Chapter Text
Wakefulness comes slowly, driven by an instinctual circadian rhythm. When the final wave crashes against the shore, his eyelids flutter open. His vision unblurs after a few seconds. It immediately fills with the dark red rock of the ceiling. He fell through that ceiling some weeks ago, but the hole has been patched up. That doesn't mean there aren't still some lingering cracks in the material. Each one is prominently filled with shadows sanctioned by the room's only light source—a lamp filled with bubbling lava sat right beside the nest he sleeps in. Given the height of the lava within its glass confines, he knows that it is time to rise out of his nest. If he rests any longer, he knows that the owner of the house will personally come to drag him to the duties she herself gave him.
A low groan leaves his lips. He throws his body to the side. His twisting lands him against the rocky ground right outside his nest. The scratchy, warm material against his skin makes the decision for him to stand on his behalf. He sways on his feet, psyching himself up for the day ahead. He stares at the lava twisting inside the lamp, determining the exact time. There are many hours until it's acceptable for him to return to his nest, yet he still wonders if it's enough time for him to accomplish all his chores.
He has to start immediately, then. He should get ready first, though.
The room he was given to sleep in is on the second floor. It's separated from the rest of the space by a curtain made from leather. There's another leather curtain that sections off what could graciously be considered a closet. It has his clothes and a mirror made from obsidian, so it isn't an inaccurate title. It just doesn't feel too much like one as he stands beside the singular rack and glances at his reflection in the black-tinted surface. Vanity is not a virtue in this household, however, so he doesn't waste much time determining how ugly sleep has made him.
All of his clothing options are entirely formed by animal skins. Resources are limited in the Infernal Realm, after all. The only way to get other fabrics is to enlist the services of an alchemist. He doesn't know any personally, and he can't afford any of the professional ones. Even if he did have the means to pay, he wouldn't waste their talents on something like clothing. The animal skins are good enough for him. With the way it's been treated, it isn't uncomfortable. It feels more like the soft linen of his homeland.
Shirt, pants, belt, boots, gloves—once everything is put on his body, he returns his attention to the mirror. It certainly isn't as good as the silver-and-glass reflectors in the Daystar Realm, but the obsidian has been polished in such a way that he can genuinely see himself.
At least, he should be able to, but the person staring back at him in the mirror decidedly isn't him. This person is younger than he should be. They don't have the full beard he's been growing since he was a young adult. Instead, all that hair has been given to the locks from his scalp. It settles against his shoulders in all its blond glory. He tugs it despite knowing that it's still as a real as the first day he noticed that he looked completely different than he should.
His hair and youthful face aren't the only differences. Many of his scars are missing. There are new ones but not nearly as many as he knows he's earned over many years of battle. Likewise, his muscles aren't as defined, though he can blame that on this gap in his memory. He's certain he was asleep during that time. He just need to earn his muscles again, which he's been doing every day with all the ranch work he does.
Like with his muscles, he can make excuses for everything else. He doesn't have his beard and mustache because someone shaved it. Without them, he only looks younger than he is. His hair—which someone has allowed to grow out—is part of this. The scars are probably from someone over-healing him in an attempt to wake him up.
It's the wings he can't find a ready explanation for. They grow from between his shoulder blades. The feathers are a pure, snowy white with golden undertones. They are also, for some reason, on fire. They burn with a gold-red flame. The flames never go out nor do they hurt. They simply are. The only guess he can formulate is that Athar and the Supreme Witch experimented on him while he was in this unconscious state, but he doesn't understand why they wouldn't ask him or why they would do this specifically.
"Zero!"
The man startles. His wings slam into the clothes and wall behind him. The fabric sways but doesn't burn. His wings, on the other hand, sting slightly with how hard they hit the rock. Still, the pain is substantially less than he normally puts up, so his voice doesn't carry any of its influences as he shouts back, "Coming!"
Zero leaves the closet. He hurries across the room to the downward staircase that's on the other side of the curtain. It, like everything else in this house, is made from a deep red-black rock. This makes sense since this kind of rock is the most abundant resource in all of the Infernal Realm. Zero doesn't think he's been to a location without it yet, and that's including all those years he ventured into the Nether with his companions as an adventurer-for-hire when the portals were still open.
