The World Is Mine For The Taking

Hereon's POV

"Huh?" I exclaimed aloud.

I found myself standin' on the shore of the island, utterly perplexed. How the hell did I end up here? I scratched my head in confusion, unable to make sense of it.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not directionally challenged or anythin'. Sure, I might be a bit clueless at times, but I'm not completely hopeless when it comes to finding my way around. I just walked straight without a destination in mind, and somehow wound up here by sheer coincidence.

On my way here, I had a run-in with two thugs, whom I swiftly dealt with. I also overheard that there were over thirty other participants on the island. That meant my odds of victory were on the rise.

I turned and ventured into the forest. Along the way, I had been making small cuts on the trees to mark my path, but when I retraced my steps, the cuts were nowhere to be seen. Weird.

Deciding it was pointless to dwell on it, I pressed on deeper into the forest. If I ended up here by chance, maybe I could find my way back to base by chance too.

However, as I delved further into the woods, I stumbled upon somethin' shocking. A figure leaned against a tree, and as I drew closer, I recognized her immediately—Shredica, the woman with purple hair.

She lay there, her condition dire, as if teetering on the brink of oblivion. Despite the severity of her wounds, she managed to cling to life, each breath a struggle against the encroaching darkness. A gaping gash marred her chest, crimson rivers flowing freely from the wound, painting the ground beneath her in stark contrast. But she wasn't out for the count just yet, and that was a damn good thing.

"Are you okay?!?" I shouted, my heart pounding in my chest as I rushed to her side. It was a strange feeling, this urgency coursing through me, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. I needed to help her, and I needed to do it now.

As I approached, she reassured me, "I'm okay. I don't think I'll get eliminated if I can help it. But I feel like the magic circle beneath us is starting to suck me in to teleport me to the Church, so I'd appreciate it if you could fetch Mr. Leon before it's too late."

She seemed to be holding on, but her words ignited a fire of irritation within me. I knew exactly why—I couldn't stand hearing that bastard's name.

"Tsk," I clicked my tongue in frustration. "Why the hell do you need that bastard anyway?"

"I need him to patch me up," she replied bluntly.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" I demanded, my voice laced with disbelief.

"Honestly, I think healing magic is a load of bullshit. That's why I never bothered with those lessons," she explained with a shrug.

I was floored by her response. Healing magic was essential, second only to attack magic. To hear her dismiss it so casually left me stunned. Maybe this woman was even more rebellious than I'd realized.

I sighed and reached into my pocket, pulling out something and holding it out to her.

"What's this...?" she asked, eyeing the item.

"It's a healin' potion. Might help you heal up a bit. Although it won't exactly replenish your blood," I explained.

"Well, I guess it's better than nothing. Can you bring the vial closer to my lips?" she requested.

I blinked in surprise. "Can't you do it yourself?"

"Seriously? Do you honestly think I can?" she retorted, her tone incredulous. "I can barely move with all these injuries."

She was right. Considerin' her injuries, it was honestly impressive that she hadn't been eliminated yet. Typically, if you sustained anything beyond a mild injury and it escalated to severe, you'd be whisked off to the Church for healin'. Her injuries were definitely in the severe category now. It was absurd that she was still holdin' on solely through sheer willpower.

But as much as I admired her resilience and wanted to help, I couldn't just bring the vial to her lips like she asked. What if my fingers accidentally brushed against her lips in the process?

"What are you waiting for? Just do it already," she urged impatiently.

"Alright," I agreed, pushing aside my hesitation. What was I even hesitatin' for? And so what if my fingers accidentally brushed against her lips? I didn't know what was holdin' me back, but it didn't matter. With a determined nod, I brought the vial to her lips and let her drink its contents. In no time, she was healed.

***

Myrcella's POV

Johanne helped me up, my pants drenched with pee clinging stubbornly to my legs, smeared with mud and filth.

"Sorry about that, Johanne," I muttered as he gripped my pee-soaked pants.

