Marvel: Impregnation System
Chapter 208 - 195: Aftermath Part 1

Chapter 208: Chapter 195: Aftermath Part 1

"I can’t allow you to do that."

The words drifted across the battlefield on a melodic tone that burrowed straight into Ricky’s skull, splitting his headache even deeper.

He didn’t need to look up. Just a single word was enough for him to match the voice to the name.

That was why a long, exaggerated sigh slipped past his lips as he dragged a hand down his face, already annoyed from recognizing exactly who it was.

Gaea

"Go f*ck your-......self?" Ricky immediately said, barking out a laugh that was more exhaustion than humor as his eyes rolled upward, ready to glare, but then stalled.

For all that their last encounter had been, Ricky’s opinion of Gaea was rooted in the grotesque image she’d first shown him that was more or less overgrown, grimy, something that made his skin crawl and his eyes recoil.

So when those same eyes widened now, it was because the monstrous tree, in all its complete boner-killing form, was gone.

Standing there instead was a figure that made his breath hitch just as surely as it tightened his pants.

Before him, Gaea revealed her true, errotic, busty nature.

Her appearance instantly reflected in Ricky’s eyes as they, above all, immediately locked in on a certain area: her cleavage.

Two soft, pushed-together mounds that clashed against each other until they were wedged under the bra, giving way to that deep line of cleavage.

Bolstering towards him, a soft, vibrant green color of young leaves kissed by sunlight, yet smooth, supple, almost inviting to touch, to look around.

That’s why his curious eyes traced a path from her ample breasts, gently descending toward the curve of her hip dip, before lingering on the fullness of her meaty thigh.

It all culminated for Ricky in a single, clear thought; one that captured the wild madness of this busty beauty in a flawless string of words.

"God, damn~" Ricky laughed, biting his lip slightly as his eyes shamelessly trailed back up, slowly re-examining every curve.

"You’re incorrigible," Morgana scoffed, crossing her arms and fixing her sharp gaze on Ricky, who immediately coughed, trying to regain his footing in the conversation

Cough

"So, uh, what are you doing here?" Ricky asked smoothly, expertly regaining control of the situation.

Careful not to look like a sleazebag, even though his eyes betrayed him as they still continued to linger on her green cleavage.

"Ricky, what I am about to ask of you will be nothing short of an infuriating and annoying request." Gaea professed, preaching something he needed to find deep within his heart of hearts.

Only for Ricky to suddenly look around.

"Where was this smoking-hot form when you were talking to me earlier?" Ricky asked, disbelief clear as he glanced toward the crowd before turning to Alexander, who simply shrugged in response.

"Ricky, fate foretells a war of gods." Gaea continued, striving to steer the conversation back toward the dire situation looming ahead.

Only for Ricky to suddenly look to the side.

"Did you know she was that hot?" Ricky asked Merlyn but didn’t bother to look at him, his eyes still glued to Gaea’s smoking figure, unable to focus on anything else.

Meanwhile, Merlyn muttered bitterly to himself, reflecting on how he’d lost to the fool standing above him.

"In ancient times, the Olympian goddess Nyx-" Gaea spoke with deeper conviction, placing a hand over her heart just as Ricky’s gaze settled down at her cleavage.

The rest of her explanation was slowly tuned out, replaced by a ringing in Ricky’s ears as his eyes remained fixed on that long line of cleavage.

A line so tightly pressed together, tucked in a way that concealed the rest, that Ricky’s eyes couldn’t help but imagine soft, malleable breasts.

Ultimately begging him to wonder what color her nipples might be.

With that soft green tint to her skin, his mind wandered.

Did her nipples deepen into a darker shade of green, like a plant stem?

Or perhaps a lighter green altogether?

Maybe, if his imagination was bold enough, a soft pink that blended seamlessly into her natural palette.

"Ricky."

"Luciano."

Gaea exhaled two deep breaths, realizing her words weren’t registering at all until something finally jarred Ricky, forcing him to lift his gaze to her blue eyes.

"Our future hangs in the balance-"

But now, suffering from exhaustion and unable to summon enough strength, his gaze slowly drifted back to the two mountain peaks stuffed beneath that thin, tight veil of green silk.

"This war of gods will change the entire landscape of the world as we once knew it." Gaea spoke seriously, her eyes trying to lock onto Ricky’s, who in turn continued to lower his gaze.

"We need Merlyn and I know what he has done to you-"

CLAP

Gaea clapped her hands sharply, the sound forcing Ricky’s eyelids open to the sight of her deadpan smile.

"Ricky." Gaea said calmly, prompting a conversation rather than delivering a lecture, as the clearly exhausted Ricky simply nodded.