At the bottom of the stairs, Zero steps directly into lava. The floor itself is beneath a layer of lava that rises to his ankles. The same people who gave him wings obviously made him immune to fire, lava, and heat. This is a boon in the Infernal Realm. Since he's trapped here now (given the portals are closed), Zero is actually grateful to whoever bestowed these traits upon him… even if they did it without his consent.
The reason for the lava covering the floor is the person who called his name. Stacy stands at the countertop. Her clothes have been modified by an alchemist. They're still animal skins, but there's something different about them. She claims she only increased their durability due to the nature of her job, but Zero just knows there's more to the story. Fortunately for Stacy, he's willing to let this matter rest where it may for the time being rather than pestering her for the truth.
Stacy turns around to look at him. Her eyes are bright green, contrasting with the dark red tint of her skin. The antennae and whiskers are almost black with how red they are. She resembles a strider, a native species to the Infernal Realm. She calls herself a 'strider hybrid.' Zero just thinks that's a fancy way of saying someone experimented on her, too. In all likelihood, it was the same entity who equipped Zero with the necessary skills for survival in the Infernal Realm. It makes sense, then, that they ended up together (that's one way to put it. Zero suddenly crashed through the roof of her house; he's glad she's so forgiving).
"There you are, sleepyhead," Stacy tells him, setting her hands on her sides. She nods over her shoulder. "Come get your breakfast."
Zero nods. He jogs through the lava to reach her side. She's already made their plates for them. Zero already knew what was going to be on the plate. There aren't many culinary options in the Infernal Realm, especially to the lower classes. Even Stacy, who is technically in the middle class, usually only serves animal meat and fungus. It serves every dietary necessity, so complaints are usually only about a desire for variety.
Not many people complain, though. This realm is governed by the truth of 'preservation.' Tradition is very important to them. Even alchemists have come to respect the principle of permanence, which might explain why they're so expensive. That, however, is a discussion for another day, and likely one that Zero—as a non-native—should not be participating in. He probably isn't even smart enough for it. No, he better leave debates like that to Aeolus or Chat, maybe even Henry.
If they were here, of course.
Zero shakes his head, ridding himself of such lonely thoughts through physical action. He better just enjoy his breakfast.
The winged man goes to the table on the other side of the first floor. Stacy's house isn't particularly large or divided in its layout. This floor is for eating. The second floor is for sleeping. She doesn't need to do anything else here, so she hasn't set aside room for it. Zero can't blame her since he doesn't have any hobbies, either. Working on the ranch takes up too much of his time for such fancies.
Stacy sits across from Zero with her own plate. They start eating with their gold utensils, one of the few metals in the Infernal Realm. This, Zero thinks, is the reason the portals should be open. Trade between the Infernal and Daystar Realms—or the Nether and Overworld as they call it where Zero is from—has always been beneficial for both sides. The Infernal Realm has the strongest metal in the world, aptly named Netherite, and it has the necessary ingredients for alchemy. The Daystar Realm would be more than willing to provide iron, fabric, mirrors, and all manner of other items in exchange for the Netherite and ingredients. Skies above, they would trade for gold and fungus and other materials, too.
Zero taps his fork against the table, chewing the animal meat (either hoglin or sniffer) thoughtfully. He doesn't know why the portals are closed. He just knows that to the people of the Infernal Realm, it's been closed for a long, long time. It has been closed for so long that the other realms—like the Daystar Realm—are fantasies rather than fact. No one wants to pursue these legends, only retell them for generations to come.
But because of the closed portals, the Infernal Realm is in a declining state. As far as Stacy has told Zero, the aeon has turned herself into an obsidian statue after a long, arduous war, and the archon is no where to be found. The once glorious Nether Empire has been divided, and it has been for as long as the portals have been closed. These pieces of the Infernal Realm that Zero remembers are gone or disfigured.
Zero feels a tap between his brows. He startles, blinking at Stacy. She leans across the table. The tap came from her finger which she draws back to her side. She smiles at him, "What are you thinking about so hard?"
