Patreon Side Story # 12: Heir To The DBK

Dae’mon Boole’Keng, a Traveler infamous across worlds as both a crime lord and a warlord depending on what suited his mood upon reaching each world.

His beginnings were humble. An orphan of a war torn land who eventually made a name for himself as a fearsome warrior of might and magic, gathering amongst a band of infamous others under the Keng family banner. A group of the most dangerous warriors known to their world before ascending to set their sights upon the cosmic heavens and every world they found within it.

His power and his armies growing ever larger the further his influence spread, until after conquering a hundred kingdoms this infamous warrior grew bored of simply conquering everything he found under his indisputable might, and instead sought to build up the lands he came across and take them over via mental might rather than physical.

And yet even through these games of wit, assassination, and city building he found himself missing… something. No matter how far the influence of he and his sworn brothers spread, no matter how many kingdoms he crushed under foot, no matter how many crowns he stole through wit and coin, this something continued to elude him.

Until he found himself visiting a small world of middling technological, mystical, and spiritual development. A world one of his sworn brothers had settled upon due to the presence of what he claimed to be ‘the greatest peach trees’ in all the heavens.

Oh, the first few visits he didn’t find what he sought out, but upon his brother’s constant harassment, he eventually decided to try and conquer this world solely to prove a point. A point that in itself proved pointless, as during his usual games of intrigue and combat he finally found what he sought, what had been missing for so long, on this small seemingly mediocre planet.

But this is not the tale of the infamous DBK.

No this is the tale of what he was missing.

--- Year -2: Arin Farfan ---

“Right, everyone ready?” She asked her crew, tapping her weapon against her shoulder.

After getting a number of affirmatives from the two dozen or so soldiers of her gang, she turned back to the abandoned subway station where someone had thought to set up shop on her turf. “Alright, then remember this place is underground and they’ve got the homefield. So stick close to me in case things go sour, but make sure no one’s hiding in any corners.”

With that she started down the steps to the station, knowing that it wouldn’t be long until someone noticed the lookout’s they’d taken down had been removed from the equation.

As soon as they started through the terminal, her boys started lighting up the newcomers dressed up in some kind of black and purple cosplay with bull horns. (Then again with all the crazy shit happening the last few years, it probably just means they’ve got a few aces up their sleeves.)

Everyone who’d lived through the Rift Riots was more than aware that ‘crazy’ tended to equal ‘powerful’ in their circles.

Someone came up on her flank, yelling with a sword in their hands and she swung her weapon into his head, causing a cracking sound as she either killed or hospitalized (I’m not picky) the one who thought they could take her with that little toothpick.

“Clear!” One of her boys yelled, starting off a chain reaction as the rest of the crew confirmed the same.

“Hmm, was expecting more.” She admitted, knowing full well that these putas had only gotten so full of themselves due to having a Deviant on their side. A Deviant she notably hadn’t seen. (Maybe they’re out, or one of the boys could’ve taken him out like a little bitch.)

Be a shame since Deviants were the few guys she could really push herself against.

“Heh, I would hate to disappoint.” A rough voice growled from the darkness, just before one of her boys screamed as he went flying into another. “Especially when dealing with ‘Princesa de los vientos’.”

“So you’ve heard of me.” She baited the Deviant, as the space her boy had been standing was found empty. “But I haven’t heard of you.”

“Hmm, I very much doubt that, less you wouldn’t be here.” The voice chuckled as another of her boys was launched and this time she ordered the rest to fire with a hand sign rather than risk the bastard moving again just to get sights on him.

Seeing the bullets tear through nothing but air, she frowned. “I heard someone was in my territory, not who that someone is. Now why don’t you come out of hiding, so we can settle this like I’m not the only one with a pair.”

“Ha! I suppose that’s fair.” The voice laughed as the room seemed to quake a bit. “Truthfully, I’m not usually one for stealth but I’ve yet to truly get a measure of this world’s warriors, and was hoping I’d get something more than simple firearms.”

“Come out and I’ll give you a proper fight before having you killed like the dog you are.” She promised, while noting, (‘This world’?)

“You’ve fire to you, that’s promising for a warrior.” The voice told her. “Though I can’t have your men interfering, so I’ll just deal with them quickly before putting you in your place.”

She scoffed. “I’d love to see you try and take down a good twenty-”

From the side she noticed a hulking mass blast through the shadows, tackling several of her men to the ground before throwing them to the side.

“Shit, he’s a summoner.” She cursed, unfurling her iron fan as wide as it would go before launching a wave of wind at the raging beast that she could only half make out.

Rather than being blasted to the side the beast drove a hand into the dirt and began to inhale. More than aware of what that meant she ordered, “Everyone out of the way!” just as a torrent of flame began to tear through the air.

The screams of pain told her the warning came too late.

“You bastardo!” She screamed, launching another series of wind strikes at the beast as her men opened fire on it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not killing them.” The voice assured her as the beast grabbed one of her men and slammed him into the ground. “You challenged me to a duel, so their lives are on your success and their deaths your failure.”

(Fuck, this is beyond their level…)

Realizing she couldn’t stop the beast from harming her men, she ordered, “Everyone stand down, this is now between me and him.”

The beast froze in front of one of her men, its arm raised behind it as if waiting to see if they’d be smart enough to follow her orders or not.

Luckily, after seeing her gang through the Rift Riots everyone on her crew knew her orders were the difference between life and death when monsters were out and about.

When no more shots were fired the beast stood to its full height, a good three -(maybe four)- meters tall at least, with nearly as much to its muscular width.

“Hmm, they’re well trained.” The voice complimented, and with the fighting done she realized where the voice was coming from, or rather what. “A sign of strong leadership.

The beast turned to her and she realized that the creature was a minotaur of some kind with thin dark fur over its body that did little to hide the sheer amount of muscle on his form, regardless of how much was covered by black armor. The kind that could easily pick her up with a single arm, while barely letting her own arms wrap around it.

“Now tell me human, how will you represent your world?” The beast (of a man) asked her, spreading his arms wide so that she could get a very good look at him. “How will you act in the face of the infamous Dae’mon Boole’Keng?!”

