"F*cking finally, that took forever~" Ricky sighed, stretching a little as the area around him was even more ruined than he left which was saying something.
"Indeed." Alexander echoed Ricky's sigh, hunching his furry back as he scanned the area for Bucephalus who was already bolting toward them.
"Welcome back." Asterion said suddenly from the side, setting down Lady Roma and Chastiefol as Ricky turned to face him.
To those watching, Ricky's calm, almost indifferent expression suggested he was simply picking up where he left off.
But beneath that calm was a storm as his Necronomicon suddenly began flapping wildly in the air as that pit in his stomach was calling for him.
Screaming at him that he needed to check on the situation in New York.
Only, Merlyn had already expected this.
The blackened device, the very same contortion of magical and mechanical genius that pulsed like a grotesque heartbeat, emitted a sudden wave of purplish-black energy, and those connected to it convulsed in agony.
Wave after wave of residual anti-magic started to pulse through the surroundings of Camelot until all magic, everywhere in the surroundings, simply ceased to be.
THUD
One after another, every coven grimoire dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, the sound rippling like a domino effect as they slammed into the earth.
The portal Ricky had nearly conjured vanished instantly, dispelled mid-formation and from afar, Merlyn watched through his orb, chuckling at the foolish attempt.
"It's good to be back." Ricky chuckled hatefully, noticing that his grimoire still hovered at his side untouched by the anti-magic pulse.
But no matter how he tried, none of the magic circles would activate and Asterion, recognizing the shift in the air and the frustration on Ricky's face, took a step forward.
"Can I take it as a rather fulfilling experience?" Asterion asked, side-eyeing Lancelot who was now standing by the side instead of trying to jab a knife into it.
"Oh dude you have no idea, we-.......what's up with her?" Ricky started with a scoff, ready to recount everything, until his eyes landed on Lady Roma's broken expression as he paused, pointing slightly in her direction.
"The Round Table left me," Lady Roma said, framing it in such an obscure, distant way that Ricky could only stare at her, his face contorting into confusion.
"Huh?" Ricky muttered, glancing at Asterion, who simply shook his head.
"It's nothing major as a few knights attempted to rescue her, but they retreated once they realized the gap in our power. Asterion explained calmly but as he spoke, Ricky suddenly smiled, his slight annoyance bubbling up and stretching that smile even wider.
"You know, speaking of knights~"
Ricky's hum echoed through the area, laced with pure malice so sinister that the remaining knights of the Round Table, still under Merlyn's command, visibly flinched.
More or less cowering behind the terrain Asterion had shaped with his sheer strength, they pressed their backs against stone and scattered debris, holding their breath and praying not to be noticed.
"I had some thoughts about adding a few to my growing collection." Ricky said, his gaze settling on a freshly formed mound as he slowly raised the ebony blade.
WHOOSH
In a blink of the eye, the distance between them seemed to vanish as the mound was sliced clean in half, revealing Mordred in his serpentine form completely startled, and immediately scrambling to flee.
BAM
"Where do you think you're going?" Ricky laughed, his tone registering in Mordred's ears as he lunged over to him and slammed his head into the ground.
Half of the tainted knight's face was immediately buried as the hand grabbing Mordred's struggling expression slowly started to have blue rings form around it.
"Don't worry, you're gonna fight for the winning side soon enough." Ricky chuckled darkly, erasing Mordred's immortality with No Longer Human before crushing his head.
"Get up."
DING
Watching this rather ugly display of force, Merlyn strolled down the seemingly endless halls of the castle, his eyes fixed on the image of Ricky manically hunting down the remaining scraps of the Round Table as Merlyn gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
Merlyn had honestly assumed that Ricky would try to flee toward the Otherworld exit, since he couldn't portal out through his device.
And while it mildly saddened him that he wouldn't get to witness Ricky's reaction to the sealed gateway, he was pleased that everything was still flowing according to plan.
Zooming out slightly, he observed Ricky's undead already hauling over the last remnants of his chimera army, bringing them to Ricky for a transfer of ownership.
Effectively cleaning up the last of Merlyn's dirty work.
"Good," Merlyn said, just as he was about to close the view within the orb, only to catch a final glimpse of Lady Roma, standing frozen in disbelief.
But without another word, he shut the orb off.
"Master Merlyn, the Captain Britain Corps is ready."
From the distance, Merlyn raised his gaze and saw him, the oldest and strongest of them all, the commanding leader of the entire Captain Britain Corps under his rule: King Britain.
This version of Brian Braddock is from Earth-9997, a scientist turned superhero who became Captain Britain after choosing the Amulet of Right over the Sword of Might.
Struggling with the supernatural, he died and was reborn multiple times, eventually gaining knowledge of the Omniverse and eventually marrying the mutant Meggan and leading the team Excalibur.
After humanity mutated due to the Terrigen Mist, Brian became King Britain, ruling much of Europe.
He raised Black Bolt's son as the new Black Knight and helped stabilize the world alongside Russia.
His team, Excalibur, was later turned to stone by the Grey Gargoyle, whom Brian killed in anger, trapping his allies forever.
