Deep in the lowest pit of the Minion Arena Tower, two elite combatants strike each other with lethal speed and precision as thousands of onlookers cheer. At the very highest balcony and attended by a host of service minions, watches The High Overlord himself alongside his two guests.

Love, at his left side, watches with her slow, focused pastel eyes as a titanically-large combatant throws its fist down toward another that’s faster than any other she’s seen. She gently arches over to Chaos, who is sipping his tea musingly while he sits in his obsidian throne.

“Which one's going to win?” She whispers playfully, gaining a quick glance from Aoline, sitting on the right side and filling her mouth with every pleasure Overpriced Arena Food Minion can fit on display in his cart.

Chaos’ white, powerful eyes squint ever so slightly as he rests his chin into his hand. “Who can say?”

Meeo Letlind, A.K.A. Knight Love, coos pleasantly. “You tend to be pretty knowledgeable about this sort of thing— aren’t you? Who are we taking with us?”

Chaos smiles, glancing down his side to look at her. “I will know who’s coming with us, once one of them wins, dear. You must understand I cannot simply bring everyone along on this. I need only my very best.”

She shakes her head and returns to a proper sitting position. “Okie dokie… So are you bringing… both of them?”

“Pardon?” Chaos asks— not because he didn’t hear her, but rather because he likes listening to her talk.

Love scoots to the edge of her seat. “We’re bringing them both, right? You want a few of your very best?” She peers down at the fight. It would help to see them both clearly if the spectators’ positions weren’t nearly a mile up in the air.

Chaos grins. “Not quite, my dear. I have already picked the fourth and fifth in our party of six. This one is to decide on my combative substitute.”

Love sits up attentively. “So we’re leaving after this?”

Chaos hums without enthusiasm, but always with a tone of perfect analysis. “Not quite. A meal should come first.”

“Ahh! Of course,” She peers back down at the fight; the huge one’s started to slow down, and the limber one has only become faster. So small is the second one, in fact, she’s unsure as to whether she’s truly seeing its movements at all, or simply a trick of the torch light. The minions below jeer and cheer at a fever pitch as the massive combatant is smashed across the air into the pit wall, the force of the collision marring the stones white with blood. The blast is so intense, a cindering light marks the spot in the air where the blow was executed— as if the ether itself is impressed by the strength. This is the only strike to overpower the cacophony of cheers during the fight, marking an appropriate end to an epic bout.

“Wow,” Aoline mutters with a mouth full of popcorn, her voice scarcely audible over the immense celebration of the minions below.

“He must be quite the strong one,” Love says with a smile and a nod. “He’s the one?”

Chaos chuckles in his dark, secretive way, as if he’s always in on some hidden joke; he takes to his feet to address the crowd. “MY CHILDREN! YOU HAVE SEEN IT FOR YOURSELVES! THE VICTOR SHALL ACCOMPANY ME ON MY NEWEST AND GREATEST QUEST!” In the mile-long stadium, Chaos is perhaps the only being who does not need a microphone to be heard by all.

“AS PROMISED, THOSE DEFEATED WILL BE GIVEN A WEEK OF EXTRA DUTY IN THE TEA GARDENS!” He exclaims to feverish jeers and cruel excitement. “KNOW THIS, THE PRICE OF GLORY IS HIGH— BOTH IN DEFEAT, AND VICTORY! THE PRIME PROTAGONIST OF THESE TRIALS SHALL NOW SERVE AS MY RIGHT HAND IN THE FIGHT AGAINST THAT LOW-LIFE NECROMANCER PRETENDER, OA!” Chaos grins when another cheer swells up from the minions, each hungry for a piece of the necromancer pie, for all are in the same spirit with their dark master. “THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY. HAVE A NICE MORNING AND REMEMBER, IT’S TACO NIGHT!”

Love isn’t all that surprised that, of all the things Chaos announced, this excites the minions the most. Tacos are wonderful, and everyone knows it.

Chaos turns from the crowd to fireworks blast and trumpets sound. He offers his hands to his guests on both sides. Love takes his dark, sharp fingers, and lifts up gracefully, while Aoline sort of stumbles along his arm, almost cutting herself on his myriad edges.

“What now?” Love asks.

“Breakfast,” he says with a brilliant grin, leading her by the arm, Aoline a step behind. “Unless you would rather just take tea and be on with it.”

She hums. “Whatever you’d like, sir.”

He chuckles. “You are my guests,” he notes while they meander through the cool air of the desert night via one of his many tower-portals. “It would be rude if I weren’t to assist you in my duties as a host,” he adds firmly as they cross realms into another one of his towers— the one that just so happens to be in her own dimension along with Kanvane, Ragnivan, and all the other lands they both know so well.

