Chapter 158: New Chapter

1 Month Later,

Knock

Knock

Knock

A knock echoed from the other side of the door, but Merlin, who had seemingly remained rooted in place since the last interruption, paid it little mind. 

His quill moved steadily across the aged parchment, inscribing careful strokes within the bounds of a scroll, his focus undisturbed.

"Come in," Merlyn said tentatively as the door creaked open, revealing the very man who had been sent to survey Ricky, finally returning.

However, as the man stepped into the so-called office, his neck shrank, and his gaze remained fixed on the floor, as if afraid to look up or even to the side as he moved forward cautiously, his posture betraying an unspoken fear. 

"Speak, what is your assessment of this Black Knight, this Ricky Luciano?" Merlyn asked, uncaring as the man fumbled out of his side a scroll before hastily opening it, his eyes darting to the side slightly before returning.

Ahem

"The Ordo Dracium has concluded that-" 

Assessment of Ricky Luciano:

Personality and Behavioral Traits: Ricky Luciano shows a blend of charismatic leadership, ambition, and deeply ingrained recklessness. He commands loyalty through a mix of charm, power, and unpredictability, drawing people into his gravitational pull but often leaving destruction in his wake. His ability to manipulate others, even unconsciously, suggests a high level of emotional intelligence, but one that is often wielded selfishly and almost instinctual. Ricky Luciano is resourceful and adaptable, capable of navigating both the social and violent aspects of his world with ease. However, his need for constant validation and dominance implies an underlying insecurity, possibly rooted in a past where control was out of his hands.

Cognitive Patterns:

Selective Loyalty: Ricky is not without morals, he simply chooses when and where they apply. He is shown to love deeply but dangerously, with those in his inner circle receiving unwavering devotion, while outsiders are expendable.

Deeply Indulgent: Ricky is prone to exhibiting his desires, particularly his lust, as observations have shown him engaging with a multitude of women.

Impulsivity vs. Control: Ricky has moments of calculation but is prone to impulsive behavior. This tends to become sporadic when an event occurs and takes Ricky by surprise which generally tends to lead to retaliation more than actual deep thinking. Generally Ricky has been studied to retaliate two fold to any attack issued on him.

Rationalization and Justification: He often justifies his worst actions under the guise of necessity. Ricky is not inherently sadistic, but he is morally fluid, adapting his values to whatever suits his ambitions best. He has no qualms about using people, yet paradoxically, he is capable of deep loyalty, but only to those he deems worthy.

Emotional Profile:

Attachment Issues: His relationships oscillate between possessiveness and neglect. Ricky is shown to be very protective of the woman he fornicates with but refuses to even let them near men he hasn't properly vetted.

Guilt and Detachment: While he has a history of using people for his own gain, an event has occurred with a close alias of his, Jake Lankey, leaving that suggests he is capable of genuine care for people who aren't linked to him through blood but it's rare and selective.

Fear of Stagnation: Ricky has been observed to have reached a stagnated state but it is unclear as of yet if it's internal or external in terms of power or character. But this has led to the adverse effect of his sudden need for movement, be it through expansion, violence, or personal reinvention.

Pathological Tendencies:

Addictive Personality: His relationship with substances and reckless behaviors suggests an impulse control issue, potentially rooted in a need to escape or self-sabotage.

Mild Narcissistic Traits: He thrives on attention and respect, but unlike a full narcissist, he does experience self-doubt and regret.

Conclusion: Ricky Luciano can be seen as a suitable candidate to spur a great enough threat in order to adhere to the revival of Camelot.

As the words streamlined out of this gruff man's mouth, Merlyn slowly paused his actions.

His quill hovering just above the parchment came to a stop at the report before him that was more psychological than physical, which made sense given Ricky's return to New York, where his powers hadn't yet been fully unleashed or observed in any significant capacity. 

However, for Merlyn, his attention was slowly being drawn to the nuances of Ricky's psyche which spoke of something very intriguing. 

"Give it here." Merlyn surprisingly showed the initiative, outstretching his hand as the man quickly placed the report in his hand.

Much like any other influential figure that had lived for as long as he had, Merlyn had always understood that power whether it was mental, physical, or supernatural was only one facet of a person. 

What lay beneath was often far more telling. 