Stacy takes her empty plate with her to the other side of the room. Zero watches her go. He stares down at his own plate, seeing his reflection in gold between the scraps of food he hasn't yet eaten. With a sigh, he rises to his feet to follow Stacy. He takes the plate with him, deciding he isn't hungry anymore. "Just thinking about what I have to do today."
Stacy frowns. She takes both her and his plates and utensils. She sets them aside, likely going to clean them later with stone and cloth (for water is no where to be found in the Infernal Realm. It literally cannot exist here unless a very, very powerful water mage or elemental brings it). She turns to the side to face him, leaning against the rocky countertop. With a frown, she says, "You know you can tell me if the workload is too much, right?"
Zero's eyes widen. He smiles at Stacy. "Don't worry about it! I'm a big man, not a pussy! Nothing is too much for me, and I'll fucking prove it!"
With an overzealous attitude, he bounds over to the door. He hears Stacy laughing at him as he steps out of her house. He closes the door behind him, muffling the noise completely. The lava out here goes up to his knees rather than his ankles. Luckily, his pants and boots are as lava-proof as he is. He doubts there's anything in the Infernal Realm that hasn't been specifically treated to have at least a minor resistance to lava, though. It would fall in line with the philosophy of preservation.
Zero moves ahead to the netherrack platforms that create interconnecting pathways throughout Stacy's Ranch. It gives anyone traversing it access to all the pins. Each one has at least one strider inside it. The animals are happily swaying through the lava. Zero has seen firsthand how they react when they're taken out of the lava. Despite being right next to it, they will still shiver uncontrollably until they are put back in their preferred conditions. This strictness of their environment is part of the reason why Zero are busy all day long caring for them.
Stacy tells him that it's gotten better with him here. Now, she doesn't need to be as worried when she has to leave to hunt, forage, or trade since Zero is here to care for them. He makes sure they aren't taken by raiders—a constant threat in the Infernal Realm—or that they kill themselves by accidentally getting out of the lava—a bigger problem than it really should be.
Zero jumps down into one of the pins. It doesn't take long for the strider to mosey on up to him. It is not because they care for him, though. It is because they know it's time for breakfast. Striders like this one are like every other creature in the Infernal Realm; they have a scarily accurate internal clock. Even without a sky to base their sense of time off of, the residents of the Infernal Realm have a sixth sense that tells them when it is time to sleep and when it's time to rise. They do amplify this with their lava lamps that tell the time, but those are more for children and the elderly… and Zero, but he's a non-native so he should get a pass.
(Though… he has that sense, too. It isn't as refined as Stacy's, but it's slowly getting better. Must be part of those experiments done on him.)
Since it's time for breakfast but Zero doesn't have any food on him, the strider head-butts him in disapproval. Zero laughs quietly. He leans down to rub the sides of the strider's face. This soothes them only until their stomach reminds them of the reason they were upset in the first place.
"Fine, fine, I'll go get your food," Zero compromises.
As he's pulling himself onto the netherrack, a pair of boots appear in front of him. He glances upward to find Stacy staring down at him. She smiles, holding a bag against her side. He doesn't know what's inside of it. If it's nothing, she's going out to hunt or forage. If there is something, she's going to trade. It's how she gets by. She refuses to let Zero go with her. Something about not wanting someone named Cynikka finding out that there's a seraph outside of Infernus (Zero doesn't know what that means).
"I'm heading out. You got everything handled here?"
"You can count on me." Zero gives her a winning smile. She doesn't seem to completely believe it, but she's gotten this far by trusting him. At this point, if Zero wanted to do something, he would have done it by now. She's given him every opportunity to, after all.
"Be safe. May the empress guide you." The empress in question being the aeon who no longer interacts with the realm. Zero has tried hinting at questions regarding Stacy's faith, but he knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. One of the reasons he knows is because she always walks away after saying it, like she's doing right now.
Zero goes in the opposite direction as her. The barn where the food for the striders is kept is behind the house. There's a netherrack path to get there, but it's rather thin. Zero and Stacy don't have to worry about getting burnt if they fall into the lava. Zero isn't sure if other species would fare better. As far as he knows, no, they would be killed by the lava, but at the same time, the Infernal Realm has changed this much. Maybe the denizens have adapted to their environment better… maybe that's why Stacy is a 'strider hybrid,' not because she's an experiment.