Their steps unwrap the world like paper, leading into a surprisingly calm, wooden room, more fitting to the atmosphere of a cabin in the mountains than the High Overlord’s own domain.

Aoline gawks at the hundreds of curious mementos and trophies along the walls, each baring testament to but one of his millions of adventures.

“These are…” she mutters out the rest, eying certain pieces of gear from Royal Knights long passed.

Chaos nods with a pleasant hum. “They certainly are, my young knightess. I would like to think I have the greatest collection ever assembled… but it is mostly for reasons of pride now more than anything, I suppose. These are just some of the one’s I’m happiest with. I usually put the others in closets and pantries such, wherever I can fit them, really.” He leads them over to a quaint wooden table of solid construction and careful, intricate design— the carved floral patterns exploding fiercely against the backdrop of dragon scales and holy swords.

Taking her seat, Aoline recognizes only a few of the chivalric symbols, but Meeo can call most of them off by name. “Righteousness’ shield… thought I’d never see it again… didn’t it fall into Trench?”

Chaos grins, averting his gaze in some weird form of embarrassment, as if leaping into the most dangerous place known on their planet is just a dorky passtime to him. “It certainly did,” he confesses.

Aoline stares on dumbfounded and Love nods without surprise as Chaos’s antennae move in a smooth gesture to call forward some of his minions.

“So, what are you hungry for?” Chaos asks, changing the subject with surgical precision.

Love looks around the kitchen’s humble trappings, sorely in need of an update. “What do you have?” No sooner have the words escaped her mouth than Cooking Minion himself appears from around a corner, as short and snappy as ever.

“Sir!” He reports, firing off a jaunty salute.

“Hi!” Aoline says again, though she greeted him with equal excitement just an hour ago.

“Good day, cookling. Prepare something with plenteous carbohydrates and protein. The road will be long considering humans will be in my company. Please ensure the food is appropriate for their consumption.”

Aoline squints an eye as Cooking Minion admits a resounding “Yes, sir!”and rushes off to fetch ingredients.

“C-…carbohy-drates?”

Chaos draws back as if shocked, but he looks to Love, who nods, slying her gaze in Aoline’s direction as if to imply she has no idea what it is. “Ahh, pardon. Nutritional concepts like that aren’t quite widespread here yet, are they? Bread, my dear. Bread and meat, or some food that serves the same purpose.”

Aoline looses an enlightened “Ohh!” before nodding. “Got it. Thanks.”

Love looks over to the open chairs. “So will our companions be meeting us for breakfast?”

Chaos’ antennae twitch. “Most of them are already here. One is simply very good at hiding, and the other moves silently.”

“What of the third?”

“I would expect him to ensure the cleanliness of his rifle at this present time.”

Aoline hums awkwardly again, earning of Chaos a paternally-sweet smile. “A type of firearm.”

“Whoa, like the Easterners!” She points out.

His smile gains a hint of wryness. “Yes. He’s quite skilled at all forms of combat, but marksmanship is his finest.”

Saying this, another minion folds from around the corner. Her round optics designate that she’s female almost instantly, as each has small, almost caricatured eyelashes that glow in tandem with her eyes— as if they were part of the shape itself. Love thinks it a bit cartoonish. Her antennae are curled gracefully into the shapes of a pair of octave clef notes. “Hello, father,” the medium-short minion presents with a lithe fully naked curtsy, as any proper minion would.

“Music Minion, good day to you,” Chaos says with a nod. “Play one of the realmancied records on the phonograph, if you please.”

She hums while she looks over at the record player. She folds her hands through the long row of disk sleeves. Love and Aoline exchange an amused glance before she exclaims with a triumphant “Aha!”. “How about this one, sir?” She flips out a strange red-black one, with what Aoline could only assume is a magic sigil painted out in white on the top.

Chaos squints an eye in amusement as he considers it. “That should do nicely.”

She bows. “Thank you, father! I’ll put it on immediately!” She moves to lay down the record and lift the needle. From the shapes Meeo can make out at a distance, she reads the word “Dupree” near the center of the record before it’s placed. Music Minion bows and takes to the side of the player for when it’s time to attend to it again.

The pleasant sounds of bongos and drums overtakes the warm room while Cooking Minion returns with his ingredients— at least ten pounds of tomatoes, eggs, peppers, fish, and other, more exotic cuisine selections. Rather than asking if it’s okay, he simply passes right on to the stove and begins washing, dicing and roasting.

Chaos listens to the music in a moment of simple appreciation, but before long he opens his eyes to continue. “Now, I suppose I’ll have them introduce themselves.” He clears his throat. “Dark Arts Minion,” he beckons.

