The scarlet-red Romantic Moon, the ocean-blue Original Moon, and the swamp-green Imperfect Moon all orbit our planet, influencing the lives of its creatures in countless ways.
The clearest example is found in the migration patterns of Monsters, which use the moons as celestial compasses to roam across the continents, fulfilling Adam’s Will. However, establishing a correlation between the moons and human behavior has sparked endless intellectual disputes, many of which have tragically derailed into something resembling a religious war. Why? Because early observations suggesting possible links between lunar cycles and fluctuations in human emotions, which encouraged occultists, Heretics, and pseudointellectuals to proclaim a metaphysical bond between the three moons and humanity’s destiny, using it as supposed proof to deny the existence of free will.
Surprisingly, these theories contain a bit of truth because SSR-Class 'Antihero' Emperor Mandrake I Rolandsson demonstrated in his masterpiece treatise—Mythbusting—that a specific blend of moonlight can influence the body’s production of Mana, thereby affecting the emotional stability of the subject. Hence, Essentias and Soulfuls alike may experience periods of reckless boldness or irrational depression depending on the lunar conditions. Moreover, the story doesn’t end here because, with just a quick glance at the historical records, we discover a striking pattern—approximately 87% of all major events in our chronicles occurred on nights when at least one of the moons was full. Therefore, with statistics this monstrous, it is hardly a surprise that metaphysicians have developed an obsession with the subject.
'With every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.' Real intellectuals, however, keep faith in the Original Axiom and its corollaries, which affirm that a rational solution exists for every well-stated question. Thus, it was only natural that the father of Psychology—DD-Class Brain Grinder Sigfred von Drøm—accepted the Heretical challenge, writing his thoughts on the matter in his magnum opus—’The Subjective Objectiveness.’
Dr. Von Drøm opens his book with the thesis that defines his entire work. I quote: ’A sufficiently strong context can alter the way we process information, corrupting the conclusions we are, otherwise, certain are the product of pure reason.’ But, toward the middle of the book, Sigfred begins using…ahem…unconventional examples.
I quote: ’”Starfolks are greedy hyenas who first lead you down the wrong road, and then feast upon your carcass after you get lost and die. I aks, you, free citizens of Maria, do you really want to follow their lead for another three years? They are not human but a plague sent by Adam Himself to punish our sloth—of course, not as bad as the Suzerains, who are the true spawn of the Devil.” This abstract has been taken from an electoral speech of Ludovico Di Mario, the current Consule of Maria—all political experts unanimously agree that this single speech won Mr. Di Mario his election. And unfortunately, once in office, Podestà Di Mario kept every one of his promises, steering his administration into dangerous waters due to his absolute conviction that the Starfolks were conspiring against him and the Free City of Maria, rejecting even the most profitable peace negotiations because he believed they had to be a trap.’
With this example, the 'Mind Grinder' abandons the honors of a chivalrous duel to dive knee-deep into the mud in order to prove his point—any attempt to deny free will fails, aka any effort to standardize human behavior collapses, the instant it is confronted with the Marians. And to do so, Ludwig cites a private diary entry of Ludovico:
’MORNING: Today the Starshitter ambassador visited my office with a proposal from the pedophiles who run their forsaken archipelago. Never in my life have I seen such favorable terms, but why offer me, of all people, such a contract—the man who spent the entire Adamic Year throwing shit at them? Nice try, but ain’t taking the bait. If they had offered the worst terms possible, then I’d trust them. However, the ambassador was quite a cutie, so I told her we could discuss the offer tonight at dinner—just the two of us.
AFTERNOON: Lost in my daydreams, I accidentally tossed the bust of my predecessor out of my office’s window and hit Giuseppe down in the street. No worries, I told him it was the ghost of Farinata.
LATE EVENING: Oh, ’Romantic Dreamer,’ I think I’m in love. No woman has ever kicked me in the face like her.
NIGHT: As always, I shall conclude today’s entry with the only truth that matters—Suarez must be destroyed.’
Von Drøm concludes: ’Money, fame, or success, I’ve heard thousands of my colleagues claiming that profit alone is the key to decrypting our behavior. Yet, millions of Marians had voted for that deranged man, voting against their economic interests, only due to an asinine conspiracy theory. The same logic applies to our other superstitions. Why do people confess love during a Romantic Night? Why do they sign contracts on an Original Night? Why do they commit murders on an Imperfect Night? Because people are retarded, and they will always believe whatever they want to believe.'
“What are you reading?” Sitting in the center of a wooden boat sailing across the Miraval Lake, Carmen asked Jacques, who stood at the stern with an oar in one hand and a book in the other.