And as she stared down the hulking beast of a Traveler, a feral grin on her face as she readied her fan, she couldn’t help but say the first thing that came into her mind, “Damn, you're a queen’s dream, papi.”

The traveler -(Damon, he said his name was?)- blinked, “What.”

--- Year 0: ---

--- Year 0: Damon Boole’Keng ---

“He’s… so small…” He whispered in near reverence as he held their son with but a single hand.

“All babies are.” His wife -something he had not expected upon coming to this mudball- reminded him, as he held a single finger to their son.

Their son -already the unbowing warrior- latched onto the finger and held it with all that his infantile strength could manage, something he could’ve easily pull away from if not for the stunned awe at such a simple act.

He licked his lips looking at their child. “And your ritual it… Even if it didn’t he’d still be mine, but…”

Arin rolled her eyes, knowing he had little doubt of her faithfulness but rather the ritual itself. “It was a success. I’ll admit he may have more of my blood than yours but he wouldn’t be a he if not for your contribution.”

He stared down at the child, his son, as he felt something tighten in his chest. “I never thought… After my home… I never thought I… Even with my brothers… Other Menos, they were too distant… and… I never thought… I’d given up on…”

“I get it.” Arin assured him as she leaned against his arm, her smaller limbs curling around his. “But don’t worry papi, we aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know…” He smiled down at his wife and son, his family.

--- Year 2: San Wu’Keng ---

“Hey, there bud!” He laughed, picking up his one and only nephew in a twirling rise.

“Wu’Keng.” Said nephew’s mother noted with some amusement.

“Come on, Arin, we’re family!” He whined while throwing the boy onto his shoulders. “Do you want me to start calling you Farfan’Keng?”

“I haven’t done anything to earn the Keng family name.” His sister-whether-she-likes-it-or-not pointed out.

He scoffed. “You got the bull hitched, trust me the family is more than impressed by that. Let alone you climbing the bull and surviving.”

Honestly, they were all convinced he was the only one who wouldn’t settle down, given how even after several earthbound centuries the old bull was still going around conquering kingdoms. It was honestly at a point where if she didn’t get him to tone it down, they’d have staged an intervention… (that likely would’ve just resulted in all of us getting completely plastered and forgetting about the problem for a few more years.)

“Really, Maka’keng prefers it when I refer to him by his surname?” Arin pointed out.

“Pfft, yeah, but only because he hates the name Sexard.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Though that’s more because me and the boys gave him so much sh-” he glanced at his nephew watching him like an impressionable sponge that would repeat any curse words to his stick in the mud father, capable of bench pressing a mountain. “-oving around about it when were kids.”

Arin gave him a curious look. “Even Dae’mon?”

“Eh, once in a while.” He nodded. “Though to be fair, daddy bull has had a stick up his… backside since we were kids.” He leaned down to his nephew and whispered. “He’s always been a stick in the mud… well him and So both anyway.”

His nephew gave an adorable little laugh at that.

“And let me guess you’ve always been the fun brother?” Arin smiled.

“Well me and Nub… technically.” After all, it depended on the day of the week on whether Nub was their brother or not. “But we had to make sure everyone had fun since Dae’mon and Sal’so were grumpy butts, Asher was a goody-two-shoes, and Gosha and Sexard were both nerds.”

He paused before spinning his nephew around and looking him in the eyes. “Next time you see your uncle Maka I need you to call him a neeerrrd. Say it with me, neeerrrd.”

It took a few tries but eventually he got the kid to happily say, “Neeerrrd!”

“Just like that!” He smiled mischievously.

Throughout this process Arin merely watched on with amusement. “You’re going to be a horrible influence on him aren’t you?”

“Whaaat? Noooo…” He scoffed in an offended tone before giving her a devilish grin. “I’m going to be the fun uncle. So fun that I’m his favorite.”

“Must everything be a competition with you?” Arin asked.

“Of course! After all, if you’re going to do something you should be the best at what you do!” He explained, before turning to his nephew on his hip. “ Isn’t that right, bud?”

His nephew giggled and nodded with what he just knew was the flames of mischief beginning to burn bright in the boy's eyes.

“See he gets it, just you wait and see, he’s going to burn so bright that even the heavens will remember his name!” He assured his sister-in-law. (And well, if they don’t I could always conquer those sticks in the mud again and make them remember.)

The only reason he’d let them go the first time was because it was so boring to be king of the sticks in the mud. (Being king of the Mun’Kai is so much more fune.)

His people actually knew how to party.

--- Year 3: Gosha Ro’Keng ---

“This can’t be right…” Arin frowned looking down at the papers before letting her eyes drift towards her son sleeping in his crib while clinging to one of the numerous stuffed animals he and his brothers had gifted the lad.

Under normal circumstances this would be the kind of thing to warm any parents heart, at least if not for the fact that everything in said crib was currently on fire. Though thankfully without burning.

“No, in all likelihood this is a side effect of the ritual you used to conceive the boy.” He tried to explain, having only understood the broad strokes of the spell’s framework.

“What kind of side effects?” His sworn brother growled from the corner he brooded in.

“For the most part, nothing too harmful.” He assured his brother.

“Sorry, if I don’t believe you while my son is on fire.” Arin apologized.

“Completely understandable.” If it was his hatchling on fire he’d be in just as dire of straits. “Though as you can see by my math here, that is merely a conceptual crossing combined with a lack of control. Fairly common in early blooming children, if in less extreme cases.”

“Meaning?” Boole’Keng prodded.

Arin inhaled before exhaling and going over the notes he’d given them for future reference. “Right, right. So according to this, due to magic being used in his conception he inherited a blend of our concepts rather than simply developing his own as a normal child would. In this case he acquired my [Power] affinity and your [Domination] affinity, which then feeds back into the only natural affinity he’s developed [Fire]. This causes an ever growing feedback loop where the two feed the [Fire] concept to the point where, at the age of four he has an affinity equal to most Arcane at forty.”

