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Chapter Text

Owen Keldor turned into Owen Agarci the first day he had ever shot a demon.

Since that day, he had grown and grown into something that others would undoubtedly claim that he could be called the pinnacle of Humanity- What Defines Humanity? (Owen had gone through too many drafts for this.)

Humanity- this can be branched off into different subjects.

For those who enjoy linguistics, it’s the ability to communicate. The ability to express complex thoughts that build our civilizations and command our armies. I talk, therefore I am.

Philosophy lovers may say it’s the ability to reason, to love, to feel. To have a moral compass, to understand, to empathize or to sympathize. Humanity’s Moral Structure is what makes us Human.

Math– It’s again, the ability to reason, but more so on the ability to be rational . The ability to use the process of elimination, rather than base instincts and selfish wants and/or needs. To be Human is to be rational.

For those who enjoy the arts, to be Human is to be able to have the ability to express into physical form. Complex thoughts, not turned into words or a way to communicate, but more so in touch with a primal part of ourselves, to take on the roles of creators, and to act as a muse. Artists believe that to be Human is to be able to be Ourselves and be able to express Ourselves through this. Then… To be Human is to be able to Escape.

Religious people would believe that to be Human is to have a soul. Animals do not have a soul- this is what distinguishes us from pigs. A Human in a desperate situation may eat like a pig, but a Pig in a civilized situation will never eat like a Human. The fact that we, as Humans, have souls, is the sole reason that we are different.

Owen… Likes to believe all of them. In one way or another.

It’s broad for him, and he hasn’t been able to think about it too much for… Well, since he came back from the War.

But he’s been taking his moral compass into thought, and his personal beliefs and ideologies.
What makes me Human?
What makes them Not Human?
Why am I any more Human than They are?

Why is his identity built off of the ideals of Humanity as a whole?

He’s no martyr- as much as he would have wanted to be when he was younger.

But why does this matter so much to Owen?

…The experience with that demon Agarci…Was something that Owen can’t simply brush off.

Regardless, the war was won, Owen was deemed a hero, and then promptly thrown out like a used tool. At least they weren’t stupid enough to make him go without any rehabilitation, or else he might have done something terrible. Like more war crimes.

(They technically didn’t count as war crimes, only because the Demons weren’t precisely Humans.)

So, now he lives in an isolated village, untouched by war (physically- rumors spread) and he is actually… Revered, not for his actions in the past, but what he does in the present.



…Actually, he just moved here. The older ladies just really like him. Older folk in general?



“Oh, let me help with that!” Martha insists, one of the ladies that had taken a liking to him. “You just moved here after all- it must have been difficult!”

Owen laughs sheepishly. What did he do to make them like him off the bat? Did he do anything? “Mrs. Astor, I can take care of myself, but I truly appreciate the gesture. Not to worry, I’m skilled at this kind of thing.” He says, moving the boxes back and forth easily. He’s almost done moving them from the carriage, thank goodness for that.

Another elder pops up. Martha’s friend’s husband, it seems.
“Psh, youngsters! Despite my age, I can still hold a box–” The box Mr. Beaumont was about to carry was a box containing all of his weapons. Owen snatches it away, laughing it off.

“Please, it isn’t a big deal.” he says smoothly, as they finish the last of it.


Owen likes this new life. All the blood on his hands, he’s… Done whatever he could have done, paid his respects, swore an oath. Sure, he earned medals, but he’s not exactly worthy of them as much as he wished he would have been in the past.

(Strangely enough, the war didn’t seem to last for long. After that, it was easily solved, the Humans gaining their share of some resource they were fighting over. What a big deal over… Nothing. Was this all he was fighting for? Simple surrender after five years of fighting? Of course it’s still long, but compared to other wars that his father had described…)


His cottage- close enough to have neighbors, far enough that it takes at least thirty minutes to walk to each of them. The village was actually a shorter walk, only fifteen minutes, compared to the houses around him.

“...Hm. I’ve noticed that this village is surrounded by forest?” Owen notes, as he and his posse of old people (his people, ha!) go back to the village.

“Oh, the forest? Don’t go in there willy-nilly- it’s cursed.” Mrs. Cedar answers him… Kind of.

Owen blinks. A curse? He echoes his confusion out loud.
Mrs. Astor (Martha, she insists on him calling her that, but he refuses) picks up from where her friend had left off, a storytelling expert it seems.




This village of ours, Aurora’s village, is named after where the most Northern Lights are actually seen, at least, within our southern-ness within Human territories. But it’s not just called Aurora’s village for no reason.

See, there once was a wanderer, a nomad of sorts. After spending 4 nights and 4 days here, blessing our crops, inspiring our village, this person set off a celebration. Hmmm. Seemed wealthy– this Human must’ve just had that money, we all supposed. 

A festival happened the day before the wanderer had left. Afterall, it seemed that great luck came upon all of us within the span of this mysterious individual being here. This is where our other part of Aurora’s village comes from–

Because our festivities were so beautiful, during the night even, the stars glowed with approval, and as if we were blessed , Northern Lights shone like never before. Fireworks went off, drinks were shared, and most importantly…

The forest was empty.

See, the festivities woke up everyone within the area– including the long thought dead myths. Legends of Fae, rumors of Angels, you name it! 

…After that, there really isn't much known about the story. The myths returned to being myths, and never seen again. Perhaps there was an encounter that changed the opinions of all the Creatures of the Forest.

"But that's the idea of where our village's name came from. It's what we tell the children." Mrs. Astor says wistfully.

Owen hums in acknowledgement. "...What about Demons? Are they in the forest too?"

"Who knows? Who cares? The war is over. Speaking of, you must've been enlisted. This village was too far and unable to provide support for the war at the time, but you came from the capital, no?"

Owen paused. "... I was just looking for a fresh start." Avoiding the question expertise, +10 XP…

"Fresh start? Oh, do you need anything to do? Job hunting? In that case, you seem like you have plenty of muscle, why not help with some of the farms here…?"

…

To be human is to eat.

This was one of the things that Owen decides, the village handing out food. Food is a staple of all living beings, one thing we all need to survive.

"I can't possibly accept all of this food…" Owen trails off, the welcome baskets practically overflowing with meats, bread, cheese, vegetables and fruits, and glasses of milk.

"Please! The least we can do as neighbors." It even came with gardening tools?! "Relax, just take the gift, boy!"

Owen hesitantly takes the baskets, a little heavy under all the weight. It must have been hard to drag them all here, they're thirty minutes away!

"Thank you." He says resolutely. "I'll pay you all back, some time."

"Psh, don't even think about it! You're… what, in your mid twenties? There's nothing to worry about except to live your life at your prime!"

Hmm. Living his life? He probably should.

"Thank you." He says again, truly appreciative.

Owen decides to do the tasks given to him.

His cottage is just about set up– his bed is in order, he has everything he needs if he ever wanted to cook (he hasn't ever cooked properly in his life…), and he has plenty of extra space all to himself.

…He read from some sort of tip in a newspaper that covering empty space with plants is the easiest thing to do?

It feels so satisfying. To relax like this– when did he last do this?
…When he was unable to pick up a weapon, that’s when.

Owen lazes around on a rocking chair, reading one of the random books the Empire had given him. It’s fantasy– one of the many genres of books that his father hated him reading.
…It’s just for fun, anyway. And he’s not here to see…
It’s also very obviously marketed towards children. Owen’s starting to think the Vespers truly wanted to just get him out of the capital. He’s not complaining though.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices movement in the backyard of the cottage (which is, namely, mostly forest) and decides to investigate.

A grumble in his stomach indicates his hunger. We’ll save that for later– probably.
He doesn’t think much to grab a weapon of any kind, but he opens the glass door and peeks his head out, looking through the verdant scenery. “...Hello?”

Now that Owen opened the door, he can hear the faint rustling that comes from the bushes that came with the cottage. Probably just bunnies or something. Hmm, that’s kind of cute.

Further inspection says that it is not just a rabbit. It’s a living, Human Looking, very real person.

“...?!” Owen steps outside, closing the door, and upon making further action, the figure rolls away (leaves stuck to their shirt) and Owen could only catch the deadest looking onyx colored eyes he has ever seen.

…

+ Information. Name: (???)(???). Species: Human (?)
—>> Bond, ??% // What Makes You Human, x-tra!!

Well, alright. He’ll just accept it (as paranoid as he is now, panicking if someone is watching him?!?!) because it’s not (it really is??) that big of a deal.

…



“What…Happened, exactly?” An echo-y voice enunciates very clearly throughout the forest, silencing the usual chatter of the trees and wind.

Hanging on a solid tree branch like a Cheshire cat, it blinked. “Woah–oh, Ell-oh-weeze got spotted!!”

Huffing and covered from head to toe in a multitude of leaves, dirt, and flower petals, ‘ell-oh-weeze’ shot a glare. “I don’t go by that name anymore.”

Really now? A sly grin creeped up on its face, tilting its head as it started picking leaves off of its branch one by one.

“Really now. Just stop it. I thought that the place was abandoned still, and I was going to collect my herbs! I hid them in the basement– if that Human finds it, I’ll be damned!”

“Human…?” The echo-y voice says, as the blank eyed human (?) glances at the higher being.

“You’ve never actually seen one, have you?” She muses, scratching the back of her head. “Yeah, Human. I haven’t seen one in ages , despite staying in the forest for so long. Ugh, and the others had things in the basement too!”

“What’s-a happening now?” A smaller figure enters the conversation, her friend following soon behind.

“Silly-Soup got her things lost!” cackled the branch-figure. It throws one of the leaves towards ‘Silly-Soup’ as she reciprocates by flipping it off.

“I didn’t lose them, I just can’t access them anymore!”

“My cards !!” gasped the second of the new arrivals. “And my hat !!!”

“You’ll survive.” Soup dryly says.

“ My cards!! My hat!! ” they lamented further. How am I supposed to perform now?!

“Figure something out.” Soup shrugs. “But my potions on the other hand…” She narrows her eyes, glaring at the direction of the cottage.

“Oh, wait, what about my flowers?! I worked hard on growing them with- with-!”

“My tricks are gone !!”

“Shshshee! That’s why we don’t put things in the seemingly abandoned but still well kept house!”

“What is a house??”

“For goodness’ sake… I’ll ask for help to take all of our stuff out later.”




.........

I - Afterglow end.

Chapter Text

Owen is being watched.
Okay, this, he anticipated. Since that interaction with that… Weird-eyed person, he had zero idea if the Capital was just messing with him.

Turns out, there’s people in the forest.
(It doesn’t help at all with his paranoia… Hopefully they aren't so bad.)

The people in the forest aren’t really… Mean. Owen speculates that they’re some mythical creature- or, in general, Not Human.

(What Defines Humanity?)

Owen takes a glimpse of the forest surrounding him from the window, leaning against his kitchen counter, sipping some of his coffee. It was a nice brand, sure, but he grimaces due to the sweetness.
Sweets were something he used to like when he was young, but he’s gotten… Well, he’s not used to them anymore.

Anyways, back to the forest people. He can feel eyes on him (a common feeling during the war, when he was leading and when he won the battles-) but it’s not Normal. Does that make sense?

They’re not Normal. Nothing in that forest is Normal.

As Owen finishes his morning coffee (never ever adding that much sugar again, bleh) he changes into something more appropriate– he needs to go to the village to buy some food.

The Capital sends him money monthly, for his service, and also to keep him out of there– funny, he’s been thrown out like a tool. He’s not just a tool to throw out but–

As much as Owen is a fighter, he can’t just take revenge if he wanted to. It’s better to forgive, right?

…Right.

He just wants to live in peace now, so that’s what he’ll do.

Setting off for his expedition for groceries, he grabs a couple of baskets and a wagon. More like a suitcase, really, but it’s just generally easier and more convenient.

He doesn’t feel the eyes leave him, even when he’s at the village.


