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The Spoils of War (A Draco Macawber tale)

#2
Part Two: The Aftermath Part II
 
(An Hour Later…)
 
Ghost Hunter and Draco were both staring each other down near a waterfall. Somehow during the course of their battle they had moved away from the devastated landscape to a more verdant region of the country, one that had yet to be corrupted by the Divine Essence Tree’s effects. Really, he blamed himself for the last half hour of combat he’d endured, Draco’s first move after he’d tried to attack as a Slayer had been to retreat into the atmosphere and pelt the area with fireballs, and there hadn’t been anything he’d been able to do but blindly fire up into the air. His tremendous power had been wasted and as soon as Draco had returned he’d done so with a vengeance. Their clash had shown that they were still remarkably evenly matched, especially with the worst of his injuries being healed by his transformation – though the fatigue after reverting to normal had made the mercenary sloppy. He thought he’d recovered by now, but the Fire Demon Prince was landing too many blows past his guard for him not to be doing something wrong.
 
“Well done Nekojin, you’re the first one to ever push me to the plateau of my power. Not even my brother would have been able to withstand the indomitable might I have become.”
 
While he knew it wasn’t genuine, it still felt good to know that he had kicked his brother’s feathery ass all those years ago in the ceremonial challenge. The former overlord of the Leviathan Empire still inspired fear in the many corners of the Negaverse and the Primeverse Ghost hunter had frequented before heading towards his destination at Empire’s settlements, dying hadn’t changed that in the slightest. Of course most of it was based on the ignorant confusing Draco for Negawing based on their atrocious actions alone (honestly, how could people mistake them for each other? They didn’t even resembled each other!). But having to face him, he wasn’t feeling the same thrill he imagined himself facing Negawing with. It was obvious why. Negawing had enslaved his people and turned the few remnants into dogs performing tricks for the scraps he threw their away, Draco was just a strong monster to him. It didn’t feel nearly as personal, as much as he wanted it to.
 
Honestly, it would’ve been better had Negawing won the battle for his clan’s throne otherwise I’d be facing him right now. Ghost Hunter thought bitterly to himself as he couldn’t help feeling like he was cheated, having Draco robbing him of his glorious opportunity to take down Negawing. “Thank you. The more lives I fed to the Divine Essence Tree I did for this moment, where I could face a member of the invincible Macawber family and hold my own.” He responded in earnest, with the unspoken truth that he’d done it to confront Negawing going unsaid.
 
“Now, as you may know some members of my own kind have the unique ability to undergo a metamorphosis, allowing us to bring out the lion’s share of our latent abilities. However, I have discovered a transformation that not even my father and grandfather, Felix, had never achieved in their lifetimes! You should consider this an honor. You shall be among the few to witness the nightmare of my Draconian Emperor form as the real hell begins now! Once you witness this hell, I will show you no mercy, no matter how you scream… not until I’ve shatter your soul to fragments .”
 
The burst of power that rushed into him let Ghost Hunter know Draco wasn’t bluffing, the inhuman groaning as he heard the Fire Demon next as his body contorted and bulked confirmed it. Draco’s much more dangerous than the mercenary anticipated, putting Negawing’s powers to shame. Before the transformation finished he zipped into the air, taking off in the direction of the Divine Essence Tree as fast as his energy could propel him. It was early but there was a chance that some fruit was ready, and he needed every advantage he could get if he wanted.
 
*Thuuuum!* Pain erupted in his gut as something like a sledgehammer slammed into his gut, shooting him back across the sky. Then something struck him in the base of his spine, dropping him into a cliff which collapsed around him. He didn’t even get a chance to stand out from under the detritus as he was grabbed by the face and dragged across the landscape, his scream of pain muffled by the huge, scaly hand over his head as the side of his body was scraped raw. Finally he was released, shooting into the side of a mountain, the dark rock caving under his back and the remnants of his uniform that had survived the kick falling off.
 
