absorbed the blows. He wasn't even putting real effort into it, but I sold the performance anyway.
By the time the "battle" ended, Cream was laughing so hard she nearly toppled over. Bok, triumphant, perched himself smugly atop my head, wings spread like a cape.
Still chuckling, I asked the girl, "So where's that little wolf of ours? I haven't seen him yet."
"Oh, Big brother Jacob?" she tilted her head innocently. "They're pulling him out."
I blinked. "…Pulling him out?"
"Yup! The chickens multiplied again, but he got buried."
My brows shot up. I really didn't think they'd grow that much after just a few days.
I stroked Bok's head with the chicken clucking happily as I asked if the boy was okay.
"Uh-huh!" she chirped, as if someone being buried alive under a mountain of cubic chickens was the most normal thing in the world.
Well, children are pretty durable. Maybe Faunus children even more so…
"Hmm. I'll take your word for it then," I said, ruffling her hair. She giggled when I switched targets and patted her head. Her rabbit ears were unbelievably soft—so soft I almost didn't catch the mechanical braying behind me.
Turning, my grin widened. "Ilia!"
The chameleon Faunus stood there with the Strider I'd lent her, absentmindedly stroking its plating but it wasn't the machine that caught my attention.
Surprisingly, Ilia was out of her White Fang uniform. Instead, she wore a sundress in soft pastel colors that complimented her skin, paired with a wide-brimmed straw hat. The outfit was… cute. Adorable, even. It felt like the kind of thing you'd see in a postcard, not on the battlefield.
"Big sis Illy!" Cream chirped, waving enthusiastically.
Ilia gave her a small wave in return before her blue eyes slid back to me. "Hey, Sam…" she murmured, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
"Hey yourself," I said softly, my smile easing into something warmer. "I missed you."
She curled slightly inward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The faint pink spots on her cheeks deepened, betraying her.
…
"Ah! Big sis Illy and Mr. Shark are gonna make kissy faces!" Cream gasped with dramatic revelation. "Since Bok is happy again, I have to go find Mommy now!"
"Bok," my cube chicken chimed in, bobbing his blocky head.
What an observant child!
"Tell Vanilla I said hi!" I called after her.
"I will, Mr. Shark~♪" she sang before vanishing back into the crowd, leaving me alone with the blushing chameleon.
I smirked knowingly. "So… was she right though?"
Ilia blinked. "Right about what?"
"About us making kissy faces~?"
Her reaction was priceless. "K-ki… NO! I—I mean… m-maybe… I-I mean… u-uuu…" Her voice tangled into knots as her skin betrayed her again, cheeks mottling pink while her eyes swirled like she was buffering. I half-expected steam to billow from her ears.
"Hey now! That's enough teasing poor Illy. You have to leave some for me!"
That familiar playful drawl came from behind, and then Whisper was suddenly there with her wolf ears twitching as she leaned over Ilia's shoulders.
Unlike Ilia's conservative sundress, Whisper had gone for a different flavor entirely: denim short-shorts that hugged her hips, a white crop top showing just a hint of midriff, and a pair of shades perched atop her head. If Ilia was the postcard, Whisper was the magazine cover.
"Whisper, looking fine as always," I said with a practiced smile that made her giggle.
"And you look snappy for someone who just crawled out of the desert~," she shot back, sliding away from Ilia and draping herself around my neck.
*Chu*
Her lips pressed against my cheek, playful and fleeting, leaving me blinking in surprise.
I glanced at Ilia, half-expecting her to bristle, maybe even hiss. But instead, she simply gave Whisper a glance… then marched forward and latched herself tightly onto my left arm.
*Chu*
Her own lips brushed my skin, soft and trembling, leaving a warmer sensation behind like a sunburn…but better.
And just like that, I was stuck between them with one wolfish grin on my right, one shy chameleon blush on my left.