"It's no bother," he replied with his usual gallant demeanor. "I'm your knight, and you're my Princess. I promised to stand by your side through anything, didn't I? So something as trivial as this doesn't faze me."

What he said and the way he said it might have swept many women off their feet, but it had no sway over me. To my eyes, Johanne was nothing more than a younger brother, and to him, I was simply his sister. Besides, Johanne's demeanor wasn't a deliberate act of charm; it was just his natural demeanor.

"Anyway..." I began, diverting my attention to the tense scene unfolding before us. "This looks bad..."

The man who had seemed to be the leader in our previous encounter now stood face-to-face with Mephisto, while Mephisto himself held the woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to me in his grasp.

"You claim we've crossed paths before, but your face doesn't jog my memory. Who the hell are you?" Mephisto's voice sliced through the air like a sharpened blade, carrying with it an icy chill that sent shivers cascading down my spine. It felt as though his words emanated from the depths of the abyss itself, leaving behind an unsettling aura of foreboding.

"Who I am doesn't matter right now. What's important is whether you'll spare her or not," the man declared. "Depending on your answer, I might be forced to take action that you won't like."

"What do you mean?" Mephisto demanded, his grip tightening on the woman's neck.

"I've got a bomb planted somewhere," the man revealed, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. "Care to take a guess?"

Mephisto remained silent, clearly not amused by the man's attempt at humor. He tightened his grip on the woman's neck.

"Well, I guess not," the man remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "How about I offer you a riddle instead? I am a place where children roam, Without parents, they find a home. In me, memories endlessly flow, A town where roots and love both grow. What am I?"

The riddle's answer was simple: "Orphanage."

At that, Mephisto's demeanor shifted abruptly.

"You... How did you know that?" he demanded.

"Hahahaha! I'm not just getting stronger to face you again, Mephisto. I've been investigating you, planning how to take you down," the man declared. "I'm hell-bent on defeating you."

With those words, darkness consumed the man, revealing his true form. But it wasn't a man at all—it was more apt to call him a boy. He stood at the height of a 10-year-old, yet his presence commanded respect far beyond his years. Despite his youthful appearance, there was something about him that screamed danger. His smirk spoke volumes, confirming his prowess and the darkness that lurked within him.

I knew him. This man is...

"Moriarty?" Johanne interjected, finishing my thought before I could speak.

That's it. Johanne's words confirmed my suspicion. He was indeed the man I had feared—the one renowned as the strongest in the world, capable of bending reality to his whims. The man whose very presence exuded an aura of darkness. This man was James Moriarty, the former Prince of the Principality of Moriarty.

"Yeah, that's right. You've got it, knight. The one and only, Moriarty," Moriarty affirmed with a graceful bow, his demeanor oozing with confidence and power. Moriarty fixed Mephisto with a sly smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Surprised I'm still standing?" he quipped, his tone dripping with insolence. "Well, they say a bad grass can't be easily trampled.

I've got the devil himself watching over me, you know?"

"I don't remember you," Mephisto retorted, his voice cold and indifferent.

"Ouch, that's a low blow," Moriarty chuckled, though there was an edge to his amusement. "I was practically counting down the minutes to our little reunion. Can't you at least try to jog your memory?"

"Enough," Mephisto snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Answer my question. How did you know?"

"The orphanage? Didn't I mention I'm a collector of secrets?" Moriarty replied with a smirk, his gaze flickering with amusement. "You're quite the puzzle, Mephisto. Hard to believe something as simple as that slipped your mind."

What was unfolding before my eyes, I pondered. The sight of two formidable wanted figures standing before me sent a wave of dizziness washing over me, leaving me momentarily disoriented. The air crackled with tension as they faced off, their mere presence casting a shadow over the surroundings. It was a surreal moment, as if time itself had frozen to witness the clash of titans.

"Let's bail while we still can," Johanne suggested.

"I agree."

And with that, we made our escape from the scene.

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