Chapter Text
"CHILDREN OF THE ISLES, THE TITAN CALLS UPON YOU NOW!"
"Oh, hey. 'Scuse me."
"THE FALSE EMPRESS HAS ALLOWED MAGIC TO RUN RAMPANT! THE CHAOTIC ENERGIES THREATEN TO DESTROY THE ISLES AND ALL WHO INHABIT IT!"
"Just gonna squeeze by here real quick."
"WHO AMONG YOU WILL STAND WITH ME TO RETURN THE EMPIRE AND THE COVEN SYSTEM TO THEIR FORMER GLORY?!"
"Whoops, pardon my boots, sir."
"THIS AFFRONT TO THE TITAN CANNOT ST-- Ugh, do you mind?"
"Sorry, just trying to make my way to the bar. Sheesh."
Jerrika didn't need this, not on top of the miserable day she's had so far. Overtime at the Forge Coven was bad enough, but during that shift, that stupid cinder had to fly right into her remaining eye. She'd also swear that she had to deal with some of the most fastidious customers that she had ever encountered. 'This shortsword is a centimeter too long.' 'I need those editions in hardcover.' 'I only have three Heart Squids, can't you just work with that?' Like pulling teeth with those guys. Slitherbeast teeth. All she wanted was to just chill at her favorite booth at Wailway for some apple blood and the best dang demon wings in all of Latissa. Apparently, even that was too much to ask, since some dingus invited a bunch of people to talk about the 'good old days,' or whatever. Seriously, Belos is dead and every coup against the new Empress has failed miserably, so what makes these chumps think they can succeed where even the former coven heads failed? At any rate, they were taking up her booth, and she swears to Titan that if one more thing goes wrong today, she just might snap!
"Jerrika! How's your day going?"
"Eh, can't complain."
Atlas' unflinchingly upbeat attitude towards his work was always a sight to behold, especially in the face of the idiocy currently unfolding in his establishment. Jerrika could only surmise that there was some forbidden, ancient magic at work within him. Though she may never learn his dark secrets, he's always a sight for her literally sore eye. "The usual, please." she stammered.
"Hah! Good thing you wanted that." Atlas said. "You seemed stressed when you came in. Had that resting give-me-the-usual face, so I got your order started already. Your wings'll be ready in a minute, and I just got a shipment of that imported apple blood in stock today."
Jerrika's face lit up. "You mean-"
And before her very eye, Atlas placed a bottle of shimmering green before her. The words 'Pride of Maria Ann: premium quality Granny Smith du Sang' that were emblazoned on the bottle filled her heart with unbridled joy. "Atty, my man, you are a life saver!" she exclaimed as he handed her a glass.
A bell dinged, indicating that Jerrika's demon wings were ready to be served. "What kind of sauce you want?" Atlas asked. "Infernal? Molten habanero? Iliacston reaper?"
"White phosphorus, please."
"Oof! That kind of day, was it?" Atlas exclaimed. "Sorry about those guys taking up your booth. Thought they would've wrapped it up before now."
Jerrika dipped a wing in the ramekin of searing sauce provided to her before throwing it in her mouth, bones and all. After finishing it, she calmly exhaled a trail of white flame as one would smoke from a cigarette. "Burns so good." She sighed. "No worries, Atty. What exactly is that whole situation, anyway?"
"Recruitment drive."
"Recrui-" She trailed off. "Aw, Titan, not another rebellion?!"
" 'Fraid so."
"I mean, the last one was like, what, a hundred people?"
"Eighty-three, to be precise." Atlas poured her a cup of that sweet, imported apple blood as he continued. "That guy over by your booth had orchestrated the last five, each smaller than the one before. On his last drive, he actually had his recruits pool in all the money they could to purchase some Abomatons. They could barely afford three of the old 2.0 models. Didn't even know Blight Industries still made those ones."
As he was explaining, Jerrika savored the intense flavor of her drink as she knocked back the glass. "Hang on." She said. "So, what you're saying is that they practically payed him to join his little army? For the chance to fight and/or die for him?! That's just... sad."
"That's not the saddest part." Atlas chortled as he poured her another glass. "The guy behind all these meager uprisings, the one who is currently in my tavern trying to rally all twenty folks over there..." He leans in closer. "...is none other than the Golden Guard."
Fortunately, Jerrika had the presence of mind to not spit out her drink at the shock of that revelation. She forcefully gulped it down before she could properly react. "THAT LITTLE TWERP?! That scrawny guy over there? That is supposed to be Belos' number one guy?!"
