Summary:
The world of gods beyond Royal woods also have their issues and opinions.
A screen dissolved into a swirl of shimmering green and stony gray. A slithering, mischievous jingle began to play.
"ARE YOU TIRED OF GRIM, MONOTONOUS MORNINGS?!" boomed a gravelly, slightly seductive voice.
On screen, a group of brave, square-jawed cartoon warriors, armed with miniature swords and shields made of toast, bravely charged across a breakfast table. Their target: a towering, animated Gorgon with spaghetti for hair and two giant, googly eyes. She let out a playful, snake-like hiss.
"DOES YOUR CEREAL LACK... STONE-COLD DELICIOUSNESS?!"
The warriors, one by one, met the Gorgon's gaze. ZAP! With a comical puff of smoke, they instantly transformed into perfectly puffed, fluffy, and utterly delicious-looking marshmallow shapes: tiny swords, shields, and even a few petrified helmets. The Gorgon scooped them up with a giant spoon, giggling.
"MYTH-O'S! THE ONLY CEREAL THAT TURNS BREAKFAST INTO A LEGEND... LITERALLY!"
A jingle, ridiculously catchy and upbeat, kicked in:
Oh, Myth-O's, the cereal so grand,
With a Gorgon who helps with a flick of her hand!
Brave warriors try, but they're turned to a treat,
Marshmallow treasures, so chewy and sweet!
Myth-O's, Myth-O's, get your bowl, GO!
Power up your mornings, with a Gorgon's stone glow!
"MYTH-O'S, MYTH-O'S, GET YOUR BOWL, GO!"
Outside, sitting on the coach, Lola and Lana were gobbling down on their morning cereal, eyes glued to the screen. Between them, a massive, family-sized box of "Myth-O's" cereal sat precariously. Their spoons, gripped like tiny shovels, furiously dug into two overflowing bowls.
As the jingle faded, a solemn news jingle took its place, the bright, cartoonish colors replaced by a more muted, professional blue and white. The giggling Gorgon vanished, replaced by the stern, concerned face of local news anchor Katherine Mulligan.
Lana swallowed a mouthful of soggy cereal. "Aw, man! News already?"
Lola sighed dramatically. "I know, right? Just when it was getting good."
On screen, Katherine Mulligan adjusted her glasses, her expression grave.
"Good morning, Royal Woods. We begin today with a look at escalating global tensions, with a full report on yesterday's alarming manifestation and subsequent riot at Royal Woods Town Hall."
The screen immediately transitioned to a chaotic montage. Shaky phone footage, clearly from multiple sources, flashed across the screen. Signs reading "GODS GO HOME!" and "MORTALS FIRST!" bobbed angrily in a crowd.
"Ugg Lana change the channel now" scoffed Lola, her spoon paused mid-air, half-drenched in a pool of milk. But before Lana could reach for the remote, a tentacle grab it away.
"Sorry girls but we need to see this" said Luan as the tentacle transformed back into her normal hand (with the control in his grip) as Lori, Lynn, Luna and Lisa entered the living room.
"The events of yesterday afternoon," Katherine's voice-over began, serious and unhurried, "have sent shockwaves through our community. What started as a protest organized by the anti-god advocacy group, Ragnarok, escalated rapidly into a volatile confrontation, raising serious questions about public safety and the line between peaceful assembly and outright chaos."
A clip played, showing a group of individuals in the crowd, some wearing distinctive Ragnarok armbands. Their chants of "No more divine interference!" and "Humans protect humans!" were clearly audible. Then, the footage became even more frantic.
"Just prior to the demonstration, a controversial video surfaced online" Katherine narrated, "allegedly leaked by arrested Ragnarok members. In this video, individuals claimed to have witnessed a young boy in the presence of inheritors, not only talking to but seemingly controlling mythological creatures."
The screen showed the video in question momentary where again the Ragnarok member in question talked about the boy controlling a Hydra.
"Ragnarok swiftly capitalized on this, making public accusations that inheritors were 'staging their fights against monsters' and painting them as the true orchestrators of recent attacks," Katherine continued, her tone implying skepticism but stating the claims as reported.
The footage shifted back to the Town Hall steps. An increasingly agitated crowd surged towards the entrance. Mayor Davis, flanked by a few police officers, appeared at the podium, pleading for calm through a crackling loudspeaker.
SMASH!
A projectile, too fast to discern, struck the mayor squarely, sending him reeling back. The crowd roared.
