Marvel: Impregnation System

Chapter 95: Chapter 93: Last Year

*Huff*

*Huff*

*Huff*

In a small patch of grass, Ricky drove a sleek ebony sword down, its blade casting a dark gleam as arcs of red energy crackled around him.

His muscles tensed, and he gritted his teeth as the weapon's power surged through him, every fiber of his body straining against the force.

The midday sun bathed him in a warm, golden light, softening the edges of the serene landscape around him, a sharp contrast to the storm churning within his mind.

'All this training is pointless.'

'You'll never amount to anything.'

'You're a failure.'

Thoughts pulsed in his mind like a relentless headache and yet, unlike a year ago, when Ricky had been crushed beneath the weight of its seething hatred, he now bore it with unyielding resolve, his gaze hardened.

His green eyes, however, were stripped of their usual luster, dark red tendrils now pulsed through his irises, casting an eerie glow.

With that crimson fury fueling him, he swung the ebony sword down once more, each strike charged with a power that seemed to ripple from deep within him.

*WHOOSH*

The air around him suddenly flashed out as Ricky once again entered his berserk state as the red energy crackled all around his being.

'KILL!'

'KILL!'

'KILL!'

The thoughts within Ricky's mind twisted from mere words of hatred into a raw, bloodthirsty urge until, in an instant, his entire being erupted with a torrent of vivid green energy.

A typhoon of power surged around him, as grotesque, murky red tendrils of aura wove into the brilliant green, creating a fierce, swirling storm.

His sovereign haki surged, pushing back against the consuming bloodlust that the ebony blade sought to drown him in, forcing his will against the weapon's dark intent.

The energies collided violently, clashing in a dazzling explosion around him, while Ricky's eyes crackled with both red and green.

*WHOOOOOOSH*

Then, with a single, decisive slash, Ricky brought the ebony blade down, slicing through the typhoon of swirling energies as if cleaving the storm itself in two.

The chaotic aura split apart, dissipating into the air as Ricky straightened from his stance, his breath steadying, shoulders relaxed yet charged with latent power.

"Phew~" Ricky wiped his forehead, walking over to the side and wiping his face with a towel as Alexander nodded his furry head.

"Your progress has been most excellent Ricky, though it is a bit flashy." Alexander remarked, nodding with genuine approval before adding with a smirk

"Yeah, but I'd rather look like a Christmas tree than let my brain get turned into barbarian mush," Ricky quipped, leaning forward with a grin as Alexander conceded his words with a slow nod.

Over this last year, Ricky had been refining, training, and then refining some more.

Ricky wasn't merely honing his swordsmanship; he was refining his abilities, seamlessly weaving them into his combat style.

It struck him how much he'd been shooting himself in the foot, how he'd barely tapped into the range of skills available to him.

Only now, as he embraced their full potential, did he realize how foolish he'd been for neglecting them.

Perhaps it was his prolonged isolation or the fresh awareness of his system's value, but he knew now that he'd taken it for granted.

Though confined to his training grounds and New Salem, Ricky resolved to fully exploit the system's potential and to embrace his inner degenerate even further to get even stronger.

This past year had been transformative; his growth as a fighter was evident not only in his skill but in the way he carried himself.

[Status]

Name: Ricky Luciano

Titles: Deadbeat, Royal Thug, Prodigal Son, Witch's Gigolo

Age: 18

Born: October, 27, 1918

Race: Human

Strength: 43→56 (Middle realm of Superhuman)

Stamina: 41→53 (Middle realm of Superhuman.)

Vitality: 46→59 (Middle realm of Superhuman.)

Agility: 37→49(Peak Lower realm of Superhuman)

Dexterity: 40→52(High realm of Superhuman)

Intelligence: 28→35 (Above Peak Adult)

Mana: 65→85 (High realm of Superhuman.)

Charm: 38→50 (Gracing superhuman levels, it is shocking that a bastard could grow this much and not be an incubus.)

Appearance: 38→50 (Have reached superhuman level of good looks, ones that are only portrayed in animated media that seemed impossible for regular minds.)

Skills Improved:

(Epic Skill) Master Swordsmanship: represents an elite level of proficiency in the art of wielding a sword, surpassing advanced techniques and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is acquired through years of dedicated practice, intense training, and combat experience. Individuals with this skill showcase unparalleled control, precision, and effectiveness in battle, making them formidable sword fighters.

(Epic Skill) Master Spearmanship: signifies an elite level of proficiency in the art of wielding a spear, transcending advanced techniques and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is developed through extensive training, practical experience, and deep understanding of spear combat. Practitioners of this skill demonstrate exceptional control, versatility, and tactical prowess, making them unrivaled opponents in combat.

(Epic Skill) Master Hand-to-Hand Combat: signifies an elite level of proficiency in unarmed fighting techniques, surpassing advanced methods and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is developed through rigorous training, practical experience, and an in-depth understanding of martial arts. Practitioners of this skill demonstrate exceptional control, strength, and tactical acumen, making them nearly invincible in close-quarters combat.

This year's growth had surpassed even last year's strides, largely thanks to the potent growth tonic, which had fortified Ricky's already developing body, hardening it to a new, formidable level.

Ricky's progression defied conventional limits, nudging him closer to a realm that seemed almost unnatural for any ordinary human.

His anomaly was evident, pushing his physique and abilities beyond reason, yet it wasn't just the system or his X-Gene that fueled his rise, it was his relentless drive to refine the skills he had gained and cultivated on his own.