“The not-so-subtle cope of a side character complaining about the protagonist stealing the heroine from him,” Jacques smirked, snapping the book shut. “Get ready. I see the ushers on the horizon.” The ’Ego Witch’ hurriedly put on a pair of oversized sunglasses, followed by oversized gloves that reached past her elbows, and an oversized hat whose dangling fishnet elegantly veiled her face—with those decadent accessories, she had aged ten years.
”STOP RIGHT THERE YOU REACTIONARY SCUM!” From the darkness, a Korinthian speedboat moved toward them, carrying two soldiers tasked with patrolling the lake. Once close enough, one of them shone a torch on the intruders, revealing a surreal sight.
”Is that…a Gondola?” In front of the soldiers’ incredulous eyes was the iconic half-moon boat used in the canals of Città Nuova in Maria. However, the Marian vessel did not stop at their orders, moving forward until it crossed over the reflection of the Romantic Moon on the lake. The red light removed the shroud of darkness, and the soldiers’ eyes widened in astonishment at the masterpiece—a Diva.
Amidst an exquisite black night-gown, the red moonlight kissed a woman whose elegance, class, and beauty could have filled the most exclusive theater in the Capital. And even with her face veiled and eyes hidden behind sunglasses, the two Korinthians were bewitched, unable to rationalize the beauty standing before them, certain they were into the most beautiful dream of their lives.
*VRRRRRRROOOOOOM!*
However, the roar of the hydroboat snapped them back to reality. ”IDENTIFY YOURSELVES NOW!” The higher-ranking soldier barked as he turned his torch toward the gondoliere, freezing in fear as he uncovered a new mystery.
There, standing perfectly still at the stern, was a man dressed in a Basilisk-Leather overcoat, Albino Gigantosaurus gloves, and an ambered black adder as a tie. However, the most serpentine thing he wore was his malicious smirk, one that clad the most deceiving of faces.
”THIS IS THE LAST WARNING…WHO ARE YOU?” Yet, no one answered, only that smirk growing wider. So, the soldier raised his Gaussbow.
”Stop, Amelius! For the love of Adam—STOP!” His companion tackled him, taking his weapon away.
“Nikolas, have you lost your mind?!” He shouted, but after seeing the terror in Nikolas’s trembling eyes, he realized something was really wrong.
Thus, Amelius looked back at that man and at his eyes, and the more he looked at it, the more he started to feel frightened. ”The Holy Trinity…” The intruder’s irises were divided cleanly into three colors—as blue as our primordial soup, as red as the blood we shed for passion, and as green as the last thing we see before dying—each with its own pupil—the holy symbol of his church, the Trinity’s Eye. ”It can’t be…” Hastily, the soldier remembered where he had seen those eyes before, and his heart began beating at a lethal pace as the pieces started falling into place.
The gondola, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the most dangerous-looking man he had ever met, all those oddities together made it impossible to deny the truth, prompting the soldier into a humiliating bow. “A thousand apologies, we were not informed of your arrival. Please, allow us to escort you aboard Mother Korinna, Mr. and Miss…
Di Mario.”
***
*BRRRAM!* *BRRRAM!* *BRRRAM!*
*BWAAAAAM!* *BWAAAAAM!* *BWAAAAAM!*
*TRAATAAAAA*! *TRAATAAAAA*! *TRAATAAAAA*!
The cacophony of trumpets, strings, and drums spread across the stage, shattering the night’s quiet and darkness.
On the ship’s main deck, which still bore the scars of the battle that had ravaged it just hours before, hundreds of hastily dressed Korinthian sailors formed two perfect columns that faced each other. Together, they played a deafening orchestral fanfare to honor the two unexpected guests now walking in the space between them.
“Welcome aboard the pride of our fleet, the Pearl of the Mediterranean, the one and only—Mother Korinna!” The junior officers at the front of the columns raised their Gaussbows, forming an archway as the tips of their bayonets touched, creating a roof of steel that shimmered red under the moonlight above the heads of the very important guests.
“She’s real…the Diva I’ve watched in the Korinth’s theatres…she’s right in front of me. Am I dreaming?” It was a thought shared by many. The soldiers were enraptured—men and women alike—by the sight of a divine being walking before them, and when the Diva offered them a graceful wave, they were left breathless, forgetting even their loved ones back home. Meanwhile, the presence of the man in the Basilisk-Leather Overcoat had the opposite effect. His uncanny expression made their skin crawl, his smirk haunting their minds like a venomous piton.
When fear and passion blend together, they form a cocktail called mystery, a feeling that steals all attention.