"The situation reached a critical point when Mayor Davis was struck by a thrown object," Katherine's voice sharpened. "But before the violence could escalate further, Jancey Yates, the renowned CEO of Yates Industries and a prominent inheritor of the Greek goddess Athena, responded with decisive action."
On screen, a majestic, golden-armored figure, undoubtedly Jancey Yates, appeared almost instantly. A shimmering, golden light burst forth, forming spectral, glowing hoplite warriors that immediately positioned themselves to shield the fallen mayor and the besieged police line.
"Witnesses describe Ms. Yates taking command of the security forces and after making sure the mayor was safe, swiftly ordered the arrest of the primary troublemakers." The footage showed chaos as officers moved in. "Alongside Stan of Mixcoatl and Fern of Nanook, who were also present in the scene"
The screen showed the Aztec reincarnation capturing protesters in misty snakes while the inheritor of Nanook, the Inuit god of polar bears, transformed. With a burst of primal energy, she grew, fur sprouting, muscles expanding, until a massive, roaring polar bear stood on the Town Hall steps. Its breath misted in the afternoon air as the temperature plummeted.
"Nanook's presence," Katherine's voice grew grim, "led to a rapid escalation. The polar bear form of Fern quickly gained control of the chaotic scene, but not without consequence. The ensuing magical outburst saw the entire manifestation frozen over, bringing the riot to an abrupt, chilling halt."
The image froze on the imposing polar bear, standing amidst a landscape now unnaturally coated in ice and frost, where the angry crowd had been just moments before.
A tense silence fell over the Loud living room, broken only by the hum of the television and the distant sounds of morning chaos from elsewhere in the house. Lola and Lana had stopped eating their Myth-O's, their small faces mirroring the grim expression of Katherine Mulligan.
Lori was the first to speak, her voice tight.
"Unbelievable. They just… froze them? That's, like, literally a PR nightmare!" She ran a hand through her blonde hair, a mixture of exasperation and genuine concern on her face. "This is exactly what the higher-ups warn us about – public perception, overstepping, collateral damage. It's so not ideal."
Lynn Jr., ever the pragmatist, scoffed, flexing a bicep.
"Who cares about PR? If the mayor was hit, they had to act. And freezing a riot? Sounds pretty effective to me. Better than letting them burn the place down. Though, I bet Fern could've handled it with less… ice." She frowned. "Still, this whole 'staging fights' thing? That's low, even for Ragnarok. Who'd even come up with something like that?" She shot a pointed look around the room, though no one met her gaze.
Luna leaned forward, her usual rock-and-roll swagger replaced by a somber thoughtfulness.
"Man, the energy coming off that footage... it's pure rage, dude. And that Nanook vibe? Heavy. It's like the world's just getting louder, ya know? More discordant. These Ragnarok cats are playing with some seriously dark frequencies if they're pushing folks to that extreme." She shook her head. "And that leaked video... a kid controlling monsters? That's a messed-up riff to be dropping on the public."
Lisa adjusted her glasses, her analytical mind already whirring.
"Statistically, the probability of a human civilian exhibiting latent mythological control is infinitesimally small, bordering on non-existent, unless... unless there's an undiscovered genetic anomaly or a highly specific, as-yet-unidentified environmental trigger. Ragnarok's claim is baseless sensationalism, designed to destabilize public trust in established inheritor protocols."
Luan who had been quietly fiddling with the remote, looked up, a rare serious expression on her face.
"It's not funny, is it? People getting so mad they forget how to be people. And 'staging fights'..." she trailed off, her shape-shifting hand twitching slightly as if mirroring the fluid chaos of the riot footage. "That's a really bad joke. No punchline."
Lori sighed again, running a hand over her eyes.
"This means more paperwork. More mandatory public relations seminars. And probably more security around the academy. Literally, can't we just have one normal weekend?"
"Normal isn't really on the menu for us, Lori," Lynn grunted, reaching for another handful of Myth-O's, oblivious to the remaining half of the segment. "Not when creeps like Ragnarok are stirring up trouble and freezing entire streets."
"And monsters are apparently evolving their tactics," Lisa added, not looking away from the screen. "A concerning development that warrants immediate investigation."
Katherine Mulligan reappeared on screen, her expression still grave.
"This incident, occurring so close to the park attack, raises serious questions about the nature of the emerging threats facing our community, and indeed, the world. Are these isolated acts of defiance, or are they coordinated elements in a larger, unseen conflict?"
The screen momentarily cut to a split display, showing Katherine Mulligan on one side and a series of brief, rapid-fire interviews with Royal Woods locals.