Elevating an epic skill to a legendary level, however, proved far more challenging than advancing from rare to epic, which was why his bowmanship remained at the epic level for now. But despite these hurdles, Ricky felt prepared.

The merging of his innate potential with his hard-won abilities left him ready to face whatever lay beyond his training grounds as a pair of eyes gazed towards him.

It wasn't only Ricky who sensed the change as Rachael, too, noticed his newfound strength, her initial surprise shifting into a grudging approval as they prepared for their confrontation with Dracula.

Alongside his progress, though, Ricky had grown increasingly narcissistic, seizing every chance to boast about his strength, much to everyone's annoyance.

Still, his arrogance carried a playful edge, a swagger that had become both endearing and exasperating to those around him.

Now, after three years of training on and off with Rachael, she actually believed they might have a sliver of a chance against Dracula, though only a slim one.

In reality, three years of grueling growth couldn't match the centuries of power Dracula had amassed.

Ricky's progress was extraordinary, yet in the face of such ancient power, it was still a far cry from what he would truly need, at least to Rachael.

This secrecy is why Rachael has devised a plan she refuses to share with Ricky, convinced he'd spoil it if he knew.

Her trust in him only went so far, and she believed that keeping him in the dark was the best way to ensure their survival.

Surprisingly, Ricky wasn't frustrated by her secrecy but rather disappointed; but he understood that his moment to step up would come, but until then, Rachael seemingly convinced herself that she would strategically maneuver around him, making use of his power without depending on his judgment.

15 minutes later,

Stepping out of the shower, Ricky glanced over at his desk and frowned at the sight of Garfield peacefully napping.

The cat's serene presence contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy that often filled the room.

With a flat expression, Ricky turned and headed back to the bathroom, returning moments later with a glass of water in hand.

As he approached, Garfield stirred slightly in his sleep, a blissful smile spreading across his face.

"C-Cheese pizza~" Garfield murmured, drool pooling slightly as he scratched his sizable belly, lost in a delightful dream.

*Splash*

Water splattered across the desk, jolting Garfield awake with a startled jerk of his head. His eyes darted around until they landed on Ricky, who stood there with an outstretched hand, his grimoire slowly levitating into the air.

"W-Wait-" Garfield stammered, wide-eyed, looking up with horrified eyes at his summoner.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop drooling on my research?" Ricky replied, irritation evident in his gaze as he shot a look at the papers now smeared with Garfield's slobber.

"I-I-"

*Sigh*

"You're going to spray me with water regardless, right?" Garfield slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"I'm going to spray you with water regardless." Ricky repeated his words at the same time, his grimoire turning to a specific page.

In an instant, a jet of water shot from Ricky's palm, drenching hissing Garfield and sending him sprawling off the desk.

The fat cat squawked as he was sprayed sideways, his plush form instantly looking slimmer as the water soaked through his fur.

He landed with a soft thud, rolling and hitting his back hitting the wall, a look of incredulity plastered on his face.

"You're a monster," Garfield hissed, glaring up at Ricky, who merely shrugged as he adjusted his notes and settled into his seat.

"And you're fat," Ricky shot back with a chuckle, fully aware he could've crafted a better comeback but feeling a sense of accomplishment nonetheless. Garfield scrunched his brows in annoyance.

"Crappy story, lazy writing-" Garfield scoffed, crossing his arms in indignation and directing his frustration at the author.

But before he could finish his thought, a random vase toppled off the shelf, clattering down and smacking him on the head with a resounding thud.

*TINK*

*THUMP*

Garfield face-planted onto the floor, the vase rolling away from him in a daze and Alexander, perched on Ricky's shoulder, tilted his head in curiosity, glancing from the unconscious cat to Ricky.

"I must say, Ricky, your dedication to studying is impressive. But remind me again as to why it is so important to you?" Alexander asked, hopping off Ricky's shoulder and striding over to the scattered papers as Ricky began to arrange them.

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"Because the ebony blade made me realize I have to protect my mind at all costs."

That was the answer he gave anyone who asked why he suddenly immersed himself in this field of research, and it held some merit however, the truth was far more complex.

The real reason Ricky dedicated himself to this craft lay buried in his past life.

Honestly, he couldn't recall much of relevance; his previous existence had been a haze of self-indulgence, marked by self-loathing, alcohol, and drugs.

Yet the Cave of Regrets had sparked a profound awakening within him as it forced him to confront the fact that those memories from his past life were still etched in his mind, lingering like shadows.

This newfound clarity not only propelled him to not just be better, but it showed that those memories were not lost forever but still lingering within the depths of his mind.

In reality, Ricky had been transported back to the 1930s, a full 70 years from where he had been born.

But the only significant action he took during that time was investing $50,000 in Coca-Cola.

When Ricky returned to New York, he didn't want to simply be a changed man; he wanted to be someone who could provide for those around him.

Yet he faced a significant hurdle since although he possessed the skill of 'Business Acumen', he had never actually worked in the field of investing that wasn't on a baccarat table.

He understood that, much like mastering the sword, it would take time to develop the necessary expertise.

To bridge this gap, Ricky decided to hone this ability to make sound decisions that would lead his family to success.

Simultaneously, he began to delve into his old, foggy memories, trying to recall the names of companies that still thrived far into the future.

In this way, as he developed into a competent player in the corporate field, he would have a solid foundation to springboard from, leveraging knowledge of companies that would excel in the future.

Ricky recognized that combining his emerging skills in business with insights from his past life could give him a significant edge, allowing him to navigate the complexities of the market with a strategic mindset.