"Do you understand?" Gaea asked slowly, gesturing toward Ricky, who just smiled again as if weighing all the ways things could go wrong.

"Nah, why don’t you explain it to me again?" Ricky replied, staring down the primordial goddess who had literally created the ground beneath his feet.

"Fate needs Merlyn-"

SPLAT

Without hesitation, Ricky slammed the ebony blade into Merlyn’s rotted heart.

But it was when the blade glowed with the power of no longer human that Merlyn’s fate was sealed and his life forever enslaved to Ricky, with just two words:

"Get up."

DING

[(Demi-God Servant) Merlyn, the Hollow Archmage: Once the supreme architect of magic and fate, Merlyn now exists as a powerful undead lich.His connection to the Void persists as a fractured tether, fueling his eldritch power even in undeath, but his will is shackled to another’s command.

Favorability: 0 (Rare Servant): At zero favorability, Merlyn’s physical might is limited to that of a Rare Servant, no longer a demi-god powerhouse in form, but still fearsomely intelligent and articulate. He must obey Ricky’s commands without hesitation, his mind fully subject to Ricky’s will, though retaining all memories and knowledge.

Abilities:

Tethered Lichdom: Merlyn’s undead form is sustained by his fractured bond to the Void, granting him immense magical resilience and regenerative capabilities. Though physically diminished at low favorability, this tether fuels his arcane prowess.

Anti-Conceptual Mastery: His magic can unravel ideas, negate attacks on a fundamental level, and disrupt metaphysical constructs.

Untouched Mind: Despite being bound to Ricky’s will, Merlyn retains his vast knowledge and cunning intellect, providing strategic insight and arcane counsel when commanded.

Favorability Constraint: Merlyn’s full mythic potential is locked behind favorability. As favorability increases, so does his autonomy, physical strength, and magical output which unlocks a deeper set of powers.

Mind Bound Servitude: Regardless of favorability, Merlyn’s consciousness is bound to Ricky’s mental command. Even at zero favorability, Ricky can force his actions, thoughts, and decisions. Merlyn cannot resist Ricky’s will, making him a living weapon and tool.]

"..."

Gaea simply stared, her impassive gaze fixed on the most dangerous variant of her disciple who slowly contorted into an undead slave.

His form hovered in the air, his upper half draped in rags while his unbelieving face was swallowed by a hood, the shadow concealing him as he floated right next to Ricky at his will.

"Yeah, so, I don’t f*cking care," Ricky said, breaking the silence as his eyes stayed locked on Gaea’s drop-dead sexy form.

"You’re hot now, so don’t get me wrong since that’s a huge plus." Ricky added, giving her a thumbs-up, while Gaea’s impassive gaze remained fixed on him.

"But we’ve already established that you’re kind of a conniving b*tch." Ricky shrugged, as if it was out of his hands at this point and time.

"You’re making a catastrophic mistake, Ricky Luciano." Gaea stated calmly, her hair slowly swirling as the essence of life began to gather around her.

"One that comes with catastrophic consequences."

As soon as those words were spoken, everyone tensed, instantly bracing themselves for the worst.

"Are you prepared for them?" Gaea asked coldly, her gaze sharp as the others slowly assumed battle stances.

"I mean, no." Ricky said, as if it were obvious since he was barely holding onto consciousness, much less able to fight a literal elder god.

"Then where does this confidence stem from?" Gaea asked simply, raising her gaze regally, as if wondering what he might dare muster up while standing below her.

"From him," Ricky said nonchalantly, leaning on the hovering form of Merlyn and gesturing with his thumb toward the side.

Gaea’s eyes followed his gesture, only to squint as she saw Alexander unflinchingly point his tiny, sharp spear right at his own jugular.

Pressing just enough for a tiny drop of blood to brush against his fur, staining it a deep scarlet hue.

"Checkmate, b*tch," Ricky said, holding her promised king, Alexander, as a willing hostage.

"This is only a temporary solution, you do realize that, right?" Gaea asked, watching as Ricky slowly returned his gaze to her cleavage, only for her to raise an eyebrow at the sight of his eyes beginning to corrode into a black hue.

"Duh, but the only way I’m getting into bed with you is in the literal sense." Ricky chuckled at his own joke, his eyes drifting to the side where Morgana stared at him with a deadpan expression as he smoothly looked down to hide his grin.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Ricky?" Gaea asked, as if clarifying, studying Ricky and waiting for the response that would follow.

"Is this truly where you wish to stand-"

"The only place I ever stood is on my side, so either get with the program or get to stepping back to your tree or wherever it is you came from." Ricky shooed Gaea away, her green eyes fixed on him, silently staring for a long moment.