This development was entirely unexpected… but not unwelcome. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Sam," Ilia muttered, narrowing her eyes with a pout. Her hair literally darkened a shade of gray as she huffed. "You still didn't compliment me on my dress…"
I glanced at Whisper, who still wore her smug little smirk. She gave a nonchalant shrug, as if daring me to dig myself deeper.
Well then. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.
"Of course I didn't say anything…" I leaned closer with a smile. "You've left me absolutely breathless."
Ilia's head snapped away so fast I thought she'd given herself whiplash. For a second I feared I'd stepped wrong and insulted her. But then her hair shifted into a bright, blushing cherry-pink—an unmistakable betrayal of her actual feelings. Whisper's snicker beside me was the cherry on top.
Now, one important lesson I've learned in my admittedly short but colorful life was to never assume as it "makes an ass out of you and me". But considering I was openly flirting with two women in broad daylight and neither of them had tried to claw the other's eyes out, I dared to think. I even dared to assume.
…Still, better to let them explain their feelings in their own time. For now, I'd just enjoy the attention.
Noticing the metal horse facsimile, I got her attention by nudging her a bit before the air turned awkward.
"You've been taking care of him, haven't you?" I nodded toward the Strider. It was currently ferrying a couple of laughing children on its back, drawing cheers from the crowd and no small number of impressed looks.
Ilia, realizing I was addressing her, straightened and cleared her throat. "O-of course I did. Why wouldn't I? He's yours."
I shook my head with a grin. "Nope. Strider's yours now. Think of it as compensation for what I did to Lightning Lash." My expression sobered. "Speaking of which…did you ever get a replacement?"
I still remembered the way her eyes had lit up when she'd shown me that weapon—and the guilty weight of breaking it by using it as an ersatz nail.
Ilia's eyes widened. She reached for her waist, then blinked when her hand brushed empty fabric. "Oh. I… didn't even notice." She hummed, genuinely confused.
Whisper chuckled. "Guess there hasn't been much need for fighting near the city ever since someone started cleaning up the desert." She tightened her hold on my arm, giving me a look that was equal parts teasing and proud. "Besides, Smithy owes me a favor. I can have him whip something up for you, Illy."
Ilia puffed her cheeks at the pun. "Be that as it may, I can't just take Silver away from you."
Whisper and I exchanged a glance, then turned twin raised brows back on her.
"Silver?"
"Silver?"
"…What? It's a good name for him!" Ilia snapped, flustered but refusing to budge.
I chuckled. "It is a good name. And that's why he's yours now."
"But—"
"Well alright then," I drawled. "I guess I'll just send him back to the Cauldron and have him melted down into some kind of synthetic glue or something."
Ilia gasped, releasing my arm as though I'd threatened her firstborn. "Don't you dare!"
Unfortunately I did as I raised my free hand. "Hey, Silver! Get over here, bud~"
The Strider turned its head at my call, circuits whirring as it started towards me.
Ilia panicked and immediately latched back onto my arm, tugging me possessively to her side. "Alright! You win! Geez!"
I smirked and Whisper's laughter rang out like bells. "Now that is evil."
"Bok," my cube chicken added solemnly from his perch, bobbing in agreement.
"Lord Samuel!" one of the children riding atop Silver cried, waving with both hands.
"Welcome back, Mr. Gatsby-sir!" another shouted.
"Master Samuel, Silver is so coool!"
Their shouts reminded me of a little detail or rather, a herd of details still waiting patiently at the city entrance.
And I think it was time to change that.
"Well, if you think that's cool…" I said with a grin, gently slipping my arm from Whisper's hold, "then check this out!"
I tilted my head back, slid two fingers into my mouth, and blew a sharp whistle that cut through the drums and chatter of the luau.
Faunus all around me turned in surprise, some raising brows, others cocking their heads. A few thought I was calling them. And in a way, I was.
Because what answered wasn't a person.
From the distance came a metallic chorus—a shriek of Watchers, the bass rumble of a Behemoth, the echoing call of a Tallneck. The cacophony rolled like thunder, primal yet artificial.
Heads turned. Jaws dropped. Gasps broke the air as every finger pointed toward the city gates.
