Since he was currently hunkering down in a clothing store, there was no reason that Seth could find to stay in his current attire. For one, they were in absolute tatters after so many different fights, unfortunately built for conformity over combat. A clear design flaw.

Secondly, after wearing them for so long, even in his catatonic cocoon state, the ratty rags that had once been his work suit was absolutely soaked with sweat. Thankfully that was the only body fluid, as his cocoon had seemingly slurped up all the bloodstains for the pittance of nutrition it gave him. Yet despite the stains no longer being there, they still left a scar of psychological filth.

So, it was time for a little bit of shopping. Or would it be more akin to shoplifting at this point?

Shrugging off the inconsequential thoughts of a more civilised time, Seth perused through the clothing that he could find that wasn't half destroyed by the previous tenants or stained in the blood of Bob's kills.

Even when he was still playing dress up, his pair of mannequin bodyguards on stand by, Seth's mind was being filled with a slew of information about martial arts and fighting styles with various weapons.

As it turns out, having multiple brains was, unsurprisingly, very useful when it came to performing certain tasks. More specifically, when it came to training himself.

By now the internet had completely shut down, which meant that the information that Bob had gathered would be the last of it unless they found a new source. Of course, they could still input information manually into the journal, it was already filled with diagrams of the many creatures the two of them had faced as well as important information on said creatures, such as weak points and dangers.

So, while Seth was occupied making himself fashionable, Bob was diligently studying the information contained within the leatherbound journal and streaming all that newfound knowledge straight to his 'father'.

After decorating his starved body in a zip up hoodie, some comfortable trousers and the least bloodstained t-shirt he could find, Seth made his way back to the nest room with Omelette snoring away in the warmth of his hood.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he could see the clothes hanging so loosely off of his skinny frame that he felt more like a walking talking coat hanger than a person.

However when he was despairing at his new supermodel body, he noticed something else on his bony arm. Two familiar markings, tattoos made up of alien symbols.

One was pitch black with flakes of silver at the tail end of its many intersecting lines. The other was like glistening jade.

'Right, Angel said that I got some new Requitals. I can't believe I didn't check them until now.'

First, he summoned the Requital that sounded most like clothing, since that was the point of his little shopping spree, the [Ravens Raiment].

The pitch black tattoo dissolved, becoming the usual ocean of ink, yet instead of flowing towards his hand it crawled its way further up his arm. When it reached his shoulder, it left part of itself behind as the rest spread to his other shoulder before draping down his back like a waterfall of oil.

While the rest of the black ink crept over his hood, coating Omelette's new nest without disturbing the little Wyvern, the flakes of silver had their own agenda. They crawled along his neck, wriggling like silver python, as it slithered over his cheek before starting to spread. Covering his eyes and his forehead before sinking into his skin and disappearing without explanation.

When it was fully formed, Seth could see that he was now wearing a long, flowing cloak made entirely of black raven feathers, with a metallic edge that twinkled like the night sky as the cloak of blades hungered for blood.

He twisted from side to side, admiring the cloak. While the cape was made of long, blade-like feathers, the area around his shoulders, the shawl, was made up of soft, fluffy feathers barely longer than a finger.

Omelette clambered his way up from his hood, settling down on Seth's fluffy shoulder and gave out a high pitched chirp of admiration as spreading his wings.

"Yeah little buddy, I guess we do match now. I wonder if it has any other functions."

It was clear what this cloak had come from, the raven with the steel-like feathers. Just thinking about that horrific creature's ability to fire out sword sized feathers of death made his stump throb with a dull pain.

Gritting his teeth at the phantom pain, Seth clutched the hem of the cloak and kept that image in his mind, picturing the way that it would let loose a volley with a flick of its wing, as he swept the cloak like he was a dramatic vampire.

At least, that's what he tried to do.

Instead, the feathers that he was gripping in his hand came free from the cloak without a hint of resistance, immediately being replaced by new ones. Sparing a glance at the straight edged, knife-like feathers in his hand, Seth tossed them towards the mirror and shattered it as the plumage daggers speared through the glass and became lodged in the wall.

"Not what I was expecting, but I can work with that…"

He performed a few more dramatic movements, reliving his days as a child playing ninja, as he pulled feathered knives from his cloak and tossed them at invisible enemies, even keeping one in his