But in that long moment, countless thoughts spiraled through her mind, weaving into reflections that culminated in the very response she gave.

"Until then, Ricky Luciano." Gaea smiled, giving a look both loving and chilling, as her form slowly disappeared into the earth.

The goddess gradually dissipated until she was nothing more than just the memory they had of her now, and after a moment of silence, as if expecting something more, Ricky clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

"All right, everyone, round up all the losers!" Ricky shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing in a deep breath to savor his victory just a little more.

His undead and the coven made quick work of the task, while Alexander stood off to the side, brows scrunched and spear lowered.

As if expecting something.

"Strange, very strange." Alexander muttered, tilting his head at the sight of Ricky still standing.

"What bothers you, Alexander?" Asterion asked, slowly walking over to the small gerbil, noticing his frown when he should have been celebrating with a joyful smile.

"Usually, when Ricky pushes himself to this extent, he immediately passes out and needs attentive care for days." Alexander said, noting how after the aftermath of all his fights, Ricky normally collapses and yet here he was, still walking around.

"Ah, I see," Asterion muttered, recalling how he had also carried Ricky out of the aftermath with Dracula and settled him in his room.

It was why he then turned his gaze back to Ricky, suspecting the same as Alexander at this moment, and watching him continue to walk around the aftermath despite everything.

Cough

Cough

"C-Chuck~"

A weak whisper suddenly echoed from a pile of corpses as Ricky’s undead began to attend to his wishes, while others gathered the already-alive prisoners in the distance.

Including Chuck, who continued apprehending those still alive, despite the undead clearly hearing his name being called.

"C-Chuck~"

SIGH

Chuck let out an exaggerated sigh at the second call, turning his impassive gaze toward the familiar sight of Boney lying at the very bottom of the pile.

"I-I can’t feel my legs~" Boney weakly muttered, reaching out a hand toward Chuck.

However, the unamused undead didn’t bother replying and instead, he pointed a finger toward the place above him.

That’s when Boney suddenly turned his head upward, watching Ricky’s other undead clear the pile and realized he did, in fact, still have legs.

"Oh, never mind," Boney said, standing up as if nothing was wrong, then turning around to start rounding up the living as per Ricky’s command.

But instead of yelling at Boney or reprimanding him, the undead took a metaphorical deep breath in.

Then a metaphorical deep breath out.

"It is as he saw it." Chuck whispered to himself, murmuring it almost like a religious chant as he continued to interpret Ricky’s plan.

"So, Merlyn."

Then, amidst the remnants of Merlyn’s former army that once protected Camelot, Ricky couldn’t resist provoking him.

"How do you feel?" Ricky asked, casually kicking a nearby pebble as Merlyn hovered reluctantly beside him.

"Utterly disgusted and unable to process my surroundings." Merlyn said with a grimace, trying to hold back the words that forced themselves from his cold, undead lips.

"Ah, it’s like music to my ears~" Ricky sighed, already enjoying how much Merlyn hated his new life.

"I mean, what could be any better than-oh, what’s this?" Ricky said suddenly, a smile spreading as he reached down into the rubble and pulled out a gleaming crown.

"It’s the crown I was meant to place on Arthur’s head." Merlyn said in a grave tone, actually being forced to reply, watching Ricky twirl it around his finger.

Then, just as Ricky studied the crown with that same smile, his eyebrow suddenly rose at something strange happening.

The crown slowly began to crumble into dust within his hands.

But it wasn’t just the crown; all of Camelot was finally succumbing to the one thing it had been avoiding for so long: time.

With Arthur’s death and the swing of the ebony blade severing his bond to the city, Camelot finally became its own separate entity once again.

But with that freedom came vulnerability as it was no longer immune to the very forces Merlyn had once shielded it from.

The glimmering, nearly untouched walls of Camelot, which still remained, began to age rapidly.

Spreading across the entire city, aging every corner as if the entire myth of Camelot itself had come to ruin.

Ricky watched it all with a strange feeling stirring in his chest, his gaze lingering on the rising dust with an eerie familiarity, until a hand gently rested on his shoulder.

"Ricky?" Morgana asked, approaching his side and touching his shoulder which caused Ricky to flinch and look up, only to see Merlyn’s aloof forces gathered together neatly before him.

Cough

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about how I’m going to make Merlyn’s life miserable." Ricky coughed, quickly recovering himself and stepping forward, ebony blade in hand.

It was then that all the dead were thrown into a pile before the living, who were forced to bow their heads in a row before it.