In a daze he saw a black-and-reddish blur heading towards him accompanied by the sound of flapping wings before a giant knee slammed into his stomach in the same position as it had before, forcing a mixture of saliva and blood out of his mouth as he folded around the limb.
 
“Now do you comprehend the gravity of the situation, fleabag? You’re not the only one with a trick up your sleeves. And as you can see, mine is far more refined than a brutish animal.” Draco said, his deep, menacing voice reaching Ghost Hunter’s ears as he towered over the Nekojin’s sunken form.
 
Now that he had stopped to gloat, Ghost Hunter could see the full extent of Draco’s transformation. It was far more complicating than the Slayer form, but in a way just as terrifying. The Fire Demon had transition from a slim yet powerful figure into an eight foot tall dragon-like creature wreathed in black flames, with obsidian and crimson scales covering his entire body, a pair of gigantic, dark maroon bat-like wings on his back, two dark gray horns protruding from the sides of his head, a triple-spiked tail. Draco’s eyes were now glowing golden reptilian slits, which were glaring down at the mercenary; the name “Fire Demon” never fit a member of the Abnormal race so perfectly. The venom in his eyes practically pierced through Ghost Hunter’s pores and it was at that moment that the Nekojin mercenary’ felt his resolve wavering, his body shuddering underneath the crushing force of the dreadful glare staring into his soul.
 
However, he knew that he can’t give up now as remembered being totally enthralled by the amazing stories and feats of his father that his mother shared with him. Crimes, assassinations and battles and scraps and all forms of violence filled little Takeo’s head full of genuinely glee and delight. Ghost Cat was a legend among the rogues gallery, rivaling even Taurus Bulba and Negaduck. He had never surrendered even when he was backed into a corner as he was fought alongside the Fearsome Five again Darkwing’s Justice Ducks in various battles. Ghost Cat had nearly overcame every obstacle in his path until the day he was hired by an enigmatic crimelord to captured the vampiress Sonia and battled her with everything he had even though he knew that he was terribly outmatched against her, although it unfortunately resulted in his demise. Ghost Hunter had no intention of letting either of his parents down. He was going to overcome this struggle, no matter what the cost as he knew his father would had fought Draco to the death had he been in his stead.
 
“We’re not done yet.” Ghost Hunter growled, summoning up the power he had left. The mountainside splintered and broke before he launched himself up through the clouds, building a charge of purple energy in his right hand as he ascended.
 
As he reached the high point he turned around and aimed his hand down at Draco, who was staring up at him without moving. Ghost Hunter grinned and gripped his wrist with his other hand to steady his grip. If Draco was going to be arrogant and try to take this blast head on that was fine by him!
 
Go to hell and take your sycophants with you!”
 
The purple wave that expanded out from his hand rushed down towards Draco, who he saw flying up to meet the blast head on. As soon as the two met he expected to feel resistance of some kind, however the energy wave continued flowing towards the ground without change. Ghost Hunter had only a moment to be puzzled by it before Draco popped up in front of him out of the streaming purple light with his fist cocked back. The black-furred mercenary blacked out after the punch.
 
When the son of Ghost Cat came to he was lying in the middle of grove of trees, a path of devastation laid before him. Draco was standing over him, and from his body language it was clear that he thought he’d won. If Ghost Hunter hadn’t been facing a demonic creature almost as repulsive as Moloculo, he’d have tried bargaining his way out by now.
 
“You’re finally awake? Marvelous, I want you witness this before you perish.” Draco said, rising into the air.
 
Raising his hand over his head, a massive, glowing, sphere of energetic black flame seemed to be conjured in his hand, red lightning crackling around it. Focusing an unnatural amount of flames into it, it ballooned in the sky behind him, it's light blaring out across the battlefield itself. Draco chuckled, enjoying the familiar feel of the destructive energy in his hand. Ghost Hunter, meanwhile, could only gape at the speed with which such a formidable attack had been created, and began trying to get to his feet. It was a task made much more complicated by the shaking of the earth under his feet, but he had to do it. If he was going to die, he was going to die on his feet like a warrior, like his father did years ago.
 