Brian eventually reclaimed the Sword of Might and the mythical Excalibur blade. He aided heroes like Captain Mar-Vell, fought off attacks from the Tong of Creel, and rebuilt the Iron Avengers with the Vision.
But for various identity issues and not to confuse him with his other variations, the story will call him King Britain.
"Ah, Brian, or should I say, King Britain," Merlyn chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face, one that echoed a familiar image etched in King Britain's memory.
"You need not call me by such a title. I am unworthy of it compared to you, Master Merlyn." King Britain replied humbly, his tone resolute and wise, true to his core when speaking to the ancient mage.
Merlyn purposely remained silent, lowering his gaze toward the dimmed orb as he walked forward, his footsteps echoing faintly in the vast hall.
King Britain watched the silence with a heavy heart, the weight of Merlyn's expression settling deep within him before he couldn't bear it any longer.
"Is this 'Ricky Luciano' truly someone to fear if you're making that face, Master Merlyn?" King Britain asked quietly, as Merlyn slowly came to a halt before him.
"Indeed," Merlyn said softly, placing his hand upon the orb as he started to twist the narrative.
Flashes of Ricky's cruelty began to flicker into view with slow, deliberate glimpses that drew a deepening frown across King Britain's face.
Then came the image that truly struck him as his expression twisted into utter disgust as he watched Ricky mercilessly kill another version of Brian Braddock, his own variant.
Merlyn, without hesitation, let the vision continue as he showed the gruesome process in full: Ricky reanimating the fallen Captain Britain and twisting his corpse into the Dullahan he now commanded.
"Ricky Luciano is a powerful mutant who possesses abilities whose depths even I do not fully understand," Merlyn said, a hint of genuine surprise threading through his voice, having been surprised by Ricky time and time again.
"And what's more, he holds my 'daughter' captive," Merlyn said slowly, purposely abbreviating a portion of his sentence before revealing the captured likeness of Lady Roma which was when King Britain's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight.
"Master Merlyn, we must-"
But it was in the next revelation that Merlyn would unveil the full scope of his ruthlessness and just how far he was willing to go to see his vision fulfilled, all for his promised king.
Drip
"I'm afraid that it is already too late," Merlyn said in a broken tone, a single teardrop falling onto the orb as it slowly revealed the same image of Lady Roma but with flashes of green.
"Master Merlyn, what has happened? WHAT HAS THIS FIEND DONE TO LADY ROMA?" King Britain's voice cracked with disbelief before swelling into a roar of rage.
"I didn't want to believe it, I truly didn't, but what I'm seeing is no longer my daughter," Merlyn admitted, fully aware this wasn't the truth, yet unwilling to show any weakness that might shake their resolve.
Simply put, deploying any more troops to save Lady Roma would jeopardize everything he had in neat order.
After witnessing the only group he could send at this time and capable of rescuing her fail, Merlyn understood that even he would have to sacrifice something deeply precious, for the sake of his promised king.
"W-Wait, then, that can only mean-"
"Yes, it's as you feared, Morgana has already turned Lady Roma into a vessel."
To those unaware of what this truly means in Morgana's dark craft, creating a vessel is far more than mere possession but an utter annihilation of the self.
Morgana completely detaches and destroys the person's soul, burning away any lingering spiritual essence until nothing remains but an empty, soulless husk.
The victim becomes nothing more than an automaton, hollow, and an obedient meatbag controlled entirely by Morgana's will.
It is the ultimate erasure of identity and autonomy, a fate worse than death.
"My sweet, dear daughter has already been killed by Morgana," Merlyn spoke with a heavy, emotional tone, wobbling his legs as if they had given out before he began to fall.
"Master Merlyn!" King Britain exclaimed urgently, rushing forward to catch the old man as he struggled to maintain his balance.
From King Britain's perspective, he was at a loss for how Merlyn could be so certain since when he saw through the orb, all he initially saw was Lady Roma herself.
Only upon closer inspection did faint traces of green emerge, an illusion conjured by Merlyn, that deepened King Britain's solemn expression.
"Master Merlyn, you mustn't see this as all hope lost. Once we defeat these heinous villains, there has to be a way to restore Lady Roma. If anyone can do it, it's you," King Britain said, trying to reassure him but deep down, he wasn't sure he truly believed it himself.
Sniff
"Yes, you're right," Merlyn sniffled, knowing King Britain's words were meant to lift his spirits as he slowly regained his balance.
"We must focus all our efforts on vanquishing Ricky Luciano above all else," Merlyn said firmly, placing the mission above even his own daughter's fate as King Britain nodded slowly in affirmation.
"How are the preparations?" Merlyn inquired, regaining his composure with surprising ease as King Britain straightened up immediately.
"Everything is in order as you wished but the evacuation of the citizens of Camelot isn't entirety finished-"
"Detach a regiment from the members of Team Excalibur who were present during the original evacuation of the Straight Citadel to hasten the effort," Merlyn commanded, quickly filling in the gaps before remembering something.
"And hasten the treatment of Sir Benderve, we will need every member of the Round Table for this peerless fight, I fear." Merlyn finished, watching as King Britain nodded like the dutiful soldier he was and went to carry out his orders.
