Although his main skills were more aligned towards swords and knives, his main interest was between guns… and poison; so it was only fitting that the Master's most devout servant be given a bit of appreciation. This is where the guns themselves come into play. Unlike the modern weapons humanity was currently using, the weapons Wilhelm used were far more powerful and impressionable than meets the eye at first glance. Of course, outwardly they seemed no different from normal guns, where this differed was in their design.
Measuring 11.5 inches in length, the guns themselves were of a model .44 magnum (Wilhelm's personal preference) that each had three revolving chambers lined back-to-back that were capable of holding 8 bullets per chamber. Roughly 10% larger than other typical models of its kind, each of the 3 chambers was tailored with a snapback functionality so as to be interchangeable at a moment's notice once one chamber was emptied. The pistols themselves were made primarily of pure silver, with the inner parts made of black chrome and lined with obsidian. While the grips were of coarse textured leather, there was also a button located on the side next to the safety which, when pressed, initiated a spring lock mechanism that could release a hidden blade kept hidden in the hilt.
Whatsmore, pressing the button again and holding it would cause the gun to change form in that the barrel would retract upright and a cross guard would form at the hilt; at the same time, the blade hidden in the hilt would automatically mount itself onto the barrel. In doing so, the guns effectively transform into gun-knives. This fit into Wilhelm's fighting style perfectly, as he skills with knives were practically unparalleled as far as he knew.
Of course, these guns did more than just turn into knives.
In fact, that was only the start.
Each gun had a feature in which the user could click the trigger to switch from semi-auto fire, to full blown 3-round bursts—a feature only found on assault rifles and even rarer on select sniping rifles. Plus, when all 3 chambers were 100% charged, they could be aligned to release a shot powerful enough to blast through obliterate a 200-foot thick wall of concrete at a long-distance range of up to 100 yards given the right angle and energy output.
How this was possible came from the dual kinetic batteries that replaced the firing pin due to the implementation of a Kinetic Force Amplifier (or KFA) that lined the inside of the barrel.
By absorbing raw kinetic energy displaced in and around the area of the gun, the battery then channels the displaced energy into steel balls that act as the ignition. Once the hammer was primed and the trigger is pressed, the energy stored was dispersed, pushing the balls into the bullets. Coupled with the KFA, this meant each or all 3 bullets could turn into an explosive round capable of destroying tanks and most armored vehicles. As an added measure, Wilhelm had also loaded the ammo with Polonium rounds—bullets made with the element Polonium T-36—a highly corrosive and combustible element not yet known by human scientists that's designed with a 3-fold effect: eviscerate, cauterize, and then disintegrate.
The very existence of these weapons, and others like them, was one of the many secrets of the world; its very concept being the deadliest application of the Newton's Cradle ever imagined, and Wilhelm had a cute little name for them each.
Nona.
Decima.
Morta.
And, Qualia.
Ah yes, Qualia, the fourth, hidden member of the Parcae.
She who judges the quality and nature of the thread of life given upon death...
Qualia…
Though it didn't really help matters, Morta sure felt good and weighty in his soft grip. And of all the possible targets that could be in his line of sight, the one that Wilhelm personally set his sights on was none other than the man who so callously insulted his master.
The man in question who'd just earned Wilhelm's ire and current attention was a coarse, heavy handed man with jet black hair that spiked downward in all directions and ended at the base of his spine. It looked like a lion's mane, Wilhelm mused. On his head, two large bangs zigzagging in the shape of lightning bolts, hung equidistantly from his slicked back mane, the only pieces of hair that shown on his deeply scarred face. His eyes were large boiling magenta pupils, with deep circles under them the color of dark violet. Lips full and wide, his nose was crookedly bent from savage fighting, and his skin was a smooth gray-violet, almost graphite, with an X-shaped scar that covered roughly 25% of his face. Other scars covered his arms and looked recent, because they were a sour tone of maroon--the color of burnt flesh searing from the pain of molten metal stuck to skin. Wilhelm knew better though; everyone who knew this man knew the truth about them. These were not normal scars, and they would never truly nor properly heal, hence their sickly color. The bigger of the two had covered the left side of his face, encompassing the left cheek, the nose, and mouth, which was snarling profusely.
The man standing before Wilhelm was the bane of their order: Bahamut the Erbüke, the Definitive among the 12.
And, more importantly as Wilhelm reminded himself in a disgusted manner, the 1st son of the Master.
A ringing note that brought with it an equal measure of apprehension, as well as contempt, to Wilhelm's ears; like the unwanted tune of a drunken minstrel.