Yet for all his effort, he only made it to his knees. A bird fell from the sky in front of him, chirping weakly as it fluttered its wings. Maybe it was the blood loss, but it struck him as oddly profound how at the end of his life, for all the power he’d cumulated, with everything he’d endured to get there, he was still going to die like a lowly animal.
 
“It shouldn’t have ended like this.” Ghost Hunter whispered, clawing at the dirt under his fractured claws. “Negawing Duck was killed by a self-righteous doppelganger of his, proving that these monsters aren’t invincible. How could I have underestimated him? Unless… I’m not a Slayer after all.”
 
That thought distressed him just as much as the fact that he was facing his own death. He’d been so sure that he’d become the legend, and fighting evenly with Draco had only confirmed it. The Slayer was unbeatable, his victory had been assured as soon as the battle had begun. This couldn’t have happened, not if he was a Slayer, he couldn’t have lost, otherwise all of this had sealed his own demise instead!
 
“I’ve lost count on how many countries I’ve annihilated with this attack, but I never get tired of the prodigious fireworks!” Draco laughed, clearly relishing the horrified expression on Ghost Hunter’s face. “This is a similar technique that Negawing utilized to destroy your wretched home island, did you know that? I was there, I watched as he reduced Okinawa and every fleabag on it into a smoldering crater! The only difference is that he used state-of-the-art technology since he was lazy while I can conjure it with the sheer amount of flames my body can supply! I think it’s only fitting that you die the same way your people died, assassin.” He sneered, heaving the attack down at the black-furred Nekojin.
 
In a move so fast that Ghost Hunter missed it entirely, the enormous black fireball was sent hurtling down at him, falling through the air without even a hint of surprise. Weakly he formed an energy blast and fired it into the growing mass of obsidian energy, but it barely dented the surface before he was incinerated by it.
 
 
It took some effort to divert the ginormous pitch-black fireball away from the surface of the earth, but it was easily worth the satisfaction of killing the fleabag in such an awe-inspiring fashion. In a breath he transformed back down to his natural form, and flew back towards the Divine Essence Tree. If the battle was still ongoing between his men and Ghost Hunter’s, he was going to end it. He was growing weary of this conflict.
 
Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, in deep thought. It’s odd. The Nekojin’s death has brought me a small ounce of… remorse. I suppose that it’s disappointing to kill a warrior with extraordinarily caliber, considering that he could’ve made a valuable asset to my empire. Instead, he had wasted his talents by dedicating himself to a life full of crime just like his parents had before them. I’ve had high expectations for him, but oh well. He shrugged nonchalantly with his broad shoulders. There’s no point in losing any sleep over it since he made his choice. It’s his loss.
 
When he arrived at the battlefield the slim Jaguar Nekojin was fighting Vanator, who was distressingly down to a single arm. The two small tabby were being dogpiled by his more expendable minions and there was no sign of Beelo, Timsu, and Thaddeus. Draco growled, narrowing his eyes into a dangerous glare and clenching his fists tightly. This battle has gone on long enough!
 
Several black lightning bolts pierced the heads of the three remaining feline mercenaries before he landed in front of Vanator, who looked immensely relieved.
 
“Prince Draco, I-“
 
“Save it, captain. Get yourself to the airship’s medical bay immediately.”
 
“Yes, my lord.” Vanator said, looking down at his arm stump with a wince before bursting away with a pale trail of light, leaping from one tree to another.
 
“Now, someone tell me where Beelo, Thaddeus, and Timsu are.” Draco ordered, looking around to the soldiers assembling around them. All of them looked injured to some degree and covered in dirt. The worst of them looked to be on death’s door, but he wasn’t about to waste any treatment on them until he’d confirmed if one of his valuable personnel was still alive.
 