The Tallneck rose first, a towering silhouette that caught the sun like a lighthouse cutting through morning mist. Then the others followed: Watchers darting, a pair of Lancehorns, the Behemoth lumbering in lockstep, and many others. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as the parade of Faux-nus entered Kuo Kuana.
Children screamed with glee, tugging their parents' hands, desperate for a ride. Even some of the adults looked like they were barely restraining themselves.
I indulged them, of course—after issuing very clear warnings about moving parts and "don't fall off the Longneck." Before long, a rotation formed: kids squealing atop Watchers, elders daring each other to climb the Tallneck, and even Whisper and Ilia taking their turn.
"I can see my house from here!" Whisper howled from her perch, ears flickering in delight.
"Sam! You're missing the view!" Ilia called, clinging a little tighter to her spot.
I waved them off, keeping my eyes on the ground. I'd had my fill of high views from the Stormbird. Someone needed to watch from below… just in case.
"Amazing," came a voice at my side. "They're just as impressive as in the reports."
"Quite so, dear brother."
I turned. Two hooded figures stood nearby, watching the mechanical parade with calm, almost scholarly interest. They looked nearly identical—sharp features, pale eyes, subtle differences in stature.
Were they twins?
"We are," said the taller one with a measured tone. "I'm the elder."
"By a few seconds," muttered the shorter with a huff.
Their back-and-forth was amusing, but also uncanny. They had this air about them, like they knew the end of a conversation before it began.
"No, we can't read minds," the younger chuckled, noticing my raised brow. "Though many mistake it for that. It's simply a knack for reading people extremely well."
"It doesn't help that we've heard the accusation more times than we can count." The elder extended his hand from his sleeve. "Corsac Albain, one of the two Administrators of the White Fang."
The younger mirrored the gesture, his grip oddly energetic as he shook with both hands. "Fennec Albain, second Administrator of the Fang. And might I say—it's an honor to meet you, Lord Gatsby."
"Administrators, huh? Well, the honor's all mine." I smiled, adopting my best practiced poker-face. I'd played tables with high rollers before—smooth operators, sharper sharks, mysterious benefactors.
These two felt like all three.
In truth, I still knew surprisingly little about the Fang despite their colorful reputation and all the rumors swirling about. A busy week of not dying left little room for politics.
"You don't really mean that," Fennec said smoothly, seeing straight through me.
Wow. They were good.
I sighed. "Well, forgive me. There's been some—"
"Unsavory rumors," Corsac cut in. "Massively inflated, especially concerning the food shortage."
"A shortage that has been greatly eased thanks, in no small part, to you," Fennec added. He gestured at the overflowing luau: music, meat, drink, laughter. "All of this was actually provided directly from the Fang's coffers."
I blinked and raised a brow, suspicion threading my voice. "…On Sienna's orders?"
Both twins grew solemn. "She has come around since her… rather rough introduction," Corsac said.
"And she wished to extend her most sincere apologies," Fennec finished.
My jaw tightened. Forgiveness was in my nature, sure—but you don't forget the person who tried to exile you… or kill you… or both.
"And she couldn't come here herself?" I crossed my arms.
"Please understand, Lord Gatsby," Corsac said carefully. "Before your miraculous arrival, Menagerie was in dire straits. Your presence has changed everything—but it has also multiplied the High Leader's workload tenfold."
"If it gives the slightest comfort, we apologize on her behalf," Fennec said with a deep bow. Corsac mirrored him, and the ripple of gasps through the bystanders told me how rare such a gesture was.
"And if it appeases you further," Fennec leaned closer after straightening from their action, his voice low but unmistakably clear, "we could arrange for the High Leader to… amuse you in a more private setting."
I nearly choked. That was certainly not on the cards for this conversation. Even with all my self-control, I felt the heat creeping up my cheeks.
Corsac chuckled at my reaction. "It seems that even if her brain lacks panache, her body remains… serviceable."
"Too true, brother," Fennec sighed.