4 hours later,

*Sigh*

Ricky leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes in frustration after yet another failed attempt.

Heaving a large sigh, he tried to shake off the disappointment that weighed heavily on his chest.

Right now, he was attempting to form a spell from a collection of existing incantations, hoping to delve deep into his mind and simulate the experience he had in the Cave of Regrets.

Each time, however, he found himself falling short, the spell unraveling like a poorly woven tapestry before it could fully manifest.

"Another failure?" Alexander inquired, peeking out from his own studies, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"What are you doing?" Alexander added, noticing Ricky opening his storage and pulling the desk into it as if it were nothing more than a prop in a magic trick.

"Getting ready to leave." Ricky replied, dusting off his hands with a sense of finality.

"Does that mean-"

"I think I'm ready." Ricky could feel it, he felt that power earlier as if breaking through and actually seeing through the haze of his berserk form.

"Are you sure you can stand before Dracula?" Alexander asked, slowly closing his book. He hopped onto the cover, fixing Ricky with a resolute gaze.

"Honestly, I'm not sure, but I know that if I don't leave today, I'll just stagnate." Ricky admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as the uncertainty of facing Dracula loomed over him though not as fear, but as a strange ambiguity, like the hazy edge of a storm.

Ricky wasn't intimidated by Dracula's towering strength anymore but instead, facing him felt like standing at the edge of an oncoming storm, vast and ominous.

The unknown swirled before him, a force that was impossible to fully measure.

Ricky knew the storm was there, looming in his path, yet he couldn't tell if it would pass with a light rain or strike with the fury of a fatal hurricane as his progress had changed everything so drastically.

"And besides, I can't even flirt with the other witches here. Agatha literally made three babes I hit on just, disappear." Ricky sighed, glancing around the cluttered room that had become both a sanctuary and a cage.

Agatha didn't care if he messed around with other girls, but when it came to witches, her irritation was oddly palpable, becoming akin to Hera confronting Zeus when it came to him trying to bang another witch.

Holding the title of Witch's Gigolo was no joke; Ricky could feel the flirty stares directed his way.

The issue was that no one dared to step onto Agatha's territory, and those who attempted to tread within the coven's bounds mysteriously vanished without a trace.

"And here like I thought you would finally settle down." Alexander slowly shook his head, seeing Ricky pointed to himself and smirked.

"C'mon, Alexander, it's me we're talking about." Ricky chuckled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Deep down, he wanted to be someone dependable, someone people could count on, but that didn't mean he'd settle into the role of a stay-at-home dad.

Ricky knew himself too well and beneath the ambitions, Ricky was still the same thrill-seeker, a man whose appetite for pleasure and indulgence kept him teetering on the edge.

Yet this time, he was determined to channel it with a bit more caution with less reckless pursuits; he'd savor the pleasure without losing himself to it and remain grounded instead of floating into the abyss.

"Some things just don't really change." Alexander watched Ricky scoop him up as he looked back to Garfield's still face planted in the rug.

"Whoa, has he been unconscious this whole time?" Ricky asked, glancing at Alexander, who coughed and looked off to the side, completely forgetting about the orange cat.

Shaking his head, Ricky leaned down, pressing his fingertips gently into Garfield's fur.

He focused, channeling his mental energy to heal any wounds Garfield might have suffered.

Slowly, a soft glow pulsed from his hands, spreading through Garfield's fur as he worked to mend the groggy cat's injuries.

*SNORT*

"Huh?" Garfield snorted awake, groggily blinking his eyes.

"What's going on? Is it lunchtime?" Garfield rubbed his eyes, smacked his lips, and gave a lazy stretch.

"Uh huh, sure." Ricky opened his mouth, considering telling Garfield, but just shrugged it off.

"Good talk." Garfield muttered, half-listening, as Ricky grabbed him up as the orange cat rubbed his stomach with one paw, grumbling.

"You know, I was just in the middle of a five-course dream. You'd better have some snacks ready, or I'm filing a complaint." Garfield yawned, resting in Ricky's arms while getting comfy even though he just woke up.

"Your complaint has been filed and the bureau of 'IDGAF' has decided that you need a diet." Ricky walked out of the study as Garfield's smug smile slowly deteriorated.

"I retract my complaint." Garfield slowly said only to see Ricky smile this time, walking into a room with a chuckle.

"The retraction has been denied. Guess it's time for you to make friends with celery." Ricky laughed darkly, swinging the door open with a flourish as the last of Garfield's smug grin evaporated.

"O-Oh god, no-" Garfield glanced around wildly, assuming he was moments away from a dreadful salad encounter until he spotted the nearby play area instead, he sprang to the side, claws extended.

"Please, I'll be a good kitty, a quiet, handsome kitty!" Garfield whined, tearing up as he clung to Ricky's arm in a last-ditch effort to escape his fate.

But Ricky's grip was firm, and as soon as Garfield hit the play area, he bolted for the far wall, pressing his back against it as he eyed the shadowy, looming child-like play structures with wary apprehension.

This wasn't hell, but to Garfield, it was the complete incarnation of sadistic torture, his eyes shrinking in terror.

It was then that two pairs of green eyes gleamed from the darkness, piercing the gloom like twin stars of mischief.

Garfield's chest began to palpitate, each heartbeat echoing in his ears as his breath grew ragged.

"ALEXANDER, PLEASE-"

"I am sorry, comrade. It was either me or you, and I chose myself." Alexander looked away from his fellow familiar, wiping a tear from his eye.