“Fresh produce!”
“Meat! Get your–!”
“Freshly baked bread! On sale!”
“-Fished just earlier last night! Preserved–”

So it was busy.
Owen tucked loose hairs behind his ear, scanning the area for what he needed. After quickly purchasing eggs, bread, and some meat, he looks for other foods that he could possibly need.

Wandering about, he looks for some rice. He’s decided that the first step to living a peaceful life is to learn how to be domestic- ergo, cooking.
He’s never cooked with it before… What does rice even go well with??

He also scans the area for any sign of potatoes- or carrots? Or… Vegetables in general. He could buy fish, it’s not like the Capital was being stingy with money. They were being really generous in fact, so…

“-Ack!!”

Owen trips over someone’s foot, saving the food, but he looks over to see who it was. Not like he’s going to pick a fight, but…

He should have sensed someone really nearby. How could a person just sneak by him? His senses were honed even before the war–

“Oh, sorry!” A young voice rings out apologetically.

In the middle of a busy village, Owen took in the appearance of a…

…Hella shady guy?

+ Information. Name: (???)(???). Alias: ‘Hella Shady Guy.’ Species: Human (???)
—>> Bond, ??% // Hidden Status (?)

“Are you okay? Oh gosh, I didn’t make you drop anything, right? Oh, they’re all in there… No eggs were broken though?”

The ‘hella shady guy’ was a cloaked young man, judging by his build, it seems he exercises. Hikes? Perhaps. In reality, this guy looked so… Normal. So very Normal, Owen isn’t surprised this guy went under his radar.
Except… He is. Because if someone was really Normal, they would have been on the radar…

Owen narrows his eyes suspiciously. It’s not a huge change in his appearance, so he doesn’t look like he’s scrutinizing, but this normal guy…

It looks straight up like something familiar.

“It’s fine, nothing broke.” Owen brushes it off with a smile. “What about you? Are you alright?”

“Um–!” the guy chuckled nervously, like he'd been caught doing something. “No, I mean yes! I’m fine.” He brushes it off as well, waving a hand.

Owen briefly notices a slight slip in the–

In the illusion.

He blinks. “Wait a se–”

“Bye, sorry, bye!!” The figure took off, the brown cloak waving through the speed that the young man was running at. Owen swore that he saw a glimpse of a demon tail from the failing illusion.

That guy…! He isn’t Human. Couldn’t ever be. He would recognize one from one glimpse.

Demons.


…



“Are you kidding me?!”

Birds squawked and flew away, the tone sharp and piercing.

“I was- I was just curious! And look, I’m safe, aren’t I?”

“You spent long enough for him to probably identify you! The illusion was gone when you came back. I thought you were good at hiding!”

“Hey, hey, hey. The cloak hid most of it!”

“Yes, the cloak hid those horns from your head, the tail behind you, and your red eyes? I don’t think so.”

“...Hey!”

“You need to take better care of yourself! Or, well, prioritize your safety first! What would He say?”

The younger one flinched. “Um… To be careful.”

“Yes, to be careful!”

A pause.

“Just… Think, a bit. Before you do something idiotic.”

“Yes ma’am…”


…



The arrow shot perfectly into the middle.

Owen never shot certain types of bows– barebow was necessary, it was what he used during the War. Before that too.

…He doesn’t think he can go back to barebow after this.

Like, literally. Using a sight– a tool used to aim– has been so much easier for him. He’s learned the gist, but he’s never put it to practice. Because he knew how to shoot a barebow, every other knight or general assumed quickly that he could just shoot a recurve– a completely (kind of) different kind of bow, mind you!

…Well, he’s practicing both, to not get rusty.

He’s deliberately not shooting in the direction of the forest, in case anything in there thinks that he’s being hostile. He’s not, he swears! He’s a changed man now.

Humans are adaptable. That’s like, one of the biggest traits of being human.

Okay, next, he’s absolutely asking the Capital to send him a compound bow, if that’s any easier than what he has now.

Maybe even a gun! Owen can use guns!!

…Okay, maybe not in an isolated area.

Actually, yes, in case the forest-people are actually really hostile… Ehh…

The eyes haven’t left him since… Ever. There was a momentary pause between meeting the shady guy and walking back home (home!), and he could barely sleep a wink because of it.

Hopefully it gets better the next day. In the meantime, he’ll just shower and rest. Read a book– the next day, he’ll probably do some deep cleaning.



It doesn’t get better.

Owen’s been losing too much sleep, and he literally cannot take it anymore.

He’s held off cleaning for too long, and he can barely focus on reading anymore. He’s just been stress-cooking, delivering it to neighbors, and repeating. Hell, he’s probably mastered the art of cooking by now. He just needs to know how to bake!

He might demand a long talk for whoever (or whatever? whatever.) is watching him, because he’s seriously unsettled.

Going to the backyard, chugging a coffee down (a skill he’s recently learned because of the sleep loss), and offering some buttered bread on a foldable table (used for camping, which he’s never really done, but he basically did during the war…) he throws his note on the plate, and stomps away.

The eye feeling doesn’t go away that day.


…


“What’s that?” The entity squints using one of their many eyes.

“...Huuuh?” Soup tilts her head. Is this a cryptic cryptid thing?

“In front of the forest.” Simple question, simple answer.

Soup stares blankly at them (her stares are always blank, ever since… It doesn’t matter) and asks for an explanation.

“...Oh. Ah, I forgot Humans can’t See.”

“Not Human.”

“...Slipped my mind as well.”

Humming, they Look back. “It’s… It has a note. I can’t read though.”

“...You can’t read?”

“No. Only in Celestial, and I’ve only recently learned two other languages.”

“...Er… Right.” Soup hesitantly nods. She blinks. “Are you telling me to go read it?”

“...”

“I can’t read minds, you know.”

They tilt their head. “No? But, isn’t it your–”

“Oh, a figure of speech. But also literally for you– happy for that, because I think I’d go insane.” Soup groans. “Okay, okay, I’ll go take a look. It's a what again?”

The being gestures. Circle. Object on circle. Square on circle.

“...Got it.” Soup huffs. Is it gonna be that easy to find?


It was really that easy to find.

She felt the angel watch her as she examined it. She glanced at the house– no one watching her there. She takes the plate back.

“Satisfied?”

“Mn. What does it read?”

“You mean, what does it say?”

“A note can’t talk.”

“...Right.” Soup clears her throat. “Dear People parentheses-question mark- parentheses of the forest. Stop Watching Me. Exchanging this bread with butter for a moment of peace. I haven’t slept in days. Please. Scribble scribble scribble, Owen Agarci.” She reads aloud, a perfect imitation of Owen’s voice. She turns to the angel to speak–

And… The bread is gone. She blinks at them. They blink back.

“...Well, I was going to say to check whether it’s poisoned, but–”

“Hm.” Pause. “It’s… Human.”

“It’s human? Yes, the guy is human.”

“...No, it tastes Human.”

“Like… Krow-type it tastes human, or…?”

The angel doesn’t elaborate. Soup doesn’t want to know.


…



No eyes. New record. The bread and butter really worked!!

Oh, Owen is so hungry.

Finally, he can eat, breathe, and sleep in peace. Read all he wants, laze about all he pleases–

And it comes back in full force.

The Gaze feels eager, if anything. It seemed the food worked, so he groaned to quickly whip another bread and butter up, running to put the plate back.
(Whatever it was took his paper plate.)

The Gaze was gone again. Okay, so probably a daily offering now. Great.
(He really hopes there isn’t a deity in the forest… How awkward would it be to ask them to get out of his lawn?? Or backyard, for that matter.)

Okay, back to his problem–
He’s hungry!
After making some soup (thank you mother for the recipe book… it shall be used with great care…) he hums, pleased with the result. Potatoes, a couple other vegetables, etc. Hell, he’ll boil some eggs too! Ahahaha… Hahahaha!!!

…Ah, it tastes so good. A refreshing taste of food without Something watching you…

Speaking of weird instances, he has to think about the sketchy guy that he bumped into.

(He swore it was… It didn’t look like how they typically looked on the battlefield, though…)

Finishing his soup and washing the dishes, he decides to deep clean the house.
…Well…
Okay, sure, he doesn’t actually, he gets everything he needs ready. That’s the same thing, right?
(Plus, it’s almost night- his bedtime! He’s not going to clean when his bedtime is approaching!)
(...He doesn’t have a bedtime… Considering his messed up sleep schedule already, he may as well…)

…First night in forever to be without the Gaze, right?? So, that’s his reason to sleep.



The next day, he found a basement.

It was surprisingly well hidden, too. (A sneaking suspicion that the Forest People were involved…) Owen didn’t know what to make of it.

His… Childhood residence had a basement, he was born into a family with enough wealth to support multiple floors in one building. This one’s a little different, though. It’s like his previous attic, but going downstairs.

A ladder, with an ivory colored trapdoor. It blended in with the floors of this room.

Owen goes down quietly, mostly out of habit. It’s better than making a ruckus, though. He prefers it a lot more over making a bunch of noise.

Landing on the floor, he could spot a lot of dust (more to clean…!) and…

Very clean looking chests, filled to the brim with things like… Plushies?

What a peculiar shape. Owen thought.

Something crashed into the wall. Owen flinched, and instinctively reached for his side where his sword used to be.

“Who goes there?” He says, voice assertive.

“Holy ffff–!” The voice nearly swears. An accent, he notes. “How did I not notice befo…? Wait, that’s not the problem.” The figure shrouded in darkness shook their head, stepping forward into the dim light.

Owen’s eyes lit up with recognition. “You-! You’re the person who was in my bushes!”

The ‘bush person’ scoffs. “And you’re the person who isn’t supposed to be here. You know this is our stuff, right?”

Owen blinks. “Our??”

“...What? Oh, shit.”

“Language?? And our???”

“Listen, that doesn’t matter, it’s just-! Come on, this would be a great time if Ayngel was Looking–!”

“Huh?? Are the chests yours??? Why are you breaking and entering into my home??? Have you been doing this the whole time?? Wait, the basement window was right by those bushes you came out of– you broke into my house???”

“Oh, above the stars!” The dim light provided Owen some ability to see the figure. Although, he’s already seen them before… It’s a clearer view. A kind of chestnut brown hair reaching shoulder length, practical clothing with jars hanging on a fanny pack which is hanging over their shoulder, and…
Well, the strikingly dead eyes.

After the two recover from this sudden interaction, Owen feels the oppressive feeling of the Gaze again.

“...So, you’re from the forest.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s more of you.”

“Mn.”

“Demons?”

“Does it matter?” The figure (who introduced herself as ‘Soup’) tilted her head, frowning slightly.

“...I suppose not.” Owen mimics the frown. “And there’s more of you??”

“I just answered that, didn’t I?”

“...Right. Are you Human?”

Soup blinks in surprise. “...Huh??”

Owen asks again, as blunt as before. “Are you Human?”

“...Take a wild guess.”

“I’m asking.”

“I’m not obligated to answer.” Soup shrugs (annoyingly) and she smiles slyly. “Guess.”

Thoughts raced through Owen’s mind. Appearance wise, she appeared practically Human in every way. What’s the criteria– where’s his list??

Alright, he’s remembered. The options:

1. Can the person in question communicate complicated emotions through words?

Yes. Not only through language, jokes plus sarcastic tones and all, but also through body language.

2. Does the person in question have a moral compass/any semblance of compassion?

Yes. Mentioning friends– can one have friends without caring? Not for a long time, at least, and Soup seems very familiar with these people.

3. Is the person in question rational enough like a Human would be?

Yes. Not resorting to the primal instincts of when Humans evolved from apes, or whatever this Soup person came from. They are having civilized conversations as civilized people.

4. Can this person express their thoughts through art? (e.g. comedy, visual arts, dramatic arts, etc…)

How is Owen supposed to test that ??