My eyes darted left and right, half-expecting a furious tiger to materialize and rip out all our throats. When none appeared, I asked warily, "Do administrators really have the sway to say things like that about their High Leader?"
"Just enough," Corsac said smoothly. "Now, may I ask a question in return?"
"Shoot."
"You truly knew nothing of this world when you first appeared in Menagerie's jungle?"
"Just bits and pieces," I lied without blinking. "But everyone's been helpful in jogging the memory."
They exchanged identical smiles. "I see. Well then, enjoy the festivities, Lord Gatsby. We'll inform Sienna you're here."
"And congratulations in advance on tomorrow," Fennec added. "When your wager concludes."
He leaned in one last time. "And remember—we weren't jesting about that private meeting with the High Leader. Should you be inclined in… easing tensions between you and the Fang.
"Also," Corsac added smoothly, "please give our regards to Operative Amitola. We truly can't thank her enough for her valor and unwavering resolve throughout that ordeal in the desert."
"Many members of the White Fang could learn a thing or two from her!"
"R-right."
With that, they once again bowed before slipping back into the crowd like ghosts, melting away in perfect synchronicity.
I exhaled slowly. That had been… confusing, to say the least. The White Fang were certainly a colorful bunch.
"Sam? Is something wrong?"
Speaking of colorful, there they were. Ilia and the others hopped off the Longneck's lowered platform, looking like they'd just stepped out of a painting.
"I… uhh…" I scratched the back of my neck, thumb jerking behind me just to make sure I hadn't hallucinated the last five minutes. "I think I just met your… bosses."
"Oh, those weirdos?"
"Whisper!" Ilia's hair bristled indignantly as she pouted at the wolf faunus. "The Albain brothers are not weirdos—they're… eccentric."
Whisper huffed, ears twitching. "Well, aside from our lovely chameleon's attempt at defending her eccentric"—she air-quoted with her fingers—"leaders, what'd they say?"
Well, I knew what they wouldn't be saying.
"Eh, just dropping by to say hi while also thanking Ilia again for her 'bravery and steadfast courage for actions in the desert'." I added with my best pompous impression, hand over heart for flair.
Ilia groaned but couldn't hide the flush blooming across her cheeks. "They're still on about that? I told them it wasn't a big deal…"
"Hey now. Watch it." My tone was gentle but turned firm. "You got eaten by a Grimm almost twice the size of a house, Illy. That's definitely a big deal—literally. Don't sell yourself short."
Whisper circled around me and lightly punched Ilia's arm, grinning. "He's right, Illy. That story's going down in history. Might as well enjoy the fame while it's still shiny."
Ilia smiled, the pink on her cheeks deepening. "Thanks, guys…"
I smiled back…right before my expression flattened at the sound of hurried footfalls. Turning, I spotted a growing crowd making a beeline toward us.
"Speaking of attention," I muttered tiredly.
The two faunus followed my gaze. What was once a manageable trickle of admirers had become a tidal wave of enthusiasm: curious citizens, eager fans, the occasional admirer with flowers or food, all converging towards us.
Whisper looked ready to crack a quip, but her smirk faltered when she caught my expression. My grin was tired, worn at the edges, the kind of smile you paste on when you've almost given everything you've got.
"Honestly," I sighed. "I just wanted to go to the beach first. But I guess that can wait."
The crowd's cheer swelled, and I steeled myself by straightening my outfit, forcing the smile back on.
But before the first faunus even got within spitting distance—
—a cool rush swept over me, and suddenly, the world blurred.
Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. I blinked, ready to resist, but then—
The hand that grabbed me wasn't there. My arm wasn't there. In fact, my entire body wasn't there.
"Nice save as always, Illy," came Whisper's disembodied voice from somewhere beside me.
"Whisper? Ilia?" I whispered, disoriented, my voice barely a breath.
"Shh! My semblance doesn't hide sound!" Ilia hissed from up ahead.
I clamped my mouth shut as she pulled us through the maze of alleyways.
