Chapter Text
[Reward Calculations for Kremnos Chapter: Rex Factus Sum complete!
(User ID: Mydeimos) may choose one “Modern Conveniences” item of choice to receive as a reward.
- Main Quest: Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem unlocked.]
Mydei stares at the system screen.
Mydeimos, son of Gorgo, descendant of the great royal Kremnoan bloodline (at least according to Uncle Krateros), had died choking on a tortilla chip. Supremely embarrassing, and not at all the glorious battlefield death his ancestors would have wanted, but it seemed like his ancestors had blessed him with a choice of afterlife.
[Welcome to purgatory, (User ID: Mydeimos)! Please select from the following:
○ Personalized afterlife services courtesy of Kuroverse Inc. ( Terms and Services apply).
○ Go to Hell. ]
And Mydei obviously couldn’t go to Hell. Eurypon was in Hell, and he’d rather sign his soul away to a shitty game company than be trapped with his deadbeat father for the rest of eternity. What would he even say? Hey dad, remember that time you tried to murder me? That was fun, now we’re both in hell! Let’s resolve our misgivings with each other and hold hands while we get tortured for eternity! Not a chance.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but this—this was his bad karma coming back to bite him in the ass. Kuroverse Inc. was a shady company in the living world, and it seems their afterlife services were no different from their usual operating practices.
“System? System. This wasn’t part of the deal. What do you mean there’s another chapter. ” He grabs the floating pink box by the sides and shakes it as hard as he can.
The Kremnos chapter had been a pain in the ass to complete—not in the least because half of the quest events happened exclusively during daytime .
Meet the Kremnoan detachment? Day-locked.
Kill Eurypon the Mad King? Day-locked.
Side-quest to buy pomegranates from the market? Day-locked .
For probably any other person this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Mydei was, unfortunately, as one of his aunts once said, a “pansy ass bitch who’s too afraid of the sun to step foot outside”. (She was right, technically, but she didn’t have to be so mean about it!)
Mydei hadn’t been okay with the sun for a long time—not since he’d been diagnosed with acute heliophobia at the tender age of seven, right after Eurypon had taken him and his mother out on a “desert vacation”, not since Eurypon brutally murdered and dismembered Gorgo before carving traditional Kremnoan war markings into Mydei’s skin and leaving him to die, and definitely not since the twenty hours Mydei’d spent rotting in the sun, blood evaporating under the heat and light from his torn skin next to the decaying chunks of Gorgo left in the desert.
It wasn’t like Mydei couldn’t go out in the day! He just had to stay in the shade and never look up.
…Which was admittedly easier said than done.
That being said, Mydei had barely cleared the Kremnos Chapter alive; if it wasn’t that he’d played the historical Castrum Kremnos-set Punishing: Tears of Chrysos Z spinoff game his afterlife was based off of, he would have failed on the first objective. Why the first objective was to escape the Sea of Souls as a nine-year-old and find the Detachment wandering Amphoreus on his own (under the sun , no less), he’d never know.
It almost seemed like bad game design. But that would be bad for business, so the unfair difficulty curve had to have an ulterior motive.
The system dialogue box blinked empty, then refreshed with a flash of light.
[Query: “What do you mean there’s another chapter?”
Answer: To better improve the user’s afterlife experience, the developers of Punishing: Tears of Chrysos Z have integrated all 13 main franchise games into one world setting! The Kremnos Chapter was selected based on user affinity with Character: Undying Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos. From Era Nova Chapter onwards, the user is able to freely interact with characters from other Punishing: Tears of Chrysos Z titles!
Reminder: (User ID: Mydeimos) has two (2) free queries remaining.]
“There’s thirteen chapters? Thirteen? Please tell me they’re not all day-locked like Kremnos was.”
[Query: “There’s thirteen chapters? Thirteen? Please tell me they’re not all day-locked like Kremnos was.”
Answer: There are seven chapters including Era Nova Chapter in the main storyline. Not all are exclusive to daytime, though a large portion of Era Nova Chapter occurs in Okhema, where it is always daytime.
Reminder: (User ID: Mydeimos) has one (1) free query remaining.]
Mydei drops his face into his hands with a groan. “This is a joke. This is all some sort of elaborate, mental-breakdown-inducing cosmic joke. Kephale save me.” Alas, the Sky Father does not come swooping to Mydeimos’ aid, as they are the one holding the titans-forsaken Dawn Device that marks Mydei’s impending doom.
At least the blankets are warm and the nighttime breeze is cool against his skin. He stays curled up on his kline in his little pathetic ball of self-pity for a few minutes, then sits up with a sigh. “Open quest menu, please.”
[Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem
Main Objective: Reach an agreement with Okhema to allow the Kremnoan Detachment to take shelter behind the Holy City’s walls.
Bonus objective: Make a positive first impression on the Deliverer.
Note: Story Quest has been improved based on gathered user data and feedback. Kuroverse Inc. sincerely hopes that (User ID: Mydeimos) can enjoy this quest!
Begin quest? (Yes/No) ]
“System…are you doing this on purpose? You know I can’t go there. I’ll die, system, and then you won’t be able to make money off my afterlife. It’s bad for business, I’ll leave a bad Yelp review from super hell.”