5. Does the person in question have a soul?

…How is Owen supposed to know that either ????


All in all, Soup seems to fit into all (most) of the categories.

But it (she) overall feels very, very wrong.


“...”

Soup looks very amused, expression changing with Owen’s every thought. “You’re thinking.”


“I’m thinking hard .”


“Thinking hard, or hardly thinking?” Soup blinks. “Wait, why am I entertaining this? I need to take the stuff back!” Soup shuffles through the (slightly cramped) basement to grab the chest–

“Woah, no way you can take it out from the small window.” Owen says, alarmed. “That’ll damage my window, and then snakes and bugs can come in! It’ll be a hazard during winter too–”

“Are you serious? That’s all you can worry about?” Soup scoffs, pushing past to grab the chests.

“...You can’t lift those alone! There’s so many!”

“Four chests.”

“Four chests!” Owen glared at the human (?).

“I can handle four chests.” Soup rolled her eyes, lifting one of the chests and–

“You’re going to breakthewindow,waitstop–!! ” Owen nearly shrieked.

“Okay Sherlock, what do you want me to do?!”

“Use?? The way?? I came in???” Owen looked at her, gesturing to the very open and very big hatch.

“...You’re going to kidnap me.” Soup declares, about to throw the chest again –

“Are you serious, just–” Owen hisses, taking one of the chests. It’s filled with… What, a crossbow, some arrows, too many decks of cards-?

“Do NOT touch that-!!” Soup hisses, and Owen nearly screams as he sees an arm ?!

Owen stared at Soup, mouth agape.

“You’re not Human.” He says resolutely. “Nothing from that forest is.”

“Congrats, here’s a cookie- okay, give it back!”

“This is most definitely illegal?”

“Why do you care for laws???”

“I’m a veteran!”

“...Oh, that demon and human war?”

“Ah. Well, yes?’

Soup narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she said, “Keldor.”

Owen blankly stared. “How do you know that last name– you know what? Forget I ever asked.” He huffs.

“You’re serious about helping me?”

“Yes???”

“Huh.”

With enough coaxing, Owen and Soup brought all the chests upstairs without breaking any windows.

“Not so hard, was it?” Owen grinned, laughing as he dusted his hands off. Soup rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever. I’m bringing these back, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“We’re brushing off that arm?” Owen squinted.

“We’re brushing off that arm.” Soup confirmed.

“...Seriously?”

“They aren’t preserved body parts. Um. Well, technically they are , but not Human body parts. If that makes sense?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, okay.”



And with that, Soup leaves. The Gaze leaves with her, and Owen swears that those dead beady eyes might be haunting his nightmares already.

Chapter Text

Owen gives whatever in the forest soup for the week.

It’s very funny. Owen hopes that Soup gets the soup reference.

…Also strangely enough, he feels like seeing them again. Whatever’s in the forest, he’s curious.

He also has to plan his days better– Owen’s sure that he’s losing the passage of time the more he spends in his cottage, holed up and all.


Mondays – Draft Letters, Practice Archery, Read, Clean

Tuesdays – Partake in a New Hobby, Practice Archery, Read, Cook for Neighbors

Wednesdays – Finish Letters, Poem Writing (?), Practice Archery, Read, Plan Meal for Forest

Thursdays – Send Letters, Practice Archery, Read, Probably Grocery Shopping While Sending Letters

Fridays – Break! Read, Eat, Write Poems! Combat training is a constant, though.

Saturdays – Try to make Contact with Forest [See if They’re going to Eat You] (?)

Sundays: Break!! Maybe organize for cleaning day… Combat Training is a must, still.


…
It’s not that bad!

(...It's really unorganized– who is he going to even write letters to??)

Owen fumbles out of his chair. Maybe he’ll start that schedule tomorrow– he’s awfully busy (re: tired) to put it into place at the moment…


-


Knock .

Knock knock knock…

…Now, visitors are strange to Owen. He doesn’t know anyone in the village (except for the older folk- he plays card games with them sometimes…) but no one comes looking for him at…

Owen glances at a clock.

5:11 in the morning.

Carefully arming himself with a relatively small knife that was easily hidden, he opens the door with a pleasant smile.

"Hello? Who–? Huh."

Owen stared at the person in front of his door.

"Hello hello hello! I a–"

"I'm not buying." Owen shuts the door. A foot stops him.

"-Ahem! I am the illustrious Bekyamon, and my assistant here–"

"Magic."

"Magic! Yes, we are from th-"

Owen tuned it out– door to door salesmen doing this…Isn't keeping your foot through the door illegal? This is trespassing, right?

"-and as a token of our appreciation , we–"

Owen shuts the door more firmly, squeezing the foot a bit.

Owen swears he didn't put that much pressure in the foot. He isn't that strong, he's only Human after all.

Pop!

Owen stared at where the sound came from. It came from the leg of this 'Bekyamon', or rather, where the calf and foot connect. Just something like that, Owen wasn't strong in biology.

Owen shrieked. 

"What is that?! What did you do?!" Owen interrogates the younger, because what the hell ??

"What did I do? Well, you may call it something of a magic trick–" Bekyamon begins, trying to brush it off.

"I'm dead serious, your foot came off ?! Stars above, are you okay ???!!!"

Magic took the shoe containing the severed foot (to which Owen belatedly realizes had 0 blood coming out) and connects it back to Bekyamon's leg with another pop . She stands back up, brushing the dirt off her fingers.

Owen stared at the two.

+ Information. Name: Bekyamon. Species: [?!?!?!]
—>> Bond, -5% // DEFINITELY NOT HUMAN?

+ Information. Name: Magic. Species: (???)
—>> Bond, 0% //Looks young…?

Bekyamon and Magic stand there in the silence, Magic's innocent and clueless-looking expression remaining, and Bekyamon's bright and enthusiastic smile plastered ( plastered?? ) on her face.

Owen takes the opportunity to close the door and lock it. He doesn't go back, even after the numerous other knocks, yells, and demands to open it.

What are they going to do about it?

…

They can do a lot, actually. Considering Soup has broken into his house , it seems that Bekyamon has practiced doing the same thing too.

"Let me in, please!" A Bekyamon head insists. Owen locked himself in his room.

The next day, Bek came back with her hand. It crawled onto the door handle and tried pushing it open. 

Owen internally screams. What did I do in my past life to deserve this treatment? Oh, well actually… Whatever happened in the war warrants it– I mean!

Owen blocked his door effectively (chairs), which made Bek unable to open it, even while her voice insisted on it.

Bekyamon comes the next day with Magic.

"Thanks, Magic. Now, allow me to perform my most exquisite -!" The door fell down.

Completely, off the hinges at everything. With all due circumstances, it was a very clean fall. The only problem is that Owen placed chairs and other heavy objects, which came crashing down, making their arrival very obvious.

Owen covered his head in his hands. 

Bekyamon continues, oblivious to Owen's problems. "Me and my assistant have arrived to greet and thank you!" 

Owen doesn’t say anything.

“Also, this house is in way better shape! It was pretty clean due to our efforts, but now, it's squeaky clean!” Bek laughs. Magic nods along. Owen grimaces.

"...Thanks."

Now it's awkward.

“Is that all? The sole reason you’ve been breaking into my house?” Owen sighs, a bit harsh, yes, but what else is he supposed to say?! His mornings, his schedule he was supposed to start a day or so ago, all ruined!

Bekyamon scratches her head (when did her whole body connect??) and hums in thought, a bit cartoonishly.

Magic taps her shoulder for her to bend down. Bek’s eyes twinkle with a shimmer of an idea– is she usually this expressive?

“That’s it!! You have soooo many overgrown plants and weeds in your garden, and we, us-? Benevolent, kind, loving, caring- Magic, help, I’m running out of words-”

“Munificent? Is that a word?”

“Munificent! And you’re magnificent, dearly beloved assistant that I cherish!”

Owen watches their back and forth– is this some sort of play format? Comedy sketch practice? It’s entertaining, sure, but it’s not the time.

“Your point?” Owen asks, a little exasperated.

“Our point,” Bek emphasizes, putting her usual dramatic flare in, “is that we can help! Do you think our resident druid could…?” Magic shakes her head. “...Eh? He’s magic, no? Why not?”

“Desecration of plants.”

“Right, forgot, that’s why Acho eats anything but vegetables…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not for you?”

“I like mushrooms?”

“Huh. But yes, regardless of who is more proficient in doing things like- like–” Bek snaps her fingers. “Fancy word for gardening!”

“Um– uh, ehh… Cultivating??”

“No, that’s planting. Defoliating?”

“That’s just removing leaves. Horticulture?”

“Is that a word?”

“...Yes?”

Bek turns back to Owen. “Regardless of those who are proficient in horticulture or not, I, the Great Bekyamon, shall keep my word and aid those who have aided me!” She gives a dramatic bow. Magic claps.

Owen… Isn’t sure how to react. He thinks about this offer, and what he could get out of it. A nicer looking house on the outside is important too…

“Very well. When do you start?”



“You’re seriously just going to sit there?!”

A day had passed since then, and like diligent workers, Bek and Magic came to weed the backyard.
Bekyamon seemed a little miffed by her predicament. Owen shrugs, sipping his coffee.

As Bekyamon and Magic did all the hard work, Owen watched, occasionally giving feedback.


“Don’t forget the weeds next to the birch tree!”

“Shut uuuupppp ~” Bekyamon sing-songs. 

Owen laughs at their distress, sipping more of his coffee. He feels like those rich spectators in those gladiator rings that actually took place not too far from the Empire. Though, Owen much prefers this over violence.

“Magic… I don’t think I can take it anymore…”

“Bek! No! You can’t leave me like this!” Magic sniffled pitifully.

“My heir… Remember all that I taught you… And never forget…”

“Come on, keep moving!!” Owen snaps his fingers, as Bek gets back up and hops to it, cursing under her breath as she does so. If Owen heard it all, he might have collapsed at what she said. But he didn’t, so life carried on and the world kept spinning.


They finish the work rather efficiently– not as quick as Owen hoped, but definitely faster than Owen expected.

“Okay, who wants some drinks?”

“Me!” Magic raises her hand. Bek doesn’t seem fazed by this at all, and in fact, she doesn’t seem to… Sweat??

Owen prepares a drink for Magic anyways– young people like sweet things, so he makes sure the juice isn’t sour.

“Orange juice.” Owen says, passing it to her. It was lovely– the perfect type of cold.

“Thank you, Mr. Agarci!”

“...How did you-?”

Bekyamon coughs wildly, like she’s throwing a mad fit. Magic ends up diverting her attention to pat her back, but it doesn’t seem like Bek had much trouble recovering.

After everyone recuperated (though Owen didn’t need to, and Bekyamon seemed to need mental recovery rather than physical), Owen decided to get to the point.

“So.” He crosses his arms, glancing at the two people sitting at his table, one chugging down orange juice like it’s her life force.

“What are you?”


This sets off something– they don’t seem offended , not at all, but they seem to be surprised at the question.

“What am I , or who am I?” Bek says, ready to re-introduce herself again. Owen stops her.

“No– no. What .”

“...” Bekyamon laughs. She laughs and laughs, even though there isn’t anything funny. Wiping a tear from her eye, she goes deadpan.

“Despite you getting my stuff, I don’t think we’ve gotten close enough to talk about that or anything.”

Magic glances at Owen. “I’m a fairy.”

Bek glares at her. She doesn’t shrink at the glare, but she wiggles herself just a little bit farther from her.

“Magic here can give a straight answer? Is it sensitive information?” Owen muses, mostly thinking to himself.

“It’s not, but I just don’t like you very much.” Bek says bluntly. Well, her opinion changed quickly.

When asked why, Bek immediately narrates her plight (her volunteer work) and the mistreatment she faced today (Owen was a little harsh… But mistreatment seems a little much) before Owen chokes on his spit when Bek says something about him telling her to “eat cake”.