“I am Admiral Tereus Laestrygonian,” announced the man standing at the end of the guard of honor. Beyond the orchestra, three ranks of officers stood at attention, clad in purpura overcoats draped atop immaculate blue uniforms full of medals. At their front were the three highest authorities aboard the Juggernaut, and the one in the center now extended his hand toward the arriving couple. “It is with the utmost honor that I welcome you aboard my ship. Let the cannons salute our distinguished guests—the scions of the Free City of Maria—
Valentino and Giulietta Di Mario!”
*KA-THOOOOM!* *KA-THOOOOM!* *KA-THOOOOM!*
Admiral Laestrygonian shook Valentino’s hand firmly as rows of cannons fired toward Miraval City to celebrate the memorable day. However, before the formality could settle, the man standing to the left of the Admiral stepped forward, breaking protocol without hesitation.
“Even beyond the farthest seas, the echoes of your beauty have reached my people.” The Naturian Warlord bowed to kiss Giulietta’s hand while never once breaking eye contact. “I am Level-29
α
’Decēptiō Squamata’ Mishaab Gauda, Kalīph of half the known world. It is an honor to meet the genius who gives life to the greatest fantasies trapped inside our books.” He leaned in for a second kiss when, suddenly, he got interrupted.
“Tell your filthy dog to keep his hands off my sister,” Valentino snarled and drew his Ivory Tigress, aiming it straight at the fable prince’s smiling face.
“Misbaah, my dear friend, might I ask you to behave like the gentleman you claim to be?” Admiral Laestrygonian attempted to calm the situation, but his plea went unheard. The two men were already locked in a silent stalemate, the tension thickening the air.
“Aren’t you a bit too possessive of a jewel you can’t even wear?” Gauda taunted, his opal eyes whirling with unnatural speed as he refused to look away from Giulietta.
“You filthy animal, return to whatever jungle spat you out before I castrate you.” Valentino's threat failed to carve even a small crack in the Naturian’s confidence, and every Korinthian soldier around now shared the tension in their gray expression.
“I think you should let your sister decide for herself, don’t you?” Giulietta did not flinch. She held her chin and shoulder high, unbothered by standing before the strongest human alive. However, Mishaab was certain that he saw a flash of something beyond those oversized sunglasses. “Miss Di Mario, how about the two of us get to know each other better? We could go somewhere more inti—”
*RRAAAAGGHHHRRRAAAAHH!*
Suddenly, a guttural roar shattered the tension, and Mishaab’s hand quickly moved away from Giulietta’s arm as a whip of twitching organs and coagulated hemogoblin slashed across it.
”Kalīph Gauda.” Rougeserker solidified into a bloody blade, aiming directly at the Gauda’s throat. “The Free City of Maria may be essential to the next phase of this conflict. So, for this time only, I will interpret your behavior as an unorthodox negotiation tactic.” The blade pressed closer. “However, if you attempt to jeopardize our nations’ alliance, you will be dealt the same way we deal with any traitor.” A loud twitch ran through Rougeserker, eager to feast on Natruian flesh. “Have I made myself clear?”
The Anima stared for a few seconds at the featureless helmet of the Kataphract, then quickly apologized and stepped back, remaining silent for the rest of the ceremony. Yet, his opal eyes never left his true target.
“I beg your pardon for this little misunderstanding,” Admiral Laestrygonian rushed in, desperate to regain control of the situation. “In any case, the gentleman you’ve just met is one of our most valuable allies. So, I humbly ask that you set aside your differences and cooperate from now on.” Valentino answered him with nothing but a murderous glare at both the Admiral and the Naturian Warlord. “Ahem…the gentleman at my right will serve as your guardian angel during your stay aboard the ship. He is the Hegemon of the Kataphracts, the bravest of the Korinna’s Knights, and their leader—Harmatia.” The two men exchanged a firm handshake. However, when Valentino attempted to break it, the armored giant did not release his grip until the Marian businessman was forced to look up, meeting the blank visor of the Korinthian Champion. Only after Harmatia caught a look of those wonderful Trinitarian Eyes did he let go—both siblings had just gained new unwanted admirers.
“Ahem… so, how do you feel about the ceremony we organized for you?” Tereus asked, eyes full of naive hope.
“A complete shitshow,” Valentino flatly replied. “But honestly, what else can I expect from fucking Demmies?”
“Ahaha…sadly, your arrival wasn’t anticipated enough to satisfy your standards, but to apologize, I have a gift for you—a medal to honor this day.” The Admiral pinned it to Valentino’s chest, who immediately bad-eyed both. Then, the Marian gasped and tapped his clock, prompting Tereus to order his men to escort the two very important guests to a more comfortable place for discussion.