A man with a perpetually worried expression, clutching a coffee cup.
"I don't know what to think anymore. First the school, then the park, now the Town Hall? It's too much. Are we safe? Is anyone safe?"
A middle-aged woman, her arms crossed defiantly, looked directly into the camera.
"They call them 'protectors,' but all I see is chaos! Every time these so-called gods get involved, something else goes wrong. Ragnarok has it right – it's time we humans took charge of our own destiny. We don't need divine intervention, we need human solutions!"
A woman with a defiant look, shaking her head.
"Ragnarok says the gods are the problem, but who's throwing rocks and freezing streets? That's not protection, that's just more chaos. I still believe in our inheritors, they do their best."
A burly man with a Ragnarok armband, speaking with fervent conviction.
"The truth is, the inheritors are too busy playing their ancient games. They don't care about the common folk! Ragnarok empowers us, gives us the means to defend our families. This 'divine protection' is a myth, literally! It's humans against the monsters, and sometimes... humans against the gods who bring them here!"
A teenager, glued to his phone, shrugging.
"Dude, it's just, like, normal now, right? Divine stuff, monster attacks, protests. It's just Royal Woods. Adds to the street cred, I guess."
A frustrated shop owner, gesturing wildly at his storefront.
"My windows were broken in that 'divine intervention'! The inheritors show up, blast things, freeze things, and then they leave us to clean up the mess! Ragnarok promises order, human order. Maybe it's time we tried that for a change."
An older woman, her voice trembling.
"My grand-niece was at that protest. She says it was terrifying. These so-called 'human first' people, they're no better than the monsters, causing all that ruckus. We just want peace."
The split screen dissolved back to Katherine Mulligan, who nodded gravely, absorbing the varied sentiments.
"As you can see," she continued, her gaze direct, "our community remains deeply divided and apprehensive. And this concern is echoed across the globe. While Ragnarok branches and their followers have made their presence known in various forms almost everywhere, the intensity of their activities, and the public's response, varies significantly. Some areas have seen major escalations, while in others, their efforts have largely gone unnoticed or met with strong local resistance."
"We now go live to our international correspondents for reports on similar incidents and the growing influence of the anti-god movement, Ragnarok."
The map of the world appeared, highlighting Mexico. A live feed from a bustling, colorful street market in a Mexican city filled the screen. The sun shone brightly, mariachi music played faintly in the background, and people went about their daily lives with a vibrancy that seemed almost oblivious to the global unrest. A reporter stood in the foreground, holding a microphone.
"Good morning from Mexico," the correspondent began, her voice calm and measured. "Here, the presence of Ragnarok is notably subdued compared to other regions. While there have been sporadic reports of their literature appearing in urban centers, and a few minor, low-attendance protests, they haven't gained significant traction."
The camera panned across a small, almost empty plaza where a handful of individuals held Ragnarok signs, easily dwarfed by the bustling market activity around them. A local woman, selling vibrant textiles, eyed them with mild amusement before turning back to her wares.
"Mexican communities, deeply rooted in their own rich indigenous mythologies and a strong sense of community solidarity, tend to be more resilient to anti-divine rhetoric," the reporter explained. "While monster sightings are a fact of life, often attributed to disruptions in natural balance rather than divine neglect, the public largely holds a respectful, if wary, relationship with their native inheritors, who are often seen as integral parts of their cultural heritage and protectors of sacred lands."
"Local inheritors here, focus on maintaining harmony between the mortal and spiritual realms. They are typically well-integrated into their communities, addressing local mythical disturbances with traditional wisdom alongside their powers. Therefore, Ragnarok's message of 'gods as oppressors' struggles to find fertile ground. The recent global incidents have led to increased vigilance, but no significant rise in anti-god sentiment or large-scale monster attacks here."
The screen returned to Katherine Mulligan, who offered a brief nod of acknowledgment.
"And now, a deeper look into the inheritor community in Mexico," she announced. "Our correspondent recently sat down with Principal Chata Calavera, a respected elder within the divine community and the esteemed head of the University of Monte Macabro, also known as the reincarnation of Chalchiuhtlicue, the Aztec goddess of lakes and rivers."