The menu screen flashes. [Processing query; please wait.]
“Don’t answer that. That was a rhetorical question.” Mydei had fought tooth and nail for his free three (3) queries, and he’d be damned if he wasted one on a stupid question. Obviously the system was doing it on purpose. Capitalism waits for no man’s joy.
[Begin quest? (Yes/No)]
The quest confirmation window drifted closer, flashing bright red and vibrating to get his attention.
What the hell, sure. Not like Mydei can do anything else. “Yes, begin quest.”
[Loading quest…
Reminder: (User ID: Mydeimos) may still select one “Modern Conveniences” item to receive as a reward.
Prompt: (User ID: Mydeimos) is invited to share your feedback on the previous Main Quest Chapter! Survey Opt-out is available for a cost of: 3000 credits. >>Start Survey<< ]
Ah, the joys of capitalism.
Mydei grumbles, shifting to lean against the soft cushions propped against the back of his (custom-made) kline. They’re soft, but not soft enough to heal the wounds left on his soul by capitalism. He taps the Start Survey button.
[1. How would (User ID: Mydeimos) rate the personalized aspects of the storyline Kremnos Chapter: Rex Factus Sum?]
He hated it, thanks. “2/10, and half of that is for letting me kill a fictional version of my father.”
Mydeimos doesn’t mention the relief of having Uncle Krateros around. He’s pretty sure the system already knows. Whatever data collection system Kuroverse used, it was invasive enough to know about every person he’d ever failed—Gorgo, his friends from Kremnos, the ragtag group of web surfers he’d fallen in with later on in life—and had summarily given him the chance to fail them all over again as the prince of Castrum Kremnos.
Purely personalization-wise, his afterlife was 10/10. Unfortunately, Mydeimos was not one for being reminded of his life’s trauma at every possible turn, so the system gets a 2/10 for making him watch all but one of his loved ones die again.
[2. How much does (User ID: Mydeimos) enjoy the current system interface? Please rate on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being least and 10 being most.]
“Eight.” The UI is sleek, made to appeal to modern spirits who enjoy a healthy bit of minimalism—which Mydeimos very much is. Sue him. Or don’t, actually. He’s not sure if he can afford a lawyer with his meager savings of 40,000 system credits.
[3. Please select A on this question so we can ensure (User ID: Mydeimos)’s answers are accurate.]
He’s tempted to hit B just for the sake of fucking with the system, but 3,000 credits is 3,000 credits. He hits A, like the weak-willed capitalist wageslave he is. Or that he used to be. The survey window beeps a cheerful tune, then vanishes in a shower of digital confetti.
[Quest loaded! Kuroverse Inc. hopes (User ID: Mydeimos) will enjoy the next installment in Punishing: Tears of Chrysos Z. ]
“My prince!” The doors to his chambers fly open, crashing into the marble pillars on either side with a resounding clang. Mydei jolts under his blanket at the noise; Krateros strides in, waving a crumpled paper in his clenched fist. “Okhema’s Goldweaver taunts us behind a shield of paper and ink,” he spits, “she cordially invites you to meet with her people, alone and without guard . What pathetic cowardice!”
Mydei carefully extracts the letter from his uncle’s hands before the poor thing gets torn to pieces. It starts with standard flowery nothing-burger pleasantries, congratulating him on his successful murder of his father, only to transition abruptly to a request to…join the “flame-chase journey”?
Mydeimos has heard of wife-chasing, bag-chasing, but never chasing a flame. He’s tempted to write back to the Goldweaver and ask her if they’ve considered putting the flame on something that doesn’t move, so they won’t have to chase it. On the other hand, it’s probably some sort of Okheman cultural thing, and he doesn’t want to come off as a racist, insensitive, patricidal crown prince. He may be patricidal, but Mydei would die and go to super hell before he became racist.
“Uncle,” he says, interrupting Krateros’ incensed shouting, “do you know of this ‘flame-chase journey’?”
“My prince, please, you can’t call me Uncle anymore,” the older Kremnoan sighs. “We’re not blood-related. You must consider your standing among the Detachment as the future king.”
Mydei considers his uncle’s words. “So if I become king, then declare that you’re my uncle, can I call you uncle?”
“Oh, for the love of—nevermind.” Krateros mutters, pressing a palm to his temple. “There was a prophecy long ago about the golden-blooded ones reclaiming coreflames from the Titans. The Goldweaver Aglaea and her group of rabble have been following it devotedly.”
Coreflames—that sounds familiar. Mydei’s brow furrows as he searches through his memory for where he’d heard that before. “Oh, like the thing I got from Nikador?” He pulls his one and only five-star boss drop from his inventory window, the teardrop-shaped crystal spinning lazily above his palm.
Krateros freezes, staring wide-eyed at the droplet. “My prince.” Mydei can hear his teeth grinding together. “It would be much appreciated if you would inform us that you inherited the coreflame of Strife .”
“I didn’t really inherit it,” Mydei mumbles sheepishly. “I just kind of…got frustrated when Nikador wouldn’t stop regenerating, so I tore its head off and this popped out.”
His uncle sags, dropping onto the kline besides him. “Only you could say something like that. Okay. And when was this?”