Suddenly, a perfectly clear figure near the fireplace steps down, ending its illusion instantly. She’s a minion about Aoline’s height, which is considerable in comparison to most minions, and is perhaps the thinnest figure she’s ever laid eyes on, let alone a minion. There’s a weird isolation to her visage; perhaps it’s the antennae which eerily resemble small, cute antlers, or her glowing white eyes, so small and so white they deliver a distinctly inhuman expression—like an animal staring in the night.

“Master,” she says, her tone of both a greater poise and yet rawness than Magic Minion, Aoline thinks.

Chaos nods pleasantly and turns to Love. “This is Dark Arts Minion, she’s one of my foremost advisers in arcane matters. To be quite honest she was my second pick, but Undead Extermination Minion is a bit tied up at the moment doing some reconnaissance. Either way, she is the best at what she does, and it will be helpful for tracking and combating necromancer trickery. We will be dealing with plenty of that sort, I figured it would be a wise choice to bring her along in case I…” he clears his throat. “-have an episode.”

Love nods knowingly, bringing another bewildered look to poor Aoline. “So what could Undead Extermination Minion be up to, I wonder?” Love asks leadingly.

Chaos smiles. “Truth be told I’ve already put many of my minions on tasks to aid us against the threat. He’s following an especially promising lead that suggests Oa may in fact be but a part of a certain ‘League of the Dead’. Last we spoke he said he was hot on the tail of Overlord Pales herself.”

Love’s brow raises in intrigue while Aoline continues to plummet into the depths of confusion.

“Wait, Pales is real? As in a real person?” Aoline asks.

Chaos and Love, both with long histories, share a parental glance, relishing her cuteness for only a half second. “She absolutely is,” Chaos says. “Did you hear otherwise?”

Love addresses Aoline with her gaze. “So, the graphic novels aren’t real.”

Aoline draws back. “So… it is the same girl?”

Love smiles. “With… fewer, artistic liberties, yes.”

Chaos nods. “She’s quite the troublesome one, probably the second greatest vampire I know of.”

Meeo flinches. “Wh- and who would be the first?” The tone with which Meeo asks this makes Aoline a bit uncomfortable.

Chaos grins devilishly. “My eyes see all, dear Friendion,” He says, finally gesturing Dark Arts Minion to a seat.

“See what?” Aoline asks when yet another thing flies right over her head.

The two ancients just exchange another comfortable glance; it’s starting to get on her nerves.

“Do not worry yourself, knightess. It is a rather private and… convoluted situation with that.”

She just nods— steadily asking herself, bit by bit, just what kind of adventure she’s signed up for.

Chaos turns back to Dark Arts Minion. “You have been briefed on the situation, haven’t you?”

“I have, master,” she says simply, loftily stepping to her designated chair in perfect, horrible silence. Not even the chair makes a squeak as she pulls it up, but Aoline’s certainly does when she scoots an inch away.

“And are your accoutrements ready?”

From her fine, almost saw-tooth jaws resembling Chaos’ though far smaller, she pulls forth a long piece of paper with several wrapped sticks, displaying them just a moment before pushing them back in. Aoline’s gaze is wide, and totally freaked out—while Love, recognizing their purposes, nods with a pout, as if, again, impressed.

“Wonderful,” Chaos coos cheerfully. “I’ll introduce our humans once everyone’s here.” His antennae twitch quizzically, as if detecting movement. “Seems we have another fine minion ready to go. Come forward, Ranger Minion.”

Unlike with Dark Arts Minion, Aoline can just barely hear this one coming to her, it’s clear as day that this must be the winner of the afore-witnessed arena tournament. Up from a basement staircase comes a tall, compactly-muscular minion—a tan beret tucked into his dark vest of many, many pockets, and a weird black shape slung around his back. Unlike his fully-dark, completely light-absorbing body, the object has a matte finish, and gleams faintly in the lazy sunbeams from the forest outside; it must be a firearm, she thinks, like what she learned about in the academy.

The newly arrived minion, just inches shorter than Chaos’ majestic height, steps forward. He enters military attention and raises his right arm in a slow, measured, confident salute.

“Ranger Minion, reporting for duty, sir.”

Chaos nods to a seat. “Glad you could join us. I trust you’re prepared to fight?”

Unlike most minions' eyes Aoline’s seen, Ranger Minion’s are constantly sharpened into bitter, cold slits, as if in a perpetual state of suspicion and readiness.

“Squared away, sir.”

“I expected nothing less… Now I suppose that’s all but one.”

Cooking Minion looses a light, smarmy scoff as he slings out plate after plate of vegetarian omelets and fish fillets to everyone’s plates from his enormous skillet. “Who, another operator-class minion?”

Chaos nods. “Oh, I’m afraid this one is in a class all her own. A matter of fact, I think she’s perfect for this job.”

Cooking Minion pauses right after serving Aoline; his expression slants suspiciously. “Wait, she? Sir, you mean you’re bringing that friggin’ freak along.”