“They’re all alive, they’re asleep somewhere around here. They used all their energy to kill the white tiger Nekojin. They don’t need medical attention, but a lot of us do, your lordship.”
 
Draco’s golden eyes settled on the speaker, who was a pale green gecko-like creature in a torn Leviathan Empire uniform. He was seated on top of the corpse of one of the tabbies they had been fighting, and was looking back at the Fire Demon Prince with a look in his eyes that promised trouble.
 
“Thank you for the information, however, you should watch your tone.”
 
A four lightning bolt left his finger to claim another life as it speared through the reptilian soldier’s heart, dropping him instantly.
 
“Someone remove the body. The rest of you, find Beelo, Thaddeus, and Timsu and take them for the airship for healing.”
 
He took off to the airship himself, flying at a leisurely pace. His body still ached from the battle with Ghost Hunter, but that was a secondary concern at the moment. He was proud that he’d been able to kill a worthy foe, even if they had been a Nekojin, and put his Draconian Emperor form to the test. After this he’d need to train more and increase his power to an even higher level to assure he’d never be challenged again.
 
But for now, what to do with the Divine Essence Tree? Ghost Hunter had used it to go from a low-ranking hitman to being capable of rivaling him, but he’d needed to consume the energies of hundreds of colonies to get that far. And he’d still proven inferior to the strength Draco had gained on his own. It was a point of pride for him that he’d earned his power, unlike Negawing, and using the Divine Essence Tree would cost his empire all the territories for his stolen power. No, the tree would have to go. He’d get to it tomorrow (after all it would be exhilarating to raze that abomination to cinders with his pyrokinesis), but one thing was certain: there was about to be a massive supply of wood on the trading market and he’ll increase his profit margins significantly! Who said that crime doesn’t pay clearly had no idea what they were talking about.
 
 
(*Flashback… location: the Negaverse, Transylvania, year: 2050.*)
 
King Lucian’s fist smashed into Alrich’s jaw so hard that it created a sonic boom which shattered the ice on Mount Moldoveanu. The young Abnormal Prince screamed in agony as he was launched several meters away, smashing through multiple ice spires and landing beside his bruised and bloodied older siblings. Alrich and Draco stood up panting for breath and glared at their father who stood towering above them as he had his muscular arms braced across his chest, his royal purple cape billowing in the frigid breeze.
 
“Your mother is gone now, nobody else to coddle you. If you’re going to be my heirs, you’ll need to be strong.” King Lucian remarked with a menacing growl in his voice. “The world is a dark, cruel place and the only way you can survive in it is by removing the aspects of your innocence and casting them and your mother’s moral beliefs aside! Only the strong shall survive and the weak shall perish.”
 
Draco and Alrich were both still young, just in their teenage years, and their powers were far from their peak. They were at their limit, but King Lucian only had a few scratches on his muscular body. The two brothers glanced at each other before they lunged at the Macawber Monarch, launching punches and kicks as fast as they could, only for King Lucian to rapidly move his forearms and deflecting every single strike without breaking a sweat. It seemed that no matter how hard the brothers fought that their father seemed always one step ahead of them.
 
His arms shot up, faster than the Abnormal Princes could react to, and he seized both of them by the throats and held them in a vice-like grip. “Look at all the weakness she instilled in the both of you, filling your heads with nonsensical notions.” King Lucian snapped, his grip tightening, forming purple bruises on their throats. “I have to beat the weakness out of you two, undo the damage that whore caused in life.”
 
At this, Alrich gave a yell of anger and red streams of energy bursts from his eyes, blasting King Lucian’s cheek and forming black burns along his cheek. The Macawber Monarch roared in pain and released his grip on both boys. “You shall suffer immensely for that, you impudent little“ He snarled, but was cut off abruptly as both his sons started hammering their fists into the king’s face with as much force as they could muster. For a brief, stupid moment, Alrich honestly thought they could win as it seemed that they were overwhelming their father, which was impossible.
 
