Book Three – Chapter Eleven – Part One – Shattering the Collar

When the sun peeked over the horizon and baptized the world with its orange hue, it did so without joy. The light it brought didn’t bring peace. Instead, it illuminated the horrors that had happened while the moon was in control of the sky. Even for a trashy city like Arcton, it was usually possible to hear one or two crows sing while flying around in search of food. A day couldn't go by without someone succumbing to the danger a gang-ridden city like Arcton brought. Even though the city was ripe with the dead, Servi emitted such danger that not even the carrion eaters of the aviary world dared to perturb on her territory.

For the city of Arcton truly belonged to the strongest, and that title belonged to Servi. Sat atop a nearby roof with a watermelon-scented cigar in her hand. She gingerly waited for the smoke signal to show herself. Blood covered her right arm down to her elbow, and the corpse she sat on top of coincidentally had a hole stretching from his neck to his stomach.

He was an unlucky soul who tried to attack Servi by throwing rocks, but she quickly made him pay for his transgressions with his life. She never planned on killing him before she went off in search of Momo, and Servi certainly didn’t want to spend the extra few seconds to clean her body after she already showered, but life wasn’t fair. That was definitely something the corpse’s owner thought before he felt a long arm enter his esophagus.

“Shit, I’m gonna have to get clean again,” Servi muttered.

A weak flame appeared in front of her. She bit the tip of her cigar and stuck it in the floating fire as its natural watermelon scent entered her nose. Her clothes suddenly disappeared.

A sudden stream of super-heated hot water then appeared, liquifying her skin. A nasty glob of skin pooled around her as, for a split second, Servi only consisted of her bone and muscle. Once all of her old skin had melted and drained away, the water flow stopped, and Servi’s epithelial layer regenerated.

She then discovered her cigar had been burnt before she even took a puff. A grunt later, she was equipped with whatever leather armor she had in her ring and a second cigar. A quick bite later, she spat the tip off the side of the building.

“I guess I’m clean now,” she muttered as she stuck her second cigar into the same weak flame. It died with a whimper as Servi took a long draw on the cigar. After a couple of seconds, she moved the cigar away and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I don’t even know if it’s my first time smoking these. I mean, who the fuck was I before I woke up in Lando? Why the fuck did… I wonder if I’m a product of something? Clearly I’m not normal. If whatever made me, produced me, trained me, or whatever did whatever to make me the way I am... Then wouldn’t it be better to remove that something? If it’s gone, then there won’t be any more of people like me, which would be good.

“With the souls I gained from last night alone, I’m sure I have enough power to destroy a whole country. When I take the souls from that, then I’m sure I can crush continents with the utmost ease. Then what’s after a continent? The world. If I destroy the world, that’s sure to get the attention of the Gods, right?" Servi felt her ID vibrate.

Itarr remained silent, but she only buzzed the red stone tablet at attached Servi’s waist to show she was listening.

“It’s so strange how I feel so in control of myself! And then I don't feel in control... And then I do, and then I don't... And that’s what makes it so fucked up! AAAAGAGAGAGAGHHHHHH!!!! IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE!!!! WHAT THE FUCK AM I?!?!?!” Servi shouted and took a second draw, filling her lungs with a thick fog. White smoke escaped out through her nose like she was an angry bull, leaving behind the sweet scent of melons.

“With all but one of the bases gone, my job is almost done. If I take out Deset at the meeting place, or where the fuck the smoke is going to be at, then I can say the Mafia will be completely wiped out.” She turned to the sun and stood up. Even without looking at the clock, Servi roughly knew what time it was. And as if to prove Servi right, her sharpened eyes caught the faint glimmer of smoke billowing up to the sky.

She took one final puff on the cigar and tossed it off the edge of the building. “I hate those damn things... Do I hate those damn things? Do I even know anything?” she muttered. "Don't even know why I wanted to smoke it..." After hearing that, Itarr wanted to ask why she smoked something she hated, but once again, Itarr played it safe and remained quiet. The day was going to be a volatile one, that was for sure.

Without anything else keeping her locked in Arcton, Servi took a step forward off the roof she was on. Instead of plummeting to the ground, her boot-covered feet rested atop an invisible platform created from a skill called Air Step. Such a skill was monumental when used by itself, but when combined with her outstanding speed and agility, Servi could maneuver through the sky better than a bird.

Hundreds of buildings sat demolished behind her, filling the filthy streets with rubble and debris. A few hops later, there wasn’t anything of man-made origin around her. Giant trees, grown stalwart and sturdy over the years, surrounded her as the smoke in her distance grew in both size and strength. Suddenly, she stopped her leaping and resorted to walking.