During the system-mandated tutorial quests, where he’d almost died falling off a cliff in the battle arena…but he wasn’t about to tell Uncle Krateros that. In the game, he’d crawled out of the Sea of Souls shortly after defeating Nikador and learning the combat controls, so… “When I was about nine years old? Just before I found you and the Detachment, actually.”
Krateros stares at him. Mydei blinks innocently. “My prince,” he groans, “you have to tell me these things ahead of time. My old heart won’t be able to take it anymore.”
“Sorry,” Mydei says. He doesn’t feel very sorry, seeing as he hadn’t known what a ‘coreflame’ was three minutes prior. Blame the shitty game design, not him.
“So,” Krateros says. “You slew Nikador in the Sea of Souls, crawled out at nine, and found the Detachment.”
Wow, his uncle is really good at story recaps. It’s almost like he’s a dedicated story recap NPC. “That’s correct.”
“And you have never thought to tell us, the Kremnoan Detachment from Castrum Kremnos , which follows the Strife Titan, that you successfully killed and inherited the mantle of Strife from Nikador?”
“Yes.” It’s the objective truth. Gorgo had always taught Mydei that the best way to deal with conflicts was to tell the truth—and then to beat the shit out of people who disagreed with the truth with his fists. “I’ll agree to the Goldweaver’s terms and join the flame-chase, but I must negotiate benefits for the Detachment first. Send word to the stable hands to prepare Kokopo III by tomorrow?”
Krateros flips the forgotten blanket back over Mydei, tucks him in, and hands Mydei his pillow. “You, my prince,” he hisses, “are staying right here , in bed , where the Goldweaver can’t sink her claws into you. And I am going to arrange for full Detachment mobilization in a fortnight.”
“The letter says to come alone?” Mydei feels a bit silly pointing that out under his uncle’s ferocious glare.
“And would you jump off a cliff because a letter told you to?” Mydei is immortal, so he could very well do that without consequence, but he has a feeling Krateros wouldn’t like that response. He shakes his head no, and Krateros’ glare lessens slightly as he stands up. “It’s too dangerous to send you alone, especially since you’re in possession of a coreflame—the very things that the Goldweaver seeks at all costs.”
“But—”
“You are staying here until we all go together, and that’s the end of this discussion.” Krateros stops before the door, and turns back to face Mydei. “Is that understood ?”
Mydei thinks that maybe Krateros would be more willing to let him go alone if he knew Mydei had access to a fully secure personal inventory courtesy of the system, but he also thinks that maybe Krateros would think he’s insane and use that as an excuse to keep him locked up in Castrum Kremnos for even longer if he confessed that. “Sure.”
“Then that’s settled.” Krateros nods confidently. “I’ll be back to inform you when the Detachment is ready to move, my prince. Good night, Mydeimos.” The doors to his chambers slide shut with a soft click.
[Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem prologue complete!
- Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem I: We Who Chase the Flame unlocked.
- (User ID: Mydeimos) has received Credits x100, Traveller’s Advice x2, and Trailblaze EXP x500 as a reward.]
Only 100 credits? Stingy ass system.
Mydeimos stares at the closed doors from where he’s still tucked into his kline, pillow clutched to his chest. On one hand, he really does respect Uncle Krateros and would like to be a good, obedient nephew. On the other hand, he thinks he will die of embarrassment if the entire Kremnoan Detachment walks him to his meeting with the Goldweaver. He feels like a kid going out for his first job interview while his parents insist on tagging along.
Naturally, as a Kremnoan crown prince does, Mydeimos slips out of bed, pulls his armor on, stuffs his mini Chimera plush into his pocket after a moment of consideration, and jumps out the window while nobody is looking.
Kokopo III is a fine steed—Mydei’s favorite steed, ever! Which doesn’t actually mean that much when Kokopo III is his only steed, ever.
Mydei chose Kokopo III for three things: one, he’s a regal-looking dromas. Everybody loves cute dromases, but regal-looking dromases are on another level. Two, Kokopo III is loyal without doubt; Mydei’s seen the dromas kick other soldiers for trying to approach his saddle.
And, last but not least: Kokopo III is fucking fast .
Just before daybreak, they’d snuck out of Castrum Kremnos together, (with surprising stealth, considering Kokopo III is a house-sized dinosaur-dragon-thing) and Mydei had strapped himself into the saddle, wrapped a cloth over his head, and settled in to sleep during the day while Kokopo III navigated to the location the Goldweaver had offered.
The meeting place was well over nineteen quints away, as the dromas ran, but Kokopo III could shorten that to just under nine quints running at top speed. Even if Mydei left Castrum Kremnos at the moment the sun slipped below the horizon, he’d arrive during the day; he doubted his future allies would enjoy being treated to a view of the Kremnoan prince puking his guts out because he saw the sun.
Kokopo III croons softly as Mydei slides off the exhausted dromas’ back.
“Thanks,” he smiles at his dromas. “There should be a pond a little bit past the hills to the west of here. You can relax there; I’ll come find you once I’m done.”
The moon was up and shining brightly in the sky overhead. The Goldweaver hadn’t specified a time for their meeting, but she had implied her people would be there for at least a few days in case Mydei decided to come.
