194 CHPT 194: Fear and Power.

What followed Claude's abrupt realization of Isaac's personal interests and how they aligned with his own, was dinner. And it was exactly how he assumed dinner with a Noble family would be. Completely unexpected.

They all occupied the giant black marble dining room table under the shining chandelier that soaked the room in a regal orange glow and ate like kings. That's how Claude felt at least— relating the endeavor to something he thought he'd read in one of his many books deep within the wooden confines of his fathers cabin.

While they all ate, Claude, Maris and Warren eyed the many plates they received in wonder as they were faced with a plethora of dishes famous within many regions and cultures of the world, placing a heavy emphasis on foods from the heart of the Sunlands.

Claude was simply surprised to be eating so oddly at dinner— and equally as nervous. Hoping that Isaac's doting mother didn't notice that he was only eating meat, mushrooms and sliding the other tidbits to Frosty. Perks of being transformed into a magically empowered hyper-carnivore.

What was even more nerve wracking than trying to hide his staunchly carnivorous diet was Bell's directness. Instead of the beginnings of the meal being shared in awkward silence. The Lioness got straight to business, eager to find out what kind of people her son aligned himself with.

He quickly became very aware of where Isaac got his forwardness from. Nothing crazy or suffocating in nature, just a relaxed and regal confidence Claude had trouble imagining for himself.

She directed and controlled the conversation with ease while also talking with recurring young men and women who whispered intently with her about all things work based Claude soon realized.

She asked all manner of questions while also complimenting Maris on her looks and ability to adapt to her new surroundings. Ursula seemed slightly uncomfortable for most of the meal— trying to assure The Lioness that they'd never met before. A lie Claude realized as soon as it came from her lips.

Aside from that, dinner went smoother than he expected with him and the Hero he'd read about not talking much. Instead, he listened and tried to enjoy the company of eating on the weekends with more than the animals of the wild— even if he preferred the latter.

He also assumed part of the reason for their lack of one to one dialogue was because of the fact that his face and body were slowly beginning to look like they'd been thrown through a blender. That and the fact that his own personal experiences were making him as wary of Humans and Heroes as the Wolves he so deeply understood.

***

Dinner ended smoothly, with Warren's comedic flow— supported by Isaac, blending with Bell's personality surprisingly well. Ursula and Maris were soon drawn into the easygoing connection of the three. It was odd to see for the first time. A mother interacting with her son and his friends, that is.

Claude never knew his mother, finding out quickly that bringing up the subject with his father never got him anywhere but a front row seat to seeing his father shrouded in pure sadness, he'd assumed at a young age that she died. A natural assumption, because if she wasn't he'd have a huge problem with her for hurting a man who couldn't harm a soul— not even a monstrous PitWolf in the Orcish wilds of a Tangent.

Despite this, he had a vague idea of what he thought most mothers acted like. Bellona Aslan did not fit the mold he held within his mind at all. She had all the basic qualities of being warm in nature, caring, protective and dominant. But she was also confidently relaxed— prideful almost. And sociable enough to liven up a conversation with a group of teenagers that made the simple task beyond difficult.

Reliving the memory of watching her converse and crack jokes with them all over full plates of food made Claude think that she seemed more like a big sister than a mother.

***

With dinner over, the group headed back up the stairs to walk down the long red carpeted hallway looking over the dining room and beyond. They passed room after room along the way in search of one specific place. The most important place in the house for many of them. The library.

All of them, in search of one topic. Some looking to expand their knowledge after their first encounter with pure malevolence. And others being present to fill in any gaps the books would provide.

Hallway down the hall, they turned into an open room smelling of wood, leather and old paper. The largest room along the length of the hallway. The Library welcomed them with its familiar scents and dimmer lights made to bathe the room in an almost spooky glow that somehow fit the occasion perfectly.

The room was nowhere near as stocked or grand as the Library at the University of the Phoenix, but it was full of knowledge nonetheless and Claude could already see the leather spines of books he'd read before along the walls of the spacious room.

"Ok…." Isaac announced as he looked around at the bookshelves speculatively. "Books on anything relating to Demons should be at the back. It should also be the oldest looking books since nobody has had to worry about them in, well…..a long time."

"Great….step further into the dark and spooky library." Warren commented sarcastically.

"You fought a Hexenbiest that could breathe fire in a forest and won. Why would you feel fear in a room full of books?" Maris questioned while she let her eyes follow the unique shapes and stylistic lettering on the spines of books.

Claude and Frosty hung back while everyone filtered in. The two surveyed the room before finally entering and joining the group in their search for books on Demons.

The center of the room was occupied by a wooden table and matching chairs— leading to Claude believe Isaac's parents enforced studying and a specific place for it.

"[Knowledge is power.]" Arne commented as Claude let his fingers follow the edge of the table before approaching the bookshelves that lined the walls in clean bunches.