When Servi looked behind her, she saw a few of those all-powerful trees resting on their side. The wind pressure created from each of her kicks couldn’t be contained by buildings, so it was clear to see that trees couldn’t handle them either. Even if their roots flourished for hundreds of years, Servi had shown her power dwarfed that of Mother Nature. A little bluebird flapped from the disorganized array of messy, leafy greens leaves. Its little lungs chirped as loud as they could while frantically flying around the remains of what used to be its home.

The girl who caused such destruction turned around and left, never becoming privy to the horrors that happened to the bird. It didn’t just lose its home. It lost its nest and egg. The poor thing eventually swooped down into the leaves and used its beak to push together the open remains of its eggs.

After around thirty minutes of walking in a straight line towards her target, Servi saw the first glimpses of what would be the Mafia’s last stand. It was as if someone took a large pair of scissors, at least 10 to 15km wide and long, and cut a noticeable section of trees out of the earth. Being nearly a perfect circle, Servi immediately noticed how many people were present.

“It has to be at least 10,000. Maybe more than 15,000… What the fuck did the boss have planned?” Servi activated The Shadow's Embrace and sped ahead with her full speed. Once she reached the edge of the camp, she fell down to the deforested ground and used a roll to get right back on her feet.

The number of tents in her view suggested that there couldn’t have been more than a few hundred-- maybe a thousand if the tents were stuffed full of people, but that obviously wasn’t the case. If she didn’t have The Shadow's Embrace to remove herself from reality, then Servi would be bumping shoulders to shoulders at trying to walk through them. Eventually, she got annoyed and jumped six meters into the air.

Air Step is by far the best way. Why didn’t I think of it first? Servi looked down at the mindlessly swarming bodies and turned her attention to the middle of the camp. The crudely, hastily built wooden stage took her eye. She didn’t think that someone of the boss’s power and wealth would accept that raggedy platform held tight by a few screws. However, that wasn’t the surprising thing.

The stage held around ten people and two large crosses, which wasn’t surprising to Servi, but he was there.

The Kobold in full nadrium armor. His three quadrupled-headed axes flew in a soft circle two meters above his head. With only the slits in his helmet showing his alligator-like yellow eyes, there were no discernible features. Yet with a person like him who walked around with equipment that very few people could say they had, he didn’t need any physical traits to be recognizable.   There was also a second Kobold standing nearby. His armor wasn't anywhere near as fancy, but it was bright and silver, and shiny enough to reflect the sharp sunlight.

An Elf wearing a white lab coat stood in front of the Kobold. His hands were in his pockets, but he wasn't cool, calm, and collected. His mouth moved in a way suggesting he was angry with the mythril-encased Kobold in front of him, but the beast put a single hand to the Elf’s shoulders. The other seven crowding the stage were a dime a dozen, so Servi scoffed at them and turned her attention elsewhere. When she did, the group descended down the stage’s ramp.

“I still don’t know who the boss is. Is it the Elf or Kobold? Is it really the nadrium—” Before she could finish her words, a familiar voice pricked her ears. Servi spun on her heels and kicked off the air as she dashed towards the eastern edge of camp.

“… ook at this camp. 6th, is this the right place?” Carrie asked. The sides of her blue eyes were raw from when she had cried for Williana. Her black spear sat nestled within her arms as if it was the last reminder of whatever kept her sane throughout her pained existence. She wasn’t alone, of course. All of Deset was with her, but they weren’t looking at the sniveling Singi. All of their heads turned to the Elf, who cradled a metallic bow. A nasty snarl was plastered across his face, but he wasn’t upset at his underlings. His mind turned to the apocalyptic condition of his city.

He heard the sounds of a rampaging battle lasting all throughout the night, and he had gotten reports of a series of brutal attacks on nearly all of the guard barracks. With the former, he had no idea who was responsible, but he did for the latter.

Williana.

A few sparse observers from Deset had unintentionally gotten a quick glimpse of her during her very meager moments of downtime.

If she was the cause of all of that, is she behind last night’s attack? Does she really have the power to smash buildings? And what was that sword? That warehouse used to contain a whole base... Did she really twist it into a weapon? And how did she even find out about it? I’m starting to think I can’t control her. Wait, if I give her the order to attack, can’t I use her bloodlust to keep her under my command?

“6th?” asked a Dwarf Numbered. There was a '7' on his exposed stomach. Since they were out and about, he figured there was no need to hide it. He slapped a large hand to his bulging gut.

“Yeah, this is the place. You see that stage? Let’s head towards there so I can ask the boss about the plan.”