“Correct.” He nodded, once more applauding his sister in law’s mystical knowledge. A sign of intelligence that was distinctly lacking in his own political marriage.

Boole’Keng was silent for a moment, before skeptically asking, “And how exactly does a child ‘Dominate’ anyone?”

(Which is a fair question.) As far as he knew his brother’s primary method of using said affinity was to overwhelm his opponents with an initial burst of surprise strength granted by his Menos physiology and then using that to snowball his foes as he dominated them one by one increasing his power with each foe crushed under hoof. Which in turn led to long term reputation based empowerment so long as he was close enough to those ‘dominated’ by his power.

(Thinking about it, that’s probably why he got addicted to conquering every other thing in sight.) He had to admit. (But I’m getting distracted…)

“How does any child get anyone to do any of the vile things involved in child rearing?” He asked, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “By dominating the hearts of all who see them with their adorableness.”

The Heavens -(still unconquered by Wu’Keng)- knew his own little one had done much the same to him from the first moment he saw her. Something he had little doubt of his nephew having done to his own parents, (and if the child’s domination scales in power based on the entity dominated like his father’s…)

He glanced at his brother, arguably one of the five strongest beings currently on the planet, and (well it’s no surprise the child has so much power already.)

Deciding it was best for everyone not to bring that little theory up he instead waved his hand, putting out his nephew’s flames with a few twists of magic. An act that apparently woke the little one as he felt his magic disrupted, something that Gosha had to do if he wanted to pick the child up from the crib.

He felt the giggle he drew from the toddler by brushing his feathers against the child’s nose made them even.

“You’re lucky you married Arin, he wouldn’t be half as adorable otherwise.” The toddler sneezed, setting his wing on fire. “That said, he is definitely your child.”

--- Year 6: The Boy ---

He was awoken in the middle of the night by something putting out his flames, leaving him cold and in the dark as he drowsily sat up.

Before he could fully open his eyes, hands were upon him, roughly dragging him out of his room while slapping something over his mouth.

As panic began to set in for the first time that he could remember, he struggled against the rough hands, his blurred vision keeping him from noticing much beyond the moving walls and shadowy figures.

He tried to pull upon his flames like his mamá and uncle Gosha taught him, but he found no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t summon the energy to feed the everpresent warmth in his chest.

There was a crashing sound and suddenly he could make out a towering figure that he could recognize no matter the darkness.

(Papa!)

“You dare invade the home The Dae’mon Boole’Keng?” His father roared, before their eyes met and his father scowled. “If you wish to live past this day, you’ll set the boy down and leave.”

“As if we’d ever give into the demands of the Bull Tyrant!” The man holding him yelled.

“Then so be it.” His father growled, before the ground his father stood on cratered and he found himself on the ground as his father held the bad man up by his head. “May the Pale Lady show mercy I will not.”

There was a wet squelching sound like whenever his shoes would get stuck in the mud before his father tossed the bad man to the side and turned to a trio of shadows that had been with him.

“Mijo!” His mamá cried wrapping him in her arms, where he’d be safe even if father wasn’t here.

The shadows began throwing lightning and ice at his father, all of it harmless as his father rushed forward before grabbing one of them by their head and slamming them into the ground hard enough to send them through the floor.

His father then stepped forward and backhanded a second slamming them into the wall with enough force to crack it and leave a big smear all over it as the man fell to the ground.

The fourth bad man created a shield in front of him hoping to stop his father’s charge, something that proved futile when his father inhaled before exhaling a stream of flames so warm and powerful that he could feel them from the otherside of the hall as they melted down the shield and made the bad man disappear.

“How mediocre.” His father spat, before rolling his shoulders.

With a quick glance around to make sure there were no more bad men, his father looked back at him and his mamá before turning away with a grimace.

“Dae’mon?” His mamá said.

His father was silent for a moment, flexing his hands and not looking back at them before shaking his head. “The boy needs to learn to defend himself. I won’t always be here to protect him, even if my enemies will always seek him harm. I’ll make the arrangements for what needs be done.”

With that his father left, and he remembered just how scary the darkness could be.

--- Year 9: Asher Leon’Keng ---

“You’re putting too much force into your blows, lad.” He called down to his nephew from his perch on a tree branch with just the right amount of sun and shade.

“But father says you need to crush your opponents as swiftly as possible.” The lad told him, before repeating his mistake and striking the training dummy with far too much force.

With a sigh he sat up before casually hopping off of the tree branch and landing next to his nephew. At which point he delivered a light swat with his tail that his nephew would’ve been able to avoid had he not gotten his blade stuck in the dummy’s purposely squishy armor.

“Power is important, but control is more so.” He reminded his student. “Unlike your father who can, pardon the pun, bulldoze his enemies with ease, you lack the raw power to simply overwhelm your enemies with might.”

He kicked a wooden sword off the ground and into his hand. “Instead you need: speed, skill, and precision.” He struck either side of the dummy’s unguarded throat, never moving his footing, before delivering a more powerful strike -“At which point you wield your power for a strike that maximizes its damage. - and decapitating the dummy with a streak of blue.

The lad looked at the headless dummy before looking down at his blade in thought, his mind apparently drifting somewhere other than their lesson. “If something is on your mind, speak up, lad.”

“I… Do you think I’ll ever be as strong as… father?” His nephew asked.

(Well, I knew this would become a problem eventually…) He had to admit. After all, it was an inevitability, what with the boy being a different race from his father.

He’d just been thinking one of the others would be the one to have this conversation. (Then again, perhaps I’m the best one to help the lad grow from this…)

“You are… aware you take after your mother… yes?” He began awkwardly, trying to get the rest of his thoughts together.

“I am…” The lad admitted, looking down at the ground.

“Are you ashamed of that fact?” He asked, deciding the answer would decide if he really was equipped to handle this.

His nephew was quick to shake his head. “No… but… I… If I’m not as strong as him…”

“I see.” He nodded, before looking around the courtyard. “You are aware there are different kinds of strength, yes? Just because you lack raw physical might does not mean you are any less than the rest of our family. Gosha for instance can barely take a punch to the face, but could rain starfire down and raze an army. Or Nub could slaughter a room full of men without them ever realizing she was there, despite being unable to beat your father in a straight duel. Would you say they’re any lesser for that?”