“Alrich, put everything you’ve got into this! We can topple him, but only if we work together as a unit!” Draco called out.
 
Alrich nodded determinedly before the two brothers yelled as they pulled their arms back in unison for a final powerful combined punch.
 
In a single nanosecond, King Lucian sidestepped their fists with hardly any effort and struck Alrich with a single punch to the ribs which knocked the younger Abnormal Prince out cold. “Alrich!” Draco shouted, his eyes widening in a mixture of worry and shock. King Lucian grinned down at Draco, who was staring at his fallen brother, and punched the Fire Demon in the brow, rendering him unconscious as well.
 
(A few hours later…)
 
“I really frigging hate father and his sparring sessions.” Draco grunted, clenching and unclenching his orange fist. If it weren’t for the healers’ advanced spells, that hand would still be broken.
 
Alrich gave a small nod in response. “I’m... I’m a little scared, brother.” He admitted, sitting up off the foot of his bed and looking up to his lanky older sibling. Draco gave a small sneer until he noted the emotion flashing in his sibling’s face. The Fire Demon folded his arms over his chest, furrowing his brow in concern. “This isn’t the life that I wanted. I hate it! I... I miss mother. And it’s like father didn’t care about her at all...” Alrich added, sniffling miserably and staring down at his webbed feet.
 
“Hmph yes, he seemed not to care... almost as if he were the one who...” Draco stopped mid-sentence, and looked down at his younger brother. “Ah... never mind, just my imagination.” he reached down and gave Alrich a small pat on the head. “Look, it’s clear you need to clear your head little brother.” he said, walking over to the window of Alrich’s bedroom and opening it, a small chill entering which neither brother paid attention to.
 
“Huh? What’re we going to do?” Alrich asked, approaching his brother.
 
Draco gave an irritated snort. “Don’t ask so many questions, I’m just trying to do something nice to you for once. Now shut up and follow me, we’re doing some exploration.” he said. Despite his gruff tone, Alrich detected a hint of brotherly affection...
 
“O-okay Draco. Let’s go!” Alrich replied, chuckling slightly and flying out the palace window, flying side by side with his brother.
 
It was one of the last time the two brothers were ever kind each other.
 
 
(Location: the Negaverse, Draco's airship{which is currently being docked at Draco 66-M for extensive repairs}, year: 2087.)
 
Draco groaned and groggily opened his eyes, sitting up in his bed. “That training session with father and Negawing at Mount Moldoveanu… it’s difficult to fathom that was nearly forty years ago. It’s amazing how much has changed since then.” He murmured softly to himself.
 
The Abnormal Prince’s private chamber was a rather large room, his oval-shaped bed with it’s silken ebony sheets being the centerpiece of the room, white curtains between the bed posts partially obscuring it from view. He had two large lockers in the back of his room with were filled with his various ceremonial armors and capes. He had a large viewscreen currently retracted into the roof of his bedchamber, with which he could receive any important messages or transmissions without having to leave the comforts of his bed. The most impressive decoration in this bedroom with its emerald carpeted floor and black walls, was the line of glass which contained a fish tank, teeming with exotic aquatic lifeforms. The Fire Demon paid them no mind today, he was in no mood. Not when he has an empire to govern.
 
He dragged himself out of bed. His clothes were in the locker where he’d dumped them last night. He donned his armor, trousers, the guards of his shins, and forearms, and threw his cape on, before heading to the elevator. They were supposed to be en route to Transylvania by now, and instead this accursed airship was being repaired at a dock. The engineers outside were working feverishly to complete the repairs needed for the cruiser to take off.
 
