Crossover: Monthly Character Templates in the Multiverse Chat Group — Chapter 67

Chapter 67: A Lion Hidden in the Eyes

Vina stared. The entity standing across from her wore her face. The makeup, the cut of her clothes, the exact cadence of her breathing—it was a flawless mirror image. Had she not just watched the creature morph into her likeness, she would have assumed she was looking into a pane of glass.

“How is this possible?” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

“Shapeshifter.” Gawain bared his fangs, a low, rumbling growl vibrating in his massive chest. “You have no intention of using Vina at all.”

The Beast Lord had initially assumed this Sarkaz Demon King was like every other ambitious tyrant—planning to prop Vina up as a puppet to control Victoria. In that scenario, Vina would at least survive. But with a Shapeshifter capable of perfectly mimicking her, the real Vina was entirely dispensable. A dead Vina, in fact, left zero room for error.

The Shapeshifter was an ancient horror among the Sarkaz, an entity that could flawlessly simulate memories, thoughts, and flesh. If Gawain had not lived for centuries, he would not have even known such a creature existed. Hunting a hidden Shapeshifter was as impossible as tracking down a Beast Lord who wished to remain unseen.

“Not quite. If she willingly assists us, the Shapeshifter has no need to take her form. If she refuses, well… then we let the Shapeshifter take her place.” Frez’s voice was calm, almost conversational, yet the threat hung heavy in the air. “I actually prefer to solve problems without unnecessary bloodshed, Princess Vina.”

“What do you want?” Vina’s knuckles turned white around the haft of her mace.

“Vina, do not be rash!” Gawain roared, stepping between them. “He is a monster. Even your ancestor was no match for him. I promised Sargus I would watch over his bloodline. You must run!”

The old lion’s mind flashed back to a sunlit afternoon centuries ago, meeting the young Lugalszargus. That ambitious Feline had declared he would become a great king, forge an empire, and command Gawain’s loyalty. Gawain and Lancelot had found the boy amusing enough to follow, a brief diversion in their endless lives.

But that boy grew into a conqueror. He forged the world-shaking Immortal Army, became the King of Kings, the greatest ruler Sargon had ever known. Even the enigmatic Kal’tsit had stood by his side as an advisor. Gawain had watched Lugalszargus and the Scourge of the Earth admire each other, agreeing to a great battle that shattered stargates and drove alien spirits from Terra. He had made a vow to that king to protect his descendants.

He had watched over generations of the Aslan royal line, following one branch to Victoria, watching them defeat the Red Dragon and claim the throne. But time ruined everything. Alistair II was arrogant, rushing blindly toward his own destruction. The Aslan royal family crumbled just as the Dracos had before them, leaving only Vina. His student. The cub he had watched grow up.

Gawain roared again. Despite knowing the vast canyon of power between them, the massive lion lunged. Yellow sand kicked up into the air, his fangs and claws blurring into a lethal strike.

Frez did not even blink. He raised a single hand. An invisible, impossible force slammed down, pinning the colossal Beast Lord to the earth.

“I said,” Frez continued, his tone entirely unchanged, “as long as she cooperates and everything proceeds normally, she will become the Emperor of Victoria.”

“I don’t want to be Emperor! No one can force me onto that throne!” Vina shouted, her voice cracking with defiance.

Frez shook his head slowly. “It is not about what you want. I have other options. There are three Dracos scattered out there, but you happen to be the second easiest to control.”

The easiest was Loughshinny. Talulah had been warped by Kashchey into a binary thinker—sometimes manipulable, sometimes a wild card. Eblana was brilliant and beautiful, but a true, venomous evil dragon.

“I agree to your terms.” Gawain’s heavy voice scraped against the dirt. “But you must guarantee Vina’s safety.”

“Gawain!” Vina stared at her guardian, completely betrayed.

“Vina, this is a destiny you cannot outrun,” the lion said, struggling under the invisible weight.

“But Victoria…”

“Do we have a choice?”

Gawain could escape if he truly wanted to. A Beast Lord could die and simply revive after a cooldown. Few places in the world could hold him. But Vina was mortal. The Aslan were only separated from the ordinary Felines because Lugalszargus had elevated them through sheer strength and nobility. In the ancient era, they would have been nothing but roadside prey. Lugalszargus was a singular legend; not every Aslan inherited his invincibility.

“Vina, you only have a chance if you survive. You can only rise if you are breathing.”

“I refuse to be a puppet! A tool for someone else’s war!”

