The Following episode will be featuring Sergals. Sergals are a creation of Mick39 as part of her sci-fi world Vilous; this story is a fiction all its own and the lore is unrelated to Mick39’s creation. Posted with permission.

Written by: Epicstu Wyyvernwriter

Though the First only sought forgiveness, the others did not care and had pride in what they were. The Second was a thief who lived for the thrill of the heist and the deception of others.

*          *

The equivalent of seven lifetimes passed Pip by, though he did not age a single moment. A starry night sky greeted him as he was dragged, at long last, onto the deck of the Dreadnautilus. “Get up,” the voice he had first heard when he awoke demanded. He could see her now, she wore what appeared to be a long jacket made of feathers with a distinguished collar. The feathers resembled an infinite abyss of darkness and looking into them calmed his very soul. Upon her head, she wore a tricorn hat made of black marble fur and hide and in her eyes, he beheld a fate so perfect that he found himself unable to look away from it. He now knew who this was. This was Death who spoke to him, “I said get up, Fateless Living.” Pip’s knees were bloody and worn to the bones. Death unsheathed a cutlass with the blade held by a solid brace on one side which extended from the handle to just before the tip of the blade. The tip of a blade met his chin and then slowly caressed down his neck and chest to his gut before hitting the ground before him with a dull thud. Death pulled a trigger on her cutlass’s handle and the blade sprung out pivoting off the end of the brace closest to the blade’s tip. The double-edged blade stopped at a ninety-degree angle and just barely touched Pip’s chin. She coerced him to stand by slowly lifting her scythe. He got to his feet and stood. He was still unable to look away from those eyes, then Death asked him, “Whom do you serve, Warpriest?” Then Pip was able to look away. He remembered his fight with the Fennec Fox who was Hell. “Pray to him,” Pip looked back into Death’s eyes as she unsheathed a second switch-cutlass with her off hand and pulled a trigger on its handle activating the scythe. She put the tip of her offhand scythe’s blade to Pip’s temple and moved him over the ship’s edge. The chains still bound him. “Pray to him, Warpriest, and if he sees fit to answer, tell me his name,” Death pushed Pip over the edge of the Dreadnautilus and into an ocean. There, weighed down by the anchor connected to the chains that bound him, he had no other choice. He knew Death would accept no other name, so he prayed.

*          *

In the center of the crater that had been made by her defeat, Zesrial looked up at the Living God who had struck her down and saw no hope for the world she was charged with defending. No hope for the Realm that held it. Other than the Living only a Wyyvern weapon could harm him. Without Edward to wield her or be wielded by her she had no way to help. She feared even the defenses the Living and the Dead had constructed together and placed around their World did not have enough power to stop the calamity that approached them. A tear fell from her to the feather of golden light that still remained where the Sigil had been. Time stopped, and all became pitch black. Zesrial could not even see her own hand as she held it over her face and then she heard a voice. “My Goddess weeps,” the voice did not sound happy. “Zesrial, my lady,” a skeleton with bones of starry black light that did not shine and wearing black robes that seemed as ancient as he appeared to be stood before her. In his right hand, he held a staff of starry white light that did not shine with a blade at the bottom and a hook at the top. The hook held a lantern and in the lantern shined a brilliant blue light that illuminated the vast and timeless Realm they were in. “Tell me who made you cry,” his skull moved as though it had muscle and flesh, but there was only bone.

Zesrial looked into the eyeless holes of the skeleton that stood before her and asked, “who are you that you should care? What makes me your Goddess?”

The skeleton smiled, “your lightning is that of my creator, I would recognize it anywhere. Zesrial, you are only a Wyyvern now, but one day you will be a God. I am one of your  Knights created by you and reforged in your Polanthium,” the skeletal Polanthium Knight explained. “Now tell me who has caused you such sorrow as to cause your tears to reach through Time and the Void. Allow me to do my job and strike down your enemy for you.”

“I failed the last Knight who fought in my name,” Zesrial warned.

“I will not fail you,” the Knight replied.

Zesrial did not know if any of what this Knight said was the truth or how she would become the Goddess he claimed she was. He seemed to have the properties of a Wyyvern weapon and yet did not seem to require a wielder. The white staff he held and the blue light in the lantern were as much a part of him as his black bones. “The Giant Lizard that approaches the World that your Sigil was drawn upon. It will take all Life leaving nothing but the Dead. Then it will devour those Dead erasing their very souls from existence as he digests them. I have failed to prevent this fate.”