The screen then shifted to a serene, sun-dappled courtyard. Principal Calavera sat on a carved stone bench, her posture regal despite her advanced age. She was an old woman, with striking silver hair pulled back into a neat braid, intricately woven with colorful ribbons that shimmered faintly, almost like the iridescent scales of a fish. Her eyes, sharp and wise, held a gentle, knowing smile. She wore a simple, yet elegant, embroidered tunic in deep blues and greens, reminiscent of flowing water, with subtle patterns that hinted at ancient glyphs. A delicate, jade-colored necklace rested at her throat. Behind her, students in academic robes (some with subtle, glowing symbols or faint ethereal auras) could be seen walking between traditional-looking buildings, their architecture blending ancient Mesoamerican designs with modern sensibilities.
The correspondent's voice was respectful.
"Principal Calavera, thank you for speaking with us. In light of global events, particularly the rise of groups like Ragnarok, what is your assessment of the current mythological climate here in Mexico?"
Chata Calavera chuckled softly, a sound like gentle flowing water.
"Ah, mija, the world is always in flux, like a river seeking its path. Here, in our lands, the people have a long memory. They remember the gods not as distant rulers, but as part of the earth, the sky, the very water they drink." She gestured around the peaceful courtyard. "Our bond with the divine is ancient, woven into our festivals, our traditions. We do not fear what is part of us."
"So, Ragnarok's message doesn't resonate here?" the correspondent pressed.
"Not truly, no," Principal Calavera affirmed, her gaze steady. "They speak of division, of human against god. But here, we teach of balance, of respect for all spirits, visible and invisible. When a spirit is out of sorts, or a nahual causes mischief, our communities, with the help of our inheritors, seek harmony, not eradication. Our young ones, they learn their duties, yes, but also their roots. They serve their people, not rule over them."
"And the reports of increased monster activity globally? Do you see a threat brewing here?"
A thoughtful hum escaped the old Inheritor.
"The great waters of the world are connected, mija. What troubles one part can send ripples through another. We are vigilant. Our inheritors work closely with local shamans and elders. We observe the signs. The balance is delicate, always. But we face it as we always have: together, with wisdom, and with the strength of our ancestors." Her eyes twinkled. "And perhaps a little extra incense for the troublesome spirits."
She offered a warm, serene smile as the interview concluded.
The screen returned to Katherine, who paused, a thoughtful expression on her face, before moving on to the next international report.
"A truly unique perspective from Mexico, emphasizing cultural integration over conflict. Now, let's turn our attention to Athens, Greece, where the global tensions between mortals and inheritors have taken a decidedly more volatile turn."
The serene image of the Mexican courtyard dissolved abruptly, replaced by a jarring, fast-paced montage of a city in unrest. The iconic backdrop of the Acropolis seemed to loom ominously over streets choked with smoke and littered with debris. Loud, angry chanting filled the air, replacing the soft mariachi music.
"Our correspondent in Athens reports on a night of escalating clashes," Katherine's voice became sharper, more urgent. "In the very heart of ancient Greek civilization, the anti-god movement, Ragnarok, has established a powerful and deeply rooted presence, fueled by generations of complex relationships with the Olympian inheritors."
The footage now showed protestors, many with faces obscured by scarves or masks, clashing directly with riot police outside what was clearly the Temple of Athena. makeshift barricades were on fire, sending plumes of black smoke into the pre-dawn sky.
"What began as a demonstration outside the venerable Temple of Athena yesterday evening," the Greek correspondent's voice-over began, strained and hurried, "quickly devolved into a full-scale riot. Demonstrators, accusing the Greek inheritors of hoarding divine resources and failing to prevent the recent surge of harpies nesting in the city's ancient ruins, became increasingly aggressive."
A clip showed individuals throwing rocks and what appeared to be crude, magically charged projectiles – flashes of minor elemental energy, small bursts of fire, or crackling arcs of static electricity. These struck the ancient stone walls, leaving scorch marks and small craters. Riot police responded with tear gas and stun grenades, but the protestors, seemingly organized and determined, pressed their advantage.
"Eyewitnesses describe a pitched battle lasting for hours," the correspondent continued, the sounds of distant sirens and shouting providing a chaotic soundtrack. "Ragnarok leadership in Athens has repeatedly claimed that Greek inheritors prioritize their internal divine squabbles over the protection of mortals, a sentiment that clearly resonates with a frustrated populace struggling with increasing mythological incursions."
The screen then showed a grim-faced hospital official addressing reporters.
"Beyond the protests, the Athens Ragnarok branch has also been actively engaged in so-called 'mortal-led monster hunts.' While this 'self-reliance' approach may appeal to some, the reality is far more dangerous here in Greece."
The footage cut to a scene outside a local hospital, showing stretchers being wheeled into an emergency room, some covered.
