Chapter 86: Frozen in Fear
As of late, Serafall found herself unable to smile. Unable to express true, sunny warmth. Only the rehearsed persona of a magical girl she had carefully constructed to keep her true self hidden from people she loved. Her little sister, Sona, most of all. She didn't want her to see the countless flaws hidden under her older sister's bubbly exterior. She didn't want to expose that girl to the Satan-Class cold that infected her core.
She hadn't lived through the Civil War the same way Sirzechs, Ajuka, and Falbium did. Namely, the killing part of the war. That's not to say they didn't struggle with it, Lucifer knows they did. They were simply better at coping with it than her. It had been five hundred years since the conflict took place after all, it was only natural that with time, they'd figure out how to make peace with what they had done—what they needed to do for the sake of preventing a rerun of the Great War.
But she wasn't like them. Even after all this time, she couldn't quite seem to figure out how to make peace with what had been done. Her way of 'coping', was to focus on the connections she still possessed, the trust she handed out only to a select few: Sirzechs, Ajuka, Falbium, her mother, her father, and…
Alduin.
He was the first addition she had made to her list of trustees in a long time. Someone she deemed worthy of keeping her cherished sister, Sona, safe and sound. Someone she believed she could work with to create a better future for the Underworld. The Underworld Sona, and everyone else in her generation would inherit.
Then he broke that trust, he went behind her back and colluded with the fallen angel's Governor-General. It was technically for the 'right' reasons, but that wasn't where Serafall's focus was centered. It was the simple fact that he lied to her, it wasn't just about what he lied about, it was the action of lying itself. Of betraying the faith she had in him.
From that point onwards, every time she looked at him, she thought twice. Second-guessed his every word, every action, every minute twitch. Truth or falsehood? She asked herself that question over and over again. Which, unsurprisingly, wasn't doing her mental wellbeing any favors.
One moment, she'd look at his reflection and see the calming presence of the man Alduin's father once was. The other, the cold, self-obsessed, calculated demeanor of the woman his mother had always been, and for all intents and purposes, would always be.
However, since they had embarked on their trip to the West Yōkai Faction, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't seeing more of the latter than the former. 99% of Alduin's appearance belonged to his father's genetics, but those eyes of his could only belong to that woman. Their impression strong enough to overshadow the rest of his wild appearance at times.
"Again!" A young girl, no older than twelve, yelped. Nestled in Serafall's lap with the same, luminous gold eyes as Yasaka. The similarities continued in the ears, hair color, and most notably, the tails department. The signature trait of the royal Yōkai species that was a Kyuubi.
She was none other than the faction leader's one and only child. Kunou. The one Yasaka wanted Serafall to help keep safe while Alduin was out dealing with Dimension Lost's wielder, and whoever it was he had brought alongside him.
Serafall couldn't help but put on a smile, a genuine one, not rehearsed. It was hard not to when she had been entrusted with the duty of keeping the adorable fluffball distracted while the battle outside awaited its conclusion.
"Yes, Ma'am!"
In a simple motion, she flicked her wrist, spawning a medium-sized conglomeration of ice-cold mist within the central chamber. Slowly but surely, the frigid particles grouped together. Morphing from something atmospheric to something far more physical. A statue, composed entirely of Serafall's Ice Magic, that depicted a life-sized Kunou. Expertly-detailed, far beyond anything humanity's greatest sculptor could ever hope to curate.
Positioned right beside the first statue Serafall had made at Kunou's behest, that of her mother's.
"Wah!" Kunou's animalistic eyes sparkled. "Teach me! I wanna do that do!"
Usually, she'd do her utmost to maintain a prim and proper, noble-like demeanor, as was befitting her position as the West Yōkai Faction's Heiress. However, she just couldn't seem to keep her deep-rooted fondness for the artform that was magic in check, not in the face of the Satan Leviathan's masterful control.
Yasaka didn't mind in the least, in fact, she welcomed her enthusiasm which she observed with a warm, fond smile. Because of her role, there was a great deal of pressure on her daughter's shoulders. She had responsibilities, which demanded constant training and education in order to fulfill.
But sometimes, Yasaka felt like Kunou tried a little too hard to meet the expectations her fellow Yōkai had of her. A burden that denied her the childhood experience she was entitled to. Yes, Yasaka's rule had spanned over nine centuries, but even so, she was a long way away from retirement.
Kunou had yet to even live for two decades. Too much maturity at such a young age wasn't healthy, thus, moments like these where Kunou simply acted her age were to be cherished. Children should be allowed to live as children. The stress could wait until their adult years.
"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie," gently, Serafall head-patted her. "You see, my magic's a bit different from yours, I don't really have much of an understanding of Youjutsu, but I'm sure your mother can figure something out."
