Sam’s breath hitched. Somehow, just from a glance, just by comparing the pure sense of power permeating the air around him, she could tell that this man was beyond Frank. His ??? was beyond Frank’s in a way that Sam just couldn’t understand. Who the hell was this? What the hell was a Divine Human? Had they-, had they captured an angel? No, going by the way this man looked, the way his every move and every breath seemed to move the world around him by manner of pure intent, he seemed more like a demon.

That was how Sam regarded the man sitting beyond the glass wall. George’s perception was both more and less nuanced, in part because he didn’t have her intuitive sense of how strong other people were.

All he knew was that this man, this person sitting in the deepest recesses of the Other Island, guarded by the Strongest Fighter in the world, must have been a fantastically powerful otherworlder. That was all he knew, and although a faint idea seemed to tug at the back of his mind, that this man seemed almost familiar, he ignored it fully. It’d be a cold day in hell before he let his thoughts wander in such a direction.

Darius was about to ruin that self-imposed chastity. “My… He can’t recognize your scents at all. Fascinating.”

“Is he supposed to?” George asked, his eyes narrowing.

Darius gave a quick nod. “To be absolutely clear, what you’re looking at is not just a one-sided mirror, but also… Currently, the world’s most dangerous subject. Though, the fact that he hasn’t recognized you yet is a good thing, as it means we have some time to discuss matters before you initiate conversation with him. Unless you would rather that Inmate Wiedemann explain his situation to you himself?”

Any calm that had previously possessed the two siblings now completely escaped them. They both turned to Darius with complete and utter befuddlement, mouth pressed into thin, white lines.

“...Did I perchance not tell you? Pardon me, I-, Frank, would you be so kind as to give me Inmate Wiedemann’s black card?” Darius asked, turning to Frank who was still cowering behind him, though more so out of fear of the man on the other side of the window than Sam and George (a perfectly adequate reaction by all measures). Frank fumbled with his robes for a few seconds before handing Darius a business-card sized black piece of paper. Darius, in turn, handed it to George. “This is his status. Considering Sam’s occupation, I’m sure you will find the layout to be familiar.”

Divine Human, Lv. 999+

Guardian of Sacred Walls

War of the North, Survivor, Fugitive

Purge of the Holy(X), Devotion (X), Shine of Divine Light (X), Warrior's Breath (X), Undeath (X), Dragon's Perception (X), Holy Swordsmanship (X) (...)

Although George had been handed the card, he angled it so that Sam could take a proper look as well. Sam was not a pale woman. She enjoyed outdoor activities in large part due to her occupation (before all this she hadn’t even considered doing sports outside of pure necessity and threat of death) and so her face and body had amassed a rather deep tan. In a mere second, this tan was banished, replaced by a corpse-pale pallour and a trembling lip that indicated a fear George had never seen in her before. “Wh-, what the hell is… X-rated skills?... Do those even… And the level… How did-, what is… Kreig… Is this really Kreig?...”

“Yes,” Darius said before George could raise his voice. “There is no doubt about it. Suffice it to say, this is the reason why we couldn’t let you meet him immediately. I’ll spare you the details, but both his own testimony and all known evidence suggest that Kreig Wiedemann was summoned to the Otherworld ten years ago, the same day that the portals started appearing. To us, only ten years have passed. But, to him…” Here, Darius turned to look at Kreig where he sat, surrounded by paintings and sketches and drawings of people and things. His eyes were solemn. “-Too many years have passed. When he returned to us, he was… A wreck, to say the least. It’s a surprise he didn’t cause an incident, considering his mental state.”

George tried to follow Darius’ gaze to look at the man he was being told was his younger brother, but it was hard. He could barely look at the man who sat in there, inside his little cell in his little overalls like some caged animal. “...Why is he in here?”

“At the moment, Inmate Wiedemann presents an international threat. Through gradual contact with other people and reintegration into small societies, we are aiming to grant him some form of mental stability. Had we introduced you earlier, or, rather, had we introduced the fact that his parents are no longer in this world, an incident would surely have been caused,” Darius said. “Now that his mental state is in a better place, it has been decided to introduce you as another facet of his reintegration into society here on Earth. I shouldn’t need to say this, but if you do not follow the guidelines we prepared for you, an international incident may occur, on the level of what Famine of the East caused.”

Famine of the East. A familiar name, one that neither of the two siblings had heard of in several years. Calling what that creature had done ‘an incident’ was a grave understatement. However…

Even George knew that Famine of the East had been level 800 at most.

Even Sam knew that ‘War of the North’ as a title sounded far too familiar.

Both implications were extremely hard to take.

“We hold no secrets towards you. At the moment, you two present part of the only hope we have in successfully rehabilitating Inmate Wiedemann into what can be considered a normal human. As you speak to him, you may notice that he is very different from how you may remember him. He might not remember your names or faces. He might not respond to what you say. Either way, should anything happen, know that he is not an evil man,” Darius said. His voice seemed hopeful, despite the grave words he spoke.

“If he’s quiet and dangerous and doesn’t even know our faces… Is he even Kreig at all?” Sam asked, a scowl tugging at her lips.

Darius turned away from her. “That’s up for you to decide. I’ve only known him as he is now. And as he is now, he needs someone to depend on. People who won’t betray him.” With his piece said, Darius stepped over to a panel of consoles and keyboards. “-Are you ready to speak with him? He has awaited this for over a month now.”

Sam turned to George. The confusion they shared, the uncertainty and fear… it was equal in both their eyes. But they had asked for this. To meet the brother they thought had died.

As it turns out… maybe he had. Though not in a physical manner.

“...Yes. We’re ready,” George said, turning to the window. Kreig was still pouring out over the paper. His hair was long and unkempt, but it had the same black, charcoal hue as Goerge’s own and their mother did. Although his eyes weren’t visible, somehow, George could tell that they wouldn’t be anything pleasant to look at.

When Darius spoke in the affirmative, twisted a key and pressed a button, and when the one-way mirror changed into a mere glass window, and when Kreig then glanced up, his hollow, far-away eyes settling grandly on the two siblings, George’s beliefs were reaffirmed. Those eyes were not the eyes of a common man. Those eyes had seen war. War and death and the cause and effect that those two had. He had caused them, too. His eyes were hollowed-out white holes, as if someone had scooped holes in a rotten log.

And he didn’t speak a word. He looked at Darius, at Frank, at Sam, and, finally, at George. Not a single glint of recognition shone in his eyes. If anything, he seemed mildly confused.

Darius patted George on the shoulder. “Go on, tell him the good news.”

To George, it felt like Darius was way too happy here. Frank was terrified (rightfully so, from what George could tell), Sam was anxious and George felt no different. Still, he would do as Darius said. So, he took a step forward, established that he was the one who would speak, and cleared his throat. “I-, erm. Good evening. K-, Kreig. It’s… It’s been a while, huh?”

Kreig didn’t even blink. He just sat there, glued to his chair. He’d stopped painting though, his entire attention focused on George.

“M-, My name is George, and this is Sam, and… And we’re your family. Uh. Brother and sister. And you’re our brother. Did-, did you know we-,”

The pen in Kreig’s hand literally exploded. Wooden splinters and sawdust burst from where his hand was, and without so much as glancing at the feat of unbelievable strength, Kreig stood up, and walked closer to the window. Good God, he was large. Kreig had always been a bit taller than George, and broader, too. But this was ridiculous. George was perfectly dwarfed, forced to arch his neck just to meet Kreig’s eyes.

Then, Kreig spoke. “I’ve waited long.”