“But do you know what he looks like?” replied the Dwarf.

“I do not, but it won’t be hard to find out.” Carmelo turned his head to the stage devoid of people, then he quickly spun in a small circle. His eyes were on the lookout for the cause of the destruction herself. She had promised him she’d be here in time to kill the boss. How could she do that if she didn’t know what he looked like.

Like a swarm of fish, the Deset group slowly wormed their way through the mindlessly wandering crowd of people as the topic of discussion naturally turned to the chaos they saw as they emerged from their base.

“Sixth, why do you think Deset was the only base to avoid devastation?” asked an Elf with a '10' carved in her left forearm. She squeezed by a pair of Kobolds, who had thick strands of clear drool dripping from their pursed lips. The Elf didn't know the other bases' locations, but Carmelo knew of some of them. Seeing the few he did know go up in smoke made him think that the other hideouts were attacked as well.

Carmelo thought about lying, but he realized he didn’t need to keep his Mad Dog hidden any longer. There wasn’t a need to hide her in the first place, but he lied to Carrie when she asked about her the day before. “Williana’s behind it all. I—”

“Sixth, that’s impossible!” Carrie shouted and immediately covered her mouth. “You’ve seen her skills. She isn’t capable of doing anything like what we saw when we left.”

“Believe it or not, it is of no concern to me. Williana is my Mad Dog. She's a warrior I send out to do my bidding. How fortunate I was able to find her when I did.”

“Wait, so the only reason she didn’t attack us, assuming what you said is true, is because you ordered her to destroy every other base?!” A Koena with an orange '7' on her dusty gray scales clasped a heavy hand to Carmelo's shoulders. “You betrayed the Mafia! Why?!”

“Don’t be absurd. I didn’t order Williana to attack the other bases. She told me that she was going out on her own, but—”

“Then is she gone?! Will I ever see her again?!” Carrie interrupted. She stepped over a groaning Dwarf lying on his back as the hot sun cooked his exposed limbs. His eyes had long been bloodshot, and he shook uncontrollably. Still, his life didn't matter to Carrie, so she didn't even give him a second glance.

“She’s here. I don’t know where, but Williana said she’d be here.” Carmelo strummed his bow’s strings as a wave of green lights flew up and came down, piercing the gray Koena’s heart. Her death was quick and merciful, something that Carmelo wasn’t a fan of. As he expected, the other Deset members barely reacted and stepped over the Koena’s corpse as they made their way towards the stage.

“So are you telling me this ‘Williana’ was responsible for everything?” a sparkling green Kobold asked. Unlike most members of his race, he was blessed with a complete body of scales. A few on his right bicep were ripped off in the shape of a '9'.

“I know you’re slow, but yes. Williana is a frightening girl with tremendous power. I sent her on a few assassination contracts, and she came back quicker than ever with proof that her target was dead. I know not how she accomplishes the things she does, but the truth is this: she is a volatile, rabid animal with fangs that sink into whoever is her enemy,” Carmelo explained. A few minutes later, he squeezed through a few more wandering bodies and reached a spot of relative peace. Carmelo took a knee, caught his breath, and waited for his men to catch up. Though he had unknown plans about the Mafia that included taking out its leader, he did somewhat care for those under his command who could be useful. Perhaps it was not at the level of a mother caring for her son or a stranger giving a box of puppies a wonderful home, but the love was there, if barely.  He had to care about them because they would be his loyal men once had command over the Mafia.

Once the Numbered had rounded up around him, Carmelo continued the journey to the stage. Other than the two crosses, it remained empty as part of Carmelo struggled to figure out what they were to be used for.

“I had my men report to me about the state of the city. You saw it for yourself when we left, so you should know what may happen,” Carmelo said. He did his best to ignore the growing scent of feces and raw sweat, but even his trained body couldn’t withstand the stink any longer. A quiet gag escaped his throat, followed by Carrie doing the same thing. As a Singi, her sensitive nose was battered and assaulted when they came within fifty meters of the camp.

“Sixth, I don’t think the city is going to survive,” said the green-scaled Kobold.

“That’s right. I—” Carmelo went to explain his thoughts on Arcton’s future, but his words were choked when he saw a massive Kobold in nadrium armor. The beast had two frail stragglers trailing behind.

That’s it! He has to be the boss. Why else would he be in the front?!

Carmelo watched as the short, three-person long line stopped at the pair of crosses. One was an Earth Elf with snipped ears. The other was a Singi with pink hair reaching down the middle of her back. Clotted and covered with knots and tears, it almost seemed as black mold had started to thrive on her ghastly, pink locks. A Kobold in silver brought up the rear and walked to the rightmost edge of the stage. An Elf with a white coat soon appeared with a rope. Carmelo didn’t know what was going on.