Merlyn watched King Britain's departure as his eyes slowly morphed into a blackish array before he suddenly held out his hand.
Although Merlyn had erased the magic from the air, black goo began to drip from his fingertips onto the floor, slowly forming a portal as he stepped into it.
Thump
Thump
Thump
The device pulsed steadily, its rhythm mimicking the heartbeat of the Otherworld itself—deep, relentless, and unyielding.
With each beat, waves of anti-magic energy radiated outward in shimmering ripples, suffusing the air with a heavy silence as all enchantments began to falter.
Beneath the device, those bound to its dark power writhed in excruciating agony, their magical essences unraveling and collapsing under the crushing weight of the anti-magic surge.
But Merlyn merely grazed his hand over it, his eyes completely blackened as if peering into another unexplored depths of the void.
"Come on Ricky Luciano, do not be another failure, show me something more."
DING
(Legendary Servant) Sir Mordred, the Serpentine Betrayer Immortality:
Unyielding Exoskeleton: His chitinous armor continuously regenerates, healing wounds almost instantly; even if shattered, it reforms in moments, rendering him impervious to permanent death.
Legendary Abilities:
Venomous Maw: His elongated fanged mouth can unleash a corrosive poison that paralyzes and corrupts flesh and spirit.
Dark Pulse: Pulsating with dark magic, he emits waves of necrotic energy that weaken enemies and corrupt the battlefield around him.
(Legendary Servant) Sir Gwaine, the Hunger-Driven Revenant Immortality:
Essence Hunger: His blackened fang-sword drains life energy from those it strikes, healing him in the process which only speeds up his regenerative capabilities to no end.
Legendary Abilities:
Life Leech Blade: Each strike siphons vitality, weakening enemies and strengthening himself.
Unending Hunger: Even when grievously wounded, his ravenous will keeps him moving, unstoppable until his hunger is sated.
(Legendary Servant) Sir Kay, the Winged Abomination Immortality:
Resurrection: His wings and body parts self-repair and regenerate after destruction; even if torn apart, his essence reassembles itself.
Legendary Abilities:
Jagged Talons: His talons tear through armor and flesh with unnatural precision and strength.
Riddling Screech: His screech curses enemies with confusion and fear, disrupting their attacks and communication.
(Legendary Servant) Sir Gaheris, the Smoldering Wraith Immortality:
Smoldering Curse: His burning ash never extinguishes, continuously rekindling his life force. Even if his body is destroyed, embers within regenerate his form over time.
Legendary Abilities:
Emberstrike: His rusted jagged blade leaves trails of burning embers that ignite wounds and scorch the ground.
Silent Fury: His presence instills dread; enemies feel the weight of his unspoken rage, weakening their courage.
50 x (Epic Undead) Hollow Ursalith: A towering heavy infantry unit, rune-plated war-bear whose hollow chest draws power from the ambient weave of magic in place where there living core used to be.
Abilities:
Arcane Siphon Core: Regenerates from nearby magic; cannot stay dead while mana exists.
Beamlance Howl: Vents a focused beam of raw arcane energy from its chest, piercing wards and flesh alike.
Eclipse Armor: Absorbs minor spells; when overloaded, releases the energy in a repelling blast.
It was then, beneath the pale glow of moonlight casting its rays upon him, that Ricky stepped forward, knowing there was no way out now but through.
And before him stood the shining beacon of legend, a city marveled in history, thought lost to time: Camelot.
Towering and just utterly radiant, it rose like a gleaming wall of myth, untouched by age or doubt.
The castle walls were lined with defenders, be it Captain Britains, golden-cloaked mages, and armored knights, all poised beneath the command of one being: Merlyn.
But with a flick of his hand, Merlyn secured one final contingency, an undead corpse, long buried beneath the ruins of a forgotten battlefield, began to claw its way up through the dirt.
He had hidden it within the crater, unseen, dormant until now and as the corpse unearthed itself in silence, Merlyn placed his hand upon the orb he was holding.
Tethering it to the voice within his head, he started projecting his words with clarity and intent to Ricky and his group alone while keeping Camelot itself cloaked in the silence and shadow it had always lived in under him.
"MERLYN I HAVE YOUR-"
"I already know," Merlyn's voice echoed from the orb, calm and composed, even as he appeared to simply stare ahead as Ricky raised an eyebrow.
"Then you know that if you don't undo whatever you did to block my magic,I'm going to kill your daughter." Ricky said flatly, lifting the ebony blade to Lady Roma's throat.
It was then that Lady Roma looked up at Merlyn, eyes wide but not pleading, she wasn't afraid, just searching for an answer in the face of a man she adored and loved as her father.
"Go ahead," Merlyn said softly, sealing her fate with chilling finality as he stood firmly on his side of the line, a line drawn long ago in the sand, and never once crossed.
"That's right-wait, what?" Ricky laughed, only to stop mid-sentence, staring at Merlyn with raised eyebrows, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
"Go ahead and slit her throat since everyone here already believes she's become a vessel for Morgana." Merlyn revealed, each of his words breaking off a single piece of Lady Roma's heart as it ached the more he talked.