Chaos nods again, completely sure of his choice. “I suppose if that is what you insist on calling her, yes.” Aoline scoffs lightly to herself; just what would a freak be like in a minion’s definition?

Without warning, Cooking Minion freezes up in suspicion— looking under the table, around corners, inspecting every small detail of the comfy environment. “So… she’s here?”

“She is,” Chaos admits with a pleased grin. “You better watch out. She thinks your duel hasn’t ended yet.”

Ranger Minion and Dark Arts Minion exchange a sly glance as they both figure quickly who Chaos is referring to.

Cooking Minion trembles in horror as he retreats next to his stove to heat up his pan. “N-no! That was a joke!”

“It certainly didn’t seem like it to her.”

“Y-you listening?” Cooking Minion calls out into the room, skillet at the ready to strike. “That was a joke, you dorkazoid! Let it go!”

Everyone at the table focuses in on the vigilant minion while he steadily and methodically opens each cabinet with his little feet, anchoring on the door like a butterfly on a flower— if that butterfly had a giant volcano-hot frying pan. Just as he passes by the sink, Chaos and the sitting minions reflexively look toward the centimeter-wide crack located on one of the cabinets in the highest row.

“Until death!” Comes an enthused, young-sounding voice.

In a flash that Meeo couldn’t see and Aoline didn’t expect, a small black-white bolt of a figure leaps from the cabinet and tackles into Cooking Minion, rolling him to the ground. Aoline spots a minion at precisely Cooking Minion’s height, cutely-featured and particularly distinguished by the whitest, nicest-looking bandanna she’s ever seen; the unusual accessory adorns the minion like a sentient mist that curls around her shoulders. Much like how she used to be, she feels, there’s a deeply-rooted, tomboyish vitality to her, and it comes out easily as she presses her elbow down into Cooking Minion’s throat. Aoline doesn’t much like it.

“What was the duel over?” Aoline asks, looking over to Ranger Minion.

Blanketed by Cooking Minion’s screams, he replies. “Said she couldn’t ambush her way out of a paper bag, and that he’d never give her seconds for dinner unless she proved otherwise. She escalated it to a duel to the death.”

“What? Why?”

Ranger Minion stares on coldly. “That’s how she do,” he says aptly as Cooking Minion finally cries uncle and the assailant lets him go.

The Lord of the Minion Horde chuckles in parental bliss, as if witnessing a cute play-fight among his children— but Cooking Minion is convulsing as if he were seeing the river Styx itself.

“Scout Minion,” Chaos addresses.

She whips up to her feet in a blink; she looks just as fast as Chaos, Love muses a moment— but she knows better than to assume Chaos can be beaten by anyone at anything except remembering important details.

“What’s diggin’, Poppi?”

While Chaos and Scout Minion exchange pleasantries, Aoline’s expression sharpens to Ranger Minion levels of displeasure while she leans to speak to Love covertly. “She’s kinda lame, huh?” she whispers.

Love smiles awkwardly. “Oh? You think it’s bad?”

“No, just… she’s a dork.”

Love coos maternally. “Are you jealous?”

Aoline jolts, glancing over to Scout Minion, now dancing on the table and doing cartwheels as Cooking Minion grimly readies up her food. “O-of course not!”

“Then why do you-”

“Nevermind, sorry.” Aoline cuts out and turns away.

“-so you agree to make peace with Cooking Minion, then?” Chaos continues in pure, thoughtful curiosity.

She rubs the four short, horn-like knobs— not at all like the antennae of a typical minion. “If you really want me to, anything.” She turns to Cooking Minion hopping lithely into her chair. “Sorry, puking minion. Guess you can’t handle the speed, eh?” She says this proudly, even though “cooking” and “puking” don’t really rhyme.

Cooking Minion 'accidentally' spills the food into her lap. “Oops. How terrible.”

Without so much as a flinch, she picks up the omelet from her lap and takes a huge bite. “There’s a silver lining to everything, ‘migo. Thanks.”

Chaos, having still not taken a bite of his food, taps his fork against his plate in a most un-overlord-like fashion to garner attention— what a gentleman.

“So, I trust your preparations are ready?”

Scout Minion nips a fish. “We had preparations?”

There’s an awkward silence. “I do believe I put out a fairly lengthy missive to anyone interested in-”

“I can’t read.”

Chaos’ perfectly circular eyes widen in surprise. “Ahh… right.”

Scout Minion crosses her arms and her edged jaws frown into a pout. “I can’t write either, Poppi; I thought you knew that.”

The High Overlord and Killer of Billions clears his throat as he flicks his finger an inch above the table, opening a half-meter portal with such flawless ease it seems apparent to his very nature. “That said, what does everyone want for tea?” Naturally, he addresses Love with his gaze first.