“No, they’re not.” His nephew shook his head once more, before looking down. “But I…”

“Are a child who has yet to discover his way.” He finished, settling the matter.

Upon seeing the lad didn’t quite agree with him, he decided it was perhaps time to actually teach the lad rather than simply building him up. And so he turned towards another set of dummies. “Tell me, do you know why your father asked me to be your mentor over any of our other brothers? Especially given how I’m one of the only two not a formal teacher?”

When his nephew remained silent, he raised a clawed hand. “Technically speaking, I’m the most average of my siblings. Weaker than your father. Slower than Nub. Less durable than So. And my magic is weaker than both Gosha and Maka’Keng. That said, when it comes to mixing these things-”

He ignited his hands with his cerulean flames before rushing the dummies and unleashing a storm of claws, blade slashes, and flames. Techniques he’d spent years developing while a (servant)(slave) of the Jade Palace before he’d realized the truth of the celestial host and rejoined his brothers.

Returning to the moment at hand, he found that in mere seconds the dummies had become but cinder and ash drifting between the blue flames still licking the ground. (Just like the host.)

Forcing himself past those memories, he turned back to his awed nephew with a feral grin on his face and continued his speech by explaining that, “I’m the best. And while you have adequately trained your magic with both your mother and Gosha, by the time I’m done with you lad, you are going to be just as dangerous with flame, fang, and fist as any fiend out there.”

--- Year 13: The Boy

Birthdays were something of an event for the Keng family.

While their family tended to scatter in all directions, occasionally crossing paths the rest of the year, everyone showed up to everyone’s birthday. Regardless of where the person in question was, as demonstrated by the year they’d celebrated his uncle San’s birthday in a mountain cave hidden by waterfall or the palace ball at his uncle Gosha’s for his cousin Ophelia.

Luckily, since it was his birthday his family was simply gathered in the main courtyard of the DBK compound, a step above the cave and nowhere near as stuffy as a ball. A perfect compromise between familial closeness and the class their family represented, regardless of his uncle San and Maka’Keng’s simpler preferences in life.

“Oh, mijo, you’re getting so big.” His mamá cooed.

“Mother, not in front of everyone.” He most certainly did not whine, his eyes actively avoiding anyone.

“Hey, she’s not wrong bud, you are getting pretty big.” His uncle San told him, picking him up like the man was prone to do with everyone. “I mean look at you! Used to I could pick you up with one hand, now I need both!”

This fact did nothing to deter his uncle from spinning him around and tossing him in the air like a particularly active toddler.

Rather than enduring this indignity he used his uncle Asher’s techniques to quickly dash himself back to the ground, where he could straighten his clothes out. He’d spent all day getting his outfit just right for this event, and it wouldn’t do to have them ruffled inappropriately.

“Ah, bud, you used to love when I tossed you around like that.” His uncle absolutely did whine.

“Yes, well… I cannot allow Ophelia to look… cooler than me.” He informed his uncle, having caught sight of his feathered relatives.

“Oh, you’re right, you’re right.” San nodded in sagely understanding, before his eyes darted to a darker furred Mun’Kai in the corner. “Speaking of, I need to go bug, Sexard can’t have him and Dae’mon brooding in a corner all party.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your cousin, so I’ll go track down your father, he’s almost as bad as Maka at these kind of things.” His mamá told him.

He couldn’t help but sigh at that, knowing full well that his father was observing everything with his usual controlled grandeur rather than brooding like his uncle Maka.

“Ah, and a happy birthday to my most fiery student.” His uncle Gosha greeted as he turned to his uncle and cousin, his aunt in law clearly absent. (Which is likely for the best.)

The only one to stand his uncle’s politically bound spouse was said uncle and his cousin. (And even then I don’t know how they do that.)

He’d freely admit he lacked the patience to do so himself.

“Uncle Gosha.” He greeted back, before turning to his cousin wearing an outfit distinctly unlike the robes, armor, and such that his family usually wore. Though he wasn’t so sheltered as to believe that her hoodie and jeans were themselves odd amongst teenagers, he simply couldn’t help but note that, “Cousin Ophelia… your clothes are an eyesore and you’d have been better off letting Uncle Gosha dress you than looking like some vagrant.”

Ophelia gave him a smirk, not offended in the slightest. “Yeah, well at least my clothes are color coordinated rather than something my mommy picked out for me.”

“Please we both know your mother has even worse taste in clothes than you.” Really the woman was just so… (mediocrely pretentious.) “If she dressed you, you'd wear nothing but worthless frills and dresses.”

“Now, now you two, let’s not speak too ill of someone not here.” His uncle defended the wife he didn’t love.

A point he was fairly certain the man kept hidden from his daughter.

“Ophelia, didn't you bring a gift for your cousin?” His uncle prodded said daughter.

“Yeah, dad.” Ophilia rolled her eyes before handing over a small bundle of cloth. “Figure you need something more ‘normal’ than that junk you wear.”

“Thank you cousin…” He dryly grimaced at a jacket with the logo for some band he had zero interest in, not that was her actual gift. The real prize however was the pages Ophelia had hidden within said jacket’s lining, a mix of things she wouldn’t be caught with be it for her parents or her fellow teenagers. “I’ll truly enjoy tearing this to shreds.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ophelia smirked upon seeing her father’s exasperation at their interaction, and not the mix of dark spells and magazines she’d smuggled across worlds.

“You two take far too much after your uncles.” Gosha groaned, rubbing his hand against the bridge of his beak.

“Aren’t you one of said uncles, for me at least?” He asked the political mastermind who had taught them both the basics of running any information exchange unseen, as well as given him the bag of holding he stuffed his contraband into.

“Don’t remind me…” Gosha sighed, before spotting someone across the way and glaring. “Is that Nub? Pardon me, I need to have a word with my brother.”

As the adult of their conversation walked away he gave his cousin a curious look.