“Okay, I apologize.” Owen says, bowing his head. It doesn’t sound entirely too sincere, but it doesn’t sound indifferent either.

Magic snaps her head towards Bek for this, but Bek doesn’t seem to care at all.

“Whatever, whatever. Make it up to me by telling me stories. Like… Where do you come from again?”

“The Capital.”

“No way, Suntide?!” Bek gasps. “My creator also lived there!”

Owen raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment anything.

“Yes. I live off of… The Empire's money now, I suppose.”

“Oh? Not everyone can live a comfortable life like that– all for free?”

“I did fight in the war.”

“Just one war, though. Not to downplay it!” Bek shook her head frantically. “All wars are terrible… But why just you for one single war? There’s worse wars that leave people incapacitated and not properly funded either.”

Owen thinks about that.
“I think they wanted to get me out of the country.”

“Oh? What horrific things did you do?”

“...Psych Evals were never my strong suit. I suppose the lawsuit didn’t help. And... A couple other things that I'd rather not name.”

“… Wow. Oh. Wow. Um. Huh.”

“Why am I telling you all this?”

“Enlighten a- Magic, fancy word for puppet.”

“What?” Owen suddenly snaps, wide awake.

“Puppet? Umm. Marionette?”

“Too overused and trite. Next!”

“Oh! Uh. Pawn?”

“Isn’t that for the game that Kyle and Acho really enjoy?”

“I don’t know any other names for puppet.”

“...Enlighten a marionette like me.” Bek finishes.

Owen sighs. Just a story, right


“I had a best friend.” Owen begins, and surprisingly, Bek is a very good listener.


I had a best friend– we did everything together.

Even though everyone thought he was a little weird, I never cared for that. He was great, honestly. Sometimes I wonder what he’s doing now.

I lived in a really well-off household, and his parents worked under mine. My father would make me practice combat every day, which, as much as exercise is good for you, such pressure shouldn’t be put on a four year old.

Anyways, those are just personal opinions. My friend- Scott, which I forgot to tell you-

Whatever. He was someone I hung out with a lot during my childhood– when I was free, of course– until some sort of incident. I can’t remember what it was, exactly, but it had my father fired up enough to fire Scott’s parents.

He moved away to the capital– oh, I mean, well. I didn’t quite live in the Capital, though I did come from it. It was nearby, so it may as well be a part of it. Agrume City, have you heard of it?

It doesn’t matter. Either way, he moved away, and… I feel like he was my first connection with someone as a Person. My parents were… Lovely, of course. But they weren’t my friends, right? Do you get it?


“Do you get it?” Owen asks.


“...I can’t say I do.” Bek says. Magic shrugs as well. Bek continues. “This isn’t a story.”

Owen stares at her. He decides she’s right, this is very light trauma dumping, and sighs.

“Okay. Okay, yes, that was a terrible story. How about a different story then?"

On the fly, Owen made something up. It reminded him of that tale where a woman would tell stories to a tyrant every night, leaving a cliffhanger on each one so she wouldn't be executed, so Owen simply retold that and hoped Bekyamon never heard of it before.

Surprisingly, she hadn't, and she was delighted with the story. Magic was also enraptured, and turns out, despite Owen being terrible at telling his own stories (without preparation), retelling is something he can do well. A little too well…

" Ahahaahahahaaahahahdhhahahahahahshahahahhaa! Ahhaa… ahh… I can't laugh for that long…" Bekyamon coughed in her hand. She brushes it off, looking as extravagant as ever.

"You have done a great service to me today, Owen Keldor!" She takes his hand and shakes it (a bit too aggressively) with Magic giving a standing ovation to his… Better than average storytelling.

"...Thank you!" He says, shocked at the sudden appreciation. Then, after missing a beat, his late reaction kicks in. "Wait, my last name–?"

Bekyamon and Magic go hand in hand, running out of the house and bouncing back to the forest. "We'll be back for more, thank youbye ~!!!!"

Owen stared at the duo leaving, a bit in shock.

They continue to bounce back to the forest, regardless of Owen's reaction.

What just happened???

Chapter Text

Owen browses the market, trying to find something that he would actually like.

Turns out, not working is really boring, and he doesn't have a lot of hobbies. Or more accurately, not enough hobbies. 

So, going to the village, he browses. Instead of the larger and more populated area for food and such, Owen went to an area full of local businesses– which were lovely! He found a very nice cafe and had lunch. He found a bookstore with fancy book covers and book nooks or… whatever they're called. The village seemed to thrive, despite being so far away from the Capital. Owen should look into that later.

Taking steps towards another store… It seems rather small, but interesting all the same. It doesn't appear to be a bookstore, but it has the vibe. What could it be?

Ding!

The bell notified the store receptionist that someone had entered. It seemed a little empty, save for younger individuals (guild members?) and two people chatting about at the receptionist table. 

Owen browses the shelves and the bulletin board. What's this?

"A cartography store?" Owen mutters, looking back and forth. Sure enough, it all looked like maps to… quests? Owen never kept up with the adventuring industry, but he knew that it was popular with the young. 

(He isn't all that old either…)

He takes a glance at the bulletin board– quests, assignments, all that jazz, and assigned areas for each map required. Aside from that part of the store, the rest were just more informative maps, such as the map of the world, or a map of the Vesper Empire in general. Owen assumes it's for the local schools.

Owen takes a look at the people around as well– everyone looks like they just got out of secondary school. A bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but in general, late teens, early twenties. A lot of them wore armour, heavy or light. There seemed to be two groups of four to five aside from the one outlier at the reception desk, chatting along. 

Should Owen get into adventuring and taking quests from the Radiance Commission? Long story short… Maybe let’s not. It would be way too awkward, considering… Well, whatever. And plus, he probably needs to graduate from Championship. Adventuring is fun and all, but as an actual profession that solves magical problems, you have to be good and reliable– extra lives can’t be lost, but yours can! Because… You know, you signed up for it?

(If Owen thinks hard enough, it’s similar to him being a General. Ex-General. Whatever.)

A map catches his eye- a simple map of Aurora's Village. It would be useful to know the layout of the village… Owen grabs multiple. One, for tourists (as much as he isn't one, it's good to know why people come here), another for the general landmarks and important places (a bit different from the tourists' map), and lastly, one of elevation. So… You know… if he takes up hiking?

…Who is Owen fooling? One glance at the map, and Owen could tell that if anything invaded Aurora's Village, the residents would be automatically cornered. The forest that surrounds them, the water that comes right after the forest… it's practically closed off at all ends except for where people come and go. The reason Owen took the map was so that he could strategize the best course of action if the place got invaded.

He goes to the reception counter to buy the three maps before taking a long look at the person who was having a lengthy conversation with the receptionist.

…Is that…?

The Super Shady Guy?!

( A Demon, ) Owen reminds himself. ( This ‘shady guy’ is a Demon. )

Owen slams his maps on the varnished wooden counter, smiling at the receptionist. Did it form cracks? Maybe. Was it worth scaring the Demon? Absolutely.

“How much would this be?” He squints, checking the store owner’s name. “...Brian?”

The receptionist stuttered a bit. “Ah- ha? These are just maps of… Ahem! About 32 Aurusol, 40 Crescents, and 5 Asters in total- plus tax.”

Owen rummages a bit- he finds 40 Aurusol in one of his small pouches, so he hands the receptionist the entire pouch. “Keep the change.” He says, patting the pouch on the counter before leaving.

The receptionist scrambles along. “A-ah! Thank you for shopping at WonderShop!?” he exclaims, examining the pouch, and gasping when seeing the extra 7AU, 50C, and 5AS. Good for him.

The Demon watches him as the door shuts with a ding !



Owen waits.
That’s a euphemized way to say ‘Owen Stalks the Demon’. What else is he supposed to do?! He can’t trust them. Even after the war and the treatment and…

Whatever. He can’t just brush it off, you know?

He lives here now, and he’s not going to let what happened before happen again.

The past will not repeat itself.


When the Demon walks out and walks away (sneaky guy…), Owen trails after him, as best as he can. Owen doesn’t mean to brag, but he’s rather good at following people.

He does it so that the Demon doesn’t quite notice. As soon as they get somewhere isolated, Owen promptly knocks it out. Rather easily, too.

(Is it more fragile than those on the battlefield? Huh.)

And of course, Owen knows the War is over. He’s not doing anything malicious , he doesn’t mean anything, he’s just… Making sure that nothing’s wrong ! It’s not because it’s a Demon , no, no, no. It’s just because… He’s checking. He’s just checking, because he’s protecting himself, the village, and…)

Owen drags (well, carries) the Demon into his house, opening the hatch to the basement and tying him up in there. He throws a couple of weapons down there for good measure (for himself, obviously). He prepares to make everything look intimidating, from lighting to making the shadows look imposing. (This isn’t a villain thing– it’s a matter of making himself look more intimidating, to scare off the demon, and to make sure that everyone is safe. This is a favor to the… Forest people too, perhaps. Demons are still dangerous.)

Sitting down across from the Demon, Owen swears it won’t take that long for him to wake up. This kind of force should wake him up within an hour, which means Owen still has ten minutes. Well, all the more time to relax before getting into it.


The Demon doesn’t wake up in ten minutes.

In fact, Owen has been waiting for thirty.

Owen frowns. This isn’t supposed to be how it goes. During the War…

Well. He forgets sometimes– the fact that he doesn’t have to be so strung up, it’s been years since it ended. It’s hard to break out of habits, but he remembers now.

(He’s still tense, though.)

The War is over– the Vesper Empire thrives, and the Demons are barely harmed. After all, they’re all practically war machines. Living, breathing, machines, all for fighting and violence.

How did Owen even get to this point? He had been living in peace for…

(No. He’s never lived in peace, not with a prominent general as his father.)

For the first years of his life all the way until he reached the age of twelve. The War had been going on for… Eight years, then. After training for four years and being assigned, he had fought for five years after that and… Then it ended. Just like that. Just for some rocks, ore, or minerals. And then he was discarded? Like something to be used?


He’s not fighting anymore. He doesn’t need to fight.

He doesn’t need to fight anymore .



…

The Demon wakes up after another hour. Owen got worried enough to check if he broke anything– which he didn't. He didn’t think that Demons out of the war were different at all. I mean, they’re all one species, so you’d think they’d all look relatively similar.

If Owen thinks about it, now that the illusion magic is fading from the Demon, he still looks young. Maybe… Four years younger than him? Or a bit more. Or less? Somewhere around there. Despite the Demon’s youthful energy, Owen can see the lankiness of this guy. Not to say Owen’s short, but Demons are probably a bit taller than average. After all, the average Human during the war would reach… Let’s say mid-height to Demons?

…Owen reaches around the Demon’s chin, so perhaps those that aren’t exposed to War or conflict aren’t as tall? What sort of training regimen bull…Crap is this?!

With closer inspection (and more fading of the illusion), the Demon’s horns are much less imposing than those on the battlefield. They’re smaller, a bit curved, and subtle. A dull red color, but saturated enough so it’s not an ashy-grey. There are small markings under its eyes, perhaps a result of its illusion magic? Very small and unrecognizable, too. Everything about this guy is sneaky, huh?


A groggy voice calls out. “...’Llo?”

Owen snaps out of his pondering state. “Hello.” He says, smooth, cold, and not at all surprised sounding. Good.

The Demon would rub his eyes if he could, but the ropes are binded quite tight. His hands wriggle around. Nothing happens.

“Hhh…Hhahah, hhhhey??” He says, choking between breathy laughs to close the gaps of awkwardness.

The Demon sounds so young compared to himself. It’s a little uncanny how innocent and normal he can sound.

“...” Owen doesn’t reply to the second greeting (since he already did so before), but he’s on the fence whether he takes off the ropes or not.

Of course, he can’t allow any threats, but it’s not the War, and the Demon wasn’t causing any problems. But the Demon is very, undoubtedly not Human.