She bows her head acquiescently while Chaos strikes a notepad and pencil from his dimensional jaws to write with. “Silver needle, please.”

Chaos jots it down and looks to Aoline next. She looks about nervously. “Eh, do you have a menu, maybe?”

Cooking Minion, clearly miffed from his failed defense against Scout Minion, scoffs bitterly. “Hey, dummy. Think of a tea.” Aoline was always taught not to take address when someone calls you something naughty, but she still thinks of a tea. “He has it,” Cooking Minion adds in bluntly, not even looking up from his dishes.

Aoline puffs her cheek to the side in thought. “Well, green tea?” She’d be the first to admit she doesn’t know much about tea, but that kind of talk here in the overlord’s dominion is practically a concession of plebianism.

While the other minions (except our beloved chef) hide their humor at her ignorance, only Chaos reacts gracefully.

“Green tea it shall be, my knightess.” He jots the second item down and then looks along to the others.

“Oolong with ginger and coconut oil, if you please,” Dark Arts Minion requests.

“Sweet tea, sir,” says Ranger Minion.

“Whatever you’re having, Poppi,” says Scout Minion with a nod and a swift punch to his elbow, easily the size of her little fist.

“So be it.” The Master of Unlimited Victories chuckles darkly as he puts down everyone else’s order and dips his hand with the completed list into the small portal. “This will be a small wait. I am quite proud of it, but it takes a moment for all the tea and animal minions to get in proper sorts for it.”

Love and Aoline eat politely, unlike their minion counter parts, who finished their plates by simply inhaling the whole of their dishes. Suddenly, a beast emerges from the portal.

Brilliant, bold, and labored by an ornate cart stacked high with tea cups, a proud rooster trots out— its many bells ringing while he parades the wheeled cart across the table and stops at each seat for his occupant to take their uniquely-prepared beverage. Aoline marvels at the rooster’s training, as Meeo gulps down a cute-overloaded whimper, and the rooster squawks impatiently for each person to retrieve their tea.

“It’s… wonderful!” Love says, fighting off the strong urge to embrace the little chicken and admire it for an entire hour.

Chaos, in his ever pleased, somewhat proud way, takes his teacup of some silvery, wondrous fluid and indulges in a sip. “I knew you’d like him.”

Aoline takes a sip of her green tea. “How did you train him?”

Chaos scoffs. “I do not need to train that which would gladly be taught. Harken,” Chaos says to Aoline, and then to the rooster.

The unaltered bird, not infested with any amount of Chaos’ essence, turns his head to the side to look upon his master as Chaos reaches forward to massage its neck with his viciously-sharp claws. Aoline would assume it’d hurt, but the overlord’s touch is silken and gentle, displayed by the fowl’s relieved, relaxed features during their brief contact.

“A good show with expedite service!” Chaos congratulates. “You have done well, Picard. Return to your wife and children. I release you for the day.”

The rooster does an honored squat, and jingles his way back through the portal.

Aoline is aghast. Every moment she spends with him, she feels like what is impossible becomes easier. “It… understands… words?”

“More than ‘fetch’, that is for certain,” Chaos says with a smile. “Humans rarely understand the most basic ways of other creatures, and even more rarely do they take the time to learn their languages.”

“There are animal languages?” Aoline asks with a bewildered gaze.

Chaos nods. “Knight Love could have told you that… Didn’t you have a beetle, or something?”

Love sips daintily. “I haven’t the slightest idea whom you are referring to,” she lies with an obvious smile — at once recalling a very, very naughty insect that nearly ascended to overlordhood.

Chaos laughs knowingly. “Pardon me, I forgot you two were still at odds… Now, allow me to give you all the full plan.”

At once, the portal closes, Music Minion stops the record, the room grows quiet, and everyone, even Cooking Minion, stops what they’re doing. “Take great heed, for those of us at this table will be legends.”

There’s an awkward glancing around, especially targeted to the unassuming Scout Minion, who doesn’t even have the poise to sip her tea; she just pours it into her mouth like a waterfall— the knave.

“Our goal is to travel to Oa’s realm of cowardice and strike it down by ruining its great phylactery.”

Aoline raises her hand.

“Little Knightess,” Chaos addresses.

“What’s a phylactery?”

Chaos smiles and looks to Dark Arts Minion.

“It’s a catalytic iteration, usually a physical object, that prevents the exemption of a soul to another plane of existence.”

Aoline just stares on. “Huh.”

“Did you get all of that?” Chaos asks with a professorly grin.

She nods, utterly lying. “Totally.”

Love tilts her head aside in thought. “So are we certain this is Oa’s last phylactery?”

