Strongest Grimoire Of The Gods

The halls of this dungeon-like underground prison consisted of other prison cells. They were dimly lit by torches every 50 or so feet. The bars were made of rusty and black iron with crazed criminals lurking inside.

The stone floor's crevices and cracks were filled with moss and small fungi that were beginning to grow.

Inside the cells, it was even worse. Tyr noticed brown stains all over the floor, 'That's either dried blood or diarrhea... hopefully the former.' Thankfully it seemed old enough to not give a smell.

Looking around, he noticed a wooden bucket in the corner.

On seeing this and nothing else, he sighed: 'This is gonna be long.' He said to himself, sitting against the wall with his feet stretched out in front of him.

His cell thankfully was connected to a wall at the very back of the dungeon room so that he could lean against it and not have rough bars digging into his back.

'I'm only in here for a day... I could sleep.' He thought to himself, jerking up to his feet.

'Or I could train a bit.'

After getting put in the cage, they took the chains off his hands so he was free to at least do some basic exercises.

He quickly got down and began to do push-ups. In this quiet, dark abyss--the inconsistent and unusual sound of slight grunting and huffing began to echo.

"Hey! Psst!" A whisper suddenly sounded out of nowhere.

Tyr got slightly freaked out for a second but quickly composed himself.

'Where the hell did that come from?' He questioned, getting back up to his feet and turning to look at his left cell. However, he quickly turned his head back as he saw a rotting skeleton tied to a post inside of there.

"No! Over here!" The voice whispered again, Tyr turning toward the right this time.

He squinted his eyes as he noticed a guy who looked awfully similar to Mano sticking his nose in between the bars of his and Tyr's cell.

Unlike that prick, however, this guy had a genuinely kind-looking smile. Along with that, he looked to be covered from head to toe with tribal looking bright blue tattoos.

"Mano?" Tyr exclaimed, confused at what he was seeing.

As soon as he said this, however, an abrupt wave of whispers and murmurs washed through the entire prison cell.

"Mano?"

"Where!"

"Hide!"

"He came back!?"

"Shh! Don't say his name!"

Tyr was a bit shocked by this, flinching slightly since he didn't expect everyone to start talking.

"Damn... that guy must be a demon in this town." Tyr said to himself.

"You're right, he is. Try not to say his name around here." The moosh that looked like Mano said, causing Tyr to look at him again.

"He was the reason why most of these men are in here, including me. That selfish, arrogant, evil prick..." The moosh continued, sounding increasingly irritated the more he thought of Mano.

"I get that, but why do you resemble him so closely?" Tyr said, walking a bit closer.

"Oh me?" The moosh exclaimed, pointing to himself.

"Who else would I be talking to?"

The moosh paused:

"Well... I'm his older brother, Malon. Nice ta' meetcha'." He smiled.

Tyr froze, a confused and slightly annoyed expression on his face: "W-what? How come you just bad-mouthed him so much? And why are you in jail anyway? Aren't you a prince?"

On hearing Tyr's last word, the dungeon had another small spree of scared and worrisome murmurs.

Malon looked around, turning his attention back to Tyr as the noise calmed down: "Don't mention anything that might make people think about him... but to answer your question, no I am not of any status like the p-word. It seems you're new here to Mycopolis, so I'll inform you of the rules of hierarchy in the moosh world.

When more than one son is born, the father chooses a single heir and he alone is to be honored as the p-word. The other is simply a member of the family but holds no real prestige except for the basic recognition and family ties."

"Huh... that's foreign," Tyr exclaimed as he thought about the system.

"Yeah..."

"So why him and not you? You're the elder brother, no?"

"Only by a week. Plus, if you were to see him you would know why. At least, that's what people say. He's strong, you know. If nothing else, I won't deny him of that."

"Strength? That's why your father chose him? Shouldn't he know that strength isn't what determines whether a person is a good leader or not? I imagine you need intellect and also care for your people. That idiot doesn't seem to have either of those qualities." Tyr said, a bit spiteful.

"Wait a second... I just realized you have met him before." Malon said, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah, how else would I recognize his face in yours?"

"Haha... true." Malon scratched the back of his head as he awkwardly laughed.

"From what I saw, not only was he not strong, but he was a damn coward. A pathetic cunt like that doesn't even deserve to rule my toilet, let alone a city of people."

Malon paused, sighing as he looked to the floor.

"It wasn't my father who picked him. My father would have hated how he turned out. And... you're right." Malon seemed to be emotional as he spoke: "My brother doesn't love the people of this land, far from it. He despises them, and foreigners even more so. He makes them work like dogs and tramples over them as though they are nothing but insects.

The very people who hold him up, he pushes them down. It's not right... it's horrible."

Tyr took a liking to Malon's character at that moment, 'He seems to genuinely care about his people. In his position, thats the right thing to do...'

"Did your father die?" Tyr questioned.

"No. He caught a chronic illness called Jooe. It impairs his ability to speak and move, and for most of the day, even his ability to think gets disturbed. We are hoping to find a cure, but until then, my uncle makes the decision. Too bad... that bastard is almost as bad as my brother."

"What's your Ancestral Ability, Malon?"

The moosh looked up at Tyr, standing up from his crouched position. He was no shorter than Mano, over 7ft. in stature.

"A far more garbage version of my brothers. Of course, family members tend to share similar Ancestral Abilities. We both can shift our bodies to create things. But his ability turned out to be a powerful offensive weapon, creating spikes from anywhere on his body, and mine..." Malon paused, raising his hand as it suddenly shifted into a hardened fungi shield.