***
The place in question was the Admiral’s private dining room, where he had dusted off his finest trinkets for the occasion—an Elysium-Wood table adorned with masterful silverware, diamond-cut glasses, and alabaster plates. The Korinthian officials sat on one side while the two Marians occupied the other—roughly 80% of the table’s circumference belonged to the Demmies, and the remaining sliver to the Marians. Harmatia, the Captain of the Kataphracts, was forbidden to eat while on duty, and so, he stood before the door, his massive body completely eclipsing it. Gauda, the Kalīph, sat within the circular frame of the porthole, pretending to be lost in thought as he gazed outside while his attention never truly left his prey now sitting at the table.
”It seems the slave never aimed for freedom, only for his master’s privileges,” Mr. Di Mario mocked, tasting the wine from a twenty-year-old bottle labeled with the word—Rouge Noz.
Sorry Midserk.
”Reactionaries and insects are kindred creatures,” Admiral Laestrygonian began, his tone irritating enough to test an ascetic’s patience. ”You all have oversized stomachs, impulsive instincts, and no reasoning skills, incapable of looking beyond your flawed first impressions.” Despite being well into his middle years, Tereus hadn’t lost his flamboyant charm, the whole aided by obsessive skincare to hide his wrinkles, an all-too-obvious hair transplant, and even a little makeup. ”The fine wine you’re drinking, the exquisite furniture around you, the masterwork paintings hanging from these walls, none of these are the product of Reactionaryism, but of people despite Reactionaryism—a dandelion may bloom even through concrete. Likewise, art will always be born in the most hostile environments.” The officers sitting beside him broke into a standing ovation. ”So, to answer your question, I feel rage surging from my belly as I thought that the artistic genius who created the masterpiece decorating this opulent room could have produced if only they had been born in my nation, instead of your hell on earth.” A single tear simultaneously streamed from the left eye of all the Korinthian officials as an elderly servant began playing a bittersweet symphony on the piano at the far end of the room.
Valentino shrugged. “Speaking of stomachs…” He pointed at his sister, who was tracing her fork across an empty plate—etiquette required her to remove her hat while dining, yet she kept the foulard over her hair and also protected her sunglasses from being removed by the waiters.
“Soon, but first we must confirm something.” A female officer seated at his right extracted a deck of cards and began flipping them, one by one, showing each to the Marians. ”We shan’t underestimate the Tricknology of the enemy. Gauda, me, and even you—especially you—can be an impostor.” Admiral Laestrygonian’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Therefore, you will undergo a small test to prove that the man before me truly is Valentino Di Mario, the Scion of the Free City of Maria.”
“No filthy needle is going to touch me!” Valentino slammed his fist on the table.
”Relax, my test is more of an abstract one.” The female officer handed over the card deck to Valentino. “I’ve heard the legends about your Hyperthymesia. Being able to remember everything you’ve ever seen must be a blessing from Adam, isn’t it? One of the rare cases where a the genetics of a Soulful can rival the [Skills] of an Essentia—I’m so jealous.” All the officials placed their Tigresses on the table, barrels aimed at the Marian. “If you are truly who you claim to be, arranging those cards in the exact order she drew them shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
Giulietta glanced at her brother, eyes twitching beneath that oversized pair of sunglasses, but Valentino just silently studied the deck, his expression unreadable.
“What’s wrong?” Tereus asked, tone dripping in sarcasm. “Is my little request too difficult for yo—” A storm of cards smashed against his face, and when the Admiral re-opened his eyes, he met the most enraged of faces.
“Who the fuck do you think I am? A CIRCUS FREAK for your little FREAKSHOW?!” Valentino roared as he extracted his Ivory Tigress, aiming straight at the female officer,
*Bang!*
The Ivory Bolt hit her squarely in the heart, and as she collapsed onto the table, her blood rained into the goblets, ruining such fine wine with a metallic aftertaste.
“You want proof I’m not an Essentia? Fine!” Valentino shifted his weapon toward the Admiral. “But I’ll test whether all of you are Essentias as well—in my own way!”
The Korinthians officials nodded at each other. ”Yeap…it’s him.” Then Admiral Laestrygonian clapped, and a team of doctors stormed into the room, carrying the twitching woman away while the waiters replaced the tableware with clean sets. Thankfully, the Elysium Tree is a carnivorous plant, and its wood absorbed all the blood left on the table.