“What is the difference?” Frez released the pressure and casually took a seat on Gawain’s massive, furry back. The lion grunted but did not move. “Playing gang leader in the slums is fine, but you are in Londinium. If I were you, I would have had Gawain carry me out of this country years ago. Back to Sargon, anywhere but here. Countless factions are watching Londinium. You do not actually believe your little street gang is keeping you safe, do you?”

Gawain sighed, a heavy, rumbling sound. “He is right, Vina. You are too young. You know how to hide in the alleys and markets, but you have not learned how to survive in a true jungle. You are full of blind spots.”

The Duke’s spies had been circling Vina for months. Gawain and his allies had barely managed to obscure her tracks, but the game of make-believe was ending. This Demon King, dangerous as he was, might be the exact catalyst she needed to grow.

Frez smiled. “Miss Vina, as long as you help me, I can bring the people of Victoria a better life. Just as I promised the Sarkaz.”

“What is wrong with Victoria right now?!” Vina snapped.

“What is wrong?” Frez’s voice lost its casual warmth, dropping into a sharp, biting register. “An ordinary factory worker labors for over ten hours a day just to keep a family of three from starving. They have zero savings, live on scraps, and face daily exploitation from the nobility. Are you telling me that is acceptable? Do you expect those starving workers to puff out their chests and feel full just by thinking about Victoria’s grand honor?”

Vina flinched.

“If this country was so beautiful, your father would not have been hanged over the Second Economic Act. The Steam Knights would not be universally despised. The statues of your ancestors would not be covered in protest graffiti, the Dukes would not be plotting treason, and you would still be sitting in a velvet chair in the Palace—not scraping by as a street thug.” Frez snorted, crushing her naive illusions to dust. “Victoria has never been beautiful. You only think it is because you have never seen anything better. Almost nowhere on Terra is tolerable. That is exactly why I am going to tear it down and fix it.”

Gawain flicked an ear, genuinely surprised. This terrifying Demon King was an idealist. He actually wanted to heal this rotting land.

“Vina. Go with him.”

Vina stared at her teacher. The thought of following this monster into the very destiny she had spent years running from made her stomach twist. “I don’t care what you say. The gap between us cannot be that absolute.”

Gawain lifted a massive paw and dragged it down his face. His golden eyes looked so utterly exhausted it was as if an older, sadder lion had possessed him.

Vina charged. She swung her mace with all her strength, aiming for Frez’s head.

A casual backhand swatted her away. The impact sent her skidding across the dirt, her weapon clattering uselessly away.

“I told you, you are no match for him,” Gawain said flatly. “A hunter never challenges prey that eclipses them, because at that exact moment, the hunter becomes the prey.”

Vina pushed herself up, dirt clinging to her face, refusing to yield. Gawain lumbered over to her. “Enough, Vina. It is fine if you reject the throne, but do you truly not care about Victoria?”

If she refused, the Sarkaz would simply invade. Vina looked away. Given the choice between the royal court and the Glasgow Gang, she would choose her gang every time. The freedom of the streets was the only peace she knew.

“You are a stubborn cub. Your grandfather and your idiot father were exactly the same,” Gawain grumbled. “But the world will not tolerate your stubbornness forever. Demon King, I will trust you to use Vina’s identity. I ask only that you do not break her.”

“Naturally. Since she is cooperating, she is an honored guest of Kazdel.” Frez waved a hand. The Shapeshifter’s flesh rippled, melting back into the form of the middle-aged Feline man from earlier.

“Come along, Miss Vina. The Shapeshifter will ensure your people are well taken care of.”

Vina’s shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of her. She knew exactly what Frez was doing—holding the lives of her gang hostage to ensure her obedience. She walked slowly toward him. “Do not hurt them.”

“I would not dream of it. You will be reunited with them soon enough.” Frez reached out, grabbing Vina by the arm and hoisting her off the ground.

The girl gasped, immediately thrashing against his grip. “What are you doing, you bastard? Is this some sick way to humiliate me?!” Her mind raced, wondering if this tyrant was actually going to assault her right here in the dirt.

“I am taking you to Kazdel,” Frez said dryly. “Gawain, you can run there yourself. I am not carrying a giant lion.”

With a sharp crack, Frez tore a hole in the fabric of space, stepping through the distortion with Vina in tow. The rift snapped shut, leaving the alley empty.

Gawain blinked at the empty air, then turned to the Shapeshifter. “What are your orders?”

“His Highness instructed me to take good care of the gang, and I will do exactly that.” The Shapeshifter’s features blurred once more. “I will blend in shortly.”

“Then I am off.” Gawain stretched his massive limbs. He had to make the long trek to Kazdel. Forced to relocate at his age… what an absolute tragedy. The old lion let out a long, defeated sigh and padded away into the shadows.