Legacy's Wake

Hollow planted his arms firmly on his hips, a smirk twisting his lips as he regarded the approaching foes with a cold, calculating gaze. Despite being outnumbered, he exuded a dangerous confidence, certain that his edge would prevail. "So, an edgy punk like you actually thinks it's cool to abuse people?" Kou bellowed, his voice thick with raw anger, as he charged forward, eyes burning with a lust for blood.

As Kou closed the distance, Hollow merely tapped his forehead lightly, a gesture both dismissive and mocking, as if to measure the audacity of his adversary. His grin widened, razor-sharp and edgy, as he spoke in a tone that dripped with disdain. "Oh, but I never intended to abuse them, little one," he drawled, his voice low and venomous. "I simply showed them an alternative perspective on life—one where not everyone is destined for wealth and fame. Even those royal miscreants, who claim to rule with a benevolent hand, have offered nothing but pain and suffering to the impoverished masses. They mock the misfortune of the weak, all while those so-called higher-ups indulge in their own decadence."

In the midst of his tirade, as if in response to Kou's aggressive momentum, Hollow ducked low, his body slipping around Kou like a sinuous serpent. His movements were fluid and predatory, each motion calculated to undermine Kou's confidence. The sudden maneuver forced Kou to overcommit; his arching kick missed its mark as he tumbled to the floor. Regaining his footing with a clumsy spin, Kou leaped back into action, launching another kick with a desperate, uneven rhythm.

Quick as a striking viper, Hollow swung his right arm in a swift, precise motion, using it to deflect Kou's leg with the force of a sharpened blade. The collision of limbs resonated in the air.

At that very moment, Nathaniel reloaded his pistol and took aim at Hollow, firing a shot that the bastard met with nothing but a cocky, lopsided grin. Without a care in the world, Hollow tilted his head, eyes gleaming with that signature smugness, as his whole body shimmered and warped into an eerie, ghostly green. His form became completely transparent, a flickering specter with no real substance. And just like that, the bullet phased right through him like it was nothing, ricocheting uselessly off the wall. A second later, he snapped right back into his usual self, all solid and smirking again like he hadn't just ignored the laws of reality.

"Ohhh, what a shame," Hollow jeered, dragging out every word like he was savoring the sound of his own voice. "All that effort, all that perfect aim, and what do you get? A big fat nothing. Guess your little peashooter doesn't do squat against someone like me. Kinda sad, really—I figured you'd at least be somewhat competent. But nah, here we are, me—just one guy, standing alone—and you lot scrambling like headless chickens, completely useless in the face of something you can't even touch." He flicked some imaginary dust off his sleeve like he was already bored of this little scuffle.

Before Nathaniel could even cock back the hammer again, Ralphie charged in, his foot flaring up with solar energy as he flipped forward in a cartwheel, throwing his whole weight into a brutal downward kick. But Hollow? He didn't even flinch. With the kind of effortless grace that made it seem like he wasn't even trying, he leaned into a smooth backflip, letting the attack breeze past him before landing light as a feather on one foot, his other just barely grazing the floor before he hopped back into a lazy stance.

"Man, look at you guys," Hollow scoffed, shaking his head with a pitying chuckle. "Even with numbers on your side, you're all flailing around like a bunch of newbies in their first bar fight. You really thought you could keep up with me? You really thought you had a shot? Pathetic. Even the best of you haven't managed to land a single damn hit. It's almost cute—almost—but mostly? It's just sad." His smirk widened into something downright infuriating, the kind of shit-eating grin that made people want to swing first and think later.

Then, just as he was about to run his mouth even more, a fourth attack shot out from behind—someone swinging their weapon in a sharp, horizontal arc, aiming to cut him down where he stood. But Hollow? He was already a step ahead. He ducked low in one slick motion, barely even breaking his rhythm as he slipped sideways, avoiding the attack like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the new challenger, lips curling up into a devilish grin. "Ohhh, Celeste, huh?" he mused, his tone dripping with mocking amusement. "Decided to crash the party without an invite? Bold move. But hey, if you really wanna throw hands, I guess I can let you in on the fun. Y'know, if you ask nicely." He dragged out the last words, savoring the moment before his voice dipped into something even more smug. "Buuut just so we're clear—this ain't some friendly spar. This? This is my game, and I don't play fair." His grin sharpened as his eyes darkened. "So if you're stepping into my ring, you'd better be ready to lose."

Hollow's words hung in the air like a storm about to break, dripping with untouchable arrogance and a punkish, devil-may-care energy that made every second feel like a dare. His posture, his tone, his whole damn vibe screamed one thing loud and clear—he was loving every second of this, and no matter how hard they tried, they were never gonna wipe that smirk off his face.

Celeste gritted her teeth, gripping her weapon so tightly her knuckles turned white. She glared daggers at Hollow, fury burning behind her eyes. "You tricked me. You tricked everyone!" she shouted, her voice laced with frustration and disbelief. "What the hell did you do to Damien?! Where is he? The real him, not some wannabe edgy punk!" Her words cut through the air, demanding an answer, hoping—praying—that somewhere in that twisted mind of his, Hollow would cough up an explanation.

But Hollow? He just stood there, lips curling into a slow, almost pitying smirk, shaking his head like she was some clueless little kid. "Ohhh, Celeste... You've been living in a fantasy, girl—some perfect little dream world where everything made sense. But tell me," he tilted his head, his grin widening, "did you ever bother to open your damn eyes? You never noticed all those so-called 'family members' vanishing one by one? Never questioned why Damien was the only one left in this fancy little palace, while the rest were supposedly off exploring the great unknown?"

