~Part 4-2~       Somewhere, actually not too far away from Lina and the gang, a gloomy castle loomed, or would have, if it had something to loom over. It was all by itself among a dense forest outside an old town famous for being the origin of many great warriors... "David of a Place Nobody Knows About Called Victoria", "Squick, the Mighty Psychotic Pet Gerbil", "Zenki", and other such well known warriors/hunters... But the town/city was down on its luck, quicky eroding since its hay day of fantastic celebrations and over-done congratulation parties for returning residents... when people from afar came simply to catch a glimpse of someone who might have purged to immediate country side of rabid pigs.
    Now gold was down, silver was down, everything was down and the town had come to a screeching halt. So much so, that the once new-looking structures began to crumble with the amazing stop in momentum.
    The castle, which had been secretly erected by some dead governor from some year past stood silently and relatively unnoticed from its slightly elevated view above this legendary town that was never, ever to be mentioned or thought of in a foreign country again.
    Inside this fort, a priest was absent while a younger brother, who knew himself to be Fuolin, crept not exactly silently in a suspicious manner to a secluded corner in none other than the wine cellar. He ignored the torches that magically called to him, "Take me with you..." and quickly slipped down the moldy stairs to his death, if not for the deteriorating wooden railing that he conveniently latched onto before his head met the bottom stone.
    "I will never leave the light back there again!" he wrote into the slate of his brain before a gentle, but brief breeze passed through the darkness, signaling his companion's presence, "Sorry, 'bout that, Vagyris-san... didn't see it co--"
    "Are you trying to wake the mummies down here?" the unseen voice coughed lightly in disgust of the young boy before him, also unseen in the black of the dungeon.
    "I apologize again, but if I had brought a li--"
    "No!" Vagyris sharply, but effectively cut Fuolin off without raising his volume, "You know I must not be seen yet."
    Fuolin shifted, finally using the splintered and rotting rail to bring himself back to his feet, only to stare into the blackness before him. The light from above, where the cellar's entrance was, filtered through a makeshift and, like the railing, also rotting excuse for a door.
    "Your brother is dangerous to my plan, Fuolin," the man was heard as he turned to pace, his loose robes rustling with the motion, accompanied with the faint sound of chimes," A cap must be placed on him."
    Fuolin shook his head, not that body language was a widely used tongue in pitch black dungeons, "That was part of the deal! You said my brother and I wouldn't be hurt!"
    "Yes, in exchange for your services. I usually have no need for minions as I have always done my own tasks... even as a servant myself..." Vagyris' volume decreased momentarily, then struck up again, "Immerak is a loose cannon and may screw everything! You understand that, don't you?"
    "I ... do..."
    A faint scratching halted their secret meeting. A light flickered just beyond the outside of the cellar door. The scratching became louder, then stopped abruptly, "Fuolin!?"
    The boy felt for the wall to his right, only to knock his arm against a rack of ancient ale, "uh oh..." he whispered in a tiny voice.
    The door crashed open and footsteps descended the stone stairs, cautiously, bringing a light spell along, " Fuolin! What the hell're you doing sown here? Gettin' drunk without invitin' me!?"
    "Um, not exactly..." Fuolin truthfully answered his older brother as the light suddenly blinded him when he turned around.
    A rustle of fabric and the sound of chimes rose Immerak's red eyes, past Fuolin's head and into the shadows beyond two empty racks and a huge keg of some unknown impairment factor.
    Smirking, Immerak stood at the bottom level, one hand on hip, the other wielding a light spell, posed beside Fuolin, "I smell a Mazoku."
    Vagyris emerged in a black cape which did nothing to conceal his whitish-silver dragon wings. As he stepped forward into the light, he drew a breath, allowing his cape fastener to chime once more when he stopped, "I'm so glad you noticed," he said with a smile, but lacking emotion in his voice.
    "What kind of deal are you making in a dark cellar?" Immerak didn't take his eyes off the man with two slim horns protruding from somewhere below his blue hair.
    "A deal that can make or break this world," the demon replied, maintaining strict eye contact with Immerak.
    "Please understand," Fuolin looked at his brother, "We could go home! We don't need to do what this weakling priest orders us to... just to get enough money to get by here..."
    Immerak broke sight with the Mazoku and looked instead at the seriousness in his brother's face.
    "Vagyris... he's been there!"
    Immerak closed his eyes... perhaps reliving a breath of a distant and lost memory, "No. It's impossible. We can never go back. The doorways are forever sealed!" he said in defiance, "I won't allow this deal! Especially with a Mazoku! None of them can be trusted!"
    Giving a single nod, Vagyris flexed his wings as far as he could in the tiny encampment, "Oh, but much more than your average mazoku, but if that's your decision... even though I know you want more," he gave a knowing glance at Fuolin, who reacted with a frightened jump, "Perhaps I will see you again, perhaps I will not." He folded his wings and turned his back to the brothers, teleporting in a plain and simple way, blinking out of existence and blinking into compressed space.
    The limbo of in-between, compressed space between a starting point and the traveler's destination. From here, you could go anywhere in the world; travel thousands of miles in seconds, or simply two feet in less than that. Of course, it is a simple matter to enter this place, but not quite so easy to leave. One had to know exactly where they were going, or else be locked in here, without substance, for the rest of eternity. It was also the matter of opening a rift, or a door back into the real world, which requires a certain level of power and skill.
    You can also spend days and years in a conscious suspended animation in compressed space and emerge only moments after you left, or even centuries later, but never in the past. It didn't work that way.
    Inside, floating in his mind, Vagyris considered where he needed to go. He had to find those girls, the two chosen to herald the second dawn of Kage... and himself. Then an alternate presence interrupted his thoughts. Both beings slowed their 'speed' and turned to face one another.
    "I haven't seen you in these parts for a VERY long time!" the other said in a curious tone.
    Vagyris shrugged, not wanting to explain or engage the stranger, "You are a Mazoku, then? The one that is the minion of Xelas Metallium?"
    The other man smiled, but was inwardly surprised that the dragon-man seemed to know who he was, although the feeling suddenly became mutual, "Ah, you know of me!" he took a strategic pause, "Is there a particular reason you're up and about today?"
    Vagyris revealed a black, gloved hand briefly, as he tossed a rectangular object at the other Mazoku, that stopped to face him in limbo space to display something that peaked his interest, "I believe you will find this little puzzle amusing, ne?" Vagyris said and ripped a hole leading back to existence, instantly vanishing without any special effects where a tiny flash of light would do.
    Xelloss took the card, glancing at its display once more before pocketing it into a brown bag he always carried with him. He positively LOVED puzzles, and this one was certainly in his interests to investigate. After all, watching Lina Inverse was one of his jobs. The Mazoku priest had a vague idea of who he had just encountered, but it took him a moment to realize he was real, right there with him inside compressed space. It was always spoken in dark corners by the other Mazoku as a legend. It began when the world was first created by the Goddess of Chaos, the Lord of Nightmares, dating around the time when the hierarchy of the Mazoku was still in the early stages of formation. He never researched it much, but he believed he'd have some time to ask around later. At the moment, he had a sneaky feeling that this was going to be interesting.