The skeletal Knight stabbed his staff into the ground and drove its blade deep into the ground. Then Zesrial was pushed back, and into the Realm, she had been defending. Harrissa and Michael caught her as she flew out from nowhere at them, “What happened?” Harrissa asked. A Tower of black and white glowing with blue energy rose from the crater that had been created by her fall and from it, a shield of starry white that did not shine surrounded the entire World. Zesrial looked at Michael, “who did you summon?”

“You must be Zesrial,” Michael replied. “This World is protected now, come with me and I will tell you what I know.”

*          *

“A race?” Edward replied to the Second, a slender cat with saber teeth made of solid gold. Her body was covered in piercings, and several tattoos were burned into her white fur. Her eyes were emerald green, but the pupils seemed ever so slightly smaller than the First’s. “What kind of race?”

“Behind me is a labyrinth, well guarded and fortified,” the Second explained her game to Edward. “Inside is a gemstone of purest purple, much like your lover’s lightning. It is the key to my gate. Whichever one of us retrieves this precious stone and unlocks the gate with it gets to leave and the loser must stay here. Trapped until the gate is unsealed again.”

Edward thought it over, “How many walled cities did you siege during our people’s war?” Dolan asked him with a smile.

Edward smiled. The art of the Seige was his specialty, but there was one thing he did better. “So the winner is whichever one of us uses the gemstone in that labyrinth,” he pointed to the labyrinth behind the Second, “to open that gate?” then he pointed to the sealed gate the Second had spoken of earlier.

“Yes,” the Second replied with a grin of confidence.

“I accept your challenge,” said Edward with a straight face.

*          *

In a realm that was half filled by an ocean and half empty space filled with planets and stars, Pip hung suspended and submerged. Chained to the Dreadnautilus, “am I bait on a hook?” he wondered. He had received no answer from the Fox he prayed to, “perhaps I am not speaking the correct prayer,” he meditated on his fight with the Fox. “Iron Ram?” he remembered what the Knight shouted that made his headbutt seem more powerful. “What is the significance of the phrase?” he prayed his question thinking only of the Fox who was the Wyyvern Underrealm, Hell.

Death stood on the deck of her Dreadnautilus and watched the waters below, “Hell probably cannot even hear him pray,” said the righteous hand of War.

“Even if he could, why would anyone answer a prayer from the one who put an end to them?” the wicked hand of War questioned.

“Edward has never been prayed to before,” Strife added. “To him, the Warpriest’s prayer may seem like idle thoughts in the back of his mind.”

“The Wyyvern of Fate will only take the bait if the prayer is answered,”  said Famine. “Only then will the Warpriest be granted a new Fate and return to the Living. Should he survive the ordeal, that is.”

“He will,” Death replied with confidence. “Soon the Fateless Warpriest will claim his Fate, and then the Wyvern of Fate will hunger for him.” She smiled.

“No cheating your way around Fate’s trials, Death,” the Nekolich interrupted sternly. “You must complete all three fairly.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Death replied. “Trial one, get Fate to take the bait. Trial two, reel it out of the water and drag it to the stars above. Trial three, kill it. Hook, line, and sinker,” she smiled innocently. “I’d say those trials are more than fair given the level of power this Wyyvern holds throughout the entire Multiverse.”

The Nekolich laughed. “Good luck with that,” he replied as leaned against the mast with his arms folded and awaited the event of a lifetime to unfold. “This is going to be epic.”

*          *

The Nameless Living God opened his mouth to swallow the World whole, and then a tower stabbed his open maw as it rose from that World. Reeling back, the Nameless became enraged and demanded, “Who dares to strike the creator of all things?” Then he saw that the World he wanted was covered in a Living white shield. On that sphere of safety stood a black skeleton in tattered robes wielding a white staff that held a lantern of blue light. He was both true Living and true Dead, forged of an element that had no wyvern because the element did not exist yet. “You are not my creation, nor were you born of it. Who are you?” the Nameless asked in anger and confusion. “What gives you the right to…” Then the skeleton glared at the Nameless, and the Nameless recognized what this skeleton was, “Impossible!” The title of God had never before been claimed by a Dead not even by 999. “How can you be?”

“I am Reaven, Lich Lord of Necromourne. Polanthium Knight of the Goddess Zesrial, whom you have stricken down to the ground.” the God who was both true Living and true Dead replied.

“How did you become a God?” the Nameless demanded to know.