“Don’t look at me, all I know is Nub got blackmail on dad again.” Ophelia shrugged.

“Ah, it’s his turn for that.” He nodded in acceptance, (after all Nub blackmails everyone.)

“Yeah… So is there anything else going on at this party or are we just walking around and talking?” Ophelia asked him. “I mean beyond your fireworks thing?”

“Mother set aside a cake, but I think she wanted to do that just before the fireworks so everyone could enjoy both.” He knew he would, which was why he had fireworks every year since his uncle San and him had watched his first show amongst the clouds.

“Well, that’s boring.” Ophelia told him.

“If you any idea of fun that wouldn’t… alarm our parents I’m happy to hear.” He assured his cousin, because at the moment reading those spell pages was the only thing he actively wanted to do. (Well that and reading those magazines.)

The magazines his cousin gave him were the only real idea of teenagers beyond the two of them that he had given his father’s protective nature. (Which is understandable given the assassins that broke into our previous compound. If a little stifling.)

“If you two are bored, I do have an idea, younglings.” A rough voice informed them.

---

“I don’t get why you agreed to this.” Ophelia complained as they both stretched their limbs before the coming spar.

“Uncle Sal’So wishes to see how far we’ve both come in our training, there’s nothing that odd about it.” He reminded her, after all they technically came from a warrior family so it made sense that the uncle least involved in their training thus far would want to see how far they’d come.

“Yeah, well sorry if I’m not a battle nut like you and the rest of our crazy uncles.” His cousin told him, before eyeing their opponent. “Besides I’d rather fight you who I might beat than him who will beat us.”

“That’s… fair.” He had to admit as he too glanced at their uncle Sal’So Rin’Keng, a fairly large Saurion of the more aquatic variety. Perhaps not as large as his father but (who is?) That did little to detract from the man’s twelve foot stature or the wide muscular form coated in blue-green scales. (And it definitely does nothing for the claws and fangs even sharper than Asher’s…)

“Right, well if we want to put on a good show it’s probably best I focus on magic at a range and you on the more up-close and physical half of the fight.” Ophelia suggested.

“You’re probably right.” He agreed, knowing that unlike him his cousin had focused so heavily on her magic that she’d greatly neglected her physical abilities. (You’d think at the very least she’d have taken a shine to Uncle Nub’s assassin training given her predatory physiology.)

Suddenly, he felt a clawed hand on the back of his neck. “You kids do realize your enemies won’t wait for you to make a plan, yes?”

“I… am aware…” He grimaced, seeing that Ophelia had a claw around her neck as well.

“Good.” Their uncle nodded, before throwing them in two separate directions.

With a burst of flame he managed to spin before he hit the ground, allowing him to keep his eyes on his opponent and Ophelia -who had used her wings to right herself- even as he continued to skid backwards.

He met his cousin’s gaze for a moment, and upon receiving a slight nod he unleashed a stream of fire from his legs allowing him to dash at his uncle before bleeding his excess momentum into an airborne roundhouse kick to the head.

Or rather it would’ve struck Sal’So’s head if his uncle hadn’t caught the leg with ease, “Hmm, see Asher taught you his little leaping flame trick, but let’s see what you can do when I do this.”

His uncle snapped his fingers and he felt the air around them grow significantly more humid as the moisture in the air became thick enough to feel. Something his flames did not appreciate when Sal’So threw him and he found himself unable to use his usual flame flip to correct his course.

Luckily a massive hand of shadows erupted from the ground to catch him and ease him down next to Ophelia. “Right, so he just crippled you I’m guessing?”

“I’m not… crippled.” He argued, because he was able to conjure flames still, they were just… smaller than usual.

“Sure, but I’m guessing I should step up if he’s shut your fire down.” Ophelia told him as she stepped forward, the shadows of her wings trailing down her arm and skirting the ground as if she was wearing a gown of shadows.

His cousin swung her arms and waves of the darkest shadows erupted from the ground flying for their uncle, who merely waved his hand and blocked the truck-sized waves of magic with a quick forming wall of water. And while Ophelia’s magic was still enough to shatter this constructs, it did little to prevent Sal’So from reusing the water to send a massive wave of water surging towards them.

“Damn it.” Ophelia cursed, before swinging her arm and causing a sphere of shadows to solidify around them. Rather then being trapped in the darkness as the water washed over them his elder cousin instead started up a second spell forming a white sphere between her hands. “We’ve only got a second, add whatever fire you can to this.”

“R-right.” He nodded, raising his hands towards the starfire and feeding it as much of his flames as he could. A feat he struggled to accomplish as his own flames resisted being subsumed by his more magically powerful cousin’s.

“When I drop the shield move the flames towards Rin’Keng, between us he might not be able to defend.” Ophelia told him, separating one hand from her starfire spell before using it to drop her shadow shield.

The moment he saw the light of the outside he did as Ophelia asked and pushed his flame towards his uncle with as much force as he could muster, causing a stream of crimson flames to streak behind the white comet they’d launched.

When the flame struck the ground it caused a detonation big enough to leave a crater in the ground, unfortunately it only struck the ground because while they’d been shielded Sal’So had- “You didn’t expect me to stand still while you hid did you.”

From behind them Rin’Keng grabbed Ophelia by the back of her head before slamming her face first into the ground. At the same time his uncle did this, the Saurian used his other hand to backhand him hard enough to send him flying.

He hit the ground in a rolling tumble that took him a moment to pull himself out of and back onto his feet. At which point he was able to turn back to his cousin and Rin’Keng in time to watch Ophelia coat her arm in shadows and use it to throw their uncle off of her before returning to her feet in a swirl of shadows.

Unlike him, his uncle managed to right himself before he even hit the ground. Whatsmore the older man kicked off the ground at the exact same moment to launch himself back at still disoriented Ophelia before picking her up by her throat and slamming her back into the ground, (with more force than necessary…)

“Stop!” He yelled at Rin’Keng as he launched himself forward in an explosion of flame.