As he glanced at the report, the psychological profile was slowly being unraveled as more than just a mere snapshot of Ricky Luciano; it revealed the complexity of his nature that leaned towards inherent selfishness, the insecurity masked by arrogance that sought to prove he wasn't weak, and a retaliation aspect of his personality that flowed like his morals in which where the tide was turning.

"Why was I not made aware of this sooner?" Merlyn asked, setting his quill down as the man ducked his head.

Merlyn's gaze locked onto the man's shrinking one before the full view of his office, the space in which he resided, was fully encapsulated.

Only then did the man dare to shift his gaze, slowly taking in the room beyond the deceptively ordinary sight of the clean desk and the two bookshelves behind it. 

In an instant, the illusion that this was merely some office was shattered, swallowed whole by the grotesque monstrosities that truly filled the space.

Bodies and limbs hung from hooks descending from the ceiling, their twisted forms swaying ever so slightly. 

With these deformed parts lingering all around as the coven's fate showed they weren't entirely sealed to death.

Blood of different hues stained the floor, the air thick with the stench of decay and something far worse, something unnatural. 

The weight of magic, dark and corrupted, pressed down upon the room, the unmistakable stench of black magic poisoning the air.

This was no ordinary sorcery, this was the magic of daemons, the magic that festers and rots the soul, the magic that has kept Camelot cloaked in illusion, allowing its people to revel in blissful ignorance, even as they walk upon a land teeming with horrors.

Yet, it all had a purpose as every single abomination in this room existed for a reason.

And now, it seemed, that purpose had come to involve Ricky.

Merlyn's gaze darkened as he regarded the man before him, the weight of something far greater than mere curiosity settling into his stare.

"Have you conducted a proper threat analysis?" Merlyn gaze was wholly locked on the man, his very stare almost making this man fall to his knees.

"Y-Yes-"

"Does it reach the level of a threat to Camelot, to Britain?" Merlyn asked, looking upon this man who truly didn't want to refute him but he had no other choice.

"N-Not enough I'm afraid."

Those words, the very same that had once sparked immediate disinterest in so many other candidates, were nowhere to be found in Merlyn's expression as he gazed back at the report.

If this was all Ricky amounted to, then Merlyn wouldn't have spared him a second thought.

Another ambitious man chasing power, another soul swallowed by greed and indulgence as there was nothing extraordinary about that.

But that single trace.

That connection, thin as a spider's thread yet undeniable, to the Nethergods.

It shifted everything.

Now, Merlyn's focus honed in on this singular man, his mind already weaving possibilities, dangers, and implications beyond the immediate report.

Because it changed things and that was enough to make him care.

"You said he's the Black Knight?" Merlyn asked, his gaze flickering back down to the scroll as the man nodded, his posture stiff, hands clasped tightly in front of him.

Merlyn dipped his quill into the ink, the black liquid clinging to the tip as he paused. A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken considerations and then, with deliberate care, he resumed writing.

"Yes-"

"You also said he's prone to react to violence two fold when provoked, correct?" Merlyn prone deeper, his hands drifting across the scroll in such a delicate yet fast manner.

"Yes, but Master Merlin-"

"Then we'll assist him in the gap," Merlyn said, his words carrying a dangerous premonition.

The man's eyes widened, his breath hitching as he processed the implication since assisting Ricky Luciano, someone revealed to be tethered to the Nethergods, was no simple matter, especially in a dimension constantly on the receiving ends of vast attacks by their forces.

"Y-You wish to give him strength-"

"No, I wish to enhance his threat so that we may have our greater good." Merlyn quickly corrected, making sure to not confuse the poor man who was struggling to wrap his head around it.

"Take the ebony shield and ebony crown out of storage." Merlyn revealed, his orders suddenly peering over the desk much like his legs which slowly stood up as he finished writing something.

"Activate the entire Ordo Dracium that has been collecting my materials as of late and send it all at the Black Knight," Merlyn commanded, his voice as calm as it was absolute.

His hand drifted across the desk, his fingers brushing against a spare eyeball as the man flinched, his stomach knotting as the truth of the room settled in. 

These weren't just the remnants of fallen warriors or slain beasts. 

The bodies, the limbs, the grotesque ornaments of Merlyn's chamber, belonged to witches and warlocks as well.

This was the nature of his craft as this certain veil of power required sacrifice, and Merlyn had long made his decision in using the parts of magical beings, be it monster or human alike.