“A God?” Reaven questioned. “I suppose being born of the essence of one might explain that. However, none of that matters now. For I have not been born yet, and the Goddess who created me has yet to ascend to that rank. I have been summoned here from a different Realm, that exists only in the future, to contend with you, Basilisk of the Arcadium.”

“What did you call me?!” The Nameless questioned in anger as he wrapped his tail, which was seven times the length of his body, around the shield that covered the World he sought to kill and then devour. “How dare you speak such lies to me! What you claim is impossible. There are no other Realms, I created all Life and all Life that has been born here has been born of my creation.”

Then a hook caught the inside of Basilisk’s mouth and pulled him back, “remove your tendril of a tail from my city!” Reaven, who had leaped to another world behind Basilisk, said as he pulled him from the World he wanted and flung him into a distant star galaxies away. “You will never breach her walls whilst I remain. Basilisk.”

*          *

The second slowly got back to her feet. She had slept with the only Demon that guarded the Vault which held the purple gemstone to swipe its key from him. Satisfied and asleep, the guard did not notice her take his key. “That stupid brute of a Fox,” the Second chuckled as she opened the vault door and picked up the gemstone it contained. “His siege of the front gate was the purrfect distraction. I’ve never had an easier heist.” Edward had made quite the path straight through the Labyrinth, but much to the Second’s surprise he could not find him or any of the hordes of Demons who had guarded its contents. “This is too easy,” she said as she left through the destroyed gate to find Dolan laughing hysterically. “What are you laughing at,” Dolan pointed to the gate, but when the Second looked instead saw a wall.

“There you are,” Edward grunted as he threw the guard the Second had slept with to the top of the wall he had made from the bodies of the thousands of Demons he had slain during his siege of the labyrinth. “Took you long enough,” he leaned on the greatsword that had been buried with him after his first death and smiled. “I’ll be taking that gemstone now.”

“No! That’s not fair!” the Second rebuked in anger. “I did the work, I retrieved the gemstone fair and square!”

“There is nothing fair and square about stealing,” Edward replied sternly. “That gemstone is not just as purple as my Lady’s lightning, it is a piece of it. A piece you crystalized and stole before you died.” Then Edward smiled, “but fair and square was never part of this contest, was it?”

The Second looked at the wall between her and the gate. Behind Edward was an opening and through that opening was the gate’s keyhole. To get to it, she would have to get passed him there was no other way. “There is only one of you,” she said as she readied her silenced pistol in her left hand and held tight the gemstone in her right hand. Dolan laughed harder, “What is so funny to you?!”

“Pussycat, I have witnessed that Fox take that same exact position before great warriors and entire armies with that same stupid smug look on his face.” Edward gestured his eyebrows in such a way as to beckon the Second to come at him. Dolan stood up and walked to the Second. “Many of them wielded weapons just like yours, and all of them said the same thing you just did,” then he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “good luck,” before walking off to the side and sitting back down.

Without hesitation, the Second raised and fired her pistol repeatedly as she walked towards Edward. Edward unsheathed the six-inch retractable claw on his right big toe and used it to flick his greatsword into the first bullet, deflecting it. His sword gained speed and momentum from every well-timed and angled deflection allowing him to move its blade into the path of each incoming bullet one after the next. When she got close enough, the Second performed a forward flip and unsheathed nine-inch retractable claws from her feet as she attempted to slash down upon Edward through an opening she had found. Edward quickly drew his shortsword with his off hand and caught the attack he saw coming. Then he threw her down behind him and stabbing his greatsword through her shoulder, pinning her to the ground so she could see the keyhole. It was just out of her reach. Then he grabbed her left arm and cut off the hand that held the crystallized piece of Zesrial’s lightning as he took it back for her. The Second had nothing to say, she had been beaten at her own game, deceived out of her quarry. Edward pulled his greatsword from her shoulder, wiped the blood and dirt from its blade and sheathed it. “I miss judged you, Fox.”

“Everyone does,” Edward replied as he put the gemstone to the keyhole and the gate opened. “Dolan, would you mind clearing a path.”

“I tried to warn you,” Dolan said as he walked passed the Second and stood in front of the pile of bodies in his and Edward’s way. With music so beautiful it made the Second weep he summoned a disk of water that gently moved the bodies away as he and Edward walked on through. The Gate of the Second shut behind them and was resealed in Edward’s teal snowfire. Then Edward heard a voice calling to him, asking him a question, “What is the meaning Iron Ram?”

*          *

Pip’s eyes opened, he had received his answer. Looking down into the depths he saw something more massive than the ship he was chained to swimming towards him, and he smiled. Fate had noticed him.