"I ask for your understanding, not your forgiveness." Alexander cast a final glance at Garfield, his expression pained, before turning his back.

Suddenly, two pairs of tiny hands emerged from the shadows, grasping Garfield with an iron grip.

"PLEASE, DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME!" Garfield screeched, his claws digging into the carpet as he was dragged toward the darkness.

Panic surged within him, and tears streamed down his cheeks as the relentless grip of the hands pulled him closer to an uncertain fate.

"STOP READING ABOUT MY SUFFERING AND HELP ME GET AWAY FROM THESE HORRID CREATURES-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Garfield screamed, directing his plea toward the reader.

Desperation filled his voice as he struggled against the relentless grip pulling him into the abyss.

Claw marks trailed along the carpet, evidence of his frantic descent into the darkness, each scratch a testament to his unwillingness to be consumed by whatever horrors lay beyond.

The reader could only witness his suffering, the absurdity of his situation becoming painfully clear as he vanished further into the shadows, leaving only the bubbly laughter of children.

"Darling~" Agatha chimed, her warm smile lighting up the room as she rose from her desk and with a playful leap, she landed in Ricky's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hey, beautiful." Ricky replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as he twirled her around with effortless ease, delighting in the moment.

As he set her down, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, savoring the sweet connection between them.

"Agatha, I need to tell you something," Ricky said softly, his fingers brushing against her cheek.

Agatha froze, a subtle tension rippling through her as if she sensed the weight of his words and she instinctively grabbed his hand, her grip firm yet gentle, a silent plea for him to continue.

"You're leaving." Agatha said, her voice trembling slightly, a hint of heartbreak lacing her words.

She had known this moment was inevitable, but the reality of it felt like a sudden jolt to her heart.

Over the past year, everything had felt like a dream for the powerful witch, serene and blissful.

Each day spent with Ricky and their family wove a tapestry of joy and laughter that now seemed poised to unravel.

The thought of him departing shattered the tranquility they had built together, leaving her grappling with an ache she had never expected to feel so soon.

"Don't die-....don't leave me all alone." Agatha's voice quivered as she clutched him tightly, knowing there was nothing she could do to make him stay.

"Me? The guy that's gonna put Dracula's head on a stick and parade it around Europe." Ricky replied with a reassuring smile, brushing a hand through her hair.

"You have such a way with words, you know that?" Agatha let out a reluctant chuckle, softening the air between them.

"Makes sense, I've been told I'm the Shakespeare of perverts." Ricky swayed Agatha in place, grabbing her hand then twirling her chuckling form around then pulling her back into his embrace.

Agatha's hand slid up to cradle Ricky's chin, her touch tender yet firm, guiding his face toward hers.

Her crimson lips met his in a kiss that was not merely a meeting of mouths but a collision of heart and soul.

Agatha's lips were soft, warm, carrying an intensity that spoke of love, longing, and the silent fear of letting him go.

She pressed closer, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate passion, as if trying to etch herself into his very being.

Time seemed to slow as her fingers tightened against his skin, each shared breath a vow, each lingering moment a wordless confession of everything they felt but hadn't spoken aloud.

Their kiss broke softly, lingering warmth still dancing between them as Agatha pulled back, a sadness glimmering in her eyes.

Her hand came to rest gently on his chest, her fingers splayed as though to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath.

She gazed up at him, her expression tender but sincere, a silent plea woven into her look.

"Go."

*Bam*

"Rachael, I'm ready to kill that *f*cking* bloodsucker!" Ricky declared, his voice echoing through the hall as he kicked the door open, sending it flying off its hinges with a crash.

Ricky strode in with a fist pump, Alexander perched on his shoulder, cheering along with infectious enthusiasm.

On the other hand, Ricky carried a thoroughly defeated Garfield, limp and uncharacteristically silent, his usual snark completely absent.

The cat's half-lidded eyes and drooping whiskers showed he'd resigned himself to his fate, not even a sarcastic quip left in him..

*Sigh*

"I-I don't want to talk about it. Let's be mature and move on." Garfield sighed, clearly resigned.

The weariness in his voice hinted at the fact he'd finally accepted his role as Ricky's familiar, abandoning any attempts to shift their dynamic.

He slumped further, waving a dismissive paw as if to brush off the events of earlier and simply wanted to be rid of this place.

"Huzzah!" Alexander suddenly shouted, eyes blazing with determination as he hopped forward, clearly thirsting for a rematch against Dracula, the one who had embarrassed not only his protégé but also himself.

"Why do you always interrupt us on our breaks?" Chores muttered, rubbing his tired eyes, which were shadowed by dark bags as he set down his cards with a sigh, clearly resigned to the intrusion.

"It has become a sort of right of passage for him at this point, I suppose." Barko adjusted his goggles, using a wind spell to put down his cards.

Over the past three years, Chores and Barko had carved out their own identities, taking significant strides toward understanding their roles in the future.

Ricky had noticed their absence; he hadn't seen much of them lately, especially in the past year.

Their isolation had become pronounced, particularly with Barko, who seemed to have developed an obsession with Abraham's ancient texts.

He rarely emerged from his study, only surfacing to gather the necessary supplies that would allow him to continue his solitary pursuits.

In contrast, Chores had been more active in his own way, integrating himself into the magic manufacturing community of New Salem.

Chores was diving headfirst into the intricacies of spellcraft, learning to produce various magical objects while diligently refining his skills.

Ricky had observed these changes in Chores with a sense of respect, making a mental note of his progress at every turn before turning his focus back to his own training.