"Unlike the relatively contained incidents seen in places like Royal Woods, the monster population in Greece includes far more dangerous and formidable creatures," the correspondent explained. "Reports indicate a significantly higher number of wounded and even fatalities among Ragnarok's 'hunters' due to encounters with creatures such as Minotaurs, Chimeras, Harpies, and Cyclops all commonly found in this region." a pause "a pause "the last one having a pike of activity not being seen in decades" she added "This aggressive, untrained engagement with such powerful mythological beasts has led to tragic consequences, further straining local emergency services."
(Royal woods)
The scene dissolved from the news studio to the elegant, tastefully decorated dining room of the Yates family home in Royal Woods. Sunlight poured through large, arched windows, illuminating a breakfast table laden with various healthy and artisanal dishes. The air was filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the low murmur of the morning news playing from a sleek, wall-mounted television.
Jancey Yates, the reincarnation of Athena, sat at the head of the table, impeccably dressed even at breakfast. Her sharp, intelligent eyes, usually reserved for boardrooms, were fixed on the screen, a slight frown marring her otherwise serene features. She calmly sipped from a delicate teacup, but her knuckles were a shade whiter than usual.
Beside her sat her older daughter, Beatrix, already dressed in athletic wear, a half-eaten bowl of steel-cut oats before her. She watched the Greek report with a focused intensity, a slight flicker of something unreadable in her eyes as the images of the Athens riot and the grim hospital footage flashed by.
Across from them, Bumper Jr. picked at his gluten-free waffle, his expression a familiar mix of sullenness and disdain. He glanced at the TV, then at his mother and sister, a smirk playing on his lips. "Casualties, huh? Sounds like Ragnarok's making progress. Mortals actually doing something instead of waiting for a god to drop in and fix it."
Jancey's teacup clinked softly as she set it down. Her voice, though calm, held an undeniable edge. "Bumper. That 'something' includes inciting riots and getting innocent people killed. This isn't progress, it's anarchy. And those are humans dying, caught in foolish, ill-equipped engagements with creatures they cannot possibly comprehend."
"Maybe if the gods actually protected them, they wouldn't have to," Bumper Jr. retorted, pushing his plate away. "Don't act like it's a surprise, Mom. People are fed up with divine absentee landlords."
"Bumper, that's enough," Beatrix interjected, her voice firm, eyes still on the screen. "You know that's not how it works. Inheritors are stretched thin. And those Greek creatures are not like the ones we encounter in Royal Woods. Hunting a Minotaur without proper training is suicide."
"Oh, so it's only okay if you risk your necks, right, Bea?" Bumper Jr. shot back, pushing himself away from the table. "Look, I get it, 'divine duty,' 'sacred balance,' whatever. But the public's on Ragnarok's side because they're offering action, not excuses. They're making a point."
"The point they're making is that they're dangerous extremists," Jancey said, her voice chillingly calm now. "And a leaked video suggesting a mortal can 'control' monsters? That is irresponsible, inflammatory, and profoundly dangerous. It plays directly into the very fears that Ragnarok so expertly exploits." She looked sharply at the screen, as if trying to discern the blurred image of the alleged video. "It's a manufactured narrative designed to undermine our credibility."
Belle, sitting quietly, pushed her untouched bowl of fruit away. Her expression was drawn, a hint of weariness in her young eyes as she stared at the TV.
From the head of the table, Mr. Yates noticed this and reached across and gently squeezed Belle's hand, offering a reassuring, if slightly strained, smile.
"Speaking of which" Bumper continued "the ones you arrested at the Town Hall yesterday. Are they still at the Royal Woods precinct, or did you already ship them off to some super-secret inheritor black site?"
"Why the precinct of course.." Jancey said keeping her smile with a laugh, "though i'm not sure I like what you're implying young man." but than added with a slight warning look.
"Hey im not suggesting anything" said the older male sibling "you guys have a place to put those inheritors you dont like so many think you have something like that but for humans"
Jancey smile became a bit more strained.
"Don't be silly Bumper, humans are handled by the mortal authorities."
"Oh good" Bumper called back in sarcasm standing up to leave "here I was hearing some silly rumors of people being freeze to death or hunt down by Inheritors"
"That is not what happen.." Jancey giving a stern look, "and I'd thank you not to help spread rumors started by those extremists."
Bumper Jr. shrugged, his smirk never leaving his face.
"Just saying what people talk about, Mom."
And with that he left making Jancey sigh in frustration
"Ugg that kid, what im going to do with him?" the new Athena murmured to herself.