He let out a dramatic sigh, wagging his finger at her like she was some dumb student who had failed a test. "Nah, nah, nah. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but all those high-and-mighty nobles? Gone. Wiped out. Taken by my marine contacts—y'know, those so-called 'officials' snooping around Cascade Cradle and the Cerulean Tide? Yeah, those guys? Total fakes. Government stooges working under me. And ohhh, how easy it was, watching them all fall into my little trap. You ever wonder why they never came back? Why nobody questioned it?"

His grin sharpened, his voice dripping with pure, twisted amusement. "It's because I made it happen, Celeste. I played the game, stacked the deck, and took out every last royal piece on the board. And now?" He stretched his arms out, motioning to the grand palace around them. "This is my house. My empire. And all of you?" He chuckled, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "You're just late to the damn party."

Nathaniel stepped forward, cutting into the conversation with his usual calm demeanor. "So what you're saying is that everyone in Cascade Cradle, the entire Geyser Island, is just a bunch of pawns in your game? The marines, the royal guards—you've had control over them this whole time? And that doll following Stitch around, that was your doing too?" His eyes narrowed as he pieced it all together. "And now you're telling us that Damien—the one we actually thought was a noble of this household—was captured? Let me guess… he's being held in that palace across the bridge?"

Hollow chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk. "Damn, you're sharp, gunman. Gotta give credit where it's due—you actually got a brain that works. Nice to see at least one of you putting the pieces together. But, uh… there's just one little thing you got wrong." He leaned forward slightly, his grin widening. "Damien? Oh, he's been locked up in that fancy palace way before any of you even set foot on this island. The moment I caught wind from my 'official' officers—y'know, the ones playin' marine while working for me—that some nosy outsiders were about to crash our little paradise, I got things ready. Made sure the house was spotless, sparkling, the whole royal treatment." His expression twisted in mock disgust. "Ugh, honestly, not my vibe, but hey, it had to look convincing, right? And now, here we are, masks off, truth laid bare. Meanwhile, your little buddies outside? Yeah, they're busy trying not to get torn apart by my lovely royal guard dogs."

As their conversation continued, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Tarot and Joker sprinted in, barely keeping up with Kyora, who was leading the charge at full speed.

"W-What the hell is going on?!" Kyora blurted out, skidding to a halt. The moment her eyes landed on Hollow, she froze in place like a ghost, her face instantly contorting in horror. "Wait, wait, wait—why is there some stinky, wannabe edgelord standing there?! And what happened to Damien?!" she shrieked, her voice overlapping perfectly with Tarot's equally dramatic reaction.

Nathaniel cast her a sidelong glance, his tone deadpan. "That is Damien. Kind of."

Kyora visibly recoiled as if Nathaniel had just slapped her with a wet fish. She stared at Hollow, then back at Nathaniel, then at Hollow again before throwing her hands up. "Oh, hell no. You mean to tell me our noble, refined, totally proper Damien turned into this? What, did he lose a bet and have to cosplay as a rejected punk band member?!"

Kyora stood there, frozen in shock, her eyes scanning Hollow up and down. After a long pause, she finally muttered, "I mean… he's still kinda hot, but definitely not my type."

The moment those words left her mouth, Ralphie felt something inside him shatter. His expression dropped, his soul practically leaving his body as he clutched his chest like he'd been struck by an arrow. "Kyora..." he whispered dramatically, eyes glossy with betrayal. "After everything we've been through? After all the times I cooked your favorite meals, kept you safe, and—AND gave you my last piece of dessert?! And now you're out here thirsting over a literal punk phase gone wrong?"

Kyora blinked at him, tilting her head. "Relax, drama king. I did say he's not my type. He's like, hot in a 'bad decisions and daddy issues' kind of way. You? You're like… I dunno, warm? Like a freshly baked roll or something."

Ralphie gasped, utterly scandalized. "A roll?! I pour my heart into everything, and you compare me to BREAD?!"

Meanwhile, Hollow just stood there, arms crossed, watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk. "Damn, lover boy, you gonna fight me, or just stand there getting roasted by your crush?"

Tarot, completely oblivious to the sheer tension in the air, casually raised a hand and blurted out, "So wait, lemme get this straight. You're telling me that after I broke that weird shiny artifact… Damien just—what? Had a midlife crisis and turned into an edgy punk?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire crew, everyone, turned their heads toward him in eerie unison. Their eyes bore into him with a mix of disbelief, horror, and barely contained rage. Even the wind seemed to pause just to process what he had just confessed.

A long, heavy silence followed.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Even the storm above them seemed to hesitate, as if nature itself was debating whether it should unleash more chaos just to match the sheer stupidity that had just unfolded.

Meanwhile, standing at the very back, Joker—who absolutely did not want to be associated with whatever consequences were about to unfold—casually started tiptoeing out of sight, hands behind his back, whistling a completely off-tune melody.

It took a moment, but finally, Ralphie, still emotionally wounded from Kyora's earlier betrayal, was the first to react. He slowly exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tarot… please tell me you're joking."

Tarot blinked. "I mean… I am Joker's best friend, so I guess that makes me a little bit of a joker too."

A collective groan filled the air.

To be continued...