"Settle down. We haven't gathered enough witches and warlocks to take on Dracula's bolstered army," Rachael said, her voice calm yet firm as she set her cards down.

Chores and Barko exchanged weary glances, their faces etched with fatigue from their own struggles yet they both showed worry at hearing Ricky bring this up after so many years.

"Oh, I've got an army." Ricky replied, a spark of determination igniting within him as he recalled his promise to Verledalet.

Rachael raised an eyebrow skeptical but chose to humor him, knowing that enthusiasm was often the only thing that kept Ricky grounded in the chaos around them.

"Fine, then let us see this army of yours, shall we?" Rachael scoffed, crossing her arms as she watched him with an amused expression.

Ricky childishly mouthed her own words, an impish grin spreading across his face as he directed his mana into his grimoire, which floated beside him, glowing with a vibrant energy.

"Gate." Ricky snobbishly declared towards Rachael, watching the stubborn woman give him her signature eye roll.

The air around him crackled as his magic surged, flowing into the grimoire and with a flash of vibrant green light, a swirling portal materialized next to him, pulsating with an otherworldly energy.

"Ladies first~" Ricky gestured theatrically, a playful grin spreading across his face. Rachael frowned but stepped into the shimmering gate, her expression a mix of annoyance and intrigue.

"Chores, Barko, go notify Agatha and that snobby council to start preparing for war." Ricky instructed, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

He knew that Chores and Barko would handle all the grunt work flawlessly, their dedication never wavering as the duo exchanged knowing glances.

*Sigh*

"Alright, Slick, we'll get it done," Chores replied, rubbing his eyes wearily and just as Ricky was about to step into the gate, Jake's image flickered over Chores, causing him to halt mid-stride.

"Hey, good job." Ricky said, catching both of them off guard.

"I know we've all been doing our own things, but I'm proud of how far both of you have come." Ricky's sincere compliment lingered in the air, creating a moment of warmth and camaraderie.

But before the atmosphere could turn awkward, he leaped into the gate, disappearing into the shimmering portal without another word.

"Did he-" Chores stammered, stunned into silence as he pointed at the spot where the portal had just been.

"Yes, I think Slick actually complimented us in a genuine way," Barko said, a smile spreading across his face.

For the first time in a while, he felt truly seen, and that spark of validation ignited a sense of purpose within them.

They exchanged a look of disbelief, their earlier weariness momentarily forgotten and with renewed determination, they both walked out of the house, ready to take on the tasks ahead and eager to prove that they were more than just side characters in someone else's story but their own persons.

"Can you not carry me like this?" Garfield asked, feeling more uncomfortable than in pain as Ricky held him like a toddler, one arm tucked under his rear and the other supporting his back.

"Pussy," Ricky whispered under his breath, smirking as he approached the old, closed suit shop. Garfield's ears twitched at the remark, irritation bubbling up inside him.

'Stupid human, stupid reader, and this stupid story,' Garfield grumbled silently as he resented the turn his life had taken.

One day he was napping peacefully in the void of the endless abyss and now, he has been demoted to being this selfish human's cat.

"Why are we walking into an abandoned shop?" Rachael asked, raising an eyebrow as Ricky plopped down onto a nearby crate.

As he stepped inside the suit shop, a wave of déjà vu washed over him as the air was thick with dust, and the scent of aged wood hung in the atmosphere, almost like a ghost of memories long forgotten.

"To wait until night, duh." Ricky replied matter-of-factly, setting Garfield down as the cat gave him a skeptical look before clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"What is your deal anyways, I've been a good owner-"

"You've only used me when you train your stupid magic and after that, you stick me to babysit your demon spawns!" Garfield slammed down his paw onto the crate, teary eye at what his life had become.

In truth, Garfield's life wasn't all luxury naps and pampering from Agatha's attendants.

When he wasn't sprawled out on velvet cushions or sneaking extra snacks, he was subjected to some less-than-dignified treatment.

Instead of being cherished like a cherished pet, he was occasionally treated as a plaything for the little ones being Zatanna and Johnny, who had a particular fascination with his ears.

"Fine, two trays of lasagna a week once we're back in New York." Ricky held up two fingers, his face perfectly stoic.

Garfield froze, his entire being going rigid as his breath hitched. He could practically taste the lasagna already, mouth watering against his will as he clutched his own chest, feeling his heart pound with temptation.

'N-No, you must stay strong.' Garfield reminded himself, gnashing his teeth while trying to resist.

'All those years of torture aren't worth giving in now and especially not for the warm, rich, creamy taste of the only dish worthy of the great Garfield.' Garfield's stomach protested, nearly howling to lunge at the offer, but he held firm, resisting Ricky's taunting temptation with all the self-restraint he could muster.

"N-No, I'm a strong, masculine cat who doesn't give in to these temptations-" Garfield muttered, shaking his head and covering his face, trying to block out the memory of every ounce of torture he'd endured under Ricky's reign.

"Three trays."

"NO, I WILL NOT BE TEMPTED BY THIS DEVIL-"

"Four trays."

"Oh, master! Oh, my handsome and generous master whom I adore with all my heart!" Garfield's defiance melted instantly as he shamelessly lunged onto Ricky's leg, hugging it dearly with a look of pure devotion.

All these pain and these endless tribulations have brought us closer, haven't they?" Garfield wiped a dramatic tear from his eye, gazing up at Ricky with a surprisingly genuine smile

Garfield the Cosmic Cat (Favorability: 0→80)

With one simple bribe, Garfield transformed from a bitter, scheming cat into his lovable, drooling old self, his mind completely overtaken by the idea of decadent lasagna.