"I'm sure he didn't mean any harm dear.." Mr. Yates said reassuringly to his wife, "he's...just a little stress is all." He said with a strain smile.
The Yates matriarch didnt look amused.
"We all are under some stress," Beatrix offered, her gaze flicking from the TV to her mother. "This is certainly getting out control" she added her mind worrying about Lincoln as she was sure that video was talking about him.
"Yes that video.." Jancey frown, "I for one would like to know where this nonsense of inheritors controlling monsters came from."
"Maybe misread about how certain monsters can actually be classify as mega-fauna?" Beau suggested "I have read that Poseidon was able to command all sort of sea creatures which also include creatures like sea serpents and similar beasts"
"Hmm perhaps....but a hydra.." Jancey shook her head in disbelief, "that's certainly not a creature an inheritor can control like Ragnarok claims."
"It's all about control," Mr. Yates offered thoughtfully, stroking his chin, "and fear. If people believe that we're orchestrating these events, it gives Ragnarok the power to claim they're fighting for humanity's freedom."
"And you have to admit some Inheritors like those two are not making you any favors" Belle called pointing at the images of Stank and Ferm.
"They're brutes but they have the right attitude in keeping miscreants in line." Her mother however just huffed at that point, "inheritors can not afford to be seen as weak or lenient to those that threaten our way of life like Ragnarok." she fulminated Belle with her eyes.
The girl flinched.
"I..im sorry, Im just saying one thing is act weak and well..another is put a dozen people in ice like..well..that"
However Jancey merely snorted as she rose from her seat.
"if people would remember to stay in their proper place such methods wouldn't be needed."
And with that she left the dining room.
Her words hung in the air as Belle looked down at her plate, feeling like she had said too much. The room felt suddenly cold and heavy with unspoken accusations. She knew her mother didn't mean it personally, but it stung nonetheless.
Mr. Yates reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, sweetie. Your mother is just..." He searched for the right words. "Concerned, that's all."
But Belle knew it was more than that. She had seen the way Jancey's eyes had narrowed at her words, the way the room had gone silent and cold. It was a look she had seen before, a look that told her she had crossed an invisible line, that she had questioned something she wasn't meant to.
"Excuse me..." she quickly stood up, her chair scraping against the marble floor as she quickly left before her dad or sister could stop her.
The scene changed to an open training ground, possibly overlooking ancient ruins. Figures in training gear were visible in the background, practicing combat drills with an almost brutal efficiency.
"Our correspondent now brings us to Olympia, Greece, and the New Olympus Academy," Katherine Mulligan's voice continued, a new gravitas in her tone. "We have an exclusive interview with its formidable Principal, Lance Loud, the widely acknowledged reincarnation of Ares, the Greek God of War."
The correspondent, a stern-faced man, stood beside a powerfully built man. He had a broad, athletic build, clearly accustomed to physical training, evident even in the simple blue tracksuit with white stripes that he wore. His short, dark hair was neatly combed, framing a face that, while stern, often held a surprisingly calm and approachable expression. His eyes, however, were keen and perceptive, missing nothing. He clutched a heavy, unadorned spear, resting its base on the ground beside him, but his grip was relaxed.
"Principal Loud," the correspondent began, his voice strained to be heard over the distant sounds of precise drills and the occasional clang of equipment from the training ground. "Thank you for speaking with us. The recent riot in Athens, and the increasing casualties from Ragnarok's 'monster hunts,' have deeply shaken the public. What is your assessment of the situation?"
Lance Loud nodded calmly, his gaze steady and direct, without a hint of aggression.
"It's a regrettable situation, of course," he began, his voice a deep, even rumble that was surprisingly friendly, almost conversational, despite the gravity of his words. "People are afraid, and fear, unchecked, can lead to desperate and irrational actions. Ragnarok preys on that fear, offering a dangerous illusion of control." He gestured mildly towards the training grounds. "Here, we try to offer actual solutions."
"Actual solutions?" the correspondent prompted.
"Yes. Readiness," Lance replied, his tone becoming more firm, but still devoid of anger. "These misguided individuals, believing they can 'hunt' Chimeras and Minotaurs with crude weapons and no training... it's a tragedy waiting to happen, and unfortunately, it's happening. They're not fighting a video game. These creatures are real, and they are deadly. Our responsibility is to understand that, and prepare appropriately."
"So, you believe Ragnarok is deliberately escalating these conflicts, then?" the correspondent pressed.
Lance's friendly demeanor didn't waver, but his eyes sharpened, a steel entering their depths.