The confrontation with Ghost Hunter had catalyzed more change than he could have anticipated. Vanator had acquired a new artificial arm and Timsu had required multiple cybernetic implants to survive his wounds, but the Divine Essence Tree had affected far more than its late caretaker. The bounty of fruit the next day had increased the strength of his Four Horsemen of Apocalypse to previously unimaginable levels, but that was the silver lining on a very dark cloud. While he had been asleep and his elite guards were being properly treated by some of the finest healers within the Leviathan Empire, some of the fruit had been stolen and passed around. The Sicarii – which were the radical freedom fighters – Draco would had to deal with after knowledge spread that his family weren’t invincible suddenly gained a tool to not only devastate his business, but enhance their abilities as well. In a single year he’d had to face not only half his empire defecting, but the other half suddenly being drained of all life and under assault from superior forces. None of them were anywhere close to being as dangerous as Ghost Hunter, but even Draco couldn’t be everywhere, and toward the end of the uprising the highest-ranking members of the Sicarii had surpassed the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse in terms of power. Finally beheading the leader of the Sicarii rebellion had been the second most satisfying moment of Draco’s life (next to overthrowing his brother), since it meant an end to the greatest headache he’d ever endured.
 
Things had been back to normal for a while now, and Draco was perfectly content about that. He rarely had to deal with conquering a country himself unless he wanted to now, since his heavily broadcasted execution of the rebel leadership had cemented him as an icon of terror as great as Negaduck and Negawing had been and as a bonus his father awarded his eldest son by holding a parade at Transylvania to celebrate his astounding achievements. However, Draco knew that there was still much more work to be done in order to bring his ultimate vision to fruition.

When he finally entered the bridge with his arms clasped behind his back, everyone turned around in tandem as they clicked their heels together and saluted their prince. "Hail Prince Draco!" They shouted in professional tones. However, Vanator looked nervously to his master, his eyes tracing over to him briefly.

"Vanator," Draco finally said, the name came out almost like a threat already.

"Y-yes, Prince Draco?"

Vanator had worked for Draco for thirty years as his right hand man. He knew when to be bold, and he knew when to be frightened, now was one of those times for the latter. They'd been tied up now for days since his lord and master had finally reached his decision. It'd still be another two weeks to Transylvania even when the airship was fixed. Draco had even tried to see if there was another shuttle in the area they could travel on, but the only one was King Lucian's battlecruiser. Draco most certainly didn't want his father to know he was conspiring against him otherwise that would have been very counterproductive.

"Do you remember what you told me before these mechanical failures occurred?"

Vanator felt a chill run through his spine. "T-That we'd arrived at your homeland within two weeks, sire."

"How long has it been, Vanator?"

Thaddeus, Beelo, Timsu and the rest of the bridge's personnel all glanced over at the cybernetic werewolf with sympathy and a sense of dread. This hadn't gone well for the last few people who displeased Draco. Those thirty years ago even, this was how Vanator got his job.

"It has been, as of now, two weeks."

Draco's face finally shifted to one of supreme displeasure. He looked out the nearest window, his golden eyes staring at the dark sky with brilliant, sparkling stars covering the vast blanket of darkness before turning his gaze to face Vanator directly. When he did, his face was back to its calm, calculated self.


"Tell me Vanator, when will we arrive at Transylvania?"

"Th-the Engineers tell me the ship will be fixed in another ten days, and then it will be two weeks from there."

Vanator felt his heart racing as never before. He'd helped annihilate cities for Draco, organized his armies, was his first lieutenant. Despite being all those things, he could face an ignominious death at any moment now, due to a technical failure not even related to him.

"If we do not arrive at Transylvania in exactly twenty-four standard days then, Vanator, your demise will be both exquisite and excruciating compared to your predecessor's. Consider your long track record of success being the only thing which has brought you any additional time, am I being clear?"

Vanator swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat, before nodding to Draco. "Yes, Prince Draco. I will personally oversee the repairs from here on out."

"See that you do, Captain Vanator. Contact me as soon as the repairs are taken care of. I’ll be meditating in my quarters.”
 
Draco ignored the patchwork metal studs over Timsu’s body as he drifted past him and Vanator out the door of the bridge into the hallway. As soon as Draco left Vanator exhaled a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his head. That was too close for comfort... it's a good thing he isn't Negawing, otherwise I'd be dead right now! the cybernetic werewolf thought with a grimace.