Clinging to Ricky's pant leg, he gazed up adoringly, drool dripping as he imagined the feast to come.

"Don't judge me; I'm a cat of simple, if weak, will." Garfield muttered, glancing toward the reader's clearly judging eyes with a shrug as pride could never compete with a satisfied belly, after all.

As Ricky moved through the dim wine cellar, Garfield continued clinging to him like a grateful shadow.

Ricky's eyes scanned the dusty shelves until they rested on an old bottle tucked away, gleaming faintly in the low light.

Ricky plucked the bottle from the shelf, brushing off a layer of dust to reveal a handwritten note tied around its neck.

Dear Slick,

I had a feeling that you'd come back one way or another, and if so, here's a little of my good wine to tie you over.

- Rotolo

"Oh, Rotolo, truly a man of God." Ricky sighed in relief, clutching the dusty wine bottle as though he'd unearthed buried treasure and strolled back toward Rachael with a satisfied grin.

"Of course the alcoholic sniffs out the liquor, what a surprise." Rachael said with a sarcastic sigh.

In her mind, Rachael should have known, considering how Ricky had always managed to track down wine like the alcoholic bloodhound he was.

Her judgmental gaze pierced through Ricky, but he couldn't care less, even as he imagined her slowly undressing him with those eyes.

Ricky took another hearty swig from the bottle, savoring the rich flavor as it washed over him as he gave Rachael a mischievous grin as he lowered the bottle.

"Oh, come on, you've tasted those witches' brews. If you're using alchemy and can't even make a decent ale, are you really an alchemist?" Ricky chuckled, waving the bottle in her direction only to see her hold up her hand, rejecting the offer to day drink with him.

"Alchemist aren't judged by how well they brew liquor-"

"Ah, well, they should be~" Ricky sighed with a sense of relief, clutching his heart at the thought of how good a man Rotolo had been to him, even in his absence.

Although Rachael was clearly judging him for his drinking habits, Ricky had actually been cutting back significantly.

Zatanna's tears over the smell of any booze weighed heavily on his conscience, and Johnny always seemed to find a way to sneak into his flasks, making it harder for him to indulge.

So the only times he ever had the chance to drink were after long hours of research, but even then, fatigue often claimed him before he could truly enjoy it, leaving him to fall asleep with a half-finished glass still in hand.

"So, who is the one that possesses this army?" Rachael asked calmly, her curiosity piqued as she wondered if Ricky had managed to sway yet another one of his girls from outside New Salem.

"His name is Verdelet-"

"What?!" Rachael shot up, her eyes flashing an ominous yellow as the mere mention of the name ignited her transformation.

A chill swept through the air, thickening around them, as if the very atmosphere was responding to her brewing fury.

"Verdelet—" Ricky teased, fully aware that it wasn't the answer Rachael was looking for.

His laughter echoed through the room as he watched her expression morph from surprise to outrage, her composure unraveling before his eyes.

"I know who Verdelet is, Ricky!" Rachael yelled, her voice sharp with frustration. Alexander, caught off guard, furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Then why did she ask?" Alexander wondered aloud, his gaze shifting between Rachael and Garfield, who was still lost in dreams of lasagna.

"Did I not tell you about this? Weird, I wonder why I didn't do that?" Ricky mused, taking another sip from the bottle as he savored the moment of catching this control freak off guard.

Rachael let out a hollow laugh, the tension in the room easing slightly as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I would've known if you mentioned one of the oldest disciples of Dracula's master!" Rachael yelled, her fury palpable as she glared at Ricky, who seemed unfazed by her outburst.

"Ah, now I remember why I didn't tell you," Ricky sighed, bracing himself as he could practically hear the gears turning in Rachael's mind, knowing a lecture was imminent.

Ricky watched her stomp over, determination etched on her face, ready to unleash her frustration.

"Do you know the monster Verdelet is? The things he's done!" Rachael demanded, her grip tightening on Ricky's collar, her eyes blazing with concern as he pried her fingers away with a nonchalant shrug.

"I know him well enough to say I'd probably grab a beer with him, but not lunch, I don't really know him well enough for that." Ricky replied casually since for him, it was the ultimate measure of character; if someone could share a drink, but he wasn't friendly enough for lunch.

"RICKY!"

"Oh my god, not particularly." Ricky said with a slight sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender at the buzzkill before him.

"But at least he seems a little more reasonable than Dracula-"

"THEY'RE LITERALLY THE SAME! IN FACT, THERE'S A RUNNING JOKE WITHIN THE SUPERNATURAL WORLD ABOUT WHO IS THE MORALLY WORST VAMPIRE!" Rachael screamed at Ricky, her frustration evident as he nodded, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"But in my view, the difference between them is that I actually like Verdelet, or at least I can stand being around him without worrying if he'll rip out my heart." Ricky shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face.

Given his encounters with both ancient vampires, he had clearly developed a bias, favoring Verdelet despite the danger he represented.

"Oh my god, I thought you were stupid, but I never imagined you'd do something this idiotic!" Rachael exclaimed, grabbing at her hair in exasperation as she couldn't fathom how little Ricky understood the implications of his connections and the dangerous company he kept.

Her frustration simmered as she tried to wrap her head around his reckless behavior, feeling the weight of the potential consequences for them all.

"Listen, I get that Verdelet is a monster-" Ricky pinched the bridge of his nose, a vein of frustration pulsating at his forehead from Rachael's verbal onslaught.