"They are creating volatile situations. Whether that's intentional escalation or simply a profound misunderstanding of the forces they're dabbling with, the outcome is the same: chaos, injury, and death for mortals. Our purpose here is to prevent that. We teach our students to anticipate, to react, to be strong. To handle threats that others cannot."
"And what about the accusations, Principal, that inheritors are 'staging' monster attacks, or are 'absentee landlords,' as some put it?"
A faint, almost sad smile touched Lance's lips.
"That's a narrative born of ignorance, I'm afraid. We don't 'stage' anything. Our lives are dedicated to the arduous, often thankless, task of maintaining a delicate balance. And we are very much 'present.' Every single one of us. We simply choose to focus on the work, not the grandstanding." He tightened his grip on the spear, not in anger, but in a clear demonstration of his conviction. "The only true path to stability is disciplined strength. And that is what we instill here. The prepared always fare better in any conflict." He looked away from the correspondent, his gaze sweeping over his training students with a quiet, paternal pride. "This is a serious job. And we take it seriously. It's about ensuring humanity's survival in a world that's becoming increasingly unpredictable."
The correspondent, though still slightly awed by Lance's presence, wrapped up the interview with a respectful nod.
(Royal woods)
Lincoln, Jordan, and Haiku were now just a block from school, their pace a little slower, the weight of the news settling over them. Lincoln still held his phone, the screen now displaying a static news channel logo, but he wasn't looking at it. His gaze was distant, thoughtful.
"Wow," Jordan finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was tinged with a respect she hadn't shown for Chandler. "Your uncle... he's really something, Linc. Like, he's totally calm, but also, like, super intense. It's kinda... scary, almost." She shivered despite the mild morning air. "He wasn't yelling or anything, but I still felt like I needed to run laps."
Haiku nodded slowly, her dark eyes fixed on some unseen point.
"Indeed. His calm demeanor merely serves to amplify the absolute conviction in his words. The essence of a true warrior. He speaks of battle not with a thirst for it, but as an inevitable, necessary duty. A chilling pragmatism." She looked at Lincoln. "He reminds me less of a chaotic storm, and more of an immovable mountain."
Lincoln finally looked up from the pavement, a wry, almost exasperated look on his face.
"Yeah, that's Uncle Lance. Everyone always says he's the nicest guy, always remembers your birthday, tells dumb jokes like Dad does... but then he starts talking about his 'job' and you just feel like you've been sent to the principal's office for life." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He's always been like that. So friendly, but when it comes to the academy, or anything about protecting the world, it's like a switch flips and he just... becomes Ares. No nonsense. He'd probably give Chandler detention just for breathing wrong."
"He certainly makes the concept of 'Divine Duty' sound less like a pageant and more like, well, a war," Jordan observed, a new understanding dawning on her face. Then her eyes widened slightly in realization. "Wait. So, you have an uncle who's literally Ares, the god of war... and your grandpa was Poseidon, the god of the sea... and five of your sisters are inheritors too? Dude, your family is stacked with gods!" She shook her head, a mix of awe and amusement on her face. "That's insane."
Lincoln winced slightly at the sheer cataloging of his family's divine power.
"Yeah, 'stacked' with gods," he muttered, kicking a loose pebble. The weight of his own perceived normalcy, in a family of such powerful figures, pressed down on him. His encounter with the Scorpion Man, and the way monsters reacted to him, remained a secret burden.
Haiku, sensing his internal turmoil, laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"Perhaps being 'just Lincoln' is precisely what is needed in these volatile times. A different kind of strength, perhaps, less… confrontational."
"Heh I wish I could believe that.." Lincoln said sighing but shooting Haiku a grateful smile, "but sometimes it feels that being Lincoln Loud...isn't enough." He admitted frowning, "it's enough for us.."
Jordan told him reassuringly with Haiku giving a nod.
"Indeed, even if you hadn't discovered your recent...gifts." the goth said lowering her voice while glancing carefully around not desiring to be overheard, "just being Lincoln would be enough for us...and i'm sure your family feels the same way."
The white haired boy smiled at them
"thanks... sigh..well..at least can tell my younger sisters do would feel like that" at least while they dont become Inheritors themselves "And Uncle Lance...I guess he's got a point. Maybe if we had more training like them, we could handle things better" Lincoln's voice was filled with a mix of admiration and doubt. "I mean, we dont see each other much as he got that position of principal in Greece but when he does visit, he's always up to get us some training...although dad was and still is a bit against it"
"Family issues?" Jordan asked with an arched brow prompting a snort from Lincoln.