A hopeful gleam in her eyes, Kunou turned to her mother, fully expecting her to use her sage wisdom to suddenly transform Kunou into Yuki-onna-level ice expert right then and there. Wishful thinking befitting someone her age.
"Let's focus on your Fox Fire first, after that, maybe we can consider teaching you how to harness other elements." Yasaka exhaled, sparing Serafall a passing glance. "Moreover, when it comes to replicating the feat of a devil through Ki, perhaps it'd be best to seek Sallos-dono's advice?"
Serafall's lips pressed into a thin line. Right now, her feelings on Alduin were extremely mixed. However, she knew perfectly well how good of a teacher he was. His achievements with Rias Gremory and her peerage attested to that.
"Sallos-dono?" Kunou repeated with unfamiliarity.
"He's my subordinate, but he's out dealing with something at the moment," Serafall answered. "He's a devil like me, and he's also quite good at using Senjutsu." She chose to speak of him in a positive light, there was no point in projecting her personal resentment onto Yasaka's daughter. It was far too immature, and frankly, pathetic.
Befuddled, Kunou tilted her head. "Senjutsu? But he's a devil?" Understandably, the concept was completely foreign to her. The only three pureblood devils in the Underworld who knew how to use Ki were Alduin, Martha, and Sairaorg. And only the first two could really be called 'experts'.
Moreover, having a representative of foreign affairs offer a bit of education to Yasaka's daughter was bound to have a positive diplomatic influence.
"His family's a bit special," Serafall added. "I'm sure he'll able to help you—"
The Satan stopped herself midsentence. A jolt of realization washed over her before she could complete her words of assurance. The feeling was shared by Yasaka, whose back straightened with the intensity of a besieged faction leader. Temporarily losing the soft warm of a mother out of necessity to protect her people.
Intruders were here.
"Serafall."
They exchanged a glance, but no words. None were needed to convey what they wanted to. The two ladies were on the exact same wavelength.
"Kunou, I need you to wait here with your mother for a while, alright? There's something I have to go handle, it won't take long." Carefully, she scooped Kunou up by the armpits and held her up, gently placing the little fox off her lap before standing up. Her shoulders rolled in preparation to deal with the little infestation of pests that had found their way into the headquarters.
Honestly, what was Alduin doing? How could he let such riffraff slip past him?
"What's wrong?" Kunou asked, looking back and forth between the Satan and her mother.
"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart." Yasaka patted her lap, motioning for Kunou to come closer. "She just has a bit of work to do, that's all." Taking over the responsibility of keeping her daughter distracted, Yasaka raised her hand, allowing a bright blue wisp of Fox Fire to form beside her. "How about we practice for a bit until she returns?"
"Mm!"
///
.
Of the four Georg had sent ahead, Heracles, in his usual boastful fashion, decided to place himself at the front of the formation. His imposing, two-meter-tall frame clad from head to toe in ancient, mythological Greek armor. The same kind his world famous ancestor, the real Heracles, would've worn.
"Hmph, cowards!" He mocked. Stood in front of the now-sealed headquarters' front gate, secured by dozens of layers of restrictive, defensive wards formed through direct Youjutsu applications, and stick-on talismans. How laughable, he thought. Did these Yōkai truly believe someone of his power could be held back by such flimsy restrictions?
He activated his Sacred Gear, Variant Detonation. Which appeared in the form of a glowing, bright-orange aura that blanketed his form. Heat emanated from all angles of his skin, as if a supernatural radiator had just been ignited within his core. Layered. Explosive. Ready to give way to a catastrophic explosion at a moment's notice.
Heracles reeled his fist back—waiting a second—and then hitting the crimson steel gate separated the four members of the Hero Faction from the Yōkai hidden inside.
THUD!
The steel whined in pain, but it didn't yield completely. If anything, Heracles's fists took more damage than the front gate itself. However, pain hardly registered for the brutish knucklehead, so with caveman-like strategy, he hit it again.
THUD!
This time, the force of his punch was greater than before. Perhaps twofold. The reverb of metallic impact was louder and more pronounced. Yet, the gate still held on. Bright Kanji letters igniting all over its exterior, as if signaling the full activation of the defensive magic it was imbued with.
THUD!
Another strike, once more, stronger than the last. The build-up of explosive power his Sacred Gear offered him continued to climb. Stacking atop itself like the set-up of a Jenga tower. The sound that echoed off the gate was more akin to that of an enormous gong being struck by a hundred-foot long metal pole. The faint, yet audible sound of its internal composition creaking proof that Heracles was finally starting to make meaningful progress.
THUD!
Barring Cao Cao, it wouldn't be a stretch to say Heracles possessed the greatest degree of raw, physical strength amongst the Hero Faction. Provided he was actually given the time to let his might stack up to a considerable level. When it came to power idiots such as he: a semi-intelligent combatant of average talent could still worm their way to victory.
THUD!