Zero audibly groans. He always wishes Aeolus were with him, but he wishes now more than ever. She always did all of the thinking for him. If something needed to be figured out, she would do it. She is the Air Elemental King, after all. She is the embodiment of logos, memory, and the mind. She was forged by the Great Mother using the brain of the Giant King. If Aeolus were here, she would have already figured out what was happening in the Infernal Realm.
Though, knowing her, she wouldn't have shared that truth with him. Maybe he'd get a hint, but she would make him investigate and figure it out on his own. Chat and Henry would definitely have Zero's back, though. The three of them would put their heads together to learn the truth. Aeolus would laugh at their first few guesses, but she would eventually concede that they're getting somewhere.
Zero knows this is how it would happen because he's been traveling with them for years. He might look like a young man now, but he has decades of experiences with them. They were a well-oiled machine that went everywhere together. So, where are they, and why isn't he with them?
Before he can spiral, Zero is forcibly extracted from his thoughts by a sound. He freezes at the entrance of the barn. He scans the area behind him first. Netherrack, lava, striders—everything is normal there.
He looks back at the barn. The interior is dark, but the lava outside the barn illuminates enough of the shadows for Zero to know what he's looking at. The food he should be focusing on is in the corner. He knows that the striders would appreciate it if he could hurry up and retrieve it, ignoring the noise he heard.
Unfortunately, someone would be unhappy if he ignored them. Zero isn't normally in the business of pleasing others, but he's been told that he has a weakness for subjectively cute creatures. 'Subjectively' is the operative word as Zero meets multiple pairs of glowing crimson eyes staring at him from the rafters. A smile spreads across his face as he opens his arms upward. It doesn't take long for those eyes to draw nearer. In the light of the lava, Zero catches his newest friend, Shroud.
Shroud is a darkling, or as Stacy puts it, a collection of curses that manifested a physical form since the Nether Empress is no longer around to fight the curses until they're purified. Darklings aren't inherently malicious, however, and Zero can prove this with Shroud's existence. The little one looks vaguely like a Progenitor in a relatively early stage of life—toddler or young child—with some characteristics of a spider. Stacy thought Shroud was cute in a creepy way; Zero just thinks he's cute. The striders don't care for Shroud at all, but it doesn't seem like the darkling has figured that out just yet since he still interacts with them on a daily basis.
That's the reason he's appeared in front of Zero now. As should be expected, Shroud knows what time it is: time to feed the striders. He wants to help Zero out. The man doesn't have the heart to remind Shroud that the striders aren't going to want their meals with him watching over them with his multiple dark eyes.
"Let's get the food, yeah?"
Shroud hisses in response. Zero sets the darkling onto his feet. Shroud runs toward the food, showing that he understands Zero's words even if he can't verbally respond.
At the moment, Shroud only has four limbs—two legs and two arms. Zero is fairly certain that the remaining four limbs are hidden. Based on the bumps hiding behind what looks like a sweater (it feels like a sweater, too, but how in the realm would a darkling acquire that?), Zero suspects they're more spider-esque in nature. He would love to see them whenever Shroud trusts him enough. Until then, he'll keep his assumptions to himself.
With his hands, Shroud starts pushing up one of the metal chests. Zero jogs over, refusing to let Shroud carry all those heavy items on his own. Shroud carries a little bag that's nearly as large as his entire body. The bags Zero holds are technically larger, but they look smaller when put up against his own body. He feels a little bad, but he can only chuckle as Shroud sways forward with the bag of fungus. Zero stands right beside him, ready to drop the bags and grab Shroud at a moment's notice in the case the darkling gets himself into trouble (Zero isn't certain he's lava-proof since Shroud has never once gotten in it).
Although it takes longer than if Zero had done it alone, the two of them eventually make it to the pins. The striders want to scatter when they sense Shroud, but the scent of food draws them closer. Zero notices. He keeps track of the ones whose resistance to Shroud are bigger than their appetite because he'll personally feed them whenever Shroud is distracted or gone.