"Monster doesn't even begin to cover it, Ricky! He literally experiments on and tortures not only humans but his own kin, for the-" Rachael's voice trembled with a mix of anger and disbelief, the words spilling from her lips as she struggled to comprehend Ricky's apparent nonchalance toward such a horrific figure.

"For the pursuit of knowledge."

Rachael immediately drew her crossbow at the sight of Verdelet appearing in the doorway, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his vampiric figure.

"As creatures, as life, we stop evolving when we stop learning." Verdelet declared, stepping into the shop and surveying the dust-covered remnants of the past.

"Humans, Dracula, they all go about progression wrong. Power isn't just about pure strength; it lies in the purity of the mind." Veredelt advanced toward Ricky, extending his hand.

To Rachael's shock, Ricky accepted the handshake without hesitation, their palms meeting in an unexpected display of camaraderie.

In a sense, Verdelet stands as a polar opposite to Dracula, yet they share striking similarities in their methods of pursuing power.

Both seek to unite the supernatural world under one banner, driven by their visions of supremacy. However, their paths diverge significantly after that goal is achieved.

Where Dracula thrives on terror and dominance, reveling in chaos and bloodshed, Verdelet takes a more cerebral approach, favoring manipulation and experimentation over brute force.

His methods often involve intricate plots and philosophical musings about evolution and progress, contrasting sharply with Dracula's penchant for raw power and fear.

"Hey, Verdelet! How have you been?" Ricky greeted, giving the old vampire a friendly pat on the shoulder as if they were old pals.

Verdelet chuckled, clearly entertained by the audacity of this human who showed no fear in his presence.

"My research is progressing well." Verdelet replied, his expression shifting slightly at his next thoughts.

"Though that human Mussolini is beginning to wear on my nerves." Verdelets eyes flickered with annoyance, but he maintained his smile, an unsettling juxtaposition of charm and menace.

"You have done such horrible things, caused numerous atrocities, taken millions of lives-" Rachael's entire body shook violently, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to contain her anger as Verdelet merely side-eyed her, an expression of detached amusement on his face.

"And saved the same amount." Veredelt interrupted, cutting through her outrage with an unsettling calm.

Rachael opened her mouth to retort, but Verdelet continued, his tone smooth and persuasive.

Although Verdelet has exterminated countless lives and cultures, he has saved just as many through his groundbreaking research.

Most recently, he discovered a chemical called arsphenamine some time ago, which proved to be an effective treatment for syphilis.

This discovery marked the beginning of the world's first modern antibiotic, a breakthrough that would go on to save billions of lives.

Verdelet's research has created a ripple effect in the medical field, accelerating advancements in human medicine at an unprecedented pace.

In fact, nearly every significant medical discovery, whether pertaining to humans or the supernatural, can trace its origins back to Verdelet's findings, often published under various pseudonyms.

His work has fundamentally transformed the landscape of medicine, making it possible for innovations to emerge that otherwise might have taken generations to develop.

"Y-You-"

*Pffft*

Ricky couldn't help but laugh at the stunned expression on Rachael's face as the shocking revelations of Verdelet's so-called "good deeds" rendered her momentarily speechless. It was a rare sight to see her so flabbergasted, and the amusement was palpable in the air.

Yet, Rachael wasn't one to back down easily as she quickly shook off her surprise and resumed her stance, always ready to highlight the darker side of Verdelet's actions.

"But look at the cost!" Racahel shot back, pointing out the atrocities committed in the name of progress.

No matter how impressive Verdelet's contributions to science were, she refused to overlook the blood on his hands.

"And alas, we are met with the age-old dilemma that defines your hesitance: 'Does the end justify the means?'" Verdelet waved his hand dismissively, a smirk playing on his lips as he recognized that Rachael was, for the moment, left speechless.

"It doesn't matter, Ricky he is a vile monster who-"

"Rachael, can I be honest for a second? I really don't care." Ricky interrupted, cutting through her passionate tirade.

Although Ricky held the title of the Black Knight, his moral compass was worlds apart from that of this isolated girl.

He refused to let Rachael's indignation dictate his perspective, knowing that their beliefs and values diverged significantly.

As long as he and Verdelet maintained a mutual understanding and respect for each other, Ricky felt no need to harbor any ill will.

After all, Verdelet hadn't encroached on his territory or posed a threat to him personally, yet.

For Ricky, that was all that mattered in their complicated dance of alliances and enmities.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I also want to thank you for the diaries. They have been detrimental to my research but before I could voice them in full, that Van Helsing interrupted me," Verdelet remarked, casting a sidelong glance at Rachael, who bristled at the mention of her family's infamous legacy. Ricky nodded in agreement, intrigued.

"No problem-wait, how could you tell she's a Van Helsing?" Ricky asked, genuinely curious if he already knew Rachael.

"They all smell like wet dogs to me." Verdelet replied with a nonchalant shrug, causing Ricky to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Hey, Verdelet, about that deal we made three years ago, is it still valid?" Ricky asked, casually leaning against a nearby counter.

Rachael's head snapped in his direction, her expression a mix of shock and concern, while the ancient vampire nodded slightly.

"Of course the deal still stands. I will provide you with my hordes to fight Dracula-"

"No, I won't stand for this at all!" Rachael interjected, her voice firm and resolute.

She planted her foot down as if to physically ground her ancestors' legacy, knowing full well that this decision went against everything they had fought against.

The weight of her family's history hung heavy in the air, and she couldn't let it be tarnished by an alliance with someone like Verdelet.