An ominous feeling was coming down on Draco, a feeling he’d learned to trust over the course of his experiences. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the Allied Remnants since they’ve gone dark, but if they acquired a copious amount of the Divine Essence Tree’s fruits as the Sicarii had before them, that was a sign of a potentially huge problem. There are several critical factors in his stratagem for him to succeed, if one of those fails then the repercussions would be more severe than the time when his father had Negawing magically reduced to a mere Normal and banished to the Primeverse. Draco's own punishment could potentially mean a severe execution or having his soul transferring into a gem {Elder Scrolls reference} as his treacherous actions would be considered a capital offense.
 
I bet neither father nor Negawing ever had to deal with these problems when they were in charge.
 
Over the past four years of his reign he’d had to deal with more rebels, assassination attempts and unusual problems than he’d ever heard of his father or Negawing or even Negaduck ever going through. It was all worth it for the power, but sometimes Draco wondered if he’d made the right decision all those years ago. When he’d decided that going after the vigilante who slighted his family’s honor was more trouble than it was worth, when he decided that the best revenge was seizing the reins of power for himself instead of avenging Negawing… sometimes it felt like he had made the wrong choice.
 
To be continued…
 
{Note: Just a few days late, ha! I blame my uncle for springing a surprise hiking trip on me last Sunday. This story also ended up much shorter than they were supposed to be since the bits with Ghost Hunter were supposed to be peppered throughout the next chapters but then I started with them and couldn’t stop. In the next chapter, Draco confronts his father in a decisive battle for complete control of the throne so he could declare an all-out war against the Primeverse to fulfill his vision of an interdimensional empire. The Gecko creature mouthing off Draco was the final leader of the Sicarii rebellion, and was revived by the Sicarii when they used extract from the Divine Essence Tree. Towards the end of their existence the rebel movement became nearly as corrupt as the Leviathan Empire as they implemented scorched earth tactics against their adversaries as they felt justified in their actions since Leviathan Empire had brutalized the rebels’ people in their occupied territories (making the Leviathan Empire and the Sicarii eerily similar to the Third Reich and Soviet Union). However, the Allied Remnants remained noble in their cause as they continue devoting themselves to help people. Oh, and I chose to use Ghost Hunter like this because in all possible iterations of this story, he and Brain Twister are the only two I found absolutely no use for besides progressing the plot, but at last he made a comeback and accidentally kicked off a spree of rebellions with the Divine Essence’s Tree power. Although, had the mercenary remained in his Slayer form, he would have been able to slice Draco into mincemeat. Draco must have the Beelzebub’s luck, just like Negaduck did.

Homer Simpson: Mmm... mincemeat. *Begins drooling*
 
W-what the? How the heck did you get here?! N-never mind, just get out and go back to Springfield before anyone sees you! Geeze... *Kicks Homer out of my office then clears throat* Anyway, the flashback sequences were meant to grant you a further insight into Draco’s and Negawing’s past with their father and humanize them, however let's be honest here for a moment, shall we? Freudian excuse or not both Macawber brothers still made their own choices - which made them into the monsters that they are in this short series - and their excuses can’t be justified just like Ghost Hunter’s and most real life dictators/criminals were. Their mother would have been deeply ashamed of how her sons turned out to be, which were mirror images of Negaduck and King Lucian. Makes me glad I had a pleasant upbringing and hopefully I can say the same about you. And also, we’re one chapter away from finishing this story. Have a pleasant weekend and take good care of yourselves in these tiring times.}
I'm currently developing a new short story called "The Spoils of War", which focuses on my OC Draco's ascension to power in the aftermath of a certain villain's death. I should have the third chapter uploaded as soon as possible.
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RE: The Spoils of War (A Draco Macawber tale) - by Ghost Cat - 11-19-2020, 06:30 AM

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