It isn’t Human .


Owen decides not to hesitate before untying the ropes and muttering apologies. The Demon looks very confused, but also grateful? And nervous?

Helping him out of the basement, Owen internally chides himself. He’s improved, but not everything can be fixed in a day, but he tried! He really, really, really tried.

If only Apathium Solace - I didn't exist. Then maybe, just maybe, the war wouldn’t have ever happened.


“Thanks, I guess, but aren’t you the guy that–” The Demon hurriedly pauses, mouth agape (sharp canines that Owen can very clearly take note of ), and hands smacking right onto his head. It looks a little silly, but the Demon feels the horns, and feels that he isn’t wearing a hood, and his pointed ears are rather clear and he is definitely not illusioned.

Owen raises an eyebrow. “The guy that?”

“You followed me? Well, was following me?? Is it because I bumped into you– none of that called for a kidnapping! I didn’t even break your eggs!” The Demon covered his face, looking like he might start rolling on the floor and break down in tears.

Owen pauses. “...Yyyes…”

“...Oh! That’s not…”

Awkward silence permeates between them.



The Demon makes himself comfortable on the couch. Owen lets him. He was offered juice, but apparently, the guy doesn’t even like orange juice. (“There’s a clear superior option.”   “What kind of substances have you been taking? Perhaps I hit you too hard.”) They settle for fruit snacks (bananas, because the Demon dislikes the only other fruit he has, being oranges) and they sit across from each other.

Owen coughs. The Demon glances away.

“Soooo.” Owen says, in mock politeness. “...What’s your… Name?”

The Demon startles, clearly bouncing out of thought. “A-ah. Apo. Apo Kuna.”

“Apo… Kuna. Huh. I wasn’t aware that Demons had last names.”

“...Only those in the higher circles do.”

“...Higher circles?”

“Politics.”

“Ah.”

Silence.


“Do you know who I am?”

“Fearsome general, Owen Keldor? Yes.” Apo flicks his tail (which… For some reason, it also looks different from those during the War?) and puts it aside, making sure that it lays down on the couch unbothered.

“...I prefer Agarci.”

“Agarci Keldor?”

“ Owen Agarci.”

“Got it.”


Silence.


Apo sighs dramatically (seriously, what’s with these non-humans and their dramatics? Bekyamon, Apo…) before sighing two more times, making his distress clear to Owen. Being polite, Owen does the only thing one has to do, in a matter of social cues.

“What’s the matter?”

Apo seems all too happy to start talking. “I was in that store for a reason, you see. I had just gotten a map– I love exploring and hiking and stuff– but to be suddenly unconscious and kidnapped was such an unprecedented thing, my family would be so worried! Ehh, by family, brother, and probably my neighbour, but still!”

Owen, feeling guilty (with Apo clearly taking advantage of that), sighs. “...What do you want?”

“A meatshield.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

“Well,” Apo starts, “what if something dangerous are up those small hills? I need to get that ‘buried treasure’, it’s for my G30 addiction!”

“...I see.” Owen, in fact, did not see. He barely understood whatever buried treasure meant, not even mentioning the idea of whatever G30 is.

Owen suppresses an awkward cough and saying “well, bye!” and instead does the morally correct thing. Also, it’s a good opportunity to learn. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?

“I’ll… Help you find this treasure.”

“...Yes, obviously you will. Now, let’s go then!”

Wow, not even a thank you?  Harsh.



…



Owen despises this.

As he and Apo walks around blindly following the map, Owen remembered how much harder it was to walk over hills without chariots and horses. 

…As athletic as he is, he still hates things like hiking. It's too reminiscent of…

"You think the Demons will wait for you to climb this hill, boy? Faster! What happens when your horse fails you, when you have to climb something a carriage can't go up? What happens when you get left behind a trail of corpses, left for dead? What happens when the Demons run after you, or if protection enchantments fail you and  nature constructs are after you? Who will save you when you're down? Who will save you when you fail? Who will catch you when you fall?"

"And then we turn here… the X is like… Northwest? Or…"

…Does this guy even know how to read a map?

"Ah! I recognize this landmark! And it's written on the map!" Apo exclaims, excited and eager to scavenge for this… uh…

"What are we even looking for again?" Owen asks, looking a bit weary. They've walked in circles for one hour, climbing up hills and tree covered paths for another two, just before realizing they went the wrong way, and…

"Uhhh. Treasure?" So he doesn't know, great .

They continue to walk around, and it gets rather absurd.

"...These mushrooms look cool." Owen looks over to see the Demon squatting over a patch of unnaturally colored mushrooms. Owen feels like they're poisonous.

Owen stumbles forward, squinting and taking a closer look. "That doesn't look healthy?"

Apo blinks. He glances back at the mushrooms, and then at Owen.

Owen cautiously looks at the Demon, and then the mushrooms. 

"...No. Don't– you shouldn't put those– don't put them in your mouth ?! Stop, get those- don't bring them to me?!!?! That's enough, no, s top –!"

"Ah…" Owen stares into the great beyond.

"You see it?"

"M' thoun."

"...Whaaaa?"

"M' thoun' 'urths. Nnnah. 'Ss nnnnumm."

"...Oh, your tongue hurts, nah, it's numb?"

"Nnhhhmm."

"Damn. That hasn't happened to me, and I still ate them."

"Thosic, thold yah."

"It's not toxic! 

"Tha' nal 's a river in egeept."

"I don't get that reference."

"Khsselshlfsh."

"Are you just saying sounds– urk-!!" Apo clutches his head like he got a sudden migraine. Scratch that, he got hit in the head with the consequences of his actions.

"Thou good?"

"..."

"...A 'Po?"

"...ah…"

"Thee that? Tha' what happenths when–"

"Oh, I see it alright. The sky is pink and the ground is grey, the trees are spiraling and spiral do the clouds. This is how it was described by Will– I have met paradise !"

"...hhhh…uhh…?"

They lay on the ground together, Apo marveling at the clear blue sky (...even if it's pink with clouds for him) and Owen high out of his mind, speechly impaired.

Owen can't remember much after that– but he can remember how he felt.

A strange sense of calmness, no longer tense in the presence of the Demon. Laughing at the jokes he made, feeling a familiar sensation that he did with…

With Scott.

When Owen is fully aware of everything around him, he wakes up with a Demon's shadow looming above him.

"Nnh…Apo?"

Owen sat up, rubbing his eyes, seeing App stretching and yawning. It looks darker now, so at least it meant that they weren't stuck there for a week. Or maybe they had, and they just… talked for that long? Huh.

"Oh, hey Owen!" Apo greets. For some reason, they're both very passive towards each other. Guess drugs are the way to make friends?

(For future reference, Owen soon after thinking that tells himself to never do drugs in general. Alcohol he can tolerate, drugs are just weird . And unhealthy!)

Apo helps Owen up, Owen grumbling something about his back (which was sore, note to never sleep on the ground again) before doing a custom handshake that the two made up almost instinctively.

"...?" Owen's mouth was agape.

"...!!" Apo's eyes were wide.

…

"Hahahaha! There's no way we made a handshake while- ahrm- impaired!" Apo giggles a little stupidly.

"You can just say high. We were high." Owen says, holding back his own snickers.

"We remembered it too! How many times did we have to do it in order for it to be fully ingrained in us while sober? Ahhhahahahaha!" 

"Ppffft…. Hahahaha! You're– that's insane! Did we actually–?! Ahahahahaa!"

They laughed like little kids, squealing and kicking their feet and hitting each other, knee slapping and all that. Owen probably went, oh golly gee, what a kneeslapper!

The two eventually fully recovered, simultaneously giving out a sigh as friends do after laughing for a long time, right before they start laughing all over again.

Eventually they actually recovered, and Owen teaches Apo how to actually read a map.

("No, seriously, how have you not been able to read a map? I had the impression you wandered about before with one?"

"Ah…I just kind of looked around and winged it. It would last for… a day at most, usually. Oh, it's been longer than a day, they're all probably worried about me…")

They finally reach it, and when they do, Apo and Owen kick the dirt (neither of them had a shovel) and finally uncovered the treasure.

Inside a plastic tube, Owen popped it open. Inside, a rolled up piece of paper.

"The real journey are the friends we make along the way!"

…

It's safe to say that they were doubling over again, hysterically mentioning things in between. For example, "Mushrooms! Mushrooms!" And "handshakes!! Ahahaha…"

It's not really that funny, but logic gets thrown out the window with friends. So why not?

…

"APO KUNA. GET YOUR ASS HERE IMMEDIATELY BEFORE I THROW YOU THROUGH THE SEVEN CIRCLES AND BACK ALL OVER AGAIN."

The peaceful moment between the two friends chatting and joking around was interrupted by a harsh voice resonating throughout the forest (Owen belatedly realizes that they were in the forest ) that started both of them. Owen tensed and ready to fight and defend, but Apo on the other hand was braced to start sprinting.

Coming through, Owen could see about two other figures that became more clear as they were rapidly getting closer.

All too fast, Apo was tackled to the ground by someone with split (dyed?) hair. 

"Ow- ow!! Will, get off me!"

"You didn't come back yesterday, what do you expect?!" This 'Will' hissed, grappling Apo with relative ease, pinching his cheek.

Meanwhile, the second Demon approaching froze at the sight of Owen.

"...Keldor?!" The Demon's eyes widened as if in recognition.

Why does everyone seem to know his last name(s)?!

…Even at the playful thought, Owen got a sinking feeling in his gut because he did recognize this Demon, or at the very least, her sister.

Because she had an odd resemblance to Rosalie Chescribe, the Demon that he had shot with an arrow during the announcement for peace right before the end of the war.

Chapter Text

“...Rasbi, are you sure?”

In a sudden motion, they (‘they’ being Will, albeit instinctively at the sudden commotion with Rasbi) had knocked out Owen (how the tables turn…) and dragged his limp body into one of their little huts (“Villas! They’re villas!” “No, Eden. They really aren’t.” “Cottages, then.”) to which they tied him up in a chair (how the turns table). As of now, Apo and Rasbi talk in hushed voices, discussing their next move.

“...Okay, well, I did know it was him, and I did become friends with him… Kind of…”

Rasbi stares at Apo, gritting her teeth and looking more exasperated than Apo’s ever seen her. “Any demon would remember that face. Look– just because he’s a nice guy now doesn’t excuse his past actions. So what, all criminals go free now? Because they’re ‘sorry’? My sister lost her eye– not to mention the blood loss and her fiance! Who, granted, didn’t die, but still .”

“Shh!”

“Sorry, Eden. Okay, yeah, whatever he did in the past was kind of… Shit, but…”

“Don’t pull an ‘oooh, I can fix him!’ moment right now, Apo Kuna! Beca-”

“ Shhh! ”

“- Because just because I might be a bit biased, he still affected the lives of many others! Think about the war! Actually, cut that out, and on a more personal level, think about your parents !”

Apo looked absolutely gobsmacked and had no response. After all, what do you do when your dead parents are involved in an argument about morality (that he was losing and might be very wrong to)??

Will slid into the conversation (quite literally), posing himself in between Apo and Rasbi.  “Have you decided the verdict?” He hums, quickly scanning over Apo again to make sure there are no life-threatening injuries that he or Eden missed.

Apo pushes him away, grumbling incoherent words before sighing for a long time. How long did he inhale without Will or Rasbi noticing? Who knows.

Rasbi seemed very sure about her opinion at least.

“Lock him up, to the dungeons!”

“…We don’t have dungeons…”

Apo decided to just sit down, trying to justify himself (which he thought was a bit absurd— it’s just him being best friends with a person that threatened his friend’s sister’s life!)

… he understands it now.

How messed up does one have to be… to act on doing what Owen did in the war?