An execution? Is this why we had to gather? No, it couldn't be...

The Earth Elf started to float in the sky after the nadrium-armored Kobold performed a series of quick hand movements. Roger then tied Nimea’s arms and legs to it. Next, he turned to Momo, who pitifully held what she thought was the head of her dear friend against her chest. Since Sakdu had told him that he allowed Momo the right to die holding that disease-ridden head, Roger tied the rope around her waist and chest to keep her attached to the cross.

Servi, who had been walking with the group from Deset using Air Step to stay above them, ignored the occupants of her former base and focused her attention on her best friend. Millions of questions flooded her mind, yet the most pressing one was that mushy head she hugged. Hundreds of larvae had to live inside it, and now they had a new home to suppurate and ruin.

The second was Nimea.

Why the fuck is he here?! I knew I should’ve killed that Elf the moment he tried to—

Her thoughts were cut off by the mythril-wearing Kobold. He took off his helmet. A second later, Roger tossed him a voice-loudner, and he began to speak.

“My loyal warriors from across Arcton, I thank you for heeding my call and assembling together within the week,” he started off his speech.

Hmm, there should have been many, many more people. Roger told me that there was trouble in Arcton. Was I wrong in assuming the problem was minor? No, it doesn’t affect the plan one bit. I never counted on their strength to be nothing more than meat shields to protect my personal army. These warriors I have with me are all capable of using Rank 1 skills... They're all blessed by Major Gods and Goddesses...The traitors in Arcton won't be missed...

“We are here to push the legacy of the Mafia even further!!! We will spread across the Kingdom of Lando, infest the Keywater Empire with our tendrils, and crush all who oppose us in Westera. The whole world shall know our name! Cheer for the glorious Mafia!!!!”

The once silent crowd exploded into a force of unparalleled audible proportion. Even if a God from the Heavens Above came down to speak to a group of warriors, the tremendous cheering wouldn’t be comparable. It was like the destructive difference between a poke and a bomb.

“And to begin our conquest of Lando, we must strike at the city of Canary!!! We will slaughter them all!!! Their food and nourishment will be ours!!! Take the people for yourselves, drown yourself in pleasures known not to the world of man!!! For three days and three nights shall we terrorize those pathetic worms!!! Then we move on to the next city, and the next, and the next!!!! No longer will we be a simple organization! We will be a force that directly challenges the authority of the world!!! Do this for me, and I will guarantee every warrior who fights to the bitter end, using all the strength they acquired throughout the years, will receive 100 Monotonia of their choosing!!! CHEER FOR THE MAFIA!!!!!! RAISE YOUR WEAPONS TO THE SKY!!!”

Nearly every word Sakdu spoke was a lie. Once his desire for revenge was sated, Sakdu planned on killing himself. He cared not if the organization perished with him, and the promise of giving them Monotonia was something he never intended to do. Ever since Sakdu and Roger formulated the plan nearly a decade in the making, Canary’s conquest was the one and only goal.

It might seem contradictory since nearly all of them were so utterly dependent on Monotonia, but his research showed that they still reacted positively to certain stimuli.

Morale.

The individual increases in fighting ability varied from person to person, but it never grew above five percent.  In Sakdu’s eyes, however, that five percent was worth the childish speech since it eclipsed whatever advantages the men in Arcton would bring.

After all, five percent of a hundred was more than five percent of ten. If that was multiplied by 15,000 brainwashed warriors, who were gathered from all around the world, all who happened to be incredibly strong? Even a simpleton would make the right choice.

In regards to the speech, the words were complete rubbish. He could really replace the words with something like conquering the moon or the stars, and it would have the same effect because he only needed to speak specific words to elicit the effects he wanted.

However, that didn't make sense. Why did generic words of conquest and glory enhance the mind-altering effects of Monotonia? Roger was the father of that awful pill, and he knew everything there was to know about it, yet this fact escaped his knowledgeable mind. Even more mind-boggling, it only affected those whose minds were truly lost the pills. At their core, people were greedy. They always want and want, even if they had everything. So when the chance came around to fulfill their greedy desires, they reacted even while under the effects of an awful pill. Or the reason could have been something else, something entirely unknown to all the world over. Or the cause could be known to everyone. Truly, such a mystery was one for the ages. No mortal could solve that riddle, however, since the truth was only known by the Gods and Goddesses who carved the world.