Hanging the fabric of his makeshift sunblock in a nearby tree, Mydeimos stepped past the treeline of the forest and into the clearing proper. There was a small, red-haired child weaving flowers into a crown, who perked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps.
“...are you the Goldweaver?” Mydei doubted it, but it never hurt to ask.
The girl giggled. “No, silly! I’m Tribbie!” She floated (?!) on tiny wings until she was at eye level with Mydei. “It’s good to meet you! Hang on, I’ll go fetch Snowy so you guys can talk about Aglaea’s letter.” Mydei watched incredulously as the young girl opened a portal and zipped through, leaving him alone in the clearing.
“System,” he whispers to the air, “how come the other plot-relevant characters get to do cool shit like fly and open portals , but all I get is half-assed immortality and some red crystals? This is unfair. Preferential treatment. I want to file a complaint.”
[Would (User ID: Mydeimos) like to file a complaint to Kuroverse Inc.?]
“Yes,” Mydei said. “Yes, I would. Don’t use the paid channel.”
[Standard complaint logged! (User ID: Mydeimos) should receive a response within 33550336 working days.
Reminder: upgrading user complaints to premium feedback channel costs only 45.000 credits.]
Stingy ass system. Mydei had half a mind to file another free complaint just for that tacky reminder. Unfortunately, Tribbie was back, hopping merrily through another portal with another person in tow before Mydei could unleash his f2p wrath upon the system.
He turns, ready to introduce himself, and—oh wow . The legs on that man are ridiculous. Mydeimos thinks he could die happy if the stranger choked him with those muscled thighs.
The white-haired man with an absurdly beautiful build smiles, offering a hand in greeting. “Welcome to the outskirts of Okhema, your majesty!” Even his laugh sounds divine. Mydei would pray to Nikador for salvation, but he killed Nikador with his own two hands. “Sorry we couldn’t offer a grander welcome—you know how it is with first meetings.”
Given that Mydei is a former internet-addicted chimera meme animator who died and went to hell, he does not, in fact, know how it is with first meetings. “Mn. I’m Mydeimos, of Castrum Kremnos.” He takes the stranger’s hand in his own, and wishes he wasn’t wearing his gauntlets so he could make skin-to-skin contact with the beautiful man.
The white-haired man looks at him oddly. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, crown prince of Kremnos. I am Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, sent by Lady Aglaea to greet you. I take it you’re willing to join the Flame-Chase Journey?”
“Under a few conditions, yes.”
“And pray tell, what might those conditions be?” Phainon–a beautiful name for a beautiful man–tilts his head. It’s cute, like a confused puppy.
Mydei holds up two fingers. “One, an agreement to allow the Kremnoan Detachment to shelter within the Holy City. Two, to ensure Kremnoans are treated equally within Okhema.”
Tribbie pipes up from where she’s standing. “How about we take this discussion to Lady Aglaea? She’d be delighted to discuss the integration of the Kremnoans into Okhema.”
Mydei frowns. “I’m afraid we’ll have to meet somewhere outside of Okhema.”
“Oh?” Phainon smiles again, though this time it seems less friendly. “Is the great crown prince of Kremnos so unwilling to associate with us Okhemans, despite seeking our aid?”
“It’s not that, it’s just—”
Phainon drops Mydei’s hand harshly. “Or is it that you’re too cowardly to step foot in Okhema City without your royal guard? I never took Kremnoan royalty for cowards.”
“Snowy!” Tribbie shrieks, flitting about in the air. “That’s not nice at all! Apologize!”
“Lady Tribbie, I don’t see why I should apologize to this esteemed crown prince for merely stating my own opinion.” Great. Now Mydei’s gone and pissed off the gorgeous man and maybe jeopardized the safety of his people (and failed the main quest while he’s at it).
As Gorgo once told him: honesty first, then fists.
He holds his hands up in the universal “I’m not a threat” pose. Something, something body language. Mydei doesn’t know, he never studied that kind of stuff.
“I apologize for any perceived insult,” he says carefully. Phainon’s gaze is as cold as ice, and Tribbie seems upset at both of them. “I have nothing against Okhema, or her people. It’s simply that…I can’t go out in the sun. Not without severe side effects.” It’s a half-truth, but it’s close enough.
“Oh!” Tribbie gasps, holding her hands over her mouth. Even Phainon looks taken aback. She flutters closer, taking one of Mydei’s gauntlet-clad hands in both of her own tiny ones. “It’s your flaw, right? That must be so hard… Snowy, apologize already!”
Well. Calling it Mydei’s flaw is certainly one way to describe his heliophobia. He supposes she’s not exactly wrong about it.
Phainon rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and suddenly the charming, puppy-like young man is back. Mydei knew several people who would have killed for code-switching skills like that. Lucky Mydei, though, since the fortune he inherited from his father prevented him from having to get a corporate job.
“Sorry about that,” Phainon says. Charm oozes from every pore of his being; Mydei can see why the Goldweaver sent him on a diplomatic mission, other than his appearance. “Okhema is very dear to me, and I’m afraid I become rather defensive of it.”