Thinking about it, Apo thinks Rasbi is right. But he definitely can’t shake off that conversation they had while…

Oh stars. If Will finds out he got high… With Owen…

…But still. That instance with him and Owen was…


“So your tongue numbness is fine now?” Apo laughs, struggling to sit himself up. He picks whatever nature is around him– the bark of the tree they lean on, the blades of grass, flower petals…

Owen grumbles. “No’ fully… But ‘s better.” Propping his head on his hand, Owen stares at the stars.

Apo doesn’t realize what Owen was looking at specifically. “Nice sky, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“My neighbour Eden keeps pestering me to remember stuff like… Which way the sun goes down, which way the sun rises, the North Star, fun facts about the Northern Lights…” Apo continues to prattle on. “I’ve never bothered with those, ‘s like… I just wanna be an adventurer! Kinda. It’d be hard, and honestly, I don’t think I could do it for a long time… But ‘s like, I wanna be a part-time camper?? It’s so… Freeing, you know? Stars, I wish that was a job…”

Owen nods along, small noises like “uh huh” and “yup” uttered out at the right moments. Apo notices that he’s not paying attention though– he’s perceptive that way.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Constellations.”

“Oh… Uh… I’m a little unaware about those. Teach me?” He scooches over to Owen (clumsily) and glances over, both at Owen and the sky.

Owen hums for a second, squinting and looking around. “I used to do this with my friend. Childhood friend.”

Apo blinks up at the sky. How funny. Despite being mentally impaired (drugs– MUSHROOMS– shrooms…) he recalls every moment very clearly. It’s just his movements are numbed. Maybe these mushrooms numb physical parts of your body? Or is it just because he’s a demon, and he’s already grown a resistance to numerous poisons (he told Will that it was a good idea… hahaha…)

Waitwaitwait– Childhood friend?! Owen Keldor has a friend!?

(Well, not so surprising, he had to be something before a soldier, right??)

“Uhh… Okay, yeah? Cool, cool, cool.” Apo says, tapping his fingers against the ground.
(Ahh, he’s gonna get dirt in his nails again… Whatever!)

Owen points. “Over there, is the most notable one, the Big Dipper. It’s like a… What’s it called– ah, ladle. Although I've never seen it, it looks more like a pot to me.”

“Pot.” Oh, he cannot tell Will this ever happened. Or Rasbi. Or Eden! He has to keep the dru– SHROOMS a secret.

(Aren’t shrooms a type of drug?? Oh, whatever.)

“The Big Dipper has seven stars, they’re all kind of in Ursa Major…” Owen squints a bit more, tilting his head. Apo mimics the movement, trying to see whatever Owen’s seeing. “The Big Dipper is… Kind of a main one? I read a book with my friend about it… And it used the dipper as a landmark kind of. I can’t think of a better word.” Owen limply hangs his arm on his leg, sitting in a position with one leg up, one leg down, leaning on the tree.

“Gotcha. What’s your favorite constellation?”

“...Um, I’d say Canes Venatici.”

“Got it.” Apo didn’t get it, he’s not familiar with… The naming system. (It came from the olden times, he’s pretty sure? Or maybe even before that… Oouh, the primal ages!! He’s not a history fan, but he doesn’t hate it either.)

Owen seems to be perceptive like Apo, because he provides further context. “Canes Venatici means Hunting Dog. I liked it because it was always simple–  two stars… And it’s located near Bootes, the Herdsman. In between Bootes and Ursa Major, at least.”

“Oooh.” He didn’t know where Ursa Major was, nor Bootes, but having the two stars pointed to him was easy enough to spot. “Is there a story for it?”

“Hm?”

“Like, um, I think the zodiac signs have stories. Primal time mythology or something.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, correct! We get a lot of our terminology from the Primal Ages, and there were a ton of written stories on it! A shame, really. If only Nature hadn’t left them for their own, perhaps a different story could have been told to this day. For you, for me…”

“Yeeesss, back on topic- The, uh, cans ven…thing.”

“Canes Venatici– right. So, Bootes was a herdsman in one variation– two hunting dogs accompanied him. Asterion and Chara, if I’m correct, are represented by the two stars. Ursa Major and Minor are the bears Bootes was after, and eventually, Bootes was turned into a constellation by… I think the name is long lost. Or not? I haven’t dug into it for a long time. A decade or so.” Owen hums. “Of course, Bootes was turned into a constellation with his dogs. I would be devastated if I were the two dogs, abandoned because Bootes had turned into some higher power or something.” 

“Wow, you do know a lot!” Apo says, absentmindedly pinching the stars.

“Well, when you’re out camping before battle, nights are boring. Of course I’d have some knowledge about the stars! I’m sure every soldier has at this point. All of them that had been under me.”

Apo jolted from his trance. Is this a lore dump? Is he going to see Owen’s side of things? Is he a therapist now? “Huh, really? What had happened in the War anyway? Why did it even start?” Apo frowns. He hadn’t really remembered why.. He knew his mother and father were both proficient enough with medicines and healing (and politics, but that doesn’t really matter) so they went to help. Although they’d usually be left alone, there had been an accident after things had blown over in one battle…

Well, at least he knew that Owen didn’t kill them– even if he feels awful about it, he won’t like, kill a soldier or something. He has Will, Eden, later on Rasbi and Rosaline (which is INSANE how he got connections with those two)... Owen was too busy in a different battle making a name for himself. No, his parents were killed by loose weapons or something of the sort. Tragic, because he can’t blame anyone, but it’s gotten long past that grieving stage. Acceptance, you know?

Where were we?

Right.

“The War…” Owen laughed humorlessly. “It started because of Apathium Solace–I.”

“...Oh, I know that.” It was taught in basic schooling, it was common knowledge for Demons, at the very least. It was a magical component sort of mineral, useful for anyone, regardless if you had magic or not.

“We used to joke–” By ‘we’, Apo assumed soldiers, “--that it all started just because of that scientist-artist man. Who was he… Solomon? He’s the reason for the technological boom in… Well, the last two decades. We had been making so much progress in our science departments… That when it was proven that a mineral just in our grasp could provide magic for the magicless– no, not just that– magical energy in itself without a living source like humans… It opened up too many possibilities. But it was just a bit too far north. So, it wasn't in the Vesper Empire’s jurisdiction, and wasn’t in our power. And so, a war of conquest began.”

…Apo thinks that after that, he fell asleep. But not in a bad way, because after that explanation, he’s pretty sure Owen also went lights out.

“…Uuuuuuuggghhhh, there has to be more to him though…” Apo complains, snapping back to present time.

Will looks at him for a moment, before bending over to Rasbi. “Is he making those theories again? The youth…” he scoffs fakely. Rasbi rolls her eyes.

“Ex-general Keldor isn’t someone to experiment with and dissect. He’s a very real person with very real problems and very real weapons.  He is very, very, very real and very very dangerous.” Rasbi clicks her tongue a couple times at Apo. 

“But you know… A very real and very fun thing to do… Could be to, I don’t know, have him in our debt at least?

“Awwwh, Apo, to hear you say that is so touching! You truly learned from the best…” Will wipes away a fake tear and ruffles Apo’s hair.

“Like,” Apo bulldozes past Will’s fake tears and compliments, “if we’re going to take him hostage— which I think is useless by the way— we may as well have him do something. Well. Do something with him??”

Rasbi narrows her eyes. After a long moment of contemplation, she concedes. “What’s your plan?”

…

Owen wakes up to voices fussing over him, which is very strange. He hasn’t had someone complain over him like this since… his regular doctor check ups?

(AHEM. He’ll admit it— the war. Since the war.)

It’s all blurry and hazy— same with his memories. He… Got high with Apo, a character development for him accepting the company of a demon… and then he wasn’t high… and then… and then…

“Omigosh, Owen!!” Apo says, looking much worse for wear.

…What?

“Eden, come here! Owen woke up!!”

“Ggh- no, wai—!” His protests were futile when the demon showed up. 

‘Eden’ comes over to him with some sort of ointment (huh?) and a basic first aid kit… that looks a little different than the ones for Humans. It’s close enough, at least?

After getting thoroughly checked over, Apo explains the situation.

“Something came out of the forest. Well… ‘Out of’ implies that we weren’t in the forest. Uh, whatever. It ambushed us, and then it had… Some kind of toxins in it that made you fall unconscious. My brother and a… My neighbour came and helped both of us, so we’re safe now.” Apo says rather smoothly.

Owen rubbed his temples. “Is that… so…?”

Apo thinks about the moment he explained his plan to Rasbi, when he said that he could make Owen indebted to them by saying they helped him when he was helpless. He thinks about the proposition Rasbi says, right before beating his ass… to make him look like he’s been attacked! Whatever damage Rasbi almost did to Owen constituted enough for being attacked, so technically it isn’t a lie…

“Yep!” Apo doesn’t miss a beat.

Owen squints at him. It’s still blurry, and he can hear a slight ringing. He feels like he’s forgetting something important though…

Whatever. If he forgot it, it probably wasn’t that important, right?

Right!

“Ah. Then, thank you for helping me?” He says, nodding towards Apo and Eden respectfully. Eden looks very comfortable in her skin, Apo looks extremely natural.

…

“Demons are good liars. Exceptional, in fact. It’s common knowledge that a demon can fool humans with ease, especially since we use body language or verbal slip ups to identify liars. Demons adapt well. They know this, and they surpass it. Not to mention a personality of a Demon, an inherent trait they have. To feel superior, they have people indebted to them. It's commonly believed that this mindset started due to the Primal Ages' mythologies and stories built upon Demons, using that to define their traits or give them an identity of some sort before forming into a proper civilization. An old saying that comes to light often, don't make a deal with the devil. In this case, don't be indebted to him either. Nowadays, Demons are seen to be...”

He drones on and on, Owen barely processing all this, still half asleep. A slam on his desk wakes him up.

…

“It’s no problem” and “You’re welcome” are both said together, words mixed up. Eden casts a glance at Apo. Apo looks straight ahead.

Owen, still recovering, doesn’t notice. “…Ah. Well, I’m learning some recipes… I’m not a great cook by any means, nor a baker, but…” He rubs his head- another headache, ugh.

Eden blinks slowly. Apo whispers in her ear.

“If you need anything else, just ring the bell there.” Eden says after a brief moment before ushering herself and Apo out of the room. Owen nods in understanding, before black spots fill his vision (that shouldn’t be healthy) and falls unconscious again.

Owen is let out of medical treatment soon enough, being waved away. Owen memorizes the path to the Demons’ home– it shouldn’t be too difficult, after all. What’s this compared to memorizing all those plants and strategies in chess?

…He kind of misses playing two player games like chess.

How long has it been since he was home, huh? It’s been a while. He enters through the back door of his cottage, stepping into the kitchen to see–

—Well! Speaking of chess..

“Good game, Acho.”

“Are you kidding me? We just started?!”

…It’s great to be back home…!!

Chapter Text

You would have thought that Owen would have a bigger reaction to strangers in his house. It seems that it’s the norm? Now he wonders how many forest-people know their way into his home.

It seems that his presence doesn’t go unseen, but definitely ignored. (Rude much? Haha, Owen’s just joking, he doesn’t mind… Yet.)

“Badadada… Bam! Got your rook!”

“Uhhh…” the pink haired elf (?) looking man sat at his kitchen counter. He seemed confused at the art of chess. “Right… This can go this way, right? I keep forgetting…”

“Yeah, the bishop can only move diagonally– um… But you can’t take my rook from there because… That’s an illegal move!” Sitting across from the pink haired man was a…

Regular guy ?!

Finally!!

(On closer inspection, if Owen squints really hard when he talks, those teeth are unfortunately a bit too sharp for a Human. Not to mention, a slight glow in his eyes, and… Something under them too?)

Pink haired guy deadpans. “I’m confident that it’s not illegal– I’m not new to the game, Kyle, just rusty and a little forgetful.”

“Tsk. Worth a shot.”

Not to mention, a regular name ?!