He would not offer his own people to the whims of death and instead, he reaped from the world's outcasts, draping this supposed mythical city protection on a foundation of bones.

His efforts had twisted entire factions that once served under the Church into those who now served the Round Table, reshaping them into his own instruments of war. 

Among them, the Ordo Dracium, a knightly order that had once bowed to divinity, now answered only to the will of the fated king.

"Master Merlin, if he gets those artifacts then-" The man took a step back only for Merlyn to take one step forward.

"Morgana will selfishly lunge at the opportunity to sway him since the set would be complete with the Chalice in her possession." Merlyn smiled, his figure slowly following this man's departing one before his back hit the wall.

"And if your words are true, the Black Knight, this Ricky Luciano, will feel threatened that I just unleashed an entire factorium that has hunted the witches for centuries onto him, and with Morgana's inducement, it will reveal everything." Merlyn slowly grabbed the man's hand, holding the eye above him as the sheer strength forced him down to his knees.

"How they're connected to me, how I get them to hunt witches and warlocks alike, how I've been killing that coven's members for centuries all for my selfish gain, and I know it will strike a chord with Agatha," Merlyn continued, placing his hand above the man's eye before sinking his fingers deep into it.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The man screeched, feeling his eye being slowly ripped out.

"He'll either ignore me or be forced to confront me, forced to eradicate the threat I pose toward the coven and him, forced to deal with me," Merlyn mused, his gaze settling on the man and his comrades as nothing more than sacrificial pawns as one thing remained clear to him.

The end justifies the means.

"Then we'll see how he reacts, how he truly wields the power of such horrid creatures while Morgana scrambles to aid him for a throne that was never hers to claim and all while I wait." Merlyn then pressed the eyeball into the man's skull, infusing it with a surge of mental magic, his expression curling into a kind, almost gentle smile, one that betrayed the cruelty beneath.

"For his threat to brew."

"Now, take care of my orders, or else you'll wind up as my next subject." Merlyn snapped his fingers, erasing the memory of him replacing the man's eye, the final moment of agony fading from his mind.

The man, dazed and terrified, scrambled backward, his eyes wide in panic before he hurried away, desperate to obey the command or risk becoming the creatures he makes.

He walked away, about to reveal his satisfaction, but Merlyn didn't even bat an eye as his gaze turned to the crystal ball, always fixated on the same image. 

The image was a constant reminder of his ultimate goal, vision that served a greater purpose, a greater good in his eyes, no matter the twisted paths that led him there.

"If I need to bear the sins, then I shall, but you must come back to become the beacon of light humanity needs."

Meanwhile In New York,

"F*************************CK~" Ricky groaned, his head collapsing into his hands at the sheer amount of work that piled up. 

It felt never-ending, a mountain that loomed before him, yet it was something different than he'd ever imagined. 

It was a different challenge, a different mountain, but he'd at least thought it would be easier since he'd already scaled one summit. 

But he'd overestimated himself.

Ricky just really wasn't good at this type of thing and although his intelligence had formed an aptitude that allowed him to adjust very quickly to the task, he was taking on too much burden.

But deep down, Ricky realized the bulk of this new problem had to do with him as he was putting all this pressure on himself to live up to expectations, ones that others had for him. 

So many people expected so much, from the Luciano family to the Lucky Corporation workers, all eagerly waiting for his next move.

Back then, Ricky would have shrugged these responsibilities off, messing around, living in the moment. 

But now? 

Now, he wasn't trying to be a breeze, trying to flow with the wind and instead was trying to be a leader. 

A front that could stand tall against anything, no matter what came at him. 

But even with all the people around him, all the help he could ask for, it didn't change the fact that he wasn't proven.

It was clear that Ricky had changed; that much was undeniable but the next goal he set for himself was proving that he truly belonged as a leader.

However, despite the mounting work that usually left him with no time to train, Alexander had begun helping Ricky. 

The usually reluctant gerbil, who had never submitted to such things, was now making an effort to carve out time for Ricky's training.

Although Ricky hadn't really made any effort on the physical side to continue his training, he was trying to not slack off.

The only things Ricky could truly improve while doing paperwork were his mutant ability and the Necronomicon. 

The mutant ability was fairly straightforward, and Ricky was slowly getting used to the idea of mutating, focusing on the papers in front of him while using his powers to form objects on the side. 