Mydei grunts in response, because what else is he supposed to say to that without coming off as a total jackass? “I should be alright indoors, as long as there’s no large windows in the room.”
Tribbie nods. “I got it! I know the perfect place.” She shares a glance with Phainon. “Please, follow us!”
The sensation of passing through a portal—a “century gate”, as Phainon explains—is surprisingly subtle. It’s almost like missing the last step of the stairs on the way down, or a sudden drop where he’d expected to step on solid ground. They’re deposited in a strange space with ruins centered around a basin of liquid and the stars hanging overhead.
“Welcome to the Vortex of Genesis!” Tribbie rushes ahead, striking a pose next to the basin. The water of the vortex ripples where they step, though none of their feet sink into the liquid. “This is where the world began, and where Era Nova will begin once we return all twelve coreflames.”
A blonde woman in an elegant chiton and a timid-looking redhead, nearly identical to Tribbie, are waiting by the basin. “Greetings. I am Aglaea, the Goldweaver and leader of the Chrysos Heirs. Lady Trinnon has already informed me of your request, Prince Mydeimos.”
Mydei nods stiffly. He’s so far out of his depth that it isn’t even funny. “Please, just call me Mydeimos. It’s my pleasure.”
[System has detected that (User ID: Mydeimos) is experiencing elevated levels of anxiety. Would (User ID: Mydeimos) like to purchase a one-use skill <Diplomacy Lv. 1> to assist with the current quest for 10.000 Credits?]
Mydei ignores the screen with some effort. Pop-up ads are the enemy of all, especially when said ads are emblazoned into one’s vision in flashing, hot pink windows.
“Space is available in Okhema for the Kremnoan Detachment to stay. However,” Aglaea says, “the question is if Kremnos is willing to assist in defending Okhema against the Black Tide.”
“Of course.” Mydeimos crosses his arms. “We Kremnoans are not ones to take without giving back. If we are granted refuge in the Holy City, our warriors will surely volunteer themselves for the battlefield—though I must seek your guarantee of equal treatment first.”
Aglaea nods, strands of golden hair bobbing elegantly. “I will without a doubt both petition the civilian council and instruct my Garmentmakers to ensure Kremnoans are treated as fellow citizens in Okhema. You need not worry about your people, Crown Prince.”
Mydei mentally breathes a sigh of relief. Dealing with fantasy racism was not something he wanted to do in his afterlife.
“Now,” Aglaea smiles, “I believe you stated your flaw was sunlight? I’m afraid it’s impossible for us to guarantee complete isolation from the sun here in Okhema, as Kephale’s Dawn Device is our omnipresent defense against the Black Tide. We can, however, have certain streets and alleyways covered in a cloth overhang so it lessens the burden on you.”
“No need,” Mydei waves off her questioning glance. How she’s doing that while very obviously blind, Mydei will never know. He can just put a hood on and look at the ground while walking. “If I may ask, what does the flame-chase entail?”
“The concept is quite simple,” Phainon chimes in. “We claim the Titans’ coreflames, return them here in the Vortex of Genesis, and ascend to become demigods.”
“When Era Nova comes, the world will be remade without the Black Tide,” the shy Tribbie clone—Trinnon?—adds from behind Aglaea.
Okay. So Mydei died, sold his soul to a game company, and now he’s standing here about to devote himself to a doomsday cult that wants to recreate the in-universe creation myth but with more titan murder. That’s fine. It’s not like he’s innocent, after all.
He nods. It’s easy enough to comprehend. “I assume you seek all twelve coreflames?”
“Indeed we do,” Aglaea says. “Though I fear Strife and Death in particular have not been spotted in years; we may have difficulty reclaiming those two coreflames.”
Beside Mydei, Phainon clenches a fist, turning away. Mydei gives him a curious look. Maybe he just doesn’t like Nikador?
He blinks. Right. The reason why Strife hasn’t been seen in years is because Strife is Nikador. And Nikador hasn’t been seen in years because Mydei tore its head off and bathed in its blood before wading out of the Sea of Souls.
“..Mm. About that,” he offers, immediately regretting his decision to speak up when all four other Chrysos Heirs present turn to look at him, “I may…have something to do with Nikador’s disappearance.”
“Oh?” Aglaea makes a contemplative noise. “I had heard of the prophecy surrounding your birth; I suppose it does make some sense that Kremnos’ patron titan would be tied to the fate of its last prince…”
The what now? Mydei is going to choose to ignore the part about a prophecy about his birth. Ignorance is bliss. “It’s not like that,” he shakes his head, reaching into his inventory window to retrieve the coreflame. “When I was in the Sea of Souls, I had an…altercation, of sorts, with Nikador. One that ended in its death.” They don’t need to know he ripped its head off like some kind of savage.
Phainon makes some sort of twitchy, grabby movement with his hands before stilling again. Mydei gives him another curious glance, to which he responds with a soul-piercing stare. Aglaea’s eyes are slightly wider than they were two seconds ago, which Mydei takes as surprise, and Tribbie’s mouth is open in shock.
Trinnon is, surprisingly, the first of them to speak. “...pardon me, but…how old are you?”
Here they go again. It’s Krateros all over again, but with more diplomatic red tape. “I was nine when I encountered Nikador for the first and last time,” he offers.