"How the mighty have fallen, right?" Atlas poured out another glass full. "Of course, these days, he's better known as 'Cross Hunter'."
" 'Cross Hunter'?" She tilted her head in confusion. "How'd he get a name like that?"
"Well, see, his actual name is Hunter, but after all those battles-"
"WHICH ONE OF YOU CALLED ME A TWERP?!
Atlas and Jerrika were jolted from their conversation as an irate Hunter slammed his fists on the bar. When Jerrika looked at him, she noticed his face was covered in scars, all crisscrossing over one another.
"Ooooohhhh, I get it now." Jerrika grinned as she downed two more white phosphorus wings at once.
Hunter stifled his indignation, studying Jerrika's muscular and well-toned physique. "Say, you look really strong."
"Smooth talker." She chuckled coyly as more white flames shot from her mouth.
"How would you like to help me overthrow the corrupt Empress and save the Boiling Isles?" Hunter struck the most powerful pose he could muster.
"Nah, I'm good." she curtly replied. "So, what's the deal with..." she trailed off while waving her hand up and down her face. "...that whole situation?"
Hunter's hand instinctively reached for his face, brushing the fibrous markings as he looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"C'mon..." she pleaded. "...beauty marks like that always have an interesting story to them." Hunter seemed to perk up at 'beauty marks', which Jerrika capitalized on by gesturing at her eyepatch. "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."
He pondered for a moment, then let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. If you must know, it was because of that hu-- the Azure Guard. Her and... the Blight..." his whole body tensed up upon mentioning her. "They were monsters, wiping out most of my comrades in our first rebellion. Even Darius didn't stand a chance against them. I was left broken on the battlefield, with the first of many new scars on my face. Since then, they've hounded me wherever I went, decimating my armies before I could even rebuild them. The Blight in particular seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on me, adding new scars each time we clashed."
"Sooooo, why bother rebuilding at all." Jerrika asked, more white flames emanating from her breath having finished most of her demon wings."
Hunter pensively replied. "Every time I was captured, there were those still loyal enough to break me out of the old conformatorium. Those who still believed in me and my cause. I owe it to them to keep up the fight, and to justify their faith in me."
"Aww, that's kinda sweet." She cooed. "I told you there was an interesting story there. You should pitch it to Emric Entertainment and get it made into a movie. Seriously, I'd watch the heck out of it."
Hunter became flustered at that remark, but quickly changed the subject to avoid further embarrassment. "Okay, so, your turn. How'd you lose your eye?"
"In a bet."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah, Latissan gambling can get pretty hardcore. The lady who won it from me gave it back to me three days later. By then it was lacquered, bejeweled and made into this gorgeous necklace." She presented it to a mortified Hunter as she gazed lovingly at it. "I couldn't have asked for a better engagement gift."
"Awww, how beautiful and horrifying."
Jerrika, Hunter and Atlas turned to a mysterious cloaked figure who had just intruded into their conversation.
Hunter was particularly irked. "And just who the heck invited you to this discussion?"
"Sorry about that, Artist." The mystery person slapped him on the back as they walked away.
Hunter was taken aback by that nickname. 'Artist?' Why would they call me that? Why does it sound familiar? Wait, that's right, 'The Artist Formerly Known as the Golden Guard!' That's the stupid nickname that the hu-
"Oh no."
Hunter looked behind himself as an orange glow confirmed his suspicion. The fire glyph on his back activated, shooting a steady blast of flame that launched him into the air, hitting the walls and ceiling before he crashed through the front window. The flame slowly died out as Hunter looked up to see the cloaked individual approach him in a slow, steady gait. As they discarded the cloak, Hunter slowly gazed upwards, taking in the appearance of one of the people he feared the most.
Those abnormally large feet clad in white shoes, the bare ankles, the - were those pajama pants?- with hearts on the knees, an abundance of pouches, a shirt of lavender and auburn, a strange cowl adorned with stars and a mammal with round ears and a big nose, wild chocolate-colored locks flowing in the breeze, and a hand holding a wide-brimmed hat with cat ears that looked like it was made out of an old shirt. As she donned the hat, she looked down at Hunter with those piercing-yet-sparkling hazel eyes, removing any shred of doubt as to whom he was up against;
The human. The vaunted hero of the Boiling Isles who deposed the former emperor. The warrior formerly known as the Azure Guard. The current and deadliest bounty hunter in the Demon Realm: 'Luz Cannon' Noceda.
With a tilt of her hat, Luz uttered the phrase that made Hunter's blood run cold.
"Meow-meow."