That's why he needed Georg. Georg steered his chaos with disciplined order. Made him more than a mindless brute.
THUD!
The sixth blow came. Heracles's knuckles could no longer be described as mere bone, they were like five, miniature wrecking balls jam-packed with the power of Variant Detonation. Their bright-orange intensity comparable to a miniature sun, finally sufficient to overload the defenses inscribed into the gate's metal. Allowing the four members of the Hero Faction to officially step foot onto the West Yōkai Faction's territory.
"Heh." Heracles huffed, both hands on his hips, an all too proud smile plastered on his face for his deeply impressive feat of mindlessly punching a Youjutsu-enhanced structure until it broke.
"Brutish as ever," Connla, the faction's resident emo, muttered under his breath. He used his Sacred Gear, Night Reflection, to disappear into his own shadow. Moving ahead of Heracles to infiltrate the headquarters and hunt down its monarch.
The others: Heracles, Jeanne, and Siegfried followed a step behind. The latter of two noticed something awry as they touched soil on the structure's elegant, expertly-maintained, front court. Something that warranted creased brows and a drastically increased level of caution.
"Where are they?" Jeanne questioned aloud, after all the ruckus Heracles just made, the southern most area of the headquarters should be swarming with Yōkai looking to detach the heads of intruders off their shoulders. Like an angry swarm of wasps desperate to protect their queen.
Instead, they were met with dead silence. Even the faintest rustle of litter, swept by the faintest breeze of passing wind could be heard loud and clear. That wasn't how it was supposed to be, a huge battle between all the Yōkai of the West and the four Hero Faction members was supposed to take place. In which the former would lose, and the latter would make their way to the Kyuubi in charge of it at all. Activate Georg's carefully-crafted talisman, and put her under their control. Completing the capture mission in one fell swoop.
But the wasps were nowhere to be seen. Still hidden under the disorientating layers of defensive and spatial manipulation Youjutsu the fortress provided them. If they wanted to, they could skip fighting all the 'mob' enemies directly and head straight for the jugular: the queen.
That was wrong. Improper. Deeply suspicious. You'd have to have Hercales's level of intelligence to accept that reality at face value.
"No clue," Siegfried hummed, equally perplexed. He raised his hands, cupping them around his mouth to amplify his voice. "OI! CONNLA! YA SEE ANYTHING?"
…
No response.
"CONNLA! HELLO? MOSHI-MOSH?"
…
Still nothing. That didn't check out either, Connla hadn't been that much further ahead of them. Ten—maybe twenty steps at maximum. It had been no more than eight seconds since he had actually entered the meat and bones of the super shrine. If something had happened to him, they should've sensed or heard the ruckus.
Siegfried's eyes narrowed, he and Jeanne looked to one another, huddling closer at either side of an obvious Heracles's back. They couldn't just waltz in there anymore, they needed to prepare themselves for the unpreparable.
"Connla?"
Then it came.
"Is that this one's name?"
The cold.
At once, Jeanne, Siegfried, and even Heracles's reacted in perfect unison. Frozen stiff. Lockjawed. Dilated pupils of prey in the midst of being hunted. Shallow breaths of people who had overestimated their own power, or perhaps underestimated that of their enemies. Trembling fingers of instinctual dread, unable to suppress the reflexive fear of being faced with an overbearing force that had yet to even show its face. Or hers, judging by the tone of their voice.
Connla returned to them, but not in the way they anticipated. He ragdolled, or rather, he was ragdolled through the air. Landing onto a bed of flowers back-first with eyes fixed upwards towards Urakyoto's sky.
His comrades all looked at him, horrified to see his condition. His skin was an alarming, pale-blue all over. As if he had just come out of a ten-year-long stay in the arctic without any clothing whatsoever. His clawed hands perched close to his torso, twitching stiffly, shivering in the toe-biting cold running rampant through his bloodstream. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak, but couldn't bring the muscles in his throat to do anything. They were tightened to the max, desperately trying to bring some warmth into his flesh, only to fail hopelessly.
He wasn't dead, at least not yet, but perhaps death was preferable to his current state of misery. He was a man who wanted nothing more than to let out an ear-piercing scream only for him to have no working vocal chords to scream with. The desire to howl was palpable through his eyes.
"He's not dead. Rest assured. I have little thirst for blood, much less that of a toddler's."
Now it clicked, the reason why all the Yōkai had hidden themselves.
A different force of nature was protecting them. Far greater than the Kyuubi.
One of the Four Great Satans was here. As a faction dedicated to proving humanity's ability to contest with even the greatest of supernatural forces, it was only natural they remembered the faces of all the notable figureheads. Especially if they were one hailing from one of the three biblical factions.