Mydei’s starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the coreflame. Phainon’s gaze is burning a hole into the side of his head. He turns to face the white-haired man, holding out the coreflame. “Do you…do you want the Strife coreflame?”
Phainon gives him an incredulous look, hands twitching upwards. “Would the mighty crown prince of Kremnos, fated inheritor of Strife, allow this peasant to do so?” …And they’re back to the hostile approach again. What is this, good cop bad cop but with only one cop?
Mydei shrugs. “If you can take it from me, then sure.” The item description does say ‘account-locked’, but he hasn’t tried transferring items to NPCs yet.
“Very well!” Phainon summons a greatsword (?) out of thin air (??) and points it at Mydeimos (???). “I, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, challenge you to a duel! If I win, I will attempt the trial of Strife.”
Mydeimos looks around. For some reason, Aglaea and the two redheads have chosen to watch from a distance; it seems nobody is going to come to rescue him from the crazy (but still very attractive) sword-wielding man. Mydei regrets wanting to be choked by Phainon’s thighs.
He reluctantly pulls his gauntlets out from his inventory, mentally shedding a tear for the metal that had just been fixed from his fight with Eurypon about to be dented to hell and back again. The coreflame he stuffs back into the window unceremoniously.
Phainon circles him like a predator waiting to strike, greatsword at the ready while Mydei cautiously watches the circling man. “What’s the matter, prince?” He sneers. “Too cowardly to make the first strike?”
Mydei has heard of this tactic before. How regrettable, that the eye-candy Phainon preferred provocations and ragebaiting over proper duelling.
He throws an experimental punch, fast but weaker than usual, and Phainon responds with a parry so forceful Mydei can feel his bones rattling from the point of impact. He hops back as Phainon swings his greatsword at Mydei’s ankles.
Wow. Okay. That was rude; Mydei was immortal, yes, but he’s also pretty sure the average swordsman didn’t make a habit of going for the ankles. Mydeimos glares. Two can play at that game.
The next time, when Phainon swings his greatsword at his neck, Mydei ducks low and aims a punch at the swordsman’s knee–only to pivot and target the other man’s crotch with his other fist. Unfortunately, the white-haired man is fast enough to dodge before the strike connects.
Phainon laughs incredulously. “To think the Kremnoan prince would sink so low…!” He hisses as Mydei grabs at the stupid-looking stems of hair sprouting from the top of his head.
“You went for the ankles first!” Mydei yowls as Phainon drops his greatsword and yanks on his braid hard.
“That,” Phainon argues, knocking the both of them onto the floor, “was a legitimate strategical move! It limited your mobility!”
“So was mine!” Mydei smashes his forehead into Phainon’s, and both of them reel back in pain. “You were the one who pulled a sword on me!”
Phainon growls, grabs Mydei by the braid again (what a dirty move), and pushes Mydei onto his back. “What are you talking about? You wanted a duel!”
Mydei lashes out, kicking wildly at Phainon’s chest, and hisses when his ankle is caught in the man’s grip. “When did I do that?!” He wiggles, trapped both by his raised leg trapped by the foot and by Phainon’s weight on his other leg.
“You told me to take the coreflame from you! How was that not a challenge?” Phainon frowns down at him, grunting when Mydei manages to sock him in the shoulder, then grabs both Mydei’s wrists in the hand that isn’t securing the prince’s ankle. “Would you stop that?!”
“I meant for you to just take it from my hand like a normal person,” Mydei spits. “I didn’t expect you to be some kind of battle-crazed maniac!” He thrashes wildly, putting all his strength behind the movements as he twists under Phainon’s hold. The swordsman curses as Mydei manages to break free of his hold, rolling to the side to avoid a vicious kick.
“That’s rich, coming from the prince of Kremnos.” And there it was again, fantasy racism.
Mydeimos frowns, crossing his arms as he glares at Phainon. “Can’t believe you’re racist too.”
Phainon blinks. “I’m what? I don’t race.”
“Hateful towards other races of people. Bigoted towards Kremnoans. Whatever.” Mydei scoffs. “Knew you looked too good to be true.”
Phainon, against all expectations, blushes. “Could you repeat that last sentence? I think I must have misheard you.”
Mydei rolls his eyes, strides over to the man—whose cheeks are tinted gold , what the fuck? It’s probably because Chrysos Heirs have gold blood. He pokes a finger into Phainon’s chest, forcing the slightly taller man to step backwards. “You. Are very good looking. But still racist. And a dickhead who pulled a sword on me.”
Phainon’s face continues to flush gold. He suddenly gasps, eyes widening. “This…I’ve heard about this! Kremnos’ royalty always chooses their partners through fights…oh, Prince Mydeimos, you’re such a flirt!” Mydeimos is suddenly swept into a rib-crushing embrace courtesy of Phainon.
“?” Mydei blinks, flabbergasted. Aglaea stares back at him from the outskirts of the Vortex with an unreadable look in her eyes.
“Of course I’ll marry you!” Phainon is off in his own world, spinning Mydei around in circles while he narrates his imagined version of events. “You know, this body of yours is absurd; I thought you were attractive from the moment we met! The coreflame—that’s just an excuse to get close to me, right? I’ll take it from you properly next time at our wedding.”