The Definitive was shirtless save for a small breastplate he wore under a long duster cloak torn and tattered that extended more like a scarf, wrapping around his broad shoulders, torso, and waist before trailing down his back. He was tall, a towering 7 feet—8 inches taller than Wilhelm, who was '6'2'. When he moved, Wilhelm instinctively winced, noticing the exposed veins in the bulging muscles in his arms which were covered in burnt cuts and deep slashes, also X-shaped and maroon, which crisscrossed the limbs, while this monster of man openly scowled.
This asshole could easily rip me apart with his bare hands without even trying, he thought, as he noted the single –plated leather gauntlets on Bahamut's forearms. A vibration rippled along Bahamut's arms as Wilhelm noted the small details of reptilian scales on his hands, as well as the tips of his nails colored pitch black. It didn't take rocket science to understand that the man before him was a Chimae: an Other born with the genetic aspects of the creatures born of the Earth itself. A powerful one at that, Bahamut was a rare Chimae also being Mutai, a natural born Other whose aspect awoke primarily at a young age allowing him to fully control his evolution at will once he reached puberty. His awakening at the age of 10 saw his strength, skill, and dominance unparalleled even among the oldest of the Others, but it was ultimately his ferociousness and the ability to change into a massive draconic sea serpent that made him a fearsome foe. It wasn't for naught that humans believed him to be a biblical creature, due to the destructive power he wielded, and it was because of his ruthlessness and pride as a Dracconatoi that he was crowned the title "Khanae Salmud A'khal Dracconatoi".
Khanae Salmud A'khal Dracconatoi.
"The Holy Father of Dragons", Wilhelm muttered.
Silently growling, Bahamut's whole body radiated an air of indignation against the two men before him. A glimmer caught Wilhelm's eye, and his view trailed the source: a silver pendant that served as a pin for the cloak that hung from his shoulder.
The Master stood silent and unfazed, not answering his son but also not ignoring him outright.
In fact, it was almost as if the gentleman barely noticed the disdain that radiated from Bahamut. Tilting his head slightly, the gentleman let out a soft sigh and proceeded to take out his suit handkerchief and blow his nose before continuing.
"Ah, yes", the Master began, causing Bahamut to roll his eyes in annoyance. "While, I must admit that my timing was rather impertinent to say the least; alas, the trivial goings on of the day do tend to take their toll on the body as well as the mind. I'm sure you'll then have no qualms to forgive me for my tardiness in tonight's meeting. Though, of course, I must feign a level of my ignorance on the number of attendees present, I was not expecting to see—"
"You called us here on the grounds to talk, and yet here you are dulling our—"
"Ah yes, well, then allow me to—"
"ENOUGH WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS GAMES YOU OLD FUCKER!", thundered Bahamut, gritting his teeth, "You have already wasted our time with your needless insistence on platitudes and deliberations. Bah! Only the most banal of the lowest of misbegotten whores would dare to address us in such a tasteless, disgraceful manner."
"Ugh!" he fumed on, "for fuck's sake, why can't you do us all a favor: just skip the goddamn bullshit and explain to us why we are here in this stinking shithole of a city!"
After his demand was made clear, for a moment no one dared to speak. Anyone tried was immediately silenced the aura radiating off of the Definitive as his presence reeked of murderous intent that stifled anything that opposed him. Wilhelm's fist clenched, and his heartbeat quickened. The sense of fear gripped him, causing him to place his right hand on his chest, steadying himself by touching the hilt of Qualis.
It was deathly quiet for a moment, until even Wilhelm found himself growing exceedingly agitated when looking at the back of his master's head, waiting for his response. The gentleman was quiet, until his calm demeanor and resigned expression suddenly frowned, and his eyes, which were often closed, opened to a serious, grim expression, and a furrowed brow. With a resolving hmph, the Master straightened his posture somewhat, and without so much as a shred of emotion, he said:
"The Ascendant has awoken."
At the utterance of those words, the tension ceased.
What replaced it in response, was an overwhelming sense of dread and disbelief.
Wilhelm's eyes widened, his mouth cracked open in pure shock.
The Ascendant? No. It can't be. Was he serious? He thought.
That's impossible.
A soft chuckle broke the uncomfortable silence, causing Wilhelm to squirm under the sound. His ears grating, he turned from his master to see the origin coming from a voluptuous woman saddling herself to stand beside Bahamut.
She was a few inches shorter than Bahamut, with vanilla skin, dark wine-colored hair, and deep velvety eyes. She wore a faded bolero with a neck string, and a six-star pentagram choker made of black lace. Her sense of style was largely Bohemian: a dark green corset covering a white peasant blouse with ruffles, with a brown ruffled frill skirt. Despite this, her movements and mannerisms gave off the deceptive likeness of a gypsy. Something that unnerved and annoyed Wilhelm to no end.