Splitting his awareness was still tough, but he was getting the hang of it.

As for the Necronomicon, he had been giving it his blood since after the first page, Tenebris Threadsm, he hadn't put much effort into getting to the next page until now. 

But this training multiplied when Alexander's effort paid off in freeing Ricky's time for a whole two hours of training.

Ricky wasn't really pleased since Alexander was a bit of a hardass but nevertheless, started to pick up Chastiefol and the Ebony Blade to continue where he had left off.

However, although it looked like progress was being made, with Ricky, over the course of a month, getting closer to understanding Chastiefol and mastering it, Alexander, especially, watched everything unfold from the side with a deep sense of internal conflict. 

He couldn't help but feel torn, unsure as a teacher where Ricky's growth continued.

Despite the gaps in their training, something in the way Ricky operated stumped the gerbil.

Ricky was unlike anyone Alexander had ever encountered as his power didn't fit into a neat, conformed box, like controlled discipline like the swordsmanship.

No, Ricky's power wasn't a single, focused skill; it was a mixed and chaotic jumbled mess, constantly shifting and evolving. 

Ricky's powerset was unpredictable, able to pull a skill out of nowhere with almost no effort.

But it wasn't just the nature of his abilities that troubled Alexander, it was Ricky himself. 

The young man was annoyingly talented at nearly everything he tried, a natural at any task he set his mind to. 

Ricky could excel at something for a time, but the problem was that nothing seemed to hold his full attention long enough for him to truly master it. 

He would reach a level of competence, but that next step, true greatness, always eluded him. 

It was as if he kept circling around the edge of greatness, but could never push past that threshold, constantly distracted by the next challenge or skill that caught his eye.

His power was as scattered as his interests; always in motion, always dabbling in new pursuits but never truly mastering any one skill or discipline.

To put it simply, Ricky was a Jack of All Trades, but never a master of one. 

And for someone like Alexander, who had spent years perfecting his craft and building his own reputation, that uncertainty gnawed at him. 

How could he possibly train someone who seemed to have no fixed path, no anchor to guide his potential? 

Alexander had been a product of strict discipline, a singular vision that led him to mastery in his chosen domain. 

But Ricky was different, his success was more random, more instinctual, like a storm that couldn't be harnessed.

The truth was, Alexander was struggling to find a way to guide Ricky in any meaningful way.

The tools he had used to develop himself weren't equipped to teach someone like Ricky. 

Ricky wasn't just a raw talent waiting to be molded, he was a swirling maelstrom of possibility, a power that could take any form yet wouldn't. 

That kind of leadership required a delicate touch, something Alexander had yet to learn how to provide.

And perhaps even more frustrating was that Ricky didn't seem to want the guidance as he was so self-assured, so confident in his unpredictable path, that Alexander didn't know how to intervene. 

For all his power and potential, Ricky was still figuring out who he was and Alexander wasn't sure as a teacher how he was supposed to help him navigate that uncertainty.

He would never admit it, but Alexander was stalling. 

The gerbil couldn't figure out how to push Ricky to grow into something more than just a series of talents spread too thin. 

Yet, even now, Alexander knew he couldn't just stand back and watch, deciding to pour all this side-linded effort into helping guide Ricky as a leader, something he had experienced personally.

But being a leader wasn't just about issuing orders and expecting obedience. 

It was about understanding when to step in, when to offer guidance, and when to let someone stumble through their own mistakes. 

Leadership isn't simply about learning the theory of leading; it's about experiencing the responsibility and challenges of leading firsthand. 

While books, mentors, and instruction can offer guidance, leadership is refined through real-world application, through the tough decisions, the mistakes, and the victories that come from being in the trenches, not just studying them. 

This was where Ricky began to stumble since leadership wasn't something you could learn just by reading books or mimicking the actions of others. 

It wasn't about following a blueprint; it was about growing through one's own failures, the tough choices one makes, and the experiences endured because of it.

Leadership, in this sense, is about making choices in the face of uncertainty, owning the consequences of those choices, and continuously adapting.

"God dammit, I fcking filled this sht out wrong," Ricky muttered, frustration lacing his voice as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

He stared at the paper in front of him, his mistake glaring back at him as Alexander watched quietly, frowning as he observed the young man's growing frustration.

The biggest problem Ricky was facing, ironically enough, was one he had witnessed in others or Jake, in particular. 