How could they not know the face of Serafall Leviathan, approaching them step by step through one of the West Yōkai Faction's many corridors. Her stone-faced, lusterless expression looking them dead in the eye. Light-blue frigid particles following her every movement, the ground around her producing a creaking sound as Satan-Class ice trailed behind her heels.
"It seems I don't need to introduce myself," she said with the faintest, hardly discernable note of amusement. "I don't know who any of you are, nor do I have any desire to, at least not at the moment. So you can save yourself the trouble of speaking." The talking could commence once they were all imprisoned, and prepared for interrogation.
…
"Well?" She gestured, highlighting their hesitation. "You came here for a battle, didn't you? So make your move. You can have the first hit if you'd like, impress me enough and I'll make sure the freezing process isn't as painful as it was for him."
Just because she preferred not to kill, didn't mean she was opposed to inflicting pain. She was on a diplomatic visit, she wouldn't dare call Yasaka a 'friend', she hadn't known the woman long enough to, but she did like to think she was on good terms with the West's leader. Besides, her daughter was adorable as hell. Anyone that dared to endanger such a source of overwhelming cuteness was immediately on Serafall's bad side. It was simple math.
"FUCK IT!" Heracles roared, the yell more a medium to snap himself out of his own pathetic state of emasculating terror. He knew who this was. He knew who he was up against. The tales, the legends, the feats. But as a member of the Hero Faction, he had the obligation to challenge them in the field of battle nonetheless.
He activated his Balance Break: Mighty Comet. His Sacred Gear no longer simply a blanket of bright-orange light that clung to his figure, but a visible, physical manifestation of the biblical armament's power in the form of numerous, cement-gray missiles that attached themselves to his body. All capable of demonstrating explosive might unlike anything the Sacred Gear's base state could ever hope to achieve. Forget twofold, even tenfold would be underselling. Such was the qualitative increase the 'glitch' in the Sacred Gear system offered one.
He rushed in head-first, just like his ancestor would. The missiles detached off his body as he dashed, homing in on Serafall's position before he went in-close for a direct punch.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
One after the other, they connected with Serafall's skin. Hot-orange plumes of fire erupting into the air alongside dark-gray clouds of constricting smoke. Again, and again, and again. Each supplied with the full force Heracles's Sacred Gear could provide.
Jeanne and Siegfried both watched from a distance with bated breath, against an opponent like Serafall, the natural thing to do was a gang-up on her, but thanks to Heracles's destructive approach, there was no room for them to but-in. Their abilities weren't suited to the task. All they could really do was pray that their comrade's efforts amounted to something—anything at all.
Heracles himself had no clue whether or not his attacks were effective, in fact, he couldn't even see through the smoke, but he continued to charge in anyways. His fist reeled back as far as it could do, ready to launch the single-most impactful punch he had ever thrown since he awakened the first Sacred Gear.
BAM!
His fist landed. A hopeful grin stretched across Heracles's lower face as he felt his knuckles made full, direct contact with Serafall's forehead. The Satan went to no extra lengths to guard herself in any way, shape, or form. Air slammed outward from the point of impact, sweeping Siegfriend and Jeanne's hair backwards, disturbing the flowerbed beneath their feet, and rattling the fragile branches of the trees that added color and life to the headquarters' courtyard.
"That's it?" Serafall's hand shot out, grabbing Heracles by the throat and hoisting him up into the air. The 'hero's' pupils shrunk into two tiny dots, drowning in a tornado of fear and confusion at the same time. The cleared smoke revealed Satan's short stature—completely unharmed—not a single scratch to be seen. Not from the missiles, nor from Heracles's fist.
The hero descendant clawed at the air, trying to free himself from Serafall's clasp, but to no avail. His skin quickly turned the same, sickly shade of ice-blue as Connla as the Satan channeled her Ice Magic. Effectively forcing him into a state of chronostasis from within. Her eyes went half-lidded, thoroughly unimpressed by the man's 'efforts'. As if they were worth any praise at all.
Pathetic. Truly pathetic.
She tossed him aside with about as much regard as you'd give an empty soda can littered on your bedroom floor. What else could he be? Other than an inconvenience that was eating at times she could be spending spoiling Yasaka's daughter? A task that actually possessed some real value, unlike whatever this was supposed to be. For it certainly wasn't sufficient to be called a 'battle', not by her standards at least.
"You two," she addressed Jeanne and Siegfried together. "Come at me at the same time, the sooner I get this over with, the less moody I'll be." Quite frankly, it was in their best interests she ended up that way.
…
The swordsman and swordswomen looked at one another.
A second passed.
Then two.
Then three.
"NOPE!" They exclaimed, turning around and high-tailing away, uninterested in becoming objects of contemporary art at the hands of the Satan.
"Seriously?" Serafall rolled her eyes. She understood that they were just children and all, in comparison to her but did they really have to make her play a game of tag?
///
This is why you roll a perception check before entering a boss area, yare yare.
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