The Saurian didn’t even glance at him as he grabbed him by his throat before he could even attack the older man.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s your birthday still. I just need to check on your cousin first.” Sal’So told him, likely having realized he’d used too much-

The Saurian threw Ophelia at the wall hard enough to crack it, something that very likely would have damaged even her denser than normal bones. An injury that would do twice as much damage to her due to Avarician’s hollow bones being prone to shattering rather than simply breaking.

“Ophelia!” He cried out, before ripping himself free of Rin’Keng’s grasp in a maneuver full of spinning flames. Once free he used the Saurian as leverage to leap towards his cousin, just barely managing to catch her before she could hit the ground and worsen her injuries.

He put his hand to her neck and then her beak, making sure that she was still breathing, before trying to wake her. “Wake up, Ophelia, please wake up.”

But no matter how hard he tried, she would not stir.

“Hmm, how disappointing. I expected more from her as old as she is.” Rin’Keng called, seemingly unconcerned with damage he’d done to his own niece.

“Disappointing?” He repeated, feeling something inside him begin to burn. “You… you are what’s disappointing uncle. I never thought you’d be so, so… mediocre that you’d, you’d resort to harming your own family like that! This is supposed to be a simple spar, how could you?!”

Ren’Keng watched him for a moment, and he thought he might receive an answer, only the answer he received- “Very easily.” -pissed him the fuck off!!!

--- Year 13: Sal’So Rin’Keng ---

He was not expecting the punch that hit him, or rather he’d been expecting it -between his taunting and watching the boy slowly setting Ophelia down- he just hadn’t expected it to actually hit him. Or send him skidding back as the fire bound to the blow, jetted them further with enough force and heat for him to actually feel it through his scales.

Reacting on reflex more than the controlled intent he’d used thus far, he grabbed his nephew’s arm and pulled it back enough to see that crimson flames had nearly wrapped around the boy’s entirety.

He nearly smiled in pride as he felt a sting in his cheek, and he would’ve if not for the fact that doing so would undo the lesson he was trying to teach the children. A lesson the rest of their coddling family wouldn’t teach them. A lesson the younglings were likely to die without.

Something he would not allow after everything else that had been taken from their family over the years.

So, instead he forced himself to scoff at the truly impressive display from one so young, and instead told him, “How mediocre.”

The boy’s snarl redoubled as his flames surged and the boy delivered a kick to Sal’So’s face. One that surprisingly almost matched his old man’s hook with the sheer amount of force behind the blow.

(Not bad, just needs to learn the other half of the lesson.) He decided, swinging the boy around before slamming him into the ground and letting his tides surge once more, smothering the boy’s flames.

Once fully submerged, steam bubbled from the boy’s skin, the water suppressing whatever flames he could generate but still not enough as the boy refused to give in. Which on the one hand would be something he’d applaud if it was simply a one on one match, but the fact that his niece was currently unconscious and within range of his magic meant the boy should’ve grabbed her and run for their parents.

(He’s not scared enough. The boy needs to know fear as well as determination.) After all, fear was what had forced him and his own brothers to grow so strong, if he needed to make them fear him to ensure they survived he would.

Which is why he completely wrapped the boy in water, given how he knew exactly how long it took to drown someone he also knew exactly when to let the boy go to keep from truly harming him.

The boy struggled at first, but eventually the water proved too much and he began to slow his efforts.

From down the hall he could hear thunderous steps as the rest of the family finally forced their way through the barrier he’d set up to keep them from realizing what he was doing. (Hmm, well the barrier lasted long enough I suppose.)

He moved to release the boy from his prison, only to freeze as two golden eyes blazed from within the water.

Despite being completely submerged with not a drop of air to burn the boy’s flames began to grow underneath the water before fully encasing the child leaving him as little more than a shadow within the torrential flames.

Once fully consumed the water prison exploded and the boy disappeared in a streak of red, one that he half traced to behind him before a kick to the back of his head sent him crashing into the ground on the other side of the arena.

He had just enough time to roll over before the inflamed boy was upon him, slamming flamming fists into him with enough force to punch a hole through steel, and enough speed to make a gun look slow.

If his scales weren’t biologically built to handle the most extreme pressures and temperatures the child might’ve even killed him rather than simply chipping away at a few scales.

Seeing that his attacks were doing nothing the boy pulled back before exhaling a torrent of flame in his face similar to his father’s own technique if not for being significantly hotter.

Hot enough that he threw the child off of him more on defensive reflex than anything intentional.

As he stood staring down his burning nephew a voice roared out, “What is the meaning of this?!”

He glanced at his brother staring at him with no small amount of rage, before turning back to the young man whose flames had begun to sputter as he struggled to keep them going and then to his niece watching him with a touch of fear.

Deciding that he’d seen enough he rolled his shoulders and forced himself to relax despite the numerous threats focused on him. “Just a friendly little spar.”

--- Year 15: Maka’Keng ---

“Not bad, kid.” He noted upon seeing his nephew throw a few curving fireballs at his target.

“Uncle Maka.” The runt stumbled upon seeing him, “I was not aware you were watching.”

“Wouldn’t be the King of Shadows if you did.” He pointed out, before pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against. “Still, rate you’re going you’ll be the King of Fire soon enough.”

“I doubt that.” His nephew muttered under his breath, between panting for air.

(Right, can see why Arin wanted me to talk to him.) He frowned, looking over the exhausted runt. (He’s been training himself into the ground. Hard. And I’ve got a pretty good idea why.)

“So how’d your latest match with Rin’Keng go?” He asked, Rin’Keng having explained his (jackass) plan of forcing out the kids’ true potential, even if it meant driving them both to nightmares.

(He’s honestly lucky none of us beat him down for that… or rather that we let him heal between turns.) He knew Wu’Keng, Dae’mon, and Gosha all took their pounds of flesh. And whatever Nub had done was arguably a fate worse than death for some. (She makes me wonder if I went easy on him by just throwing him a shadow realm until he broke out.)

The runt grimaced. “I… made many mistakes.”

“Such as thinking you’re on the level of a Keng at the age of what? Fourteen?” He scoffed. “You know we’ve all been at this for decades, right?”