It was the overwhelming pressure to take on all the roles of leadership, to shoulder more than he could handle, all in an attempt to prove himself. 

Ricky had fallen into the same trap, pushing himself to the brink in his quest to be seen as capable, to prove he could be more than just a fleeting moment of potential.

"Um, Slick?" Barko asked, sitting on the side with a guilty expression as Ricky's hand gripped tightly, irritation bubbling up as he tried to focus on someone, anyone, was interrupting him, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

"How much?" Ricky closed his eyes, already knowing why Barko was here, he had essentially become Barko's personal wallet.

"25 thousand," Barko muttered, his eyes lowering in embarrassment as he knew it was shameless, but one of his experiments had failed, causing another of his machines to be destroyed.

"Listen, go to Frank-"

"Slick, we got a problem!" Johnny rushed in, his voice urgent, placing yet another issue on Ricky's already overflowing plate as he pushed Barko aside.

"Those weird magic kids are being introduced but there's another round of infighting since they don't wanna be runners-"

"Aye, Slick, there's this official who crossed the line!" Frank said, stepping in behind Johnny, his tone sharp with frustration as Chores popped his head into the restaurant, looking equally concerned.

"Hey Slick, one of the distributors is refusing to corporate-

The voices all poured in around Ricky, his eyebrow twitching as he slowly crumpled the paper beneath him, something within him snapping

"F*CKING QUIET!" Ricky roared out, the entire room immediately plunged into a heavy silence.

Every word that wasn't his own seemed to evaporate into the air as his command cut through the tension, leaving the group frozen in place, the sound of his anger echoing in their ears.

The silence swirled around the seated Ricky, his head slowly turning to the four men who only sought to offload more problems onto him at that moment. 

More words, more numbers, more everything was all clearly getting to him as his grip tightened on the crumpled paper beneath his fingers, his usual cool slipping as the weight of it all bore down on him.

"Ricky, calm yourself." Alexander appeared at his side, crawling up to the stacks of paper and standing tall amidst his anger that left the others speechless.

SIGH

Then, as if it had never existed, the anger dissipated in an instant as Ricky let out a slow breath before collapsing his face into his hand, his fingers pressing into his temples as exhaustion overtook frustration.

"Can everyone just get the f*ck out?" Ricky wasn't demanding, but asking in a weird way which wasn't proned on from these four men who looked at each other and bolted out.

"Ricky, you must relax-"

BAM

Ricky slammed his fist onto the table, the sharp sound cutting through the silence as he stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before a tired smile crept onto his face which showed to be strained.

"How the hell am I supposed to relax, Alexander? Just look at all of that!" Ricky yelled, his frustration seeping across the surface of his usually calm and aloof face.

It was clearly getting to him, the responsibilities, as Ricky was finally feeling what it meant to bear the burden of an entire organization and Alexander stood quiet, ready to take on his frustration.

"The paperwork doesn't stop, and I just want to… prove myself." Ricky's words trailed off as he recalled the same frustration Jake had felt all those years ago, the very same thing that led to his burnout.

"F*ck~" Ricky covered his eyes, the exhaustion truly taking hold of him as he fell back into the chair.

"If you are wondering, then know-"

"That I'm not alone, I get it-"

"No, what I am trying to say is that you are not even holding that much weight." Alexander merely raised his gaze, looking directly at Ricky, who met his eyes.

"You are shouldering the fate of mere thousands. I've shouldered the fates of millions," Alexander boasted, looking down at Ricky since though he might not have picked up the quill, his word carried just as much weight.

"Did you think it would be easy?'

"Did you think it would get easier?"

"No, it nevers eases." Alexander answered his own questions, telling Ricky that this burdening fate of leading never eases, not even for a second.

"A man who follows another, will only ever be as great as the footsteps he fills in." Alexander continued, imparting a lesson onto Ricky while his small little feet paced around the stack of papers.

"An army of lions will never be more than sheep that lead it." Alexander said, his words carrying the edge of the sword he pointed forth into battle.

"They might be lions, but they will die as sheep." Alexander voiced, side-eyeing Ricky who listened and watched the small gerbil before him.

"An army of sheep, led by a lion, however, will fight like one." Alexander halted his steps, looking upon Ricky who stared back at him.

 "Those sheep will die like lions."

"Ha, are you saying my guys are sheeps?" Ricky asked, rubbing his tired eyes since he hadn't slept at all the last two weeks.