"Then sit." Ricky dismissed her with a casual wave of his hand, his indifference palpable.

Ricky was completely unfazed by Rachael's passionate defense of her family's legacy and everything she stood for as a Van Helsing.

To him, her heritage was merely background noise, overshadowed by the allure of power and the chance to confront a formidable adversary like Dracula for his own desires.

"Ricky, we're just swapping one mad king with a crazed ideology for another!" Rachael pointed out, the irony of the situation clear in her tone.

"So?" Ricky shrugged, unfazed by her moral outrage.

While Rachael held on to her ideals of friendship and heroism, believing she could defeat Dracula with the power of good intentions, Ricky remained undeterred.

Ricky was far from convinced that this was some heartwarming tale where everything fell into place simply because he clung to the power of friendship.

From his experience, every time he'd dared to confront a vampire, he ended up losing those who trusted him most.

He wasn't about to gamble with another life just because Rachael was uncomfortable with the choices ahead.

Her ideals felt na?ve in the face of the harsh reality they were battling, and he couldn't afford to let sentiment cloud his judgment again.

Ricky had learned one undeniable truth during his time in the Mafia: someone in power would always be replaced.

He'd much prefer that the successor held a favorable view of him rather than someone who would gladly rip out his heart.

Rachael, on the other hand, wasn't willing to relent as she loved humanity deeply, always seeing the good in it, a stark contrast to her grandfather's darker legacy.

While she idolized him in many ways, her unwavering love for humankind had her locked in a battle of ideals with Ricky.

Rachael fought for a world where compassion could triumph, even in the face of overwhelming darkness, while Ricky was pragmatic, willing to ally himself with the lesser of two evils for the sake of survival.

Verdelet regarded humans with a measured indifference, seeing them as useful pawns rather than beings worthy of admiration.

He would keep them around, primarily for their utility, but his sentiments leaned far from favorable.

Ricky, however, found himself somewhere leaning towards Verdelelt as he'd witnessed both the good and the bad that humanity had to offer, and at the end of the day, he didn't care.

Ricky had reached a pivotal moment in his life where the suffering that surrounded him, suffering he could easily change, felt futile if it didn't somehow elevate his own standing.

The pain of others no longer tugged at his conscience; instead, it became a backdrop against which he measured his own worth.

Ricky had learned that altruism often came at a cost, and in a world riddled with darkness, he was unwilling to sacrifice his own interests for the sake of others.

The harsh reality was that he could only invest in what benefited him, and as he navigated this morally ambiguous landscape, he only saw whatever benefited him.

But even so, Ricky made an effort to grasp Rachael's perspective, recognizing her passion for humanity, but he still couldn't fathom why she would hesitate to seize such a powerful army on a silver platter.

"Wasn't the whole point of your family killing Dracula to free them from purgatory? Don't you want to liberate them?" Ricky asked, genuine curiosity etched on his face as Rachael gritted her teeth but let out a weary sigh.

"Of course I want to free my family from purgatory, Ricky. But I refuse to do it in a way that compromises everything they stood for when they died." Rachael's words hung in the air, leaving Ricky even more baffled.

"What is compromising your family's values? Your whole purpose was to kill Dracula, and over the hundreds of years, they couldn't even do that!" Ricky's voice rose, fueled by frustration, startling Rachael as she had always known him to be sleazy and flippant, but never this harsh.

His words struck her like a physical blow, and for a moment, she stood frozen, processing the weight of his accusation.

"God, you're so insufferable sometimes, Rachael." Ricky let out a sarcastic laugh, feeling the breaking point of her constant nagging.

"You preach to me, to everyone, how results require sacrifices and constantly pester everyone with your ideals. Yet when everyone in the world has to make sacrifices, has to compromise, you just expect everyone to fall in line with your whining." Ricky plopped down on a chair, his posture relaxed and dismissive, as if he were completely unfazed by the storm brewing between them.

Verdelet stood at the side, watching the exchange with an amused expression while patiently waiting for them to finish their squabble.

"Oh boo hoo, my life is so hard! Because everyone I loved died, everything should go my way, boo hoo~" Ricky mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking tone as he leaned back, crossing his arms

"What have you lost-"

"So f*cking much, I've lost so many people, and yet here I am, not being a complete b*tch all the time."" Ricky said, shaking his head while leaning back in the dusty chair, the bottle in his hand serving as both comfort and fuel for his argument.

"Look, Rachael, I understand your family has this whole legacy, and they died fighting Dracula. But holding on to their ideals isn't going to change a damn thing when we have a chance to finish what they started, and you're letting it slip away because of some outdated moral code." Ricky looked over at Alexander who was actually on his side, knowing he would never take hsi side to merely humor him.

"Do you even know how this all came to be, Ricky? How this feud with Dracula truly started?" Rachael asked coldly, her arms crossed as she glared at him.

"No, I don't. But since I've got some good wine, lay it on me so I can repeat the same opinion thirty minutes from now." Ricky spread his arms wide, a stubborn grin plastered across his face, knowing that unless Dracula was literally wearing Verdelt's skin then he wasn't about to change his mind in the next half-hour.

"Ah, the Van Helsing saga." Veredelt mused, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Every iteration is a delight to hear. I do enjoy how each generation spins their version of events." Verdelet chuckled lightly, pulling up a seat next to Ricky and holding out a dusty glass that Ricky poured some into.

"It all started-"

Author's Note: I'll reply to comments probably tommorrow or the weekend cause I'm hella tired today.