But what about Sakdu's words about branching off to other countries? The Mafia already had its grubby hands in Adenaford, Lando's capital city. They had leaders in Keywater and Westera, who had their own plots and plans, including blackmailing banks and local leaders to get what they want. There were even plans in progress to send a few senior members off across the sea to the other continent to spread the Mafia's poison in fresh wounds. Sakdu didn't bring any of them with him because they lacked the fighting ability he needed. In other words, they were just too weak to be of use to him. Smart and intelligent? Yes, without a doubt, but that was all they had, and Sakdu needed raw power to achieve a decade-long goal in the making.

Like before, Sakdu had only said those words because they were instrumental in getting that morale boost.

“To give thanks to the Gods and Goddesses who blessed us with the power to strike back at our enemies, I will slaughter these two sacrifices! Let their blood pave the way to our victory! Let their lives protect us!!” Sakdu raised his hulking arms to the sky and slammed his voice-loudner into the stage. It cracked, splintering off wooden chips in every which way as the Skill Item exploded when it hit the hard ground underneath.

Sakdu turned to the pair of sacrifices-to-be and pulled out a small dagger from within his Dimensional Storage. Roger stood off to the side with his hands behind his back while the bodyguard kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

That was when it happened.

Servi reentered the world of existence. Roger saw a mysterious Human floating in the air and shouted for Sakdu, who turned to face the brave warrior. His bodyguard walked in front, but Sakdu ordered him to stand back.

“Hmm… So you came after all? She won’t attack me. Not until she saves her friend. But floating like that? I can surely see that you are not just a simple Rank 10,” Sakdu growled.

Servi descended, putting one foot in front of the other as she unblinkingly stared at the figure of her best friend while ignoring the 15,000 soldiers below her. Suddenly, she spoke, singing a song that was supposed to hold no meaning to her.

After all, she had only heard it once. The lyrics made no sense when analyzed. If anything, the song was just a children’s song.

But it was more than that.

Momo’s grandfather sung it to her, then she sung it to Servi. It held power and hope in the form of words connecting best friend to best friend.

Mr. Sun, so high in the sky.

Makes me want to fly.

That’s why I’m singing this tune.

May I touch you soon?

The distance closed between the two as life returned to Momo’s eyes. Without any hesitation, Servi continued to the second verse. Somehow, she knew Momo was singing right along with her. Even though her body remained motionless, Servi knew her best friend was fighting with all of her strength.

Mr. Sky, so pretty and blue.

When I look at you, I know that’s true.

And that fills me with such a boon.

May I touch you soon?

After she spoke the last word in the final line, Momo’s two pink ears softly moved in the summer breeze.

Mr. Star, bright, bright, bright.

At night, you’re always in my sight.

Even though it’s past June.

May I touch you soon?

After the third verse escaped her lips, Momo’s tail sprung to life. It lashed out to the left and right like a snap of pink fury. Servi felt that she was close to reuniting with her best friend. Only one verse remained...

Mr. Moon, last but not least.

Why don’t you come join us for a feast?

We can use forks, knives, or spoons.

May I touch you soon?

Servi reached the stage, landing on it with a healthy thunk when the song was finished. However, Servi wanted to add one more line to it. She walked across, eliminating the distance between her best friend as she held out a hand while absorbing the rope and cross. Like an angel descending from the heavens, Momo slowly fell down as the fighting spirit re-energized her soul. Servi caught her friend’s hand with both of hers as if it was some kind of mystical object befitting the Gods and Goddess.

“May I touch you soon?” she whispered, locking eyes with a girl who slowly stirred awake.

Momo’s mouth uttered those same words as Servi pulled her trembling friend into the loving embrace she needed. A babbling mess of tears and apologies were said, and when Servi felt the strength leave from her friend’s legs, she supported her, burying her head into her chest. She felt her armor slightly rumble from the shouts, yells, and incomprehensible cries, but that was fine. One hand explored every bit of that pink hair. A week’s worth of a lack of care forced it to be slimy and greasy, but she didn’t care.

The one thing in the world she wanted to accomplish was complete, and that was to embrace her best friend.

And as Servi gave Itarr commands to follow in a whisper, she turned to the boss. Itarr kept a close eye on the situation at hand. With how much rage and chaos Servi wrought over the past few days, she expected the self-titled ‘Mad Dog’ to lash out into a seething rage.

But she didn’t. For some reason, Servi retrieved a pair of chairs and threw one to the mythril-wearing Kobold.

He sat down after she did, and a most notable conversation was about to begin. The outcome was apparent because it would end with everyone dying, yet Servi wanted to spare a few words before starting the final slaughter.