Chaos gestures to her with admiration. “Wonderful question: we are. You recall my knowledge gained from the High Tea suggested as such. This is Oa’s prime phylactery, by any means, therefore its destruction would reduce it to a quivering mass of quasi-spiritual mess, if not kill it outright.”

“That would be preferable,” she says with a sweet, girlish smile, rather inappropriate for discussing a topic such as this.

Chaos squints an eye, showing clear amusement. “You seem rather excited about this.”

“I am.” Love says. “I’m very excited… it’s been such a long time, but soon it’ll be done with.” Her gaze focuses in on her tea as Chaos takes a long, thoughtful sip from his cup.

“Perhaps you and I can have a talk about this soon. I would be interested to hear about your motivations.”

“Yes, my lord.” She bows.

Chaos nods in turn with a gentle air before turning back to the others. “Our quest shall be as follows: Once ready, we will immediately break causality into the O.E.L. headquarter-”

Cooking Minion, who made himself a cup of English breakfast, promptly spews out his mouthful over Chaos’ words. “Sir, you guys are going to Dimension Number One?!”

Chaos hisses. “That being their own term for the realm, yes. You act as though that’s a bad idea.”

Cooking Minion chuckles nervously. “Em, yeah, sir, I think anyone but you would agree with me on that.” He looks vainly to the others in the room for support, but none offer it.

“I know Chaos well enough,” Love says gently, “there’s no one more capable when motivated.”

“Y-yeah!” Aoline backs up, “back your shit up, frying pan!” She adds this perhaps a bit rudely— even though she likes Cooking Minion, the part of her that hasn’t yet forgiven him for that frying pan to the head back in Liefland is creeping up.

Cooking Minion staggers back. “Wh- But they’re… you know, only like the most advanced civilization ever?”

Dark Arts Minion smiles thinly, her small, round, white eyes squinting in a very Chaos-like manner. “Technology isn’t everything, cuisineling.”

Scout Minion also tosses in her thoughts in a measured, helpful fashion, “Yeah, shut the hell up, Cooking Minion. You don’t know shit, as usual.”

Thanks for that one, Scout Minion.

Cooking Minion sighs in dejection as Chaos shrugs confidently. “Well there you have it, dear Cooking Minion. My mind is quite made up, and I assure you even if there were an easier way, it would be unbecoming of a High Overlord to avoid conflict on the grounds of simple mortal fear.”

The small chef minion shakes his head, but he has a charmed smile. “If you say so, sir, but those scribes don’t exactly like being disturbed.”

“Funny, with how often they meddle in other creatures' businesses,” Chaos says. “Do not fear for me or the others, we know well the threats of this.” He turns back as Cooking Minion cuts himself off with a bow to return to his dishes.

“Of course, sir. Good luck,” he answers.

The Black Knight’s Ideal clears his throat. “Once we have found their locked-down space gate, I will persuade one of their technicians to open it for us, and we’ll be on our way to Oa’s realm. Expect heavy resistance throughout the entire journey and tests of skill unlike any you’ve met before. The nights will be long for you, my minions, for the humans will need to rest during the trip.”

Scout Minion yawns. “So, Poppi….”

“Dear Scout Minion.”

“Why are we bringing these meat bags? Aren’t humans like, slow and dumb?”

Love smirks and Chaos scoffs. “Many are, yes,” he responds. “These ones however must pay testament to our works. After all, what lowly human would believe the words of a minion?”

Scout Minion readjusts her bandanna. “So witnesses? Very smart, Poppi! Then no one will be able to doubt how badly we rango’d Doctor Garbage.”

Chaos smiles. “ ‘Doctor Garbage’ will undoubtedly have difficulty with us, and the layman that hears we killed the lord of all necromancers will have an even harder time believing it.”

Love hums thoughtfully, looking up to the rafters carved out of trees from seven different worlds, and she nods. “Us knights don’t like to believe you’re real, most of the time.”

The Overlord squints an eye. “It is far more comfortable to deny the truth, is it not?”

“Yes, you have a point. Humans were never the first to take care of their problems.”

The two share a sensible chuckle, their words providing just enough hints to clue Aoline in. She’s glad she gets to come along on the quest, a matter of fact she’s thrilled— but there’s a small part of her that feels as though she’s just being dragged along for politeness, which seems like something The Master of Unabated Cruelty would do; he hates stepping on people’s feet when he doesn’t have to.

Ranger Minion raises his hand softly up in the air. Much like his salute, it commands an immense presence. “Commander.”

“Ranger Minion.”

“What have we considered of O.E.L. pursuit during the operation?”

Chaos grins. “I can practically guarantee it. As to how aggressive they will be, I cannot say, but do expect to have involvement with necromancers, librarians, and knights.”

Aoline shoots her hand up. “We’re going to be chased by royal knights?”