"Even if you kill her right now, in front of us all, no one will bat an eye, because to them, Lady Roma is already dead." Merlyn finished his words and utterly destroyed Lady Roma, watching as if never thinking her father could ever utter such cruel words.
"Father?" Lady Roma's voice trembled, her heart shattering in two as tears welled in her eyes.
She looked up at the only person she had ever trusted with everything she was only to feel the weight of betrayal crash down on her causing her head to dip down.
"Jesus Christ," Ricky scoffed with a stunned laugh, lowering the ebony blade just slightly since even he was caught off guard at how far Merlyn was willing to go for another dude.
For all his cruelty, for all the lengths Ricky would go to ruin someone who crossed him, even he couldn't imagine sacrificing one of his own children for the sake of a plan.
And it was precisely that, this fundamental difference, that made Merlyn's manipulations of New York so potent.
Because he knew Ricky would never understand and knew that he would never do the same.
That's why Merlyn kept tickering with those scenes, not to break Ricky's mind.
But to unnerve his soul, for this very moment.
"But I don't think you will kill her," Merlyn said calmly, studying Ricky closely as he was easy to read from this distance, every flicker of emotion laid bare before him.
"Oh yeah and why's that-"
"Well, because of this."
Then, to the unaware eyes of Camelot's defenders, a shimmering projection pulsed into existence before their group instantly freezing Ricky's smile in place.
The air thickened with a heavy stillness as images from that long, fateful night began to unfold like a cruel director's cut, each moment meticulously arranged and sharpened for maximum impact.
Every agonizing detail, every drop of blood spilled, from the searing pain, to the shattered hope, and just the merciless cruelty that had ravaged the Luciano family and all those he held dear.
The images reflected in Ricky's green eyes which locked onto the scenes with a sinking heart.
"P-Please, I-I'll do anything~"
Whimpers sounded out before him, watching Alina choke on her own tears, her eyes puffing even further as she whined out towards Isabella.
Despite every shield Ricky had raised around her, the flickering images revealed the brutal truth of his undead forces subdued, his runners slaughtered, and every ounce of his hard-fought effort undone.
Then, there she was, Alina, frightened and trembling, using herself as a human shield to protect her children, his kid, painfully exposed and vulnerable in a way Ricky had desperately tried to prevent.
"P-Please-"
"No, NO!"
"I'll do anything, I'll take their place-"
"I can't~"
The painful, tearful sobs sounded out as it cut to every bit of dialogue she had and every moment where Isabella tortured her into replying.
Watching Alina, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks, clutching her children close amidst the screaming Isabella as his fingers slowly started to grip his hands tighter as her silent sobs echoed around his ears like the beating drum of his heart.
Then it cut away, to Agatha.
"Elder Frost?"
Ricky watched her echo these words with surprise as his expression seethed, his eyes bloodshot while reflecting Morgana Frost as his hands slowly started to drip with blood from his nails digging into his palms.
"I'm fine, however, I am wondering why you are here at this late of an hour," Agatha said, looking confused and not at all suspicious of a handful of golden-robed members of her coven walking toward them.
"I came to send someone's regards."
It was then that Ricky saw Merlyn's cut of the situation, spells barreling down on Agatha, whose barrier started to crack while her children cowered behind Benny and Ginny.
Watching Zatanna and Johnny cry in anguish, as Agatha gritted her teeth against the golden hammer that seemed to continuously slam down onto them.
Finally, it cut to Raven.
Instead of growing angrier, Ricky's shoulders sagged as he took a step forward, eyes fixed on the scene of Raven's water breaking prematurely.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ezekiel's maniacal laughter echoed through the room, warped and unhinged.
Raven lunged to slash him again, but he caught her wrist with his good hand, his grip unsteady and desperate, yet fueled by madness.
With a guttural grunt, he used the weight of his broken body to crash into her, slamming her arm down against the floor.
His slashed leg buckled awkwardly as he collapsed on top of her, dead weight pinning her in place.
His ruined arm hung uselessly at his side, but his remaining strength ground her dagger-wielding hand down, bone scraping stone, inch by agonizing inch.
"I'm going to make you remember me~"
Ricky just stood there, watching Raven, pale and trembling, caught beneath Ezekiel's ruthless grip, her body wracked with pain as she fought to hold onto her dignity and will.
"Shhhh, shhhh, don't worry~" Ezekiel rasped, his laughter growing more deranged that haunted Ricky's ears.
"We'll make this one a real messy birth."
It felt as if the scenes continued to play over and over again, with each repeated frame cutting deeper into Ricky's soul.
The montage twisted and turned, revealing betrayals, screams, and the slow extinguishing of hope.
Then, as if Merlyn couldn't be any more cruel, bold, jagged letters burned into Ricky's vision, searing themselves onto the scene before him.
'In memory of.'
Then, one by one, the names of the Luciano family members who had fallen in the brutal process began to appear.