“Please, accept our deepest apologies. Our rigid protocols left me with no choice because, you know, your sudden arrival caught us off guard—our intelligence believed you were still enjoying your free time in Sternenhavn.” Tereus pointed out.
“I know, and that’s exactly why I’m here instead. My unpleasant admirers ought not to know where I really take my holidays—that’s why I’m still alive. However…” He glanced at Giulietta, who nodded before casually stabbing her knife into the table twice. “My sister has a point. Isn’t it a little too convenient that your invasion overlapped so perfectly with our vacation?”
“The war has been planned in absolute secrecy for months—don’t be paranoid, ahah!” Tereus laughed off his doubts. “And besides, we sent a report to the Marian ambassador five minutes before the invasion began—you want to improve your internal communication protocols.” Valentino frowned at his smugness. “Now, before we delve into actual business, I want to express my sincerest condolences for your tragic loss.”
“Who died?” Valentino inelegantly sprawled across his seat, putting himself comfortable by resting an arm on his sister’s chair.
“Your cousin, Rinaldo Di Mario. A tragedy…he had such a shining future.” Again, tears streamed down the faces of all the Korinthian officers.
”Oh, no need for that because—I’m his killer.” His chilling confession cast a pall of awkwardness over the Korinthians. “That motherfucker’s supporters called him the reincarnation of Hero Mario, implying he should inherit the family fortune just because his ugly face vaguely resembled the one on a stained-glass window crafted a thousand years after Mario died. So, I took matters into my own hands.” Valentino refilled his glass, emptied it in a single shot, and nonchalantly continued the conversation. “I had him kidnapped by pirates when he was three. Burned down his school, with all his classmates and friends inside, when he was five. Poisoned Maria’s entire water supply when he was ten because he wanted to use it on some dumb project. And yet, despite all my best efforts, the lucky bastard always survived, and you can’t imagine the awkwardness at the dinners afterward—I knew he knew. He knew I knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew. etc…” The Marian shrugged. “So I decided to change my approach. I remembered he was a devout fan of Emperor Mandrake I, and since he was his idol, Rinaldo would never believe the ’Antihero’ could be wrong about anything. So, I gave him a counterfeit map, claiming that Mandrake had found a safe route through Suarez’s Adagon, and the idiot actually believed it, vanishing into the depths of the ocean—my total victory!”
That’s how I would have planned my own Murder. But my cousin is too retard to think of that.
”Ahem...are you sure you should be sharing such a secret with us?” Tereus asked, genuinely confused.
”Do you have any proof? And who the hell would ever believe a fucking Demmie, anyway? Right, Giulietta?” The woman stayed silent, givingher brother the back—her proud expression, showed no trace of compassion. “Again?! Stop being childish!” Valentino slammed his palm on the table. “He had to die.” Giulietta kept ignoring him, so he grabbed her chin, forcing his twin sister to face him—his enraged face now mirroring in her large sunglasses. I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO FOR US! You should be thankf—”
Valentino felt something grab his arm, tugging him away from his sister. ”Are you blind or what? The lady wants nothing to do with you—scum. Touch her again, and I’ll crush your skull.” Mishaab Opal Eyes locked onto Valentino’s Trinitarian ones—a power struggle between two living world’s wonders.
“Remove your dirty hand, you filthy animal, and go back to the Adam-forsaken shithole you came from!” Valentino barked, shoving the barrel of his Ivory Tigress between Gauda’s teeth. The fable prince laughed as he tasted the Gaussbow, utterly amused.
“Gentlemen, please, we are all friends who share a commom goa—” Admiral Laestrygonian couldn’t finish the sentence that Rougeserker surged forward, severing the Anima’s arm.
“I thought I was clear earlier,” Harmatia declared, stepping forward as the twitching weapon devoured its prize.
“I’ve read your my fair share of the knightly tales that the Children of Chaos love so much,” Mishaab replied as his arm instantly regenerated. “And yet here you are, preventing me from defending a damsel in distress.” White scales started spreading across his face. “If you’ve already abandoned your honor and values for your mission, then answer me this—do you truly believe you stand a chance against me, against a god?”
“Yes.” Rougeserker morphed back into a blade, far longer than before—its blade curving like a hungry serpent. “On Mother Korinna, I am your god.”
”Ahahahaha!” Mishaab threw his head back and loudly laughed for an everstalting couple of minutes. Then, he finally lowered himself into a non-fighting stance, allowing the captain of the Kataphracts to usher him toward the door. However, before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, a last stare at his prey.
“It doesn’t matter where he hides you. Just call my name, and I will set the entire world on fire to save your life!”