Honestly, it’d been centuries, but they were waiting until the kid was an adult to rip off the ‘oh, yeah everyone in your family cracked immortality but can’t share their methods’ bandage. Just like they were with Gosha’s daughter. (Though, she might just figure it out by the time we tell her, smart as she is.)

“I am aware…” The runt ground out as if it pained him. “But if I am to prove worthy of the Keng family name. To prove worthy as heir to the DBK family. I. Must. Do. Better.”

He inhaled before exhaling as he ran a hand through his black hair and considered how best to keep his nephew from training himself into the ground for a title only he really cared about.

“Do you remember those shows I used to put on for you when you were a kid?” He eventually asked.

“Your shadow plays?” The runt frowned.

“Right, my shadow plays.” He nodded, as he willed the shadows around them to darken the room before removing the lantern from his back and opening it, releasing dozens of little twilight bugs into the air. “I’ve got a story to tell you.”

He fed a little magic into the bugs he’d spent years cultivating -causing their light to grow brighter and their shadows darker than anything natural- and casting one of the walls in light as he began bending the shadows around them.

“Once upon a time there was a young runt who wanted to be a great warrior.” He began, creating a little shadow figure on the wall, one that may or may not have looked like his nephew. “He had a family strong and powerful, many of whom were already great having overthrown the tyrant army subjugating their people through might, magic, and skill.”

He shifted through six shadows of his various siblings performing feats of their abilities, from Dae’mon demolishing an army to Gosha raining down star fire and Wu’keng dancing around his enemies.

“Sadly, no matter how hard he tried, the boy never quite measured up to his family.” He continued, the shadows shifting to depict the boy training, fighting, and more (only to always end up in their shadows…)

“Is there a point to this?” His nephew grimaced, unable to look at the image as the boy stood in the shadow of Sal’so, completely missing the way it stuttered when the boy was shadowed by Wu’Keng.

“We’re getting to that.” He scolded the runt. “You just need to be patient.”

The shadows shifted once more this time showing the boy playing with a small lantern. “Trapped in their shadows the boy withdrew into himself, and started playing with magics less for the sake of power and more for the sake of having something, anything that was his own. Eventually, the boy was discovered by others who applauded this talent not bound to his power.”

Children surrounded the boy with the lantern, laughing and cheering as he put on a show of shadows for the children.

“And the boy realized, there was more to life than power, more to life than living up to a family name… the boy realized instead of living a life based on others, he needed to live a life that he wanted to live.” He told his nephew, shifting the shadow so that it matched who it was actually about.

His nephew was silent in thought, smart enough to have put two and two together.

“There’s more to life than training and a family name.” He assured his nephew. “If you really want to live life to the fullest, to be worthy of whatever you think you aren’t, you need to find something that isn’t just fighting or a legacy you’ve inherited but rather something that’s yours.

“Find something that’s… my own…” The runt repeated, messing with a hole he’d burned into his shirt.

--- Year 16: Nub Nos’Keng ---

“Why in the twelve hells are you using silk for this?!” Her nephew yelled, his temper once more shining through as flames burst from the (lovely) ponytail he’d begun growing. “Even a simpleton knows you need to use cotton if you want the magical flow to even out, silk is clearly disruptive in not allowing the material to breathe both for comfort and for magic!”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on them, dearest nephew.” She called, enjoying the way he jumped at her silent approach.

“Aunt Nub.” The young teen greeted, his attitude doing a complete one eighty from a few seconds prior.

“Now, now, I’ve told you once and I’ve told you a thousand times, you don’t need to be so stiff with me dear.” She told the overly serious boy with a flick to his forehead. (Really, sometimes he takes too much after his father.)

“My apologies…” The teen frowned, rubbing at his forehead as she took a hit of her long pipe the boy only peripherally noting the servant running off.

“Oh, you don’t mind if I smoke do you?” She knew damn well he hated the smell of her pipe, (but if he’s not going to man up and tell me to stop, well then I’m not going to.)

“Not at all auntie.” Her nephew ground out through grit teeth, his temper only held in check by the stick up his arse. “Might I ask what brings you here today? Mother is on the other side of the compound.”

“Oh, I’m not here to visit dearest Arin for one of our girl talks.” She assured the teen, before fading to smoke and reappearing behind him. “I’m here to talk to you, nephew.”

“About?” The teen frowned, not nearly as surprised by her moving solely to mess with him as the first time she’d done so.

“As you know your pilgrimage is only a year or two off.” Admittedly, said rite was largely a farce to get the kids out of the blast zone before they slaughtered everyone who threatened their family, (but that doesn’t mean we can’t slit two throats with one knife.) “I’m wondering if you’ve considered what you wish to do during said pilgrimage.”

“I… am not sure.” Her nephew confessed, running a hand through his red hair. “Ophelia is on a research pilgrimage to acquire and develop new magics, but that’s nothing in comparison to what you and the others accomplished at our ages.”

“Don’t overestimate us, most of us didn’t finish our pilgrimages until our mid-twenties.” She reminded him, though those supposed ‘pilgrimages’ were truthfully trust their wild twenties and the drive of a bunch of orphans to do better than anyone expected of them. “Whatever you set out to do, you shouldn’t rush it.”

“I’m aware.” The teen sighed, before leaning back against one of his work tables. “Though if anything that simply makes me wish to accomplish something all the grander given how much time I’ll be putting into it.”

“Fair is fair.” She nodded in sympathy. “That said, I did have an… idea, I wanted to run past you.”

“An idea?” Her nephew repeated with some skepticism towards her which (again fair is fair.)

She was a manipulative bitch and proud of it.

“Well, as I’m sure you’re aware your father’s pilgrimage involved his rise to one of the most infamous conquerors in the known multiverse.” That was a mild exaggeration given how Dae’mon actually forgot about half of the empires he’d conquered when finding a new one, leaving them all to reform themselves with a distinct ‘Boole’Keng’ flavor.

(I suppose that’s just one of those, the journey is more important than the destination type of things.) She figured. (Hopefully, like father like son on this.)