Please help, Mydei tries to convey with his eyes.
??? reads Tribbie’s face. Your problem , reads Aglaea’s.
Mydei wheezes in Phainon’s unrelenting grip, clawing at the man’s sides. Phainon is still rambling about something or other. “...we’ll have plenty of children, and with your build and mine they’ll surely be healthy, though I think they’ll look more like me—hey, Mydei, can you get pregnant with my kids? I can’t get pregnant, so it’ll have to be you. We’ll have to find a way to make that happen…”
Mydeimos tunes out of the man’s inane fantasies. He pushes at Phainon’s chest, sucking in a greedy lungful of air before the white-haired man is crushing Mydei in his hold again. “Just take the coreflame—” he wiggles a hand out from between their chests, pulls the damned item out, and shoves it at Phainon’s face.
Phainon catches it in one hand, grins at Mydei, and leans in while Mydei thrashes in his hold. “You’re too kind, my prince! What a lovely engagement gift~ Now hold still!” He leans in closer, lips puckered, and Mydei stares in horror as they approach. He closes his eyes, grimacing.
The feeling of finally being released from Phainon’s death grip is freeing, and Mydeimos stumbles to his feet with the assistance of some golden threads looped around his arm as Phainon is pulled away from him by more of the same threads. The white-haired man pouts where he’s strung up by the arms, still holding the coreflame in his hand.
“I do believe that’s quite enough,” Aglaea chuckles. “Young love is endearing, but I’m afraid our dear prince has other matters to attend to.”
Mydei cocks his head. He doesn’t remember arranging anything else, and he can’t think of anything that might warrant his immediate attention. “Did my dromas follow us?”
“I think it’s better if you take a look for yourself,” Aglaea says. “Teacher, if you will?”
“On it!” Tribbie opens a Century Gate. “This way, De!”
When Mydei passes through to the other side, he finds himself under the shade of a massive city gate. Wincing, his gaze darts down to the floor.
“Oh, sorry! I guess I should have warned you…” Tribbie shuffles sheepishly. “But look over there!” She guides his eyes with a pointed finger. Far off in the distance, a large group of armored individuals carrying red banners is marching rapidly towards Okhema.
A large group of individuals that look to be Kremnoan-armed, and carrying the crests of Castrum Kremnos.
“Fuck,” Mydei groans, before remembering there’s a child next to him. “Sorry. It’s my uncle. He didn’t want me to come out on my own, and I guess he got here sooner than expected.”
“No worries!” Tribbie chirps, smiling. “We all make our mistakes. Do you want to go over and tell him you’re okay?”
“That’d be much appreciated.” Mydei looks around; the Detachment is marching over an open field at the moment, no shade to be seen. “Could you find some kind of cloth or hood for me?” Tribbie nods and speeds off as fast as her little wings can carry her.
He can see Uncle Krateros at the front of the Detachment, atop a very familiar dromas. It seems Kokopo III found the Detachment. He’s shouting something— “...prince! Our…Mydeimos! You scoundrels…cowards!” Honestly, it’s impressive Krateros can still shout so loud at his age. Mydei feels a bit flattered that his uncle’s willing to go that far for him.
“De! Is this alright?” Tribbie has returned with a length of rich red fabric in hand. At his nod, she helps him wind it over his head and around his neck so that it’s providing a bit of shade over his face. “I’ll help you get over there.” She takes him by his hand, and there’s the familiar feeling of passing through a Century Gate again.
The Detachment instantly spots the newcomers, metal clanging and leather rustling as they ready their weapons. “Halt!” Krateros cries from somewhere above Mydei’s field of vision. “A holy maiden of Janusopolis? If you’ve come to stop us from razing Okhema, give up now. We won’t stop until our prince is returned.”
“He’s right here,” Tribbie says cheerfully. “De explained his issues with the sun already, so we had to bring him indoors to meet.” She nudges Mydei forwards. “We had a lovely time meeting you, De! See you again soon!” A last, quick hug and she’s gone with a flutter of wings.
“Prince Mydeimos?” There’s the clanking of buckles and the sound of boots hitting the dirt. Krateros closes the distance between them in fast, long strides, each step startling a new cloud of dust into the air. “The tent, the tent. Quickly!” Fabric rustles, soldiers scrambling to break the dry earth with the tent poles and drape heavy fabric over them.
“Thank Nikador you’re safe.” He makes to undo Mydei’s makeshift hood, patting Mydei’s arms to check for injuries, and pauses when he sees the fading bruise Phainon’s grip had left on his wrists.
Krateros makes a questioning noise. “Don’t,” Mydei says quietly.
“...hmph. Shall we make camp here, my prince?”
They’re still just within the light of the Dawn Device, though Okhema is relegated to merely a series of high walls jutting over a faraway hill. Kremnos must be at least several hours’ march away, and the soldiers would most definitely not appreciate marching back after rushing to Okhema. Mydei nods.
A duo of footsoldiers haul his kline over (???), grunting under its weight. They snap to salute Mydei, and one shakes his hand enthusiastically. “It’s an honor to meet you, my prince! We’ll make those dirty Okhemans pay for kidnapping you!”