’Ricky~’

"Yeah?" Ricky turned back after taking two steps, glancing at Morgana, who was about to follow but stopped, raising an eyebrow instead.

"I didn’t say anything," Morgana replied oddly, watching Ricky scratch his head before turning forward, only to hear more whispers sprinkle into his ears.

’What if Ricky Luciano finds out, huh?’

"Finds out what?" Ricky suddenly asked, turning sharply toward the direction where he distinctly heard a whisper in his ear.

"..."

However, everyone remained silent in response to his sudden question, exchanging glances since literally no one had uttered a word.

Even the Captain Britains, forced to kneel before Ricky, looked up at him with strange expressions that were quickly nudged down.

"Ha~" Ricky laughed, gripping the ebony blade as he strode to the edge of the line formed by the golden cloaks and Captain Britain, all forced to keep their heads bowed..

Then, as the executioner slowly raised his ebony blade, intent on cleaving off all their heads in one fell swoop and adding them to his growing collection.

Ricky suddenly heard the whispers grow louder.

’He’s a problem, that Ricky Luciano-’

’No, no, no, Ricky Luciano ain’t just a mutant but an Italian-’

’We must account for all the possibilities, these upcoming games are crucial and as such, we cannot allow Ricky Luciano-’

’We don’t need Ricky Luciano, what we need is-’

A sea of whispers, all repeating his name, began to resonate in his ear, his notoriety growing with every passing second, spurring even more whispers to rise.

Until one voice rose above them all.

"And as Ricky Luciano wound up the illustrious Ebony Blade, one had to wonder what fate awaited this newly immortal man." The voice rose above the others with such power and clarity that Ricky glanced around before swinging the ebony blade forward.

"As the ebony blade swung down, the heads of all who stood against Ricky rolled onto the earth." The voice continued narrating, while Ricky held up his hand and uttered something to the world before the voice chimed in again.

"Get up," Ricky said, his voice carrying the same tired weariness that had plagued him not only throughout the fight but even back home.

"But he was unaware of his own power."

DING

[(Mythic Servant) King Britain, the Crownless Reaper: Once Captain Britain and Merlyn commander, now a headless undead king twisted by undeath and sorrow. Though stripped of his crown and identity, he commands an elite undead army and wields a cursed scythe forged from his regret.

Favorability: 0 (Legendary Servant)

Powers & Abilities:

Throne Bound Scythe: Forged from the regret of a lost kingdom and the sorrow of a shattered identity, this scythe devours spiritual anchors and its curved edge slices not flesh, but life force itself.

Unburied Dominion (Passive): King Britain’s presence causes the buried dead to stir and obey, rising in silent reverence, allowing for him to command even in death.

Black Herald’s Gallop (Active): In place of a steed, a spectral horse born of storm and shadow answers his call. With it, King Britain can phase through structures, charge through time-slowing wards, and trample even the divine.

Null Coronation (Passive Curse): The absence of his head is more than physical but is conceptual. His title cannot be acknowledged, and thus, his enemies cannot draw divine or historical power against him.

Knightfall Dirge (Locked) [Requires Favorability: 100]: King Britain recalls who he was not just a king, but a brother, a shield, a man. In this blinding moment of lucidity, his head reforms as a burning helm and all undead he commands are sacrificed to unleash a soulstorm that strikes the world like a falling star, annihilating anything bound by oaths, contracts, or legacy.]

[(Legendary Servant) Brian Braddock, The Headless Dullahan x 100: Once Captain Britain, Brian Braddock is now The Headless Dullahan, a fearsome undead who is capable of commanding an army of undead. Unable to attain his full potential due to his lack of head, his sorrow because of it is turned into a scythe that he carries in hand, he is a harbinger of death.

Abilities:

Soul Reaping Scythe: A weapon able to sever and damage souls, able to piece through connections with a single strike.

Necrotic Aura (Passive): Drains the life force of enemies nearby.

Ethereal Command (Passive): Commands undead with ease, bending them to his will.]

[(Epic Servant) Healing Skeleton Mages x 150: Once exalted golden cloaks of Camelot, these skeletal figures now bear necrotic golden cloaks that shimmer with corrupted light.

Abilities:

Sanctified Bone Knit: Channels powerful light through broken bone to rapidly heal moderate to severe wounds. Can purge minor curses or poisons.

Soul Thread Warding: Anchors a target’s soul to its body. Upon fatal damage, the target is restored to 20% HP and gains momentary invincibility. One use per battle.

Grave Mercy: Regrows even destroyed organs or limbs over several minutes. Can fully restore undead and constructs to peak fighting condition.