As he passed shelf after shelf, he realized they had topics on everything. History of the world, history of monsters and books and explaining the abilities and uses of things such as Hallowed Weapons.

After passing more shelves and a few more intriguing topics, he became distracted by a certain scent that rose up past the potent smells of wood and paper that soaked into the very foundation of the room. The scent reminded him of something burning. Anger.

The source of the smell stood in his path. Staring holes through the row of books at her eye level while she clenched her hands until each knuckle turned as white as the paper inside the leather books in front of her.

Claude and Frosty continued their soundless walk towards her, stopping at her back to see what books could cause such a scent to rise from her.

"The Nine…" He recognized what she was looking at by the spines immediately.

Correctly called, The Chronicles of The Nine. The spines of the books were labeled from one to nine based on the power and achievements of each Hero. The ominous looking numbers were branded into the black leather flesh of each book, magically shimmering the matching color of each Hero. Claude's father, Gil, was able to get him 4 out of 9.

He eyed them all before stopping on one book. Book 3. He'd read about the Hero recently, never considering the importance of the man's name until now. He'd heard it before, at the end of someone else's name. At the end of the name of the very person he stood quietly behind in confusion at her anger. Only he wasn't confused anymore.

The realization went off like fireworks in his mind, with each metaphorical explosion posing as an instance or memory that suddenly made perfect sense. The simplicity of it all almost made him laugh. But, in all honesty there was nothing funny.

It seemed Claude would once again be let down by the Heroes he so fondly read about for not being what they seemed.

A noble Hero of insanely high power and ranking who didn't seem to claim his own daughter. At least that's how it looked to Claude. She never wore the family guild crest. Never stated her last name, and went into a mad rage the last time someone relating to her sent her a message.

"He's your father, isn't he?" Claude asked, accidentally scaring Ursula slightly.

She was silent as he stepped beside her and pulled the book from the shelf labeled "3" in glowing orangish red letters like fire. The title read; "The Red Knight of Rage, Rory Legrand, and his redhot rise to power."

"It makes sense. With you not being fazed by the overwhelming luxury of this place…Isaac's mother recognizing you. Your lack of discomfort around another member of The Nine." Claude explained while flipping through the book, catching glimpses of artistic depictions and pages of long text.

"…..That obviously, huh?" Ursula suddenly said after letting out a calming sigh.

"Not always, I was considering it for a long time, but it only made sense after seeing you here smel— looking angry." Claude replied.

Ursula didn't seem to catch his slip up, "Well, yea. That's him." She said flatly while her jaw muscles tensed repeatedly and the area became very cold.

Deeper in the Library, the others commented on the drop in temperatures while Claude and Ursula stood in silence.

"[Say something to make her feel better, you brute.]" Arne commented in a venomous whisper, reminding Claude how much the Lupine guide despised his lack of social skills and charisma.

Claude shifted uncomfortably next to the Berserker before giving up on thinking and simply saying what felt truthful. A surprisingly hard thing to do in the face of a tense situation.

She seemed to sense that he was about to talk, causing a pale bluish white reflection of her light to glide across the books as she looked in his direction.

"Uhm….I don't know what you're feeling."

"[You can't be fucking serious, mate.]" Arne said in disbelief.

Claude stood strong, ignoring Arne while Ursula turned and looked at him confusedly at his response.

Frosty licked his hand in support , sensing his discomfort. "Sorry. That came out dumb...like dumb as hell."

Ursula's ice cold demeanor broke as she let out a laugh.

"I did mean that though. I have no idea what you're feeling. I had a— have a good relationship with my parent. I couldn't imagine there being any bad blood between me and my father. But it seems like that's exactly what you have. But, just because I don't understand or can't relate doesn't mean I can't be sympathetic…" He explained, stopping as he realized the way the room began to warm— prompting him to continue.

"I think me and you both know I suck at this talking shit. But, I have good ears." He said, tapping his index finger on his ear while leaning his head sideways towards her. "Talk to me whenever, and I'll listen to what you have to say."

The room retained its warmth.

Claude's nostrils flared as the old scents of anger became mixed with happiness. He didn't bother looking over at her, while she sniffed and wiped at her eyes, fighting not to cry in public. Something he'd definitely done before, mostly in front of Samuel when they were younger.

Soon enough, the tears subsided and he heard her feet slide across the floor as she shifted closer to him to bump shoulders— an action he was learning she seemed to favor over others. "Thanks."

"No problem." He replied to the suddenly very small looking Berserker while she eyed the floor.

In that moment he couldn't help but notice how vulnerable she looked. He'd seen her like this only a couple times before, and every time it surprised him. He was no longer looking at a mouthy yet warm and sometimes brash warrior powered by rage. Instead, what stood next to him was a sad and lonely girl with issues he couldn't even begin to understand.

"GUYS?! We found some stuff!" Warren yelled from deeper inside the Library, startling them both before they joined the rest of group.