The laughter and music behind us began to dim with every turn and the city's warmth gave way to the cool whisper of the sea breeze. We moved fast, silent shadows slipping between flickering torches and the rhythmic hum of the celebration behind us.
Finally, the tight lanes opened up—and the scent hit me first.
The smell of salt.
We'd made it.
I exhaled a long, pent-up breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The invisibility shimmered away like mist in sunlight, revealing a quiet stretch of beach before us with silver waves lapping against the shore under the glow of a thousand lanterns strung across the city's edge. The reflections danced on the water like living stars. Only a single boat drifted lazily in the distance, its lone occupant casting a faint silhouette against the horizon.
"Now that's a view," Whisper said, her wolf ears twitching as the breeze played through her silver hair, grin firmly back in place.
"You can say that again."
Ilia smiled softly, letting the salty wind toy with her hair. "I thought you needed some air and I figured I'd give you an escape."
"Thanks for that," I murmured, stretching my arms before looking out toward the horizon. The waves shimmered like moving glass. "Gosh, I missed this…"
"Guess I owe you another one."
Whisper smirked. "Oh, don't worry. She'll collect."
"Whisper!" Ilia hissed, her skin flashing pink.
I chuckled and turned to her, remembering something. "Your semblance though. Why didn't you use it in the desert?"
It wasn't an accusation; just curiosity. She'd had every reason to use it when we were being chased by man-eating ostriches and I wanted to know.
Ilia raised a brow as her blush faded. "I couldn't have hidden the motorcycle sounds. And… it takes a lot more aura to cloak living things." She lifted a hand, letting her aura shimmer faintly…before it cracked and fizzled into motes of light.
"Oh, right. Gotcha." I nodded, voice gentle. Then, without thinking, I walked closer to the water and sank down onto the wet sand. The cool waves washed over my legs, soaking my clothes, but I didn't care.
A moment later, Ilia and Whisper joined me on either side. The three of us sat there in companionable silence, just listening to the hush of the sea and the distant pulse of music from the festival.
"You must really like the sea," Ilia said eventually. "Does it remind you of something… or is it just because you're part-fish?"
"More of the latter than the former," I said with a shrug. "But not getting the chance to appreciate it back then, that was on me."
It really didn't help that the country I came from was landlocked, and the coastlines were more tourist traps than the ideal gambling dens I frequented.
"Well, it's a good thing you can take your time to appreciate it now," Ilia said softly.
"Yeah…" I smiled faintly.
Despite the sand, the heat, and the man-eating monsters…it wasn't half bad here.
I turned to her with a wry grin. "Speaking of a good thing—how come you two weren't with the Chief and the Captain earlier?"
That got an awkward glance between them.
"Well, we wanted to go," Whisper said, "but… Blake needed some comfort."
"Why? What's wrong with Blake?" My concern slipped out before I could stop it. The cat faunus was quiet, sure, but she wasn't fragile. Still, she mattered to these two, and that was enough reason for me to worry.
"She wasn't clear about it," Ilia said thoughtfully. "But she was… bothered. She kept asking about you, too."
That drew a curious look from me. "About me?"
Whisper nodded. "Yeah. She looked dead on her feet—bags under her eyes, ears all twitchy. Though If I had to guess, that 'thing' of hers is coming up."
Ilia's face immediately went red and alert.
"What thing?" I asked, tilting my head, my shark tail flicking lazily against the waves.
Whisper blinked. "Hm? What else? Her estru—mmph!"
"Ssshhh! Whisper!" Ilia squeaked, clapping both hands over her friend's mouth. "That's private!"
I blinked, curiosity piqued. "...Estru? What's that?"
Whisper arched a brow over Ilia's fingers, her muffled snicker almost audible. When Ilia finally let go, she exhaled and smirked. "She's probably fine. Just being her usual stoic cat self. She could at least use her words." The wolf faunus finishing with a huff.
Ilia, meanwhile, huffed a small laugh behind her hand. "She really does embody the whole cat thing sometimes."