She started, "well, now this is truly perplexing. An interesting development indeed", her words slow and amused, with a slight haughty tone, "things are definitely beginning to shaking up".
Noticing Wilhelm, she gazed directly into his eyes, licking her crimson lips and smirking as he visibly shrank as if trying to minimize himself away from her.
"To think that with the loss of both the Intuitive and the Venalite when we failed to acquire last Ascendant, I'd thought it'd been quite a major blow to our organization. That one has awakening coincides with the arrival of Advent signals something suspicious in the air. Something vaguely familiar."
As she spoke, her wrists chimed as her vast array of assorted jewelry, composing of metal bracelets and rings beaded with bright stones, all which was of tasseled silver, twisted in as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was beautiful, very beautiful in fact, and she knew it. But it was her beauty as well as her voice that ultimately were her greatest weapon, which is why many who had sense (Wilhelm included) new full well to steer clear of her at all times, lest they fall prey to her advances and lose themselves in the abyss that was her insidious machinations. Wilhelm immediately recognized her and disdain washed over him at the thought.
How could it not? He thought, when her very existence was naught but lies and betrayal?
She was after all the Connivant.
The Deceitful One.
"And tell us, oh Venerable One", she said, in a tone mocking the Master directly, "on what grounds do you assume this assertion to be true?"
Her accent was Portuguese, meaning she was possibly a fair-skinned Latina. Or was she a Spaniard? Did that count?
"That is something that I would like to know as well", airily croaked the Affliction, "while I do not doubt the inquisitive ephemerality of your visions, to boldly state such a revelation brings with it a deep suspicion of an accusatory nature than not even you can deny."
As the Affliction spoke, his body trembled with each utterance, before he finally exploded in a series of hacks and coughs, which disgusted Wilhelm to no end.
Why don't you just crumple and die finally? Wilhelm grumbled, you've long since lived passed your prime you worthless sack of shit.
The Master showed no inclination to acknowledge or regard for their sly remarks. In fact, it's almost as if he enjoyed them, because once the shambling corpse of a man spoke his piece, he slightly smirked.
He went on, "yes. It would seem that the Ascendant has indeed returned, and with it, the rising of the Eternatus, of whom you all know too fondly. More importantly, though…"
He turned to look directly at Bahamut, "it appears that she has also returned in response, and so with her, them."
At the sound of this, Bahamut's eyes widened.
His mouth contorted, before barring his pearly whites into a snarl that could shatter steel and concrete to dust. His corneas turned liquid crimson and his pupils glowed like pure gold. His hands balled into fists and shook with anger, steaming and smoking, as a bright red aura enveloped Bahamut while the ground beneath him trembled and cracked.
The Connivant who by now was hugging his arm shrank back in surprise, and before anyone else could react, with a great roar of anger, Bahamut reached for his sword. In a fit of rage, his quick movement saw the large blade swing violently with one hand as it struck a department store standing directly left of him. With that one swoop the building crumbled apart, disintegrating into rubble and dust while the energy released in the shockwave continued stretching for another 5 blocks before stopping in front of a large fountain, caving in the land underneath as the water was sucked deep into the earth. The shape of a straight gash was left in the result so perfect and clean, Wilhelm nearly gasped at the level of skill and precision it took to control such a blade with that much force.
In less than a minute, Bahamut had single-handedly leveled 6 city blocks all by himself and cut an incision deep enough to reach the subway system directly below. The force from the blast shook the earth, and more ruptured gas and water pipes burst and exploded, engulfing several spots of rubble in fires that sprang up in response. If it was bad enough the tremor that leveled much of the area earlier, this new act of violence would surely only kill more people. But as it was, none of them care, not truly.
After all, they were nothing more than mere humans.
What exactly could they do to stop them?
Wilhelm jumped back, narrowly missing a falling beam astonished and momentarily terrified. The sudden sound of screams and wails could be heard for miles around, only to then be muffled or silenced by the shadow of darkness that surrounded the assembly. Mouth gaping like a fish, he quickly clenched his jaw with agonizing pain. Quickly recollecting himself, he restraightened his posture and eyed his master expecting a response. Any response in fact. To his shock, the man was quiet; he looked bored and unamused at the action unfolding before him. Shrugging it off as inconsequential, the gentleman patted himself all over, swiping off the dust like it was just another day. Wilhelm watched him, dumbfounded.
Amazing, he thought, his power is truly unparalleled among. He looked at his master. To think that this is his son…
And to believe that at one point in his youth, he was even more powerful than Bahamut.
No.
That was wrong, Wilhelm remembered. He is more powerful than his son.
In fact, he's even more powerful than the 12 with their powers combined. And yet, they still had the nerve to openly demean and disrespect him.
Such arrogance, these 12…