Chaos looks to Meeo, who looks to Aoline. “You understand that they have ways of tracing dimensional pathways, yes?”

Aoline stares into Knight Love blankly. “Yes?”

“And so, they’ll be able to trace our movements to this tower, and then to the O.E.L., and onward.”

There’s a disquieting moment. “So that’s it then. We’re traitors?”

Love smiles awkwardly. “Yes, sweetie. I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”

Instead of fear, determination crosses the young girl’s features. “But if we kill Oa, we’ll be helping The Knights, right?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then that’s what’s important. We’re not betraying them at all. We’re doing the right thing.”

Chaos nods with a grin, making Aoline feel like the top of the world. “Right you are, knightess. This will be a service for all creatures that care to survive. They may never care for us, but we will have improved the condition of their life; regardless of what that first-realmer said, the impact will be great and the pain we bear for it will be vastly worth the effort.”

At once the minions remember why they look up to Chaos so much, Aoline becomes certain of her love for him, and Meeo— she decides this was the right way to go; Order can spit on her grave for all she cares, but she will never regret this decision.

After a final sip from his tea, Chaos taps on the table in consideration; a faint, vegetable scent flows through the air. “On that note, we should be off.” At once, all the minions rise from their seats and make their way toward the door, leaving a gaping Cooking Minion in their wake.

“Really, sir?”

“What?” Aoline asks.

Chaos nods. “He is your direct subordinate, after all.”

Cooking Minion growls. “And your minion, sir.”

The Overlord scoffs at his beloved child. “I do believe it was your idea to bring him in,” he says as he heads for the door and opens it for the party.

As a frantic vegan pitter-patter fills the hall from the downstairs steps, Cooking Minion reaches forward as if to stop his leave. “Sir! That was before I knew-”

“I have faith in you, my little one. Strike at the throat and show no mercy!” Chaos calls with a courageous tone as the last of his group files out the door before him.

“Sir, please! I ha-”

“So long,” Chaos adds before shutting the door behind him, as usual taking the last second to deliver a final, confident glance to the cringing minion's gaze. Usually this act of charisma would fill Cooking Minion with enthusiasm as he watched his lord depart, but not when left to face this particular character.

Just as Chaos closes the door behind himself, he hears a loose voice call through the whole of the room: “DID SOMEBODY SAY: SUSTAINABLE FARMING AND HEALTHY, NON-ANIMAL BYPRODUCT-BASED COOKING?!” accompanied by a drawn out, abysmal groan from Cooking Minion.

The Dark Overlord turns to look over his party, Love brushing off her dress-armor and Ranger Minion, putting on his perfectly-shaped tan beret.

“So, first a little bit of enchantment prior to our departure,” Chaos instructs before producing a magical wand.

Aoline’s eyes glimmer at the sight of it. It’s not a regular wand, far from it. This instrument of magic is so integrated with power that it’s glowing from base to tip. “Wow! So that’s where you get all your magic from?”

There’s another in-the-know chuckle from the minions as Chaos shakes his head. “In most cases I would choose to pass on magical instruments, especially when it comes to casting spells, however at times like this a little assistance would be welcome when casting such complex enchantments upon others.”

Aoline squints cluelessly while the others nod in realization; of course they wouldn’t be bringing Aoline along as-is. “So it’s not?” Aoline asks.

Chaos chuckles faintly. “Wands and staves are for the weak, but we all have our moments, don’t we?” With an arcane wave and an incantation that sounds closer to a breath than a verse, the wand’s glow emits and tendrils out through the air, haloing over Aoline. “You seem to have some practice in alteration magic, hmm?” Chaos asks, continuing to wave the wand’s light over her.

“Yes! It’s my best! How did you know?” She says this, already a bit short for breath. She feels tingly all over, like her very makeup is being shifted in form by the overlord’s magic.

“I can see your intra-magical muscular pathways are a bit thicker than the usual person; that’s not a common occurrence in the usual dregling. I understand Friendion is quite ready for the sort of exertion we’ll be due for, but I figured you could use a little push.”

Aoline’s hair stands on end as Chaos enters her personal space to commit the final wave of the wand.

“Eh, push me ho-” she stops immediately with a sharp jolt. The white-haired lass collapses with a spasm as, all at once, the tendrils of magic from the wand pierce into her. With another jolt, and a flash of the eyes, she regains her composure in one moment, and her balance the second after. “Wow.”

“I suppose most people would have that reaction after having a mana-emitter placed on them.”

Love coos as if impressed while Scout Minion nods firmly in short, adorable agreement. “Nice thinkin’ Poppi!”