"I mean, if the shoe fits," Whisper said, chuckling.
Still, I couldn't shake the thought. "Is there anything I can do, though?"
Ilia blinked, then gently took my hand in hers—surprising even herself. Her scales shimmered faintly gold in the lantern light. "J-Just enjoy the beach, Sam. We're here for you tonight. Blake can handle herself."
"And it's not proper," Whisper added teasingly, "to talk about another girl when you've got two right here."
I smirked. "You girls started it."
"Then I'm ending it," Ilia declared, chin raised with mock pride. "Now…tell me what it's like under the ocean." Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Oh! Oh! And what's it like fighting underwater?" Whisper chimed in, her ears flipping back and forth. "The rumors say there were also a thousand of them! Is that true? How'd you even survive!?"
I laughed—really laughed—and gave in to their eager curiosity.
So I told them.
About the stillness of the deep, how light fractured into a thousand colors beneath the waves, how sound became a living thing down there. I described to the best I could the battle with the Sobek—how every motion at first felt like swimming through liquid glass, how the pressure of the ocean itself became both ally and enemy.
Their faces lit up like children around a campfire. Whisper leaned forward, wide-eyed, while Ilia listened with her hands propped on her knees, smiling in awe.
The story drifted easily into promises—how I'd bring them along one day once I'd learned to better control my hydrokinesis. Right now, I could only form crude shapes: blunt spears, clumsy blades, crude shields that hit like hammers. But soon, maybe…
Then, as stories do, ours meandered—into favorite colors, favorite foods, things we liked and things we hated, the kind of dumb, simple trivia that meant more than it should've.
At one point, we'd somehow drifted into the eternal question of which end of a chocolate coronet you should start eating from…
Ilia laughed mid-discussion then blinked, suddenly frowning.
"Hey, where's that chicken of yours?" she said, pointing above my head.
I reached up, expecting feathers, but felt nothing. "Huh? Bok must've flown off when we were escaping."
"Is he gonna be alright?"
I frowned slightly, reaching out with my hold over my familiars and felt him. His familiar bond pulsed steady and content, oddly… from inside my storage. Which was weird, because I definitely didn't remember commanding him to hide there.
"Eh, Bok can handle himself." I waved it off with a shrug. "Besides, I can just pull him out anywhere, anytime."
Whisper let out a laugh, brushing sand off her knees. "At this point, what can't you do?"
I hummed. "…Escape a crowd, apparently."
Somewhere in the midst of our talk, the party had wandered down to the beach—their laughter and chatter now carried by the wind, softened by the hush of the tide. I was grateful they'd kept their distance, or maybe just read the mood.
"I guess they missed their guest of honor~" Whisper teased, standing and stretching. "Wanna head back?"
I sighed but took her offered hand anyway. "Yeah, might as well—"
"LOOK! IT'S OLD MAN NEMO!" someone shouted, pointing out toward the sea.
We turned as my eyes found the small silhouette of the rowboat fighting the waves and sure enough, the unmistakable figure of the old dog faunus was rowing with a quite ludicrous and desperate speed.
Only, he wasn't rowing toward something. He was rowing away.
"FLY, YOU FOOLS!" Nemo's voice carried across the surf, panic and strain crackling through the air.
Then we saw it.
What at first looked like a drifting tree trunk broke the surface—massive, ancient, and wrong. Its shape rippled, split, and then opened.
Rows upon rows of teeth like obsidian blades snapped shut, swallowing Nemo's entire boat in one horrible crunch.
Wood exploded across the waves.
My legs moved before thought caught up, the sand exploding beneath my feet as I dove straight into the surf. Cold water swallowed me whole as my tail flicked once, and the sea answered.
The world blurred into streaks of blue and silver. Pressure built in my ears as I dove deeper, the current folding around me like liquid glass. Ahead, the Grimm thrashed its massive jaws still worrying the shattered remains of the faunus' boat, half of its skulled head still jutting above the surface, silhouetted against the dying light.
It was another Sobek.