"Lets say me feeling overshadow by my sisters is nothing compared to how dad feels about my uncle and grandpa."
He paused wondering if this was some sort of family curse of being a "normal" sibling in his family.
"Your grandpa is an Inheritor too?" asked Haiku.
"he told us about he being a Poseidon" said Jordan with a bit of superiority in her tone.
"That was my mom´s dad" said Lincoln "My dad´s dad also is an inheritor" he furrowed his brows, "although for some reason cant remember which god he is reincarnation of" he hummed, why couldnt he remember? "Anyways apparently they had a...falling out a long time ago and it havent be quite fixed yet"
"How bad?" Haiku asked with a concerned frown.
"yeah we talking just regular family tension bad or...well yates kinda bad." Jordan said with a wince prompting a confused blink, "What's wrong with the Yates?"
Lincoln asked with an arched brow.
"You haven't been paying attention to the rumor mill lately have you?" Jordan asked with a dry look as Haiku frowned.
"You man the rumors about Bumper Yates hanging out with Ragnarok sympathizers at school, or venting frustration about his mother to anyone who might listen?" Haiku asked with Jordan giving a nod.
"Yeah and honestly that woman unnerves me.." she said giving a brief shiver saw once at a school event and couldn't help but think she was looking at people like they were dirt beneath her shoes."
"really?" asked Lincoln confused and surprised "thats weird, dont think Beatrix have ever mention her family having problems"
At that Jordan gave a snort.
"One not many people are eager to share family issues with others." The girl said holding up a finger with Haiku speaking up after her.
"And two as the inheritor child in the family she might be unaware.." Haiku added with a frown..
"Could be," Lincoln murmured, his thoughts racing. "I mean, she's pretty focused on her studies and be a good goddess of victory. Plus, she's got a mom like that, so..." He trailed off, nothing against Mrs Yates, but even he could tell sometimes she could quite...pushy about duty and had a quite high standard not only for her kids but also anyone close to them.
"But the Yates aside...things on dad's side of the family are tense.." he admitted with a wince, "he let uncle Lance and grandpa be part of our lives...but anytime saw them he all but avoided them as much as possible...or usual ended up arguing with uncle Lance."
"Ah," Haiku nodded sagely, "So it's more of a generational conflict than a sibling rivalry?"
"Think my dad also felt a bit...shadowed by my uncle" said Lincoln "But think things got even more tense after my uncle got the principal position after he fought and lead the inheritor forces in Greece during the Monster Wave"
"envious of success or feeling his brothers shadow?" Haiku asked.
"Maybe," Lincoln shrugged, "but I think it's more than that. Uncle Lance is... well, he's pretty intense about the whole inheritor gig. you know? And Dad's always been the one to keep it real, keep us grounded." he explained "one of their worst fights was actually a couple of years ago when Uncle Lance tried to take us to a training trip in the woods just before the winter festivals..."
"that doesnt sound bad" said Jordan.
"..to an area that was reported to have a high concentration of Wendigos," Lincoln continued, his voice taking on a tone of incredulity. "He wanted us to 'connect with our inner warrior spirits' or something like that." He chuckled, though there was a hint of tension underlying his humor. "But dad was like, 'Are you out of your mind? They're kids, not Spartan soldiers!' And it ended with a shouting match and Uncle Lance storming off."
"ouch....that ..had to be awkward." Jordan said with a wince.
"I wouldnt mind get closer to a Wendigo" said Haiku with a thoughtful expression, "the highest dark manifestation of cannibalism and madness. It's not something you encounter everyday unless you live in a very specific region of the world."
"Right..." Jordan shot Haiku a slight wary look, "Honestly got to side with your dad I mean I wouldn't want my kids near a wendigo if I was in his position." Jordan added.
Lincoln nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Yeah... yeah, good point. Definitely something to remember for the future." He then paused, his eyes widening slightly as he processed his own words, glancing quickly between Jordan and Haiku. "I mean, uh, not my kids, just, you know, kids in general. Future kids. Not... not our future kids. Just, like, hypothetical future kids. If, you know, if I ever... had kids. Which, uh, isn't something I'm thinking about. Not with... anyone. Just, you know, generally." He trailed off, his face flushing crimson.
Haiku and Jordan however, while giving small flushed looks, just traded glances before breaking into giggles. Lincoln at first looked mortified, but seeing their amusement, he couldn't help but let out an embarrassed chuckle, before joining in on the laughter, the tension from the news momentarily dissipating in the shared, awkward humor.