"I'm saying that right now, they will die like sheep." Alexander squinted his eyes, his words striking a nerve in Ricky.

"What the f*ck, how!?" Ricky shot to his feet, looking down at Alexander who was purposely provoking him.

"I've done everything asked of me, I'm trying to prove myself-"

"A lion does not prove himself through the words of a scribe; he proves it through natural grit." Alexander interrupted, knowing that if Ricky didn't leave to figure out what kind of leader he was then he would rot in this very booth.

"You are trying so hard to be a lion, but you will never be one unless you act." Alexander didn't believe his own words but spoke them anyway, honestly trying to get Ricky to take a break which worked.

"I really just can't with you right now." Ricky stood up, waving him off as he stepped away, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

"You must struggle Ricky, you must press on-"

BAM

Ricky slammed the door behind him, desperate for some solitude, and opened a portal. 

With a deep breath, he stepped through, finding himself at the one place where he could escape the weight of everything. 

He plopped down next to Rocco's grave, the quietness of the spot offering a rare moment of peace.

Placing a beer on both his and Eddie's graves, Ricky cracked one open and leaned his head against the headstone, eyes closing in exhaustion. 

The cool evening air was a stark contrast to the constant chattering that waited for him outside this cemetery, but it was here, in this strange stillness, that he felt the most at ease. 

Normally, he'd speak to them, confide in the silent stones, pouring out his frustrations.

But right now, all Ricky wanted to do was knock back a cold one and simply enjoy the whistling sound of the wind.

"Ricky?"

However, that peace was soon broken as even his place of rest was disrupted as Ricky tiredly opened his eyes to see Asterion waving at him.

Sigh

"Hey, Asterion." Ricky rubbed his eyes, wanting to be alone right now only for Asterion to walk over to him.

He didn't say anything but he was socially inept enough to see that something was clearly pressing down Ricky's shoulders but instead of talking immediately, he simply took a seat next to him.

"May I?" Asterion asked, gesturing toward the spare cans as Ricky waved his hand dismissively.

"Knock yourself out." Ricky sighed, watching Asterion smile before reaching out to grab a can, cracking it open with ease.

"Would you care to know the beauty of struggle?" Asterion suddenly asked, taking a sip of the beer can while sitting back.

"Huh?" Ricky asked, feeling the words suddenly come out of nowhere as the minotaur turned to him with a smile.

"The beauty of struggle." Asterion reiterated, his words only highlighted by the smile in which they held them.

"Uh, sure." Ricky, looking around, sort of shrugged while leaning against Rocco's grave.

"You see, when there is no struggle, there is no journey." Asterion first clarified, chuckling at this statement as if it were more amusing than insightful.

"The most beautiful part of struggle is that you get to make that magic, to make the story." Asterion continued, turning his smile upwards at the cloudy sky that showed grey clouds with no rain in sight.

"The hardest lesson I ever had to learn was the patience of waiting, waiting for something to happen, for change to come when that change only occurs with oneself." Asterion seemingly spoke cryptic words, closing his eyes and remembering all the years in that dark cave.

"I spent so long struggling that I stopped appreciating the struggle itself. I took the journey for granted, not realizing it was the journey that shaped me." Asterion opened his eyes, taking another sip of the canned bear and appreciating the froth of it.

"The road we walk is uneven, filled with stones that bruise us, cuts that never quite heal and in the moment, all we feel is the sting." Asterionn said, rubbing his own scar that laid on his bare chest, ruffled by the fur that would only grow around it.

"And those wounds, they pile up and you start to wonder if it's worth it, why keep moving forward when every step is a struggle?" Asterion recounted, turning his gaze down at the small beer can in his hand.

"I asked myself that question more times than I can count, and for years, I let the weight of it keep me still." Asterion's words only made Ricky frown, looking at the talking minotaur who was trying to impact a life lesson onto him on his only break.

"I don't get it, Asterion, what are you trying to tell me?" Ricky gestured, knowing what Asterion was intending for but wanting to hear the conclusion of it all.

"We all have our own path, our own struggle, but I think sometimes people forget to simply turn around, and really see how far they've come." Asterion gestured, looking back on his own path and very much admiring how far he had come.

"Look at the journey you've made, the journey you're on, and everything you've managed." Asterion said, resting a hand on his shoulder while getting to the main point.