Pale Radiance (Passive): All nearby allies regenerate slowly and gain resistance to spiritual and magical damage. Causes mild unease in the living.

Divine Lament: Once per battle, releases a blinding pulse of twisted light that heals all allies in range, but weakens enemies’ magic briefly by severing their spiritual flow.]

All the screens appeared before Ricky, displaying all the new additions, but he waved them away, shooing his newly risen undead to tend to his battered army as the voice continued.

"Ricky Luciano was oblivious to how deeply his bond with the Whispering Void had grown, entirely ignorant of both this creeping tether and his own swelling notoriety." The voice intoned, his ancient eyes fixed on the boy who seemed so blissfully unaware.

"Until this very moment, Ricky had no inkling of just how closely the forces of Earth were scrutinizing his every move." The voice continued, rumbling with an ancient wisdom that laced together every syllable and word.

Ricky’s eyes continued to darken into that familiar void-like color, his head snapping around as if straining to catch the voice narrating his life.

"He stood amid the shattered remnants of all he had wrought, relishing a fleeting triumph, blind to how his reckless hand had already sparked yet another conflict to come."

"All while standing amidst his own devastation, Ricky Luciano’s bond with the Whispering Void deepened." The voice mused, almost contemplative, never realizing its words carried directly to the very soul it spoke of.

"Unseen by him, a new power began to take shape." The voice continued, drifting over the ruins like drifting smoke.

"It wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before, nor something he had dared to imagine, but simply a gift, or perhaps a snare, extended by the Whispering Void, eager to mold him further." The voice continued, watching Ricky’s hand rise quietly to hold his head in an act to steady his thoughts.

"Thus did Ricky Luciano, still ignorant of the vast consequences ahead, take his first steps into wielding a power that would stretch beyond his grasp, unraveling threads of fate he could not yet see." The voice prompted, as if expecting Ricky in that very moment to understand it as well.

DING

[Your notoriety has finally surged within your surroundings, causing the Whispering Void to strengthen its connection with you.]

The screen appeared, spectral and detached, the voice still never suspecting its every word resonated in Ricky’s ears like a secret confession.

"And so it was that Ricky Luciano, crossing the fragile threshold of manhood and shedding his adolescence, found himself not merely growing into a man but a hatching, within the folds of the Whispering Void itself."

It was then that a faint pulse ran through Ricky’s chest, as though something inside him had split open.

"This new birth." the voice intoned, almost hushed.

"Would undoubtedly gift him with abilities far beyond mortal grasp with powers born of whispers older than stars, now soon to be nestled deep within his marrow."

"Unaware still of the true nature of this awakening, Ricky stood as both herald and fledgling of the Void, a creature reshaped by forces that would one day demand their due."

Ding

[Title Acquired: Hatchling Of Whispering Void]

Description: Your whisper has finally grown to the point where it cannot be contained and as such, the whispering void recognizes you as one of its own.

(Innate Ability Gained) The Sight Beyond Names: Bestowed by the Whispering Void, this ability allows you to perceive any who dare speak your name.

’Ricky-’

’Slick-’

’Ricky Luciano-’

The names fell from lips unseen, and immediately the whispers surged, flooding into his ears like a tidal onslaught.

Ricky clutched at his head, fingers digging into his scalp as the voices spiraled around him in a cruel, tightening vortex.

And above them all, that same detached voice carried on, indifferent to his torment.

"The whispers struck his untrained mind like a vast, corrosive sea." The voice intoned, almost savoring the words.

"They tore at the fragile walls of his psyche, each secret and hidden fear a drop of salt in an agonizing drowning, showing him what it truly meant to be marked by the Whispering Void." The voice spoke softly, almost pitying the sight of him.

Ricky dropped to one knee, breath ragged, eyes wild and dilated as spectral visions clawed across his sight in every mention of his name.

Faces he had never seen.

Conversations he shouldn’t have a part of.

"This." the voice continued, its tone now almost tender.

"Was the first true taste of the gift he had been given, an enlightenment drenched in madness, the Sight that would haunt every sound that was heard in his ears henceforth."

"Ricky?" Morgana suddenly asked, noticing his distant state as everyone else slowly turned their gaze toward him as Ricky’s eyes began to lift upwards towards the sky, towards the moon.

"The words of one of his many lovers echoed toward him, but his mind was drawn elsewhere." the voice continued, narrating Ricky without emotion, as the man’s gaze drifted up into the sky.

Gazing at the moon, its image didn’t reflect in his blackened eyes and instead, they revealed the whispers.

The voice he focused on, the one speaking above them all, was the only thing allowed to show in those dark depths.

"I see you."