Yet this one was bigger than any of the ones from last time. Its monstrous head alone could have crushed a house, the rest of its body trailing like a coiled nightmare of muscle and scales.
For a split second, instinct screamed at me to chase and rip it apart, to force it to spit Nemo out…but I had something better. One of the things I'd been working on short notice for the past few days.
I stopped mid-dive, closing my eyes as my [Water Manipulation] pulsed outward, harmonizing with the waves.
I exhaled and spun.
Tail. Feet. Arms. Hands. Every motion carved the sea around me into motion. The water followed the rhythm of my pulse, swirling, churning, answering. A whirlpool began to form, small at first, then wider—growing, growing—until I stood at its heart like the calm within a storm.
Gasps echoed faintly from the beach behind me as my upper body broke the surface, haloed by the golden reflection of the sunset.
The temptation to turn, to throw a smirk and show off, pulsed in me like an itch as a growing showman…but I squished it like a bug.
Focus.
I reached toward the spinning mass, feeling its pull. Water condensed, molded under my will, coiling into a dense spiral.
But it wasn't stable and I couldn't do that yet. Not like Jinbei could. I needed that edge, that bite.
"Time to give it some more teeth," I muttered.
Lightning flickered across my skin. Sparks crackled down my arms, threading into the water, binding it—hardening the spiral into a weapon.
A shimmering lance of storm and tide formed in my grip.
"Lightning Yarinami."
I threw it.
The lance screamed as it left my hand—a cyclone turned spear, slicing through the sea with the shriek of a thunderbolt. The air rippled with pressure, light bursting across the horizon as it tore through the waves, cutting straight toward the monster's shadow below.
The ocean itself seemed to roar in answer.
The water split like it was afraid.
Then the move struck.
The lightning-laced lance of spiraling water hit the Sobek's head dead-on with a sound that could only be described as the ocean itself cracking.
*BOOOOOOM!*
A geyser erupted skyward—towering, incandescent, alive with the light of lightning tearing through the Sobek's skull. For an instant, the ocean itself seemed to scream. The blast punched through the sea with a thunderclap, sending shockwaves that rolled outward in violent concentric circles. The nearest waves slammed the beach like a wall, drenching the stunned onlookers and scattering their lanterns into the surf.
Tsk.
If it had been perfect, it would've pierced clean through instead of blowing up on impact and the fact that I had to throw it instead of pointing in the general direction I wanted gone. Still… I'd get there one day.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent except for the crackle of ozone. The Sobek's bellow twisted into a guttural choke before it fell apart into steam and dark ichor. Its head jerked backward, molten lines glowing along the strike point where my Yarinami had hit, smoke curling from the wound as the black carapace bubbled and split.
I hovered in the aftermath, chest heaving, lightning fading from my fingertips in thin, electric threads. Every muscle in my body trembled from the exertion, but I forced myself to stay upright. Below, the Sobek began to sink—its monstrous bulk dissolving into the iconic thick black smoke that bled through the waves like ink in water while releasing the contents of its stomach.
Among the debris, a tangled mess of planks, nets, and splintered oars rose to the surface. And clinging to the largest piece of wreckage, sputtering but alive, was Old Man Nemo. His ears flopped weakly as he drifted, eyes rolled back like a stunned goldfish before his body went limp and started to slip under.
I dove after him, the water folding around me like a blue silk sheet and a few strong strokes later, I reached him. I then scooped the half-conscious dog faunus into my arms in a bridal carry as his head lolled against my chest.
With a flex of will and a ripple of energy beneath my feet, the sea obeyed as my footwear met the surface and held. Ripples spread outward in soft circles as I walked toward the beach, each step steady despite the waves, the sunset painting the water gold around us.
The crowd's gasps turned to cheers. Someone shouted my name; someone else dropped to their knees and started praying…probably not to me, but the timing made it awkward.
In my arms, Nemo groaned, blinking blearily up through saltwater and smoke. "Hnngh~ God, is that you?"
I grinned down at him. "Sorry to burst your bubble, old man—but it's just me."