For right now, Zero helps Shroud get the right amount of fungus in his hands. The darkling holds it down in one of the pins. The strider stares at Zero for a long moment. As far as Zero is aware, striders do not have the capacity for emotion, but at the same time, it's hard to tell when they look at him with such potent disbelief at times. Zero can't even keep his laughter to himself. It echoes from the far lava pools to the nether roof above, yet Shroud isn't distracted from his duty to feed the striders.
That kind of determination—or the staunch refusal to leave—wears the strider down. They tread closer, dipping their face into Shroud's hands to eat the fungus. The darkling makes a melodic noise of happiness. Zero smiles at him. When the strider has eaten their fill and hurried away, he runs his fingers through Shroud's jet black, gossamer hair on top of his head. Shroud leans into the affection up until he remembers there are more striders to feed.
The two of them make decent progress. Shroud is able to feed a few more striders than normal which made him very happy. Whenever he would get disappointed by the ones who wouldn't budge, Zero would simply gesture to another strider who was hungrier than they were fearful. Zero himself would feed the strider while Shroud was handling the other one. These little shits definitely have the capacity for emotion because they seem so smug whenever Zero is forced to act because they rejected Shroud. The man clicks his tongue, quietly giving them rude nicknames so that Shroud doesn't hear him.
After naming Bitch-ington the Third, Zero sees something in his peripheral vision. He assumes it's Stacy until he turns his entire head toward it. It isn't her, and the longer he looks, the more certain he is that it isn't a random animal, either. No, it's two piglins.
Zero grabs onto Shroud. The darkling hisses in displeasure. Zero ignores him in favor of tucking Shroud behind him. He looks around the area. The striders don't sense any disturbances, so at least they're calm. Then again, if they aren't on high alert, they could be shot with an arrow or potion. Zero will have to protect them, Shroud, and everything else that belongs to Stacy. He would rather have a spear right now, but he's confident in his hand-to-hand combat skills. He was taught by the best, after all.
The piglins come to stand at the edge of the cliff that's across a lake of lava from Stacy's ranch. Zero can't see what exactly they do, but one of them moves their body around. In an instant, netherrack rises from the lava to form a staircase down to the paths connecting all the pins. Despite being in the Infernal Realm, Zero feels a cold shiver run down his spine. Ah, so he's facing off against an alchemist, one who practices the school of reforming.
It's fine. It might be a little more dangerous than before, but not by much. Zero will still come out on top, no matter what it takes. He wouldn't be Akemi Kikoku's prized disciple if he didn't.
Both piglins come down the steps they formed. They look… like piglins. They both wear black leather, one with red trimming and one with gold. The one with red trimming doesn't have a weapon, but he's the alchemist. The other one has a golden broadsword hanging on his back. Luckily, he looks like the less confident of the two, and also far more distractable.
The piglins stop in front of Zero since he's come to meet them. The striders are still in their pins. Shroud is pressed into the back of his legs, hissing unsubtly at the piglins. Zero sets a comforting hand on top of his head. He doesn't know what curses Shroud is composed of, but he still hopes the little one doesn't involve himself whatever conflict might come from this encounter.
"Excuse me, sorry for the disturbance, but are you the owner of this ranch?" The alchemist asks.
"Who wants to know?" Zero responds, striking a balance between questioning and civil. If they don't have to fight, he would rather not. He doesn't want anything to happen to Stacy's ranch, either the striders or the house or the barn or anything else about her territory.
The piglins glance at each other. The swordsman shrugs. The alchemist sighs. He gestures to himself. "I am Baator Basaltwalker." He gestures to the swordsman. "This is my brother, Durkkol." His arm falls back to this side. "We've come for business."
Zero narrows his eyes. In his time, last names meant nobility in the Nether. Each one was awarded personally by the Nether Empress. Since the aeon has been decommissioned for a long time, it brings up a few questions. Did these piglin brothers give themselves a last name, or is a remnant of a former time? Are the noble houses still in power somehow? Stacy did say there were still nations and tribes within the Infernal Realm. Are these two from one of them? What business would nobles have here, though?
"What's going on here?"
The piglins turn around. Zero looks between them. Stacy is walking across the lava, steadily approaching them. She holds her bag tightly against her side. She stares between the piglins, Zero, and even Shroud with suspicion in her eyes. The piglin brothers carry similar thoughts in their dark eyes. Durkkol hooks his thumb at Stacy. Baator rolls his eyes at the same time he turns completely to Stacy. "We apologize for the intrusion. We heard this was the place to come to rent striders for long-distance travel."