“What I wanted to suggest was perhaps you build your own empire.” She continued before her nephew could give into the hero worship they all loved when he was but a child. (Though it is about time he starts to move past that.)

“An empire of my own?” The teen scoffed as if the idea amused him. “Why would I do that when I’m the heir to the DBK empire?”

(Well for one the empire is only really a multi-dimensional trade and security group at this point.) But she wasn’t going to point that out, instead she was going to point out that, “Yes, but that’s the empire your father built. Not the empire you’ve built. Tell me dearest nephew, are you really content merely living in your father’s shadow, or do you wish to rise to the heights that we all know you’re capable of?”

Her nephew was silent considering her words. (A good sign.)

They’d be proud of him regardless of his choice, (hell we’d be proud if he just opened up a little boutique in some backwater town) but at the same time she believed in fanning the flames (heh) of her niece and nephew. Of encouraging them to become the best and truest versions of themselves they could rather than forcing themselves into a role they weren’t even aware of because they’d never seen the wider worlds.

(Better they find themselves as children, than as regretful adults.) She thought, remembering how long it took her to become comfortable with herself. And while she doubted they’d make any revelations quite that big, she still believed, “It’s something worth considering dearest nephew.”

--- Year 18: The Boy ---

He adjusted the red long coat he’d made, making sure he was properly presentable for the ceremony. A ceremony that while largely just a declaration of intent for his pilgrimage it was more importantly also a final send off from his family before he set out on his own.

True he’d still be able to see and interact with them if they came to him, but he would not be allowed to return home or use more resources than he could carry until he’d accomplished his chosen task. One that after years spent contemplating his aunt’s words as well as the rest of his family’s legacy had resulted in him deciding upon a proper challenge to prove he was as worthy of the Keng family name as anyone else.

Pushing open the doorway, he stepped into the Rift Hall, a large pillared hall with a swirling blue gate of light his family used to travel to worlds other than their own and proceeded to greet each of his family members as he walked down the hall.

San Wu’Keng in tears about how his ‘little bud’ was all grown up as his uncle manhandled him as if he were still but a toddler, spinning and lifting him into the air in a moment only allowed due to the emotional nature of the event. Not because it reminded him of a simpler childhood and the joys of such innocence, or because Wu’Keng was still his favorite uncle.

Gosha Ro’Keng telling him that he expected great things from his most fiery student, while offering one last tome full of enchantments and spells that he thought would aid him. And if there happened to be an extra page on how to summon the infamous Avarician prince, well no one needed to know.

Ophelia -present as a rare exception to the pilgrimage exile- assured him that if he needed anything she’d be there in a heart beat. Given how there was no rule against them aiding each other on their pilgrimages, which is why he promised to pass along anything he thought would help her own. After all, the youngest of the family had to stick together.

Asher Leon’Keng gave him his old sword, saying that while he may prefer fist and flame he shouldn’t forget what his other tools and weapons had taught him over the years, their blending the tempering of his own mettle. The fact that the sword was the same one Asher gained upon graduating the jade guard, was a gift the student did not underestimate from his teacher.

Sal’So Rin’Keng offered him a clap on the shoulder and a smile, telling him that when his pilgrimage was over they’d have to have another spar. The two having made peace after the one -and only- spar he’d won against his uncle, when the older man explained that he needed his niece and nephew ready to fight the enemies of their family as the old orphan was unable to lose his once more. Something he would not allow to happen.

Maka’Keng had hidden himself away from everyone else in the shadow of one of the many pillars holding up the ceiling of the room. Though that didn’t prevent his uncle from giving him a nod of acknowledgement or telling him that he was too bright of a flame to be living in anyone’s shadow let alone their family’s, and that whatever he chose for his pilgrimage he should do it for himself not them. A sentiment that made it all the harder to do as the man wished.

Nub Nos’Keng despite being the family assassin, was far less interested in hiding in the shadows and proudly greeted him while applauding the flaming red jacket he’d made for this trip. With whispers no one else could hear, she passed along as many secrets and tips as she could about his upcoming venture, the old spy having long since discovered exactly what he wanted to do for his pilgrimage. He appreciated the foreign fabric supplier most of all.

Finally came the hardest good-byes of the evening.

Arin Farfan’Keng told him how proud she was as she pulled him into a hug, running her fingers through his hair as she told him how quiet the compound would be with him gone and that he had to finish his pilgrimage as quickly as possible so she could have her little fire starter back in the home.

She also told him that while he was out and about to find her a child-in-law so that she could have grandbabies, but he chose to ignore that in favor of passing along the rift coordinates for his chosen pilgrimage.

His father stopped him as his mother set about altering the Rift’s exit location.

“And what have you chosen as your pilgrimage task, boy?” His father asked him.

“If I’m to be the heir to the DBK empire, I’ve decided it’s best for me to create an empire of my own.” He told his father, forcibly straightening his back so that he wouldn’t have to reveal his true anxiety over his father’s opinion on the matter.

“Oh?” His father inquired with a raised brow, not revealing whether he was offended or not at his son’s dismissal of his own empire.

“Yes, if I’m to inherit your empire and deserve it then I need to prove I am a proper conqueror in my own right.” He hastily explained. “Once I’ve proven I can build and manage my own empire, then I will prove myself worthy of leading what you have built instead of simply having it handed to me.”

“I see…” His father told him, before letting out a huff of amusement as he shook his head. “Like father, like son I suppose. Conquering your enemies is in your blood after all, son.”

He fought down the squee of joy he had from his father’s approval with his plans.

“That said, the city you’ve chosen, I’m assuming you realize just who champions it?” His father questioned with a touch of concern.

Concern he did not feel for himself as he adjusted his glasses. “Of course, who better to prove myself against than one of the few souls on this rock capable of matching your mental might, father?”

His father gave him a grin and a nod. “So be it, son. Go forth and continue to bring pride to the DBK family.”

“Of course.” Rojo De Sol couldn’t help but smirk as he turned to the portal. “Anything less would be mediocre after all.”