"And there is nothing wrong with getting a hand-"

"God, it's the same thing every damn time." Ricky stood up with a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair as he began pacing. 

"Listen I get it, I know, but it's cause I know all of this that I still don't want to tell somebody else that I need help, that I'm afraid of f*cking up, and having to show everyone once again that I'm not good enough." Ricky sighed, struggling with the very fact that he was struggling.

For the first time in his existence, he was dependable.

 People actually leaned on him, looking to him for answers and to anyone else, it might have seemed obvious, but to Ricky, it meant everything. 

It was proof that this second chance wasn't a waste, that he wasn't a waste.

Instead of running away like he always had, he wanted to be the person they believed him to be, to be the roots, to really be that guy that everyone thought him as.

But he couldn't, not like this.

"You think I don't know I need help?"

"Asterion, I don't wanna need help."

Ricky revealed, staring the problem right in the face but maybe a little too stubborn to act on it.

"How long have I been the f*ck-up who always needs others to wipe his ass, huh?" Ricky asked, staring Asterion dead in the eye all while the minotaur was silent.

Sometimes, life can seize control of your mind, twist it up, and leave you staggering, no matter who you are. 

It'll mess you up in ways you never saw coming but the hardest part isn't realizing it, it's stopping it from happening. 

It's keeping your hands on the wheel when everything's trying to pull you off course.

"God dammit, I just want to-"

"I just want to have it all together." Ricky laughed, heaivng out a deeper sigh after that as Asterion ducked his head.

"I was not always this strong figure, even when I was the forefather of Minotaurs I-"

BOOM

An explosion of power suddenly erupted on the horizon, tearing through the stillness and cutting their in-depth conversation short. 

Ricky and Asterion's heads snapped toward the source, their moment of reflection shattered by the arrival of an unexpected intruder.

"Asterion-"

"I know, go." Asterion nodded, his expression calm yet firm.

"I know. Go." Asterion nodded, his gaze steady as Ricky extended his hand outwards while the other had Chastiefol materialize.

BAM

The Ebony Blade slammed into his outstretched hand, effortlessly cleaving through any obstacles in its path.

'NO, I WAS GETTING TO THE BEST PART OF MY SHOW-wait.' The Ebony Blade went to immediately complain only to halt its words at this familiar energy, this familial feeling.

"Lecture me later, we gotta go." 

Meanwhile at the edge of New York,

"Sister Angela-"

BOOM

"SHUT UP!" Angela's eyes were wild, a jagged ebony crown resting upon her head, while a matching shield of dark steel coiled around her forearm.

Around her, a swirling vortex of grotesque black and purple energy spiraled, the dark influence of the ebony artifacts clearly overwhelming her sanity.

 In that instant, the coven materialized before her, Agatha stepping forward as the battle regime gathered behind her, ready for whatever chaos would unfold next.

"BRING ME THE BLACK KNIGHT-"

BOOM

Suddenly, the quiet pasture erupted in a violent explosion, sending a mountain of dirt and debris into the air and amidst it all, Ricky appeared, his form clad in black shimmering armor. 

Angela's lips curled into a sinister smile as she locked eyes on her target, pointing her sword toward him with a vicious grin, the anticipation of the coming battle clear in her gaze.

"Black Knight, our patron Merlyn has ordered that you surrender the Ebony Blade and submit yourself to imprisonment for daring to collide with the wicked Morgana le Fey," Angela boldly declared, her words dripping with a cold sense of authority. 

While this was happening, her mouth curled into a cruel smirk, as though she were daring him to refuse, knowing full well what the consequences would be.

"If you dare to refuse, then I shall take your head and then your sword," Angela declared, her aura flaring with intensity as she dropped into a battle-ready stance, her eyes locked onto Ricky with a fierce, predatory gleam.

"So that guy from the fairytale sent you to kill me? Is that what I'm getting from this whole scenario right now?" Ricky asked, his tone laced with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. 

He glanced over at the faction before him, the one that had been hunting witches for so long, and couldn't help but wear a strange expression. 

"Yes and-"

"And he only sent this many people?"

Author's Note: Sorry about not replying to comments about the Q&A, I read them but I'm f*cking swamped. Anways I read them and I'm currently digesting the feedback so don't worry. It's just gonna take to repsond. Anyways hope ya enjoy.