Stacy steps in front of Zero. She glances over her shoulder at him. Zero nods, expressing enough in that one movement for Stacy's limbs to lose some of their tension. She smiles at the piglin brothers. "You came to the right place, then! I usually do business at a stand over there, but there's no reason we can't do it here. Zero, will you please pick out two striders for our esteemed guests?"
"Three, actually," Baator interrupts.
"Eh, we could probably do two if there's a… cart or something available," Durkkol adds. He leans closer, earnestness written across every feature. "We have to go pick some—"
Baator shifts his foot. The netherrack that forms the path suddenly shoots upward to smack the back of Durkkol's head. It falls back down as Durkkol is wincing and rubbing his head. He pouts at his brother. Baator glares at him. Stacy looks between them. There's a smile on her face, but her eyes are conflicted. She must have realized one of them is an alchemist, but it's something else to see it with one's own eyes.
Still, they haven't given her any reason to refuse their business, so she turns to Zero again. "Two striders, and the cart from the barn. You can do that for me, can't you?"
Zero's eyes drift from person to person. When they settle on Stacy, he smiles at her. "Of course I can." He leans closer to her, whispering in her ears but still intending for the brothers to hear him. "If they pull any shit, you know where I am. I'll pull these fuckers into the very rock below us."
Zero starts walking away. He keeps his eyes on the piglins for as long as he can. Durkkol is already talking business with Stacy, but Baator stares after Zero. More specifically, those eyes are pinned on Zero's fiery wings. Understanding flickers in a sea of confusion and hesitation.
A seraph, Stacy said, one that someone named Cynikka cannot know about.
Zero ignores such matters for now, instead carrying out the orders Stacy gave him. Shroud helps Zero get a metal cart from the barn, hooking it up to striders that do not want to be touched by the darkling. Finally, Zero is able to get the reins and saddles on the little beasts. He sets them and the cart in the lava that isn't restrained by anything. The striders remain relatively close to their home up until Zero prepares the stringed rods (fishing rods, he calls it, even if Stacy didn't know fishing was) with fungus. Despite eating not that long ago, the striders are practically frothing at the mouths for the food. Zero keeps the fungus away from both creatures, waiting for Stacy and the brothers to finish their business.
It's probably going to take a minute. This is two striders, after all, and the cart. Since an alchemist made it lava-proof, Stacy charges extra for its usage. There are even sections in the contract that require a huge sum if the cart is lost or damaged. In the Infernal Realm, contracts like that are written in blood. In a literal sense since they always come true, as if fate itself were intervening to make a person's word as unbreaking as netherite.
Thankfully, it doesn't take forever. Baator and Durkkal come to the striders and cart after the former makes the staircase disappear, returning it to the lava below. Durkkal thanks Zero and Shroud, and Stacy again, before getting on his strider. Baator isn't as verbally grateful. He's still eyeing Zero's wings. He's also included Shroud in his staring, probably noticing that there's just a darkling hanging around the ranch.
Zero has a bad feeling that he's about to get Stacy in a lot of trouble.
Baator and Durkkal leave, riding off into the distance to pick up whatever Baator didn't let Durkkal say. When they're too far away for Zero to see any more, he looks side-long at the woman beside him. "Stace, I—"
"Whatever happens," Stacy says decisively. She turns to face him completely, staring right into his eyes. "We're in this together." Her eyes slide down to Shroud. She gives him a half-smile, shoulders slumping. "All three of us." Looking at them both, she concludes, "Understood?"
Shroud nods his head firmly. Zero smiles. He might not be with his normal adventuring party, but Stacy has done so much for him. She's let him stay in her house, fed him, and given him answers and work to do. She's accepted his confusion over the Infernal Realm and his wings. She's even let him keep Shroud around despite the striders' instinctual dislike him. Zero always helps those who help him tenfold. If something happens because of those piglins—or anything else—Zero is going to defend this place and the woman who owns it with his very life.
For that reason, he answers with hesitation, "Understood."