Finally!!

Well, Owen decides it’s a little impolite to not make an actual introduction…

“Hello, do you need anything?” He says, unsneakily walking up to the counter. He takes note of the two…Normal appearances!!

They’re normal!! Ish!!

Pink hair isn’t all that common, but it doesn’t look to be entirely natural either. So, either a product of magical experimentation (?? Does that even happen?), genetic mutation (Owen’s not so familiar on those topics, but he does know that there were people with odd-coloured hair), or , he just dyed it! Very normal explanation!

The flowers in his hair seem to be just a decoration. Nothing silly like growing out of his scalp , though… Owen doesn’t know if he wants to know whether it is or isn’t from the skull.

Normal eyes, normal face, no horns, no oppressive gaze, no uncanny feelings…

For that guy, at least.

Normal guy (or, Kyle, as he was called), has a bit of a vibe to him. Maybe it’s uncanniness, but Owen’s been around too many weird people to the point where a little bit of weirdness might just be his character. Ignoring the sharp teeth, ignoring the small glow, ignoring the barely noticeable markings under his eyes…

It’s probably just some kind of glow in the dark makeup. He’s seen what happens in a guide about makeup (long story don’t ask) when something (eyeliner? Or mascara?) gets into one’s eye… Basically looks like a demons’ eye. Or something? So, maybe some glow in the dark makeup got into Kyle’s eye. Completely normal!

In fact, their presence is the farthest thing from oppressive! Owen feels very, very calm in their presence. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time! (Aside from the numb feeling from the drugs… But those were drugs.)

“...Ah, do you have anything…” Pink-haired fellow begins to speak up, before hesitating. Awkwardly, he whispers something in Kyle’s ear. Kyle processes this. Then, he speaks up.

“Anything that has nothing to do with vegetables? Or… Plant based produce?”

Owen stares at them. Okay, maybe their personalities can be odd. That’s… Fine?

“And for me…” Kyle looked around. “Anything like… Chewy…? Uhh, I like my steak medium-rare.” He says.

Okay. Kyle can be normal-abnormal. Pink haired fellow can be abnormal-normal. Why not?

Owen takes a look inside his freezer, then his pantry, and finds a couple of things that could work. (Does Kyle eat meat as a snack? And equally, does the pink-haired guy never eat his vegetables???) Owen just decides to start up a barbeque. It’s around time for it, anyways. Spring to summer? Sounds like barbeque season. Right?

Well, he comes back to find the two starting another game of chess before settling a plate with lamb skewers. He puts some seasonings on the side, just for variety. The two thank him, and he says he’s glad to provide.

(Wait… He’s forgetting about why they’re there…)

“You could never do this in Lyra.” Kyle comments. “Acho, bring your other games next time. We should make a competition or something. Like with swimming.”

“And you’d win.” Pink haired guy, now Acho, replies a little pointedly.

“It would be embarrassing if I didn’t. You’re good at the obstacle courses, though. You’ve always been.”

“Oh, don’t bring that back up again. It was just an exam.”

“It was reaaaally cool though. Why doesn’t Championship get better and funner exams?”

“Ahaha… uhh, funner isn’t a word.”

Owen takes a skewer. Seems like this time they really did forget about him being there. His sudden action makes the two snap back to the present, a bit awkward.

“Championship? As in, Vesper Academy: Championship?” Owen probes, chewing the lamb skewer. Pretty good, he’d say. The skewer, not the academy, but he thinks it’s not a bad one to go to either.

Kyle stares at Owen before carefully replying. “Uhh, yeah. Acho here went to Thaumaturgy.”

“Huh.” Owen blinks, chewing the lamb meat carefully. Wow, he did a great job. Acho also reaches for one.

The academies Vesper sponsors (the emperor, not the empire as a whole) are universally known. Thaumaturgy, Championship, and Deux Ex Machina (usually simplified to DXM) are the three that always produce geniuses. If not for the war, Owen would have been sent to Championship, most likely. A shame he never went to a proper school…

“Is it… What kind of projects did you do? Would you have done, I mean.” Owen asks, genuinely curious how the top academy in the Vesper Empire runs things.

Kyle and Acho share a look. “Well…” Acho coughs. “It's very much a… Result-oriented academy?” He tries, waving the skewer (already finished) around before placing it down to grab another. “I’sh like… Unconvenshunal, bu’ i’sh sh’ill good.” Acho swallows the lamb skewer pieces that were in his mouth. “Survival rates are low, though. Unless you’re in DXM? Even then, there’s still occasional deaths…”

Okay, adding on “casually talking about death” to the list, making Relatively Normal Acho and Relatively Normal Kyle slowly become Slightly Suspicious Acho and Slightly Suspicious Kyle… Wonderful!

(This is NOT good for his track record with the odd, the strange, and the supernatural…)

“I…See!” Owen replies like it’s perfectly normal. “Then, where do you two come from? If… It’s not a sore subject, of course. I don’t mean to pry, I’m simply… Curious?” Owen chuckles, trying to appear like a friendly uncle and not an interrogator with one light that moves around hanging from the ceiling clutching the two by the collar of their shirts screaming “WHO ARE YOU WHY ARE YOU HERE GET OUT OF MY HOUSE” because that is not peace and love behaviour.

Kyle finishes his skewer, putting it to the accumulating pile of skewers. “Lyra.” He offers no other explanation.

Acho mumbles a couple words – perhaps just thinking out loud? He responds not too long after. “Notos Empire. I lived pretty close to the Vesper Empire, so I just… Moved for education.” Acho shoves more of the well cooked mutton into his mouth, delighting in the taste.

Owen stores that into his brain – Lyra, an unknown city (country??) of Kyle’s origin, and the Notos Empire, that of the South.

Now, you may ask, isn’t the Vesper Empire the Southern kingdom? No!
In fact, it was actually designated to be the south-west kingdoms, one of the eight kingdoms within the world. Of course, you still needed a boat to traverse (some history reasons that Owen didn’t quite pay enough attention to) from empire to empire, but they've been on good terms.

Lyra, on the other hand… It’s strange that Owen never heard of it prior to this.

“Ah. And… Is there any reason you’re playing chess in my house?” Owen asks, wrapping the conversation back to his initial ‘concern.’ (Okay– to be fair, being worried about intruders is a perfectly valid thing to be worried about…)

Kyle rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You have tables. Duh.”

…

“...That makes sense.” Owen taps his fingers on the table like he was acknowledging its existence after forgetting about it. It also made no sense at all. Zero.

Acho gives Kyle a friendly shove. “You know that’s not why we’re here.” He turns to Owen, a solemn look on his face. “We’ve actually been… Waiting for you. You see, a good friend of mine…”

“Uh- huh …” Kyle drawls, twirling the finished skewer in his hands.

“Kyle, don’t start.” Acho rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, a good friend of mine needs a bit of help… From a…” He scratches his neck awkwardly. “Human?”


…Tableless Acho and Tableless Kyle became NOT HUMAN Acho and NOT HUMAN Kyle.
(So his track record is ruined…!)

“...Hmm.” Owen says, definitely not panicking again. He’s reflecting on his father’s tenants, the lessons drilled into him to never interact with anyone not human while simultaneously breaking all of them. He feels obligated to leave the room and turn them into the village as trespassers, but somehow he manages not to do that. Think, think, think. Back to Soup!

To be or not to be Human. Apparently, the list goes:

• Communication (precise, concise…)
• Moral Compass (good and nice!)
• Rationality (smart and sentient)
• Escapism (because you hate reality?)
• Souls (afterlife)

So let’s see!

Acho and Kyle seem to show the ability to… Communicate, talk, and express their feelings. Showing interest in chess of all things already knocks out the communication and rationality… Considering it’s a game, they can escape reality whenever they want to ignore and avoid problems! Haha… um…

Anyways.

A moral compass is difficult to… Measure. But as far as Owen is aware, they haven’t harmed him just for the fun of it. And souls??? It’s not like Owen’s going to kill the two to see what happens… But generally, they seem sentient like a Human would be.

But APPARENTLY, they aren’t Human . So, three times, this list has been generally useless …

“What are you?” Owen puts his head on his hand to look nonchalant and very unbothered.

“What do I get in return?” Kyle, ever the business man, probes.

“My help??” Owen blinks. Didn’t they need something? Oh crap, they needed something??

Acho eyes the two. “It’s best not to make enemies– We should just tell him! Not a big deal, seriously.” Acho waves around and displays a staff (wand?) that was made out of a rosy brown wood with a faint aroma of cherry blossoms in the air. On the top with some kind of orb (or flower) was a pink glowing petal flowing… You get it. Kyle grabs the two last lamb skewers and hands the other to Acho.

Owen blinks. He rubs his eyes. Blinks again. Then, he pinches himself. Still there.
“...Ahhh.”

…Doesn’t this mean Acho is still human? Just a mage?

“Okay, so… Kyle is a… I mean... Well, I’m a druid…” Acho says, graciously accepting the skewer. "...Mmn, that's it."

Kyle looked Owen up and down while finishing his skewer. After swallowing, he makes a decision. “Nonya.”

Okay, Druid Acho and… Kyle. Something Kyle. Whatever, we’ve all got our secrets. It’s not like Owen tortures the forest people to tell him.

“...Good to know, that definitely doesn’t bring up any other questions…” Owen mutters, trying to formulate a plan of sorts. Is he under some kind of threat? Why are these forest people breaking into his house??? “You needed my help for…?” He prompts, walking up to turn the lights on again (no need to be so dramatic…)

Acho makes a small noise. “Yes… We need your help. For. A…” he trails off. “Ah…” He takes a moment, and the atmosphere is awkward. Owen taps his fingers on the table, a bit impatiently. “Okay, okay. How good are you at handling robots?”

“...What?”

Chapter Text

Thump .

Owen is really, really, really freaked out right now .

Please explain why the rooms are completely dark, the only light source being Acho’s staff, and that every wooden piece of flooring feels incredibly creaky. Why does Owen feel like ghosts are trying to hold his hand but because of how dark it is, they too, are missing where his hand is and keep hitting his head or shoulders or knees or toes. Perhaps it’s just Kyle. Totally normal, yeah?

Creaaaaaak.

Oh, stars. Owen is thirty three and much too young to die. Let’s be real, he thinks he’s about to shit his pants. What was the game the youth played? Seven Knights with Sandy’s? It sure is matching the horror description.

Atmosphere wise, it was gloomy, dank, humid, cold, and everything at once. Not overwhelming. An underwhelming everything at once. Which, Owen thinks, is a little more horrifying. The darkness didn’t help— other than the staff, literally no light could even pierce the darkness, apparently.

How did it get to this? Let’s do a quick reel back.

…

“Yes, just in case, take some of Kyle’s gear. Are you okay with swords? Yes? Great!” Acho waves a hand and a couple petals float around like confetti. What a neat party trick?

Kyle grumbles, shoving some iron gear on Owen, and handing a sheathed greatsword afterwards. Well, Owen doesn’t mind. He could deal.

“Taking my things… letting a criminal borrow them…” Kyle mutters about, shuffling to Acho’s side while whispering comically loudly. “I don’t like this.”

Acho promptly ignored Kyle’s comment. “And, ah, torches are useless.” Owen blinked at that.

“Why would we need a torch?”

“Because it’ll be a bit dark. These guys are kind of clever, and they’ve decidedly thrown a tantrum trying to beat us. And since we’re supposed to supervise our forest area… We can’t let them win, or it’ll be-”

“Embarrassing.” Kyle and Acho finish together. Owen nods gravely. A matter of honor is one not of levity. “I see.” He says, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

…

“I think I felt something.” Is something Owen really wants to say (or scream). Yes, he swears he feels spiders crawling around on him. Or it’s paranoia. Yes, paranoia. Owen does not want to be right behind them. Why didn’t he mind his own business?????