He squinted, then let out a rough chuckle. "Heh, he's humble too. Well ain't that somethin'."
"Besides," I said, glancing back at the steaming waves where the Grimm had vanished, "that thing was bigger than the rest of 'em combined." The chuckle that escaped me was half disbelief, half relief. Around us, the crowd surged forward, cheers rising like the tide itself, their voices mixing with the steady crash of the surf.
"That thing was supposed to be their leader," Nemo muttered, still staring at the water. "Bet it didn't even understand why its pack disappeared… and then you took it down." He shook his head, awe creeping into his voice. "If I still had any doubts about you, sonny boy—they're gone now."
"Thank you," He said simply. Then the familiar ping resounded in my head.
Feat achieved!
For easily slaying the pack leader of a Sobek hunting squad while saving a life in the process.
+1 Silver Ability Gacha Ticket
Congratulations!
[Petal Burst]
|Rare Ability|
Allows you to temporarily shift into the form of a mass of rose petals to move at superspeeds for a short duration, in rose form you are more resistant toward physical attack and anything you are in contact with is also in this form, but the larger the mass the higher the energy consumption. In addition, your control over your direction is lessened.
Congratulations!
You have spun at least 10 Abilities!
+1 Extra Ability Slot unlocked.
I frowned slightly. Hmm… something about this feels… familiar somehow. I just can't quite put a finger on it.
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, old timer," I said, helping Nemo to his feet. "But I'm guessing this won't stop you from fishing anytime soon?"
"Hell no!" he barked, laughing like the sea itself had blessed him.
I snorted and smiled as I set him down on the sand. Turning, I caught my two companions staring wide-eyed.
"...What?" I asked.
Whisper crossed her arms, looking half impressed, half annoyed. "When I saw you training at Outpost 4's oasis, I thought you were working on some sort of water spear—not that."
"Hey, can't a guy keep a few surprises up his sleeves?"
She pouted even more at being kept out of the loop.
"You can walk on water?! Since when!?" Ilia then sputtered, her long hair flicking wildly behind her.
"Hm? Oh that?" I tossed a thumb over my shoulder with a knowing smirk. "Just yesterday," I said with a grin, brushing a few lingering droplets from my clothes. "Pretty cool right?"
Truth be told, the training over the past few days had been grueling. Captain Wolf was a slave driver. She was merciless, sharp, and relentless but she knew what she was doing. If only she'd stop apologizing every time she made me cough up seawater. Still… it paid off. Big time.
"Samuel! Samuel! Samuel!" someone then shouted, and within seconds, the chant caught like wildfire. A hundred voices—maybe more—joined in. Drums beat, kids jumped up and down, and even the older Faunus clapped along.
Ilia flushed scarlet, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry if everyone's a bit… overzealous."
I shrugged, grinning faintly. "It's fine. Truth be told, I'm actually getting used to it." And it was true. The cheers no longer made my chest tighten, they warmed it instead.
Then, suddenly, the noise died down. The crowd split open like a tide parting for a ship. Marching through were half a dozen Faunus guards clad in full metal armor, their helms gleaming like polished silver. Their presence cut through the festival's warmth with sharp formality.
One of them stepped forward and gave a salute. "Lord Samuel?"
"Yep, the one and only," I said, throwing in a cheeky half-curtsy for good measure. The crowd laughed, and a few of the guards exchanged side-glances like they couldn't tell if I was mocking them or just too confident for my own good.
"Chief Belladonna calls for you, my lord."
Ah. Knowing him, it was probably another toast or something.
"Lead the way," I said, offering a quick nod to the others as Whisper and Ilia said they would follow later.
Does anyone else have a problem in writing where they just can't stop for some reason and it just goes on and on from there?
I split the chapter because it got too long. So it'll be up in a few minutes or hours. Needs a bit of a touch up.
So in the immortal words of DJ Khaled:
"Another one."Last edited: Yesterday at 12:10 PM Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Silencian, carterhall, Poisinousbow and 590 others