Chaos grins. “It is a good idea, isn’t it? But that’s not all. Behold!” With a flair for the dramatic, Chaos waves his wand over Aoline again and again, each movement causing a palpable reaction in her. Scout Minion “oohs” and “aahs” at each new movement of the wand, as she with the other minions can see each enchantment taking hold upon her body. While the minions can see the spells physically, all poor Meeo Letlind can do is feel the spells—her human eyes cannot perceive the flow of covert mana outside of its raw form. The density and complexity of the magic placed upon Aoline is so strong, Love can sense the change from a distance. In but seconds, it feels far closer to Order’s mana signature than that of a young knight.

With a couple more waves, Aoline draws a breath; it is air so full, and so powerful, that it would rival her very first as a newborn— a physical and mental rebirth.

“If you were planning on using that much alteration magic, master… why… m-my word sir!” Dark Arts Minion has trouble crafting a reasonable response. She’s never seen this much power spent in a single moment— for anything.

Aoline closes her eyes, savoring the moment, the others gawking at the sight of Chaos, shaking just a centimeter; for a common soul it wouldn’t be interesting in the slightest, but for him to tremble, the price the incantations asked for must’ve been great. Love knows with certainty that an expenditure like that would kill the vast majority of casters, but for Chaos this level of spell casting is a monthly, if not weekly, occurrence.

“Well,” Chaos slips the magic wand back through his angular jaws and into his dimensional throat, “I believe I went a little overboard. Oh dear.” He looks over to Aoline, her knees on the ground and her gaze staring blankly at the soil. “Are you quite alright?”

After a moment and a deep, calmed breath, she looks up to her dark master. “Never… never better. I feel… I feel….”

“You better,” Scout Minion cuts in snidely, her tiny, unassuming black arms crossed sassily. “Poppi just put a library’s worth of enchantments on you. Not even Order would be running around with that much baggage.”

Aoline’s young still, so she doesn’t yet know the price of magic, nor the immense scope of the hundreds of protective and infusive magics placed upon her— but she is polite to people she idolizes, after all. “Yes… I’m… I’m grateful. Thank you, overlord.”

Love’s brow raises and Chaos squints perceptively; her awkwardness has been replaced with a calm, collected professionalism.

“Did you… change her?” Love asks.

Chaos smiles. “As in, change her disposition through mental magic?”

The situation is weird, and Love’s always considered herself good at dealing with peculiar magicians, as she herself is one. “Well, in the artificial sense.”

The overlord shakes his head. “None of the sort. I simply clarified her drive and subverted her inhibitions. This is the Aoline Rayworth that Aoline Rayworth wishes she could be.”

Love inspects the young lady. Her eyes betray a dense arcane presence with a slight glow, and her under-armor glows outwardly; it suggests some very-high-level alteration magic— the kind that simply cannot be hidden, even from the naked eye. “Most impressive, my lord.”

The nigh-imperceptible tremors die out and Chaos scratches his dark chin sheepishly. “Well thank you, my dear lady. I figured only the best for my human-sorts. I hope you will consider it a compliment of your abilities that I decided not to cast any upon you.”

Love bows her head graciously like the two were at an ongoing tea party at all hours of the day. “No offense taken, of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two share a gentle laugh, causing the minions to exchange a few awkward glances, and Aoline to again feel the strike of the match of jealousy in her heart; the two are so irritatingly, toxically-perfect for one another, she can hardly stand it.

Mid-laugh, however, Chaos’ antennae twitch and his grin dies down to a simple, ambitious smirk. “We’ve squandered our time, it seems. We shall depart immediately.”

Aoline looks up from her wrist. She was inspecting the new, visible pathways with a mixture of awe and fear on her features. “What’s the matter?”

Chaos slips his left claw through the air in an elegant motion, tearing forth a portal to another plane of existence. “Our knight pursuers are hot on our tail. Ranger and Scout Minions, you take the lead.”

While the three minions scramble for the portal and leap in, Love steps forward with an airy, carefree trot. Aoline rushes in first, leaving Love and Chaos in the clearing.

“So, the next round of adventures, hmm?” she asks him, flicking his tower-solid shoulder with a playful snap.

Chaos scoffs, and shrugs. “Or the final chapter of our grand conquest of evil.” He folds his arm around her back, leading her to the portal. “The labels will differ, as they always do, my dear— but right now, in this moment, we are the heroes.”

Love looks back to Chaos’ grand tower. She already feels the elements of teleportation magic focusing in on their position. “I hope she sees it that way too… one day.”

In a rare turn, Chaos’ features darken. He doesn’t frown. He never frowns. He just, relaxes without a smile.

“You and I both know her past is both her greatest strength, and her most splintering crutch.” Chaos begins ushering Love into the portal. “Pray thee not to think on her, and keep your mind to our task at hand, yes?”

Love looks at Chaos, and Chaos smiles.

“Alright,” Love says as she grasps the boundary of the infinite and pulls herself forward.