“Why is it so…” After a moment's hesitation, Owen continues. “Dark?” Yes, an appropriate thing to say!

“Oh, you know. Enchanted Vanta Black paint.” Kyle shrugs.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, you should be.”

A smacking noise is heard soon after. The creaking of floorboards and footsteps are rather audible.

Owen hums. “Aren’t we supposed to be stealthy?”

Acho pauses in thought. “Well, they’ve got heat sensors, so they’d know we’re here anyways. Maybe not Kyle?” Acho blinks his question towards Kyle’s presumed direction. 

“Nah, no clue. I didn’t pay attention in biology.”

“…Of course you didn’t.” Acho sighs exasperfectionantely. (Exasperatedly affectionately.)

Though they couldn’t see, Acho knows well enough that Kyle would respond by sticking out his tongue while shrugging exaggeratedly with a grin.

Finally, the tunnel ends. 

The light is subtle, easy to process. It turns brighter, until…

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A young voice rang out from above. The voice had a metallic hint to it, reminding Owen of… Actually, no. Owen can’t be bothered to make a comparison even.

Looking up, Owen saw the glowing white eyes of a near-human being. He’s pretty sure nothing within the forest is human, so sue him for his assumption.

“Clipped!” Rings a voice from the direct opposite side, though not as visible as the closer non-human (????). Cackling can be heard.

Taking in a better look of the area, Owen vaguely realizes that… There’s no way this was built by kids (??). Right?? The design included checkered floors, eight by eight tiles, alternating black and white. Support beams reach higher and higher to the suspended balconies and the railings encompassing the entire platform. If the platform in the air were completely flat without the massive rectangular cut hole in the middle, it would’ve made a perfect second floor. The architecture style is also familiar– reminiscent of his… Hometown, perhaps? No, definitely just classic Vesperian architecture.

Anyways. Away from his slight tangent on the look of the place– Kyle and Acho looked offended (or, maybe just Kyle). About to speak out in retaliation, Kyle opens his mouth before quickly stopping himself in favor of glaring at them. 

“Mohwee,” Kyle addressed the Individual (capital I) closest to them. Then, he glanced over at the other person from the other side. “Squidney.”

Squidney called out to Mohwee from her position across, “D’you think we get to explain it to them now?” Bounding towards Mohwee’s area, sliding (very literally sliding) towards him.

Mohwee seems to tap his chin like a villain (Owen sincerely hopes not) plotting his next move. “Hah! Okay, okay, I’ve got it.” He snaps his fingers when he begins, and Owen will begrudgingly admit, it was a very crisp snap. “This is what we set up anyways, but since these pathetic puny FLESH BITS are far too inferior to figure it out–”

Kyle interrupted. “This is a chess board. Why are we on a chess board?”

Mohwee blinks. “Gosh, such rudeness! Squidney, hand me Oeca’s knife.”

“No way! …Is ‘rudeness’ a word?”

“...Just search it up. Anyways,” Mohwee claps back to his original topic, “yeah, before I was rudely interrupted, this is indeed a chessboard!” He leans down, closing one eye deviously. “Have you ever read All the King’s Horses by Vunnigot?”

Resounding “no’s” rang out, which heavily seemed to disappoint Mohwee and Squidney simultaneously. “What do they teach nowadays?” Squidney complains, flicking out a mechanical pencil (Owen thought that was only provided for Vesper Academy students…?) and disassembling and reassembling the parts out of boredom.

“Ugh, boooring. All other pieces of reading are LOWER LITERATURE. Not that I’d know, though. Kinda stole it from you,” Mohwee says, squinting at Owen. 

…So they steal books from his bookshelf. In other words, thievery of his property. He will sue them. One of these days, he’ll snap, learn law in a month, and sue them.

“So,” Mohwee continues, “disappointing that some people WASTE their precious resources like that. But all the more for us!” He and Squindey fistbump. “Eventually, continental domination is possible. Probable, even.” Kyle and Acho grimace at that, so Owen follows their expressions. He’s sure this looks absurd, but at this point, why the hell not?

Acho blinks around the ground, observing. “Huh, it really is a chess board. Nice catch, Kyle.” He looks up. “What’s up with you and chess?”

Mohwee scoffed. “It’s a strategy game.”

“...So?”

“...It makes me cooler.”

Kyle and Acho stare at him.

“It enhances my cognitive ability for strategies and the best courses of action in scenarios like Squidney, Spidey, and Oeca, and my act of world domination.”

“That’s more like it.” Kyle grumbles. “But, we all know, me and Acho are the chess MASTERS–”

“I told you I was washed up–”

“–and there’s no way we’re letting you… Hey, what’s the word?” He snaps his fingers (a bit more crispier than Mohwee did), “ Twerps , ruin it for us! You can pry this chess crown over my cold, buried hands… Or the scattered ashes of my body!”

Owen just wants to go home, really. Staying in the forest longer than he has to is definitely bad business.

Despite this, Mohwee and Kyle continue to bicker. It’s not until Squidney pulls up some screen (?) and whispers something to Mohwee that makes him stop babbling on and on about why he will be better at chess because… Well, whatever.

“Okay, okay, you explain it actually.” Mohwee grumbles, pushing Squidney in front of him and sitting down (presumably, it was hard to see considering the angle).

Squidney makes some noise to clear her throat. “Alright, listen up! As you’ve noticed, down there is a chess board. If Mohwee and I win, well, we get to stay in control until the others come back.” Offhandedly, Mohwee mumbles something, but Owen and the others are way too far to even hear that.

“And,” Kyle catches, “if me and Acho— oh, and Owen I guess— win, then we… No, then you can’t play with these antics when everyone else is busy sneaking off doing who knows what and leave us in charge.”

Mohwee crosses his arms. Squidney frowns. “Uh.” She rubs her neck. “...”

On the contrary, Mohwee whispers something in HER ear this time, and announces right after, “Deal!!”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna win anyways.”

“...”

“Right?”

“...”

“...Right…?” 

…

The rules are simple. Chess, but unfair. If it makes sense.

Essentially, one of them had to control their side of the chess board. Mohwee and/or Squidney will control the opposite side. And whoever wins gets what they want. Normal chess, right?

NO.

If their piece dies… Well, Mohwee thought it would be a wonderful idea to make one of the pieces stand up and drag them to a mysterious room. Owen thinks that the room is a cellar or dungeon or something similar. Or, at least, he hopes it is.

Owen’s practiced chess multiple times (being a general and all– he had to) and would say he’s generally above average. Of course, he’s replaced one spot as a knight. Kyle was a rook, and Acho… Was a pawn?

“ Acho, why are you a pawn and not one of the, oh, I don’t know, SAFER pieces?! ” Kyle shrieked in concern. Yes, shrieked. Owen had to cover his ears. Who knew that vocal cords could sound so abysmal?

“...I told you, I’m washed up.”

Kyle muttered a string of curses under his breath that Owen couldn’t decipher. Regardless, he still called him out on it.

“Naturally, me and Squidney's side is the black side since you guys took the white side. So, as always, white goes first!”

They just decided to let Kyle do the math for them. And ‘math’ is as in deciding where the pieces go. Owen is not bothered enough to think about strategy against a Forest Person, and if someone says it’s discriminatory, then he is! 

(Owen really needs to stay away from the Forest. He thinks that if he continues having these silly thoughts, he’ll explode in shame. He does not mean it like that… He’s too tired to reason with it.)

As the match develops, Kyle seems distraught. Putting his face in his hands, tugging his hair, biting his nails…

On the contrary, Mohwee taps his fingers with glee against the railings, whispering to Squidney and pointing at the board. 

…Owen analyses the board quickly and decides that they are losing (horribly).

“…Why did you do that?” Owen barely asks and more so shames, turning towards Kyle. Acho has not moved, Owen’s barely out, and they are completely in a defensive position. “You—“ he inhales deeply and sighs. “We need to take more risks. It’s not like we’ll die if we get captured.”

Kyle stares at him.

Owen gets a strange feeling that whatever happens in the cellar will end up worse than death… Whatever that means.

“…Okay, you know what? I’ve got this.” Owen says, brushing it off. Kyle tries to protest, but Owen begins to call out positions.

With Mohwee and Squidney’s playstyle, it just feels like you’re not playing against a human. They make their move maximum two minutes after Kyle’s, which makes Kyle stress out, clearly. A flaw in his playstyle, Owen notes. He focuses too much on the other person, and proceeds to rush to catch up. Faulty mistakes from a faulty mentality.

So, Owen, with a clear mind, pulls himself back into his past mentality. No longer is Kyle or Acho a ‘human being—‘ or rather, sentient being for a better word— they are all pieces to achieve the greater good.

…And naturally, he is no exception.

At this point, if the… MS paint duo (as Owen gently calls them) move their queen at least a bit further from the king to forfeit their defense, Owen can absolutely win. However, the second he is to move his king in any form, he is essentially doomed.

Absent-mindedly, Owen calls Acho. “You trust me, right?”

Acho, after moments of careful deliberation, nods slowly.

“Good.” Owen breathes. “Then move forward twice.”

Kyle narrows his eyes. “Wh—?!”

Owen shushes him, and Acho moves two squares forward.

Mohwee laughs. “What is that?” He near-mocks, snickering. “Oh, I can feel it already— this is MY PERFECT VICTORY . That’s right, I win !!!”

Squidney smacks him, effectively silencing the humanoid.

After Mohwee makes his move (setting up to ambush the king, Owen muses), Owen carefully analyses the board before moving himself.

“…You’re not calling it out?” Acho asks, blinking as Owen shifts his position.

“I don’t need to— it’s just to communicate with other pieces, right? I know where I’m going, surely that isn’t necessary.”

Acho shrugs.

After a momentary silence, Kyle seems to have had an epiphany. “Oh shit .” He swivels his head to Owen, his grip on the pieces surrounding him tightening, forming small cracks around them. “ You can’t be serious .” He hisses, his voice having a small twinge that makes Owen’s mind compelled to call himself stupid and take back his move immediately. Of course, that’s just his mind. Pain is all your brain’s response to outer forces, and he’s long since nulled the feeling to submit.

Owen, instead of taking back his move (which he can’t even, because hello? The sheer rules of chess?), he stares Kyle down . “You get it, right? Once I make this move, then you’re free to make that queen move.”

Kyle’s expression contorted to one less of frustration and more of regret. “No, Owen, you—!”

“What’s he doing?” Acho asks.

“He’s going to sacrifice himself!”

“What?! No, but you can’t! There must be another way!”

Owen quieted the two of them down. “Do you want to stop the goggle kids from winning or not? The two of you have to win. I know it. Not me, not Squidney or Mohwee, but you . So, this is my final choice.” Owen stood his ground firmly.

Mohwee leaned down. “Oh my theorems and equations, I can not hear them. Are my functions glitching?”

Squidney deadpanned. “No, I think this is a copyright situation.” Pause. “…Or maybe they’re just whispering and we forgot to put microphones down there.”

Mohwee tapped his chin. “…Eh, wait, no, we had a reason why we didn’t want to put mics down there…”

“Oh, because we didn’t want to witness the screams of agony.” Squidney smirks, “For afterwards .” She adds deviously, glancing over the cellar doors.

“Ah, got it.” Mohwee rubs his hands together. “ WOW , by humankind, you sure enjoy taking risks, Keldor!” 

Owen looks up at the two. “…How does everyone…” He begins. Brushing it off, he laughs and subtly taunts. “But I suppose these gracious hosts of mine aren’t too fond of taking the same risks as I, hm?”

Mohwee is not fond of taunts. He falls for them all too easily— and by his personality, Owen figured that much. Despite Squidney hurriedly whispering logical solutions (to what Owen assumes is happening), Mohwee slams his fist like he’s fighting in court and commands his piece to take Owen’s.

Perfect, he fell for the bait. The very ordered piece begins shifting towards him and…

…Wait, what happens to him now?