“They didn’t actually—” and the soldiers are gone in a rush. Nobody here cares for the truth, Mydei bemoans as he reluctantly sits down. The kline is soft, because he requested it be made that way, and it makes him irritated at how the softness saps his anger.
Krateros has waved a handful of servants over; Mydei recognizes them as the chefs, brewers, and maids from the Kremnoan palace. Did the Detachment bring all of Kremnos with them on the way? They serve cheeses and fruits on a table delivered by a hassled-looking woman, who runs off to do Nikador knows what.
“So,” Krateros says, arms crossed, “I’m sure you have something to say to me.” He’s still standing, and rather imposingly at that. Mydei is starting to think that this is some sort of interrogation.
Mydeimos reaches for a grape. Krateros stares at him the entire time, and it’s definitely one of the top ten most uncomfortable moments of Mydei’s life.
“...did you bring all of Kremnos with you?” There is a full mobile kitchen being assembled nearby, and Mydei thinks he sees what may be the entire contents of Kremnos’ grain reserves being carted around by a stocky dromas.
“No,” his uncle says. “Just most of Kremnos. When the crown prince goes missing in the middle of the night , one must take certain precautions.”
Mydei winces. “Sorry, Uncle Krateros.”
Krateros sighs, covers his eyes. “You are going to be the death of me someday. Stop running off without telling us things, my prince.”
“I did tell you I was going to accept the Goldweaver’s proposal,” Mydei points out.
“And I told you to stay while I readied our people to march.”
“How did you manage to get here so fast?” If the Detachment only started marching after Mydei left, then it surely would have taken them much longer to arrive.
Uncle Krateros fixes him with a deadpan look. “Do you really think I believed for even a second that you wouldn’t run off as soon as my back was turned? This is the fourth time you’ve snuck off against my explicit wishes. I rallied the Detachment before showing you the letter.” …fair.
Mydei puts on his best I’m-just-a-little-guy face. It’s always worked on Uncle Krateros, and it shouldn’t fail him now. “I got us refuge in Okhema.”
Krateros looks like he’s about to give up on life. “Sure, my prince. Let’s just march back to Castrum Kremnos, fetch the rest of our things from the fortress, return to the Holy City with the extra burden, and settle there. Was that your plan?”
“Well,” he says carefully, “I was thinking more along the lines of settle the people first, then take a group of warriors and dromases to move the remaining cargo to Okhema.” Contrary to popular belief, Mydei does, in fact, consider the logistics of moving a several-thousand-person force across a continent.
His uncle casts an unreadable gaze over him and nods. Hopefully in a good way. Mydei has no idea. “The Detachment awaits your command, crown prince Mydeimos.”
He steps forwards, a hand shooting out towards Mydei’s head—a movement which makes him flinch, and he knows Krateros noticed despite the amount of effort Mydei had spent training himself to hide it—and ruffles Mydei’s hair.
Mydei freezes. Today has contained more affectionate touching than the past twelve years of his life combined.
And then Krateros walks away as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. What the hell.
[Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem I: We Who Chase the Flame complete!
- Era Nova Chapter: Ad Solem II: Those Who Seek the Tides unlocked.
- (User ID: Mydeimos) has received Credits x100, Traveller’s Advice x2, and Trailblaze EXP x500 as a reward.
- Bonus objective [Make a positive first impression on the Deliverer.] achieved! (User ID: Mydeimos) has received Item, Relic: <Dolos’ Purr-fect Kitty♡Cat Princess> Head Piece (5☆).
- Hidden objective [Make a positive first impression on the Goldweaver.] achieved! (User ID: Mydeimos) has received Item, Relic: <Dolos’ Purr-fect Kitty♡Cat Princess> Body Piece (5☆).]
Mydei turns slowly to where the system is setting off non-stop confetti effects. “No. You cannot be doing this to me.”
True to its name, the “Dolos’ Purr-fect Kitty♡Cat Princess” artifact set pieces are cat-themed. And not just cat-themed; it’s a Nikador-damned cat ear headband and faux tail, complete with frilly ribbon lace where it’s meant to mesh with his body and a giant, golden bell on the tail part.
He opens the stat menu with a trembling hand. If any titan is benevolent, then the set pieces will somehow be worse than the four-star relics he currently has equipped…
They’re not. The titans have forsaken him.
“Can I claim my reward from the Kremnos Chapter now?”
[(User ID: Mydeimos) may choose one “Modern Conveniences” item of choice to receive as a reward. > INPUT KEYWORD <]
“I would like to receive my Fig Stew plush,” he says. It’d been a very nice, custom-made chimera plush based off his animated series, and it was very good emotional support. Which he definitely needed.
[Item: Fig Stew plushie is not within Category: Modern Conveniences. Kuroverse Inc. has not obtained the permissions to replicate this IP ingame. (User ID: Mydeimos) may choose another item.]
“System. System. I’m the IP holder. I say yes. What do you mean you haven’t secured the permissions?”
[Please contact external IP holder for further information.] The window flashes aggressively, as if it’s somehow Mydei’s fault for not giving the game company the rights to his chimera characters before he died.
There is no plushie to be found. Mydeimos despairs.