“The Wicked Witch of the Tower destroyed the Master the demons mistook for C?”
In a room somewhere in the Dragonute Empire, Drago, the former leader of the Concord of the Tribes, could barely conceal his surprise after hearing this latest report from his subordinate. The empire had already known about the entombed Master the Demonkin Nation had in its possession, and how they had mistaken him for C. The dragonutes had also been aware that the demonkin were keeping the Master a closely guarded secret in the hopes they could safely awaken him and use him to surpass the dragonutes in their battle for racial supremacy. Since this Master had not actually been C in the flesh, the empire had decided to take a hands-off approach to the whole situation, but no one could have imagined that Prince Voros would prematurely try to revive the fake C, nor that the resurrected Master would subsequently destroy the palace, nor that it would be the Wicked Witch who ended up vanquishing him.
“Keep gathering intelligence,” Drago instructed his subordinate. “Don’t forget about the witch either.”
After his underling had bowed and taken his leave, Drago leaned back in his chair. What in the world is this Wicked Witch? I never imagined she could dispose of that sealed Master so easily. Is she another toy created by the real C?
The Dragonute Empire’s top brass had been performing their own intelligence gathering operations on the Wicked Witch too, but so far, they hadn’t made much progress. The sorceress and her people were so adept at counterespionage, very little material could be found on her. Drago’s own independent efforts had similarly turned up little to nothing.
“It’s just as well,” Drago murmured to himself. “Thanks to that inferior—the false Master—I was picked to join P.A. It soon won’t matter what the latest developments are, as long as that project is complete.”
Drago started trembling uncontrollably, but it wasn’t due to the cold. No, his whole body was shaking from pure, unadulterated fear. He wrapped his arms around himself, fully appreciating how horrifically dire his lot could very well have been.
I was truly lucky! Drago thought. If we had never found that Master candidate all those years ago, I would have remained part of the unchosen and been thrown by the wayside. But because we found that inferior and killed him, I was selected as part of the chosen in the nick of time.
If Drago and his party hadn’t encountered Light, he would have wasted precious time vying to be the next emperor of the Dragonute Empire. Just imagining how close he had been to pursuing that fool’s errand sent shivers down his spine.
But I was saved from becoming that fool, Drago reflected. I was saved! As a result of his successful stint in the Concord of the Tribes, he was rewarded by being let in on the real truth, which made him thank his lucky stars day after day. The only thing that would make the situation he was presently in perfect would be the completion of P.A.
But both the Dragonute Empire and Drago had now heard of the Wicked Witch’s exploits against the fake C, and so had the Masters affiliated with the empire. And of course, that wasn’t the only thing the Masters had picked up.
✦ ✦ ✦
✰✰✰
Cesta rolled around on the floor, laughing so hard and for such a long time that it got to the point where he almost forgot to breathe. “I’m so dead! My stomach! It can’t take it!” Another wave of guffaws erupted from him, punctuated by labored gasps of wheezing snickering.
“Dumb little shit,” Goh grumbled. He was sitting on a sofa chair in a room at an undisclosed location in the Dragonute Empire, the veins on his forehead bulging in anger.
Cesta—who appeared to be a young teen around fourteen or fifteen years of age—continued rolling around on the carpet in front of Goh in a fit of laughter. Not only was he short, but Cesta looked beautiful enough to be mistaken for a girl at first glance, and he frequently leveraged these physical attributes to his advantage by adopting a cloying, cutesy attitude to win affection and doting from men and women alike. Those who knew the real Cesta were thoroughly disgusted by this pandering personality he had developed, but anyone meeting him for the first time would be immediately entranced by his lovable attractiveness, to the point where they would want to indulge him and give him everything he asked for.
Cesta paused in his laughter and lifted his head once more to gaze at what had set him off in the first place: Goh’s complete lack of dreadlocks, and the tight buzzcut that had replaced his signature hairdo. This sight caused him to burst out laughing again, despite his best efforts to hold it in.
“Aw, crap, I can’t!” Cesta wheezed. “That’s just too hilarious, dude!”
Goh glared at the kid, ready to pounce on him, but Requin intervened to restore peace.
“Calm down, Goh,” Requin soothed. “And Cesta, that’s quite enough of that.”
The two-meter-tall Requin wore a cloak that was billowy enough to cover his massive frame, and beneath it, he had armor covered in scales. Combined with his completely shaven and aerodynamic head, Requin looked like he was capable of swimming underwater at high speed at the drop of a hat.
After his reprimand, Cesta wiped tears from his eyes. “Aw, c’mon! Goh’s practically bald! Is he going for your look, Requin?”
“In my case, shaving my head is a relic of my occupation in my previous life,” Requin said. “As for Goh, he needed to cut off his dreads as a necessary precautionary measure. I’m afraid this isn’t a laughing matter.”
“Appreciate the help, Requin,” Goh muttered, his anger dissipating. “I really needed your powers to make sure all of that blood was off me so I wouldn’t be followed anymore.”
Unbeknownst to Goh at the time, he had been tracked using the blood Mera’s spawn had spilled on him during their battle, and as soon as he found this out from Nazuna during his subsequent fight with her, he instructed Requin (the water expert) to give him a thorough wash before teleporting. But the Masters had been in a rush to get the hell out of there, and scrubbing every single strand of his hair would have been a protracted endeavor, so Goh had made use of some high-speed karate chops to shave off his dreads and minimize the risk of carrying any trace of Mera’s blood to his destination despite only washing for a minute. For the Masters who were aware of the context, Goh’s sacrificial haircut on the fly was decisive in order to maintain their cover from this freakishly powerful warrior maiden they had encountered. Goh expressed a level of indebtedness to Requin for successfully extracting him from a potentially life-threatening situation, but still maintained his incensed glare at the bratty teenager who was still laughing at him.
“Cesta, you’re dead once we’re done here,” Goh warned the kid, but this simply elicited another burst of guffaws, before the teen sprang up and assumed a battle-ready stance.
“Bring it on, baldy!” Cesta goaded. “That is, if you wanna go zero-for-two against ‘little shits,’ after that chick who dog walked you!”
Goh and Cesta filled the room with their homicidal auras, but before either could move a muscle to act on their animosity for the other, a blond, shirtless Master bedecked in an absolute treasure trove of gold finery barked at the two rivals.
“Hey, knock it off!” Kaizer growled. “You dumbasses are hitting me with your dumb vibes. I still wanna know what the leader of those death cult whackjobs is even doing here. Hiro! Have you seriously been in cahoots with this guy all along?”
Kaizer was sitting by himself on a wide couch, staring angrily at his leader, Hiro, who was sitting in an armchair in a position of honor. As usual, Hei stood silently behind Kaizer, serving as his self-appointed bodyguard.
“Did you know about this, Octopus Head? Squintface?” Kaizer asked the other Masters in the room, before addressing Hisomi directly. “You showed up without warning when I was working on P.A., asking if you could borrow Hei for an emergency, and promising to explain everything at a later date. Well, I did as you asked and gave Hei a kick in the backside to get him to go with you, no questions asked. But I never figured you would go rescue the friggin’ leader of that death cult in the Demonkin Nation.”
Hisomi’s rescue team had even used up precious teleportation items to save Goh. While they weren’t irreplaceable, it was understandable why Kaizer was exasperated.
Hiro—a strikingly handsome Master who was wearing princely garb—sighed faintly before answering for everyone. “It would’ve been far worse if both sides had cut off all contact from each other, even given our difference in philosophies. At the same time, I had scruples about making such a link public, so we maintained a confidential relationship. We had no ill intent.”