***

The trio did in fact find, "some stuff". Resulting in the group heading back to Isaac's room with stacks of books on high ranking Demons, variations of the race and how they affected other races.

They immediately got to work after finding their seats within his room, eagerly flipping through page after page while Claude and Ursula explained what they could, like Professors running a three student class. Four if you count Frosty.

They retold everything they knew. Involving the look of the HellBreeder, it's elusive nature and parental feelings attached to its transformed offspring. A couple new things they all came across was their history.

They were highly essential pieces to Daemonic Rancor's— Demon Armies, and worked beneath and sometimes with Demon Lords adding both numbers and a unique form of power to their ranks. But this was rare since the HellBreeder had to be advanced and have enough intelligence to ignore its parental urges towards its spawn. It seemed that's when the HellBreeder was most dangerous as well since in mind, the Demon essentially grows from a parent, to a commander in the shadows.

After finding this piece of knowledge, the group became more aware of what they were dealing with. Causing fears to rise, but their thirst for knowledge and understanding matched its pace.

They spent another hour and some time reading intensely, not finding much concrete evidence. Only theories and gut wrenching images that Maris seemed to find enjoyment in whenever she showed them to Warren.

One particular theory stuck out to Claude. A theory involving the death of a HellBreeder. He was obsessed with the theory as soon as his eyes fell on the image for two reasons. Fear and Power.

It was read in the form of a story, or vague retelling of events.

"It's said that a Hero tormented by a HellBreeder is experiencing a piece of Hell on earth. Facing HellBred after HellBred until the Hero becomes adept in the practice of Demon slaying. By the time it reaches the HellBreeder, the Hero becomes a hunter of the dark— being able to develope a keen sense or feel for Demons. This 6th sense mixed with the Hero's growing hatred for the creature makes Demons drawn to them— driven into a madness by the direct and delicious intensity of their emotions. This makes the creatures predictable in battle. The Hero continues to unintentionally hone and sharpen these skills until the HellBreeder has no choice but to bare its insectiod face and attempt to exact revenge. When this inevitable moment comes, either the Hero dies or the HellBreeder is slain. If the latter is the case, the Hero is transformed. Transformed into a HellSlayer. A power or entire Class that's vastly misunderstood for one simple reason. By the time it's usually gained, the Hero has already lost everything at the hands of the HellBreeder, thus changing the Hero into a dark and vengeful soul in search of the remaining HellBreeders and anything else associated with Hell itself."

He read the excerpt over and over while Ursula read silently next to him on the floor with Frosty's head rested on her thick legs.

"[This theory is rather close in comparison to your own experiences, Claude]" Arne finally commented.

"As long as it's close to mine and not the other way around." Claude responded before flipping over the top corner of the page and continuing to read on.

The details of the story stayed close in his mind for the duration of the book.

***

The group read until there was nothing left and their brains were as fatigued as their muscles had been all evening. When Isaac passed out blankets, pillows and blew out the lights. The urge to immediately go to sleep was almost unbearable.

The only thing keeping them awake was the buzz of fear that still lingered inside them.

They all laid sprawled out on the floor in silence, Isaac offered the large king size to Maris only for her to flatly reply, "I don't need special treatment from anyone." Before grabbing a blanket and laying under Isaac's desk near Warren.

Nobody made a move to seize the large mattress afterward, finding themselves far too tired to get back up from the floor.

Claude laid wide awake for minutes, listening to them all engage in small talk through tired voices in the dark room until he was suddenly being spoken to.

"Claude.." Warren said.

"Yea."

"Why can't we tell any Professors? Or Isaac's parents?…..I mean Isaac's mom would probably deep fry that ugly ass thing." He said jokingly before speaking again in a hushed and worried tone. "Why is it so personal for you?"

"Because it won't matter. We told Prof. Raizen, he told us it's next to impossible and lightly searched only to find nothing. The HellBreeder's smart and the adults don't think it's existence is possible." Claude said.

They were all silent again for a moment.

"You didn't answer the second question, Claude". Isaac pointed out after a few seconds.

"Why is it personal…" Claude repeated, "it's personal because it'll do anything to hurt me, it showed that today."

They all nodded along in the darkness, remembering the battle.

"I don't understand the issue. If stay silent, we kill more HellBred and get more power. If we act like children and tell the Professors, we stay weak." Maris said emotionlessly from under the desk.

Her words were simple and straight forward, blunt. Spoken easily enough for them all to understand.

The group was left to their own thoughts afterwards. Thoughts that molded and morphed into dreams as they drifted to sleep.

Claude could hear the transition perfectly from their breaths. He waited patiently with his eyes closed, despite looking relaxed— his limbs were on fire. He was eager to get out and taste the night air. It seemed Frosty felt the same way, laying next to him with his ears alert and eyes wide, reflecting the sparse bit of light in the room.

"[Claude.]"

"Hm?"

"[I think it's time. The Raiders won't sleep for long.]"