It started off small at first, with the lowliest grunts, their losses barely noticed; then the runners, whose disappearances rippled through the ranks; followed by the made men, the core of the family's power; and finally, the high ranking members.
"I think I gotta call it quits."
Ricky's eyes became slowly hollow as they reflected the scene of Frank laughing softly, the pain dulled by the last surge of adrenaline coursing through his fading veins.
"Hey, Lucky." Frank whispered, his eyes slowly losing focus as his pupils dimmed. Lucky closed his eyes.
"Yeah, Franky?" Lucky asked, holding back every emotion his father had told him never to show another man, his eyes fixed on the road ahead and the dark night sky beyond.
"You think we're gonna see each other in hell?" Frank joked, but they both understood the deeper meaning.
"Only in the deepest pits." Lucky answered with a wry smile, no one understanding the inside joke except them.
"Hahahahahaha." They both laughed across the channel all while Lucky's hand started to tremble against the wheel.
"Y-You-..........you think I'll see Eddy down there?" Frank's words sounded nonchalant, almost mild, but his shaky tone and teary eyes carried profound meaning, unspoken feelings that ran deep beneath the surface.
"Unless he falls from the heavens above, Franky, I don't think you'll ever see him again," Lucky said softly, giving Frank the words he needed to hear.
The old timer slowly leaned back in his seat, his crushed form seeming to finally relax.
"That's good."
Ricky's senses dulled, a persistent ringing filling his ears as Merlyn held back a sly smile as he could feel the moment slipping into place, the precise moment he'd been waiting so long for.
Then, for the culmination, the scene transferred to the research center.
From the beginning, Merlyn knew, without a shadow of a doubt, exactly what Samuel was doing and what he was about to do.
Yet, he let him proceed, anticipating something noteworthy and what unfolded before him was nothing short of a spectacular revelation.
"C'mon, Chores, C'MON!" Samuel shouted, magic crackling and pulsing around him because before Ricky's eyes stood a limp Chores with a warm, serene smile still lingering on his face.
"HEAL, HEAL!" Samuel screamed, tears streaming down his eyes as he poured all the magic he could into the gentle giant as everyone who was also watching finally looked at Ricky.
It was then that the projection dissolved into nothingness, leaving Ricky alone with the stark reality of what had happened and how far Merlyn had gone to get his way.
"Do you know Ibn Battuta?" Merlyn asked, his tone calm yet heavy with meaning all the way from Camelot's walls.
"Born in Tangier, Morocco, in 1304," Merlyn waved his hands, the people around him not privy to this conversation as only Ricky's group was entitled to this story.
"He didn't just travel, he mapped kingdoms, walked over 75,000 miles, from the scorching sands of Africa to the palaces of China, from the dense jungles of India to the silent deserts of Arabia." Merlyn continued, drawing out each syllable of each word as Ricky just stared at the images.
"Without a compass, without a guide, only faith, curiosity, and unshakable resolve." Merlyn gripped his fist, looking towards the blue sky and then back at Ricky.
"He was not merely a traveler, he was a student of humanity." Merlyn said, really laying it on thick with this story.
"He didn't just witness history; he documented the soul of civilizations." Merlyn's eyes glinted darkly as the images faded and his voice lowered.
"That is why the Rihla remains the most detailed account of the 14th-century world, not penned by kings or generals, but by a Moroccan man whose only weapon was a pen," Merlyn said, raising his gaze, his old, weathered smile curling beneath tired eyes.
"And yet, even still, he came to me, one way or another." Merlyn's words grew sharper, almost ominous.
"Those events you've read about, whether from scholars or writers, were all written under my eye." Melryn said, pointing to his own eye that hinted at a shade of black.
"History is written under my watch, either this world or the next." Merlyn said, holding out his hand to stop any worry that might bubble up within Ricky.
"But before you get alarmed, don't worry, you'll get your page too, just like all the others before you." Merlyn said, conjuring up an actual page before Ricky as the book opened and ink started to write itself before him.
"I can already see it, written as one of the many scribes that adorn the bookshelves within my study 'Ricky Luciano: The Jack of All Trades Who Fell at the Hands of Fate.'" Merlyn said, looking at Ricky as nothing more than a jack of all trades amidst a sea of masters.
"Now let's take a page from your book and make this event something worth paying attention to," Merlyn said, his voice sharp as he referenced the speeches Ricky had been giving up until recently, something that was more than just morale boosters.
"I know you're scared!" Merlyn suddenly declared, matching Ricky's rhythm as his gaze shifted from Ricky to the faint, shimmering remnants of the Starlight Citadel and all those who served Camelot.
"I'm scared too, believe it or not!" Merlyn chuckled lightly, eyes sweeping over the dozens of Captain Britain's standing ready under his command.
"But out there, in the distance, stands a figure bigger than any villain we have faced before. Someone who twists and conjures life toward his own gain, someone who kills the likes of-" Merlyn preached, building up his words only to falter at that last little piece, before looking out into the distance.
"Even my own daughter." Merlyn's soft voice seemed to travel all the way towards Lady Roma, who gazed up at him speechlessly.
"Because we have a duty, an oath that all of us have taken and though it pains me," Merlyn's voice faltered briefly, causing Lady Roma's eyes to widen in stunned silence as she slowly sank to her knees, the great bear gradually shifting back into the form Chastiefol was most comfortable with,
"I will not sacrifice the lives of all of you for someone parading to be my own daughter when it is but a trap set by Morgana." Merlyn looked away from Lady Roma at that moment, turning back towards the army of Camelot that he had built for this exact moment.
"WE WILL STOP THAT HEINOUS MAN AND BRING BACK THE PEACE THAT WE ALL SO DESPERATELY DESIRE!" Merlyn roared, waving his hand over the ground as if spurring their righteousness into full drive.
"This is more than a battle, it is a reckoning, a test of our hearts, our will, and the legacy we choose to leave behind!" Merlyn spoke towards them all, gripping his heart and clenching it.
"We stand at the crossroads of history, where fear seeks to chain us, but courage must set us free and we fight not just for ourselves, but for the innocent souls crushed beneath the weight of that man's tyranny for the children who deserve a future untouched by darkness, for every name whispered in hope, every dream still burning in the night!" Merlyn's gaze blazed with fierce determination, eyes blazing like twin stars.
"This is the moment we rise, not as mere fractured pieces, but as one unbreakable force, standing as a wall that is united under this last stand!" Merlyn beckoned towards them, spreading out his arms as if to replicate it it means to be a true wall.
"So let every step we take echo with the power of justice, let every breath we draw be a promise: that no shadow can claim us, no evil will define us." Merlyn lowered his voice, voice thick with emotion as he closed his eyes while a single tear fell from the side to really give it more appeal.
"It is all for those we have lost, for those we still fight for, and how we carry them forward because this is our vow, our true battle cry, and our destiny, together, we will reclaim the dawn that has fallen to this night!" Merlyn spoke, gesturing towards the setting sun behind Ricky, perfectly illuminating the villain towards all of Camelot.
"FOR OUR FUTURE, FOR THE HOPE THAT CAN NEVER BE EXTINGUISHED, FOR CAMELOT!"
"FOR CAMELOT!"
"FOR CAMELOT!"
The entire ancient capital roared to life, a thunderous chorus rising from every stone and spire, a beacon of hope blazing defiantly against the shadow that Ricky cast over their world.
The air seemed to thrum with renewed purpose, a collective heartbeat syncing to Merlyn's fiery call.
Merlyn had done it, he had crafted the perfect narrative, framing Ricky not just as a man, but as a force of wickedness, an unstoppable storm that demanded the full strength of their resolve.
He had given them more than a reason to fight; he had given them a cause worthy of standing at their gates, a war to rally behind.
In that moment, Camelot was no longer just an ancient capital; it was a symbol, an unyielding light burning bright in the encroaching night, a promise that no matter how fierce the night, dawn would always come.
But Ricky was quiet, the entire time.
Even now, as the field of carnage lay beneath Ricky's wrath, the aftermath painted around him like a mural of just pure devastation, he stood still and completely quiet.
It was unclear if Merlyn had truly succeeded in manipulating Ricky's thoughts, if he had genuinely convinced him that his children, his family, and all that he held dear were under his watchful grasp.
Or perhaps it was something else entirely, something common in him, perhaps it was Ricky's own worn and usually expected fury, that forced his gaze to lift ever so slowly towards Merlyn's.
But those weren't the same green eyes that once brimmed with cocky arrogance or lust.
No, they were a deep, mirroring scarlet, flickering red with just a fading speck of green, before turning toward the heavens as if expecting them to be specating his glory
"Ha~"
A single, breathless laugh escaped him, it echoed, no, more like it rippled not only through the ruined battlefield, but across all of Camelot, through Avalon, and pierced all the way down to the marrow, chilling every living soul that heard it, including Otherworld.
BOOM
A surge of red energy spiraled around Ricky as the cursed ebony armor began to slither up his flesh, not like clothing, but like a second skin, fusing with him, corroding him.
It wasn't just armor anymore; it seemed almost madness made manifest, the sacred blasphemy of the Black Knight enveloping his very soul.
"Ricky-"
"I know."
Two words that were so cutting, so resolute, that they shut down Alexander's attempt at reason, silencing his usual desperate bid to be the angel on Ricky's shoulder.
And in those two words, Alexander's logic became irrelevant.
Not because Ricky had lost control.
Not because he was a maddened bull charging into the unknown, blinded by rage.
But because he wasn't.
Because he understood.
And that, that single subtle reason, was what displaced Alexander the most.
He wasn't looking at him flailing in fury, someone who just wandered around and only understood until after the fact.
But he was looking at someone who had clarity in the eye of the storm, a man who had pieced together every thread, and although it might've been a little late, it was progress.
Though, the weird thing was that Alexander saw himself mirrored in Ricky now, the same calm beneath the storm, and that same cold, devastating comprehension.
Ricky knew.
He finally understood.
He knew the obvious notion that Merlyn had been orchestrating this from the very beginning, to get him right here, right now, wrapped in his control, shackled by rage and a stupid prophecy to revive Arthur.
Maybe years ago, Ricky wouldn't have pieced it together until mid-battle, if at all but now, even as the obsidian metal devoured his body, his mind was sharper.
And still, it didn't matter.
Because despite all his resistance, all his fighting, all the pain he endured to carve his own path, he had ended up in the very spot he had tried so desperately to avoid, to someone else's whims.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He hadn't escaped fate, hadn't escaped his singular trait of winding up in a place dictated by others.
Just like before, he had walked straight into it.
But maybe what separated this from the fight with Dracula, what made this moment that would be written in the annals of history different, was that his eyes were wide open.
Merlyn wanted to use him, to twist his wrath and anger that he had so bluntly brandished into bringing Arthur back.
The precise mechanics were a mystery, but the intent was crystal clear to Ricky.
There were no screams, no laughter spiraling into madness, no descent into chaos.
Just that same, familiar void Ricky had carried for years, the excuse he once masked with ignorance, then filled with fury to justify it.
But this time, when he took that singular step forward, it meant something different.
This wasn't the reckless boy, the bruised man-child, lashing out because he didn't understand.
This was the man who did.
The man who finally looked the consequences of his actions in the eye, blamed no one but himself, and understood that it was his burden to carry, and his to correct.
It was a strange feeling, crushing as it was sudden.
But then again, any real realization hits like a bucket of cold water poured straight onto the soul.
Ricky saw it now, saw himself, and saw how his life had become a pattern.
How it had become this corrosive loop into a slow, quiet spiral into stagnation.
This wall within him was not just blocking his progress in terms of power, but his growth as a person.
It was a loop where he played the fool, procrastinated until the stakes were critical, then gave some half-baked motivational speech to justify it.
A speech to hide the cracks, to nurture the excuse that furthered the cycle where he'd patch the hole inside him with just enough insight, just enough change, to pretend it wasn't there at all.
Again and again, until the repetition became noticeable.
Until he finally saw it for what it was.
How he had been flip-flopping on ideals, choosing what felt right for the moment instead of what was right for the future, his future.
Not because he didn't know better but because it was easier, because it was convenient.
Now that convenience was once again in front of him, it was right there, within the eyes of all who gazed at his back.
As if they expected a speech, waited for it, waited for this justification and excuse, only to watch Ricky's back that almost refused to turn back around.
Ricky didn't give a speech this time, he didn't turn to the coven, and he didn't ask for Asterion to cover for him.
"Hahahahahahahaha~"
He just laughed, the stream of it now running dry, because he finally understood.
He was tired.
Ricky was tired of being like this and it showed in the exhaustion he carried on his shoulders all the way from New York to Otherworld that slowly loosened.
Because true growth, real, irreversible growth, isn't gentle.
We all grow as people, it is a fact that we carry with us as humans and what makes us so special.
But the scary reality of growth, real growth, is that it changes you.
It doesn't comfort you.
It breaks you apart.
It forces you to become unrecognizable.
It makes you look at your past self and feel alien to it.
And that, in itself, is terrifying.
Looking at yourself, truly looking, and not recognizing the person staring back, that's what frightens most people into permanent stagnation.
Not failure, not pain, but change.
Because change kills the comfort of familiarity and strips away the excuses, it takes the broken version of you, the one you've learned to live with, and demands you bury it.
Even now, as Ricky stood encased in black armor, power thrumming beneath his skin, he felt it, that flicker of familiarity.
A version of himself still nestled somewhere in the marrow of his bones, that guy who joked to cover his fear and drank to mask his cowardice.
The man-child who clung to rage because understanding felt like defeat before he became the reckless fool who convinced himself he had time, who patched his soul with temporary purpose and called it growth.
It used to bring him peace, it used to give him identity, it used to give value to this second life he now lived.
Now, it disgusted him.
Even right now, he could taste the rot of it on his tongue that had once plagued him before he had ventured off towards the Vatican.
And he hated it, not because it was weak, but because it was comfortable.
Because he recognized it.
Because he could've stayed that way forever and never even noticed he'd stopped moving forward.
The exhaustion of it all finally caught up to Ricky, settling deep within him like a heavy weight, unyielding, defining, and now, impossible to ignore.
Because you don't meet your true self until you're exhausted.
Because comfort hides the truth, but exhaustion drags it into the light, like it was right now before Ricky.
Everything Ricky had been avoiding: the fool, the drunkard, the coward, the wretched, all laid bare in images that pierced straight through him.
Now it stood before Ricky, stripped of all pretense, ego torn away, with nowhere left to run, no one left to be.
Except for himself.
"Well, Ricky Luciano, what does the jack of all trades have to say now, WHAT DEPRAVITY WILL YOU BRING FORTH!" Merlyn asked, raising his wrinkled fingers to the amalgamation of everything he had done.
However it was strange, at least to Ricky, poetic almost, that when he gazed towards Merlyn sitting atop of the ledge of the castle walls of Camelot, this moment mirrored that of Dracula.
It was almost entirely the same, the same charged stillness, the same gathering of carnage, purpose, and inevitability.
Two forces, two legacies, about to clash under the weight of something far older than either of them, but at that very same time, this wasn't just another battle.
This had unknowingly become a generational break.
A defining second carved out in time, where Ricky no longer stood as the boy burdened by circumstance or the man-child drowning in fury.
This, this very moment, was the second he shed that version of himself for good.
Not in grand spectacle, not with shouting or cuss words or some bold proclamation, but in something quieter, something final.
Because the hole inside him, that aching, gnawing void he'd spent his whole life stuffing with bravado, rage, lust, and denial, wasn't being filled with another excuse.
It was slowly being sealed with resolve, an unyielding determination.
Not for revenge, not to prove something, but because he refused to let this cycle repeat.
Because he refused to let himself be the reason it ever happened again.
Or at least, that is what he would tell all those who asked what had changed within him after fighting Merlyn.
But I like to think that every man, including Ricky, carries a primal fear they cannot name.
Born from the scared little boy who had no words for it.
It does not shout, it waits, deep in the void of his being, in the pit of his subconsciousness, but not to break him as he may first believe.
But to bring him back to where he first disappeared.
To the room where it all started, to the memory that echoed with his rage, to the door slammed shut on his innocence.
To the places he first hid where he first felt shame.
To the early whispers that his subconscious still weaves of abandonment and failure.
But this fear is not weakness, it is sacred.
It is a compass, pointing not to danger, but to the boy who was left behind, all alone.
And when Ricky truly started to listen, he did not just remember.
He gave language to a pain that stayed wordless.
He saw the wisdom in the wound and met the fear with a presence.
Not as the boy who could only hide, but as the man who chose to stay.
So when Ricky went to reach out, he wasn't really wanting the ebony blade to slowly nestle into his hand, but the child within him.
It was time, in the battlefield of all places, to grow, to finally be whole with that last inkling of his past.
So that something like this would never happen again.
"WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY-"
"Nothing." Ricky said resolutely, his crimson eyes completely scenery as Merlyn was taken aback at how calm he was within this moment, even Alexander was confused.
"No more excuses, no more complaining, and no more fcking speeches that try to justify my fck ups." Ricky laughed with a low, solemn tone as he gripped the ebony sword and shield, which for once, offered no protest.
Because when life throws everything at you, when it beats you into the f*cking dirt, and when your own mind screams at you to just quit.
All it ever takes is just one step forward.
This is the real Ricky, the one who takes that step forward no matter what.
Hidden beneath a veil of too many flaws, it was finally shown before everyone in its bare form.
Greatness has been defined for so long under the banners of speeches, triumphs, victories, and achievements.
But true greatness simply lives in the soles of all our feet.
Continuously, his foot stepped forward one after another, eyes rising to meet Merlyn's, whose smile curved in satisfaction, staring straight at the very prize he'd spent years maneuvering into place.
DING
But as he did the system finally registered the birth of Ricky's new child, planting the screen before his eyes as the ability he gained slowly morphed into his being.
"You got what you wanted," Ricky said, waving the ebony blade at Merlyn, admitting with a grudging smirk that he had fallen for the trap and played right into his hand.
"You got me, right where you planned." Ricky admitted, his eyes slowly displaying a resoluteness that made Merlyn squint his eyes.
Until his tone shifted, steady and venomous.
"But let's just get this little tidbit out of the way because I know you don't have any of my kids." Ricky said, not knowing if this was right or wrong but when looking straight at Merlyn, who slowly squinted his eyes, he felt a resemblance to someone he had just met.
"You're kinda just like that b*tch Gaea I bet, bending lies into half-truths because if you did have them, you would've shown me since you're not one to hold back." Ricky suddenly realized, looking towards Merlny as he stepped over the orb as it dug itself into the charred dirt.
[Name-]
But Ricky skipped the character sheet for now, looking toward the new power that popped before his eyes.
[Ability gained: ( X-Gene) Telekinesis: Can manipulate and move objects mentally with precision and power, from subtle movements to devastating force with just a thought.]
[Would you-]
'Yes.'
DING
"I bet you failed." Ricky said, stalling as this X-Gene slowly combined into his already existing one as he looked towards Merlyn who raised his gaze at him.
"I bet you're just doing all this just to provoke that rise in me that's just so easily malleable nowadays, right?" Ricky asked in a laugh, mocking himself before everyone.
"But don't get your panties twisted since like I said earlier, you're gonna get what you wanted," Ricky said, his voice calm, his resolve as serene as Merlyn had ever seen.
"But let's make one thing f*cking clear." Ricky said as he bent his knees, his gaze fixed intently on Merlyn as his power thrummed around him.
"I'm still gonna kick your ass."
Author's Note: No chap tommorrow cause I feel like I'm on fire but I wanted to get this out before I rested because I thought a lot about how I wanted to grow Ricky because there were faults and I wanted to word it while he was going through Otherworld but I feel like I finally got what I wanted across with this summarization and what I want for Ricky going forward also tell me about the projection since it was kinda lackluster but Merlyn also did it like at the end. Also sorry about how f*cking dyslexic this entire author's note sounds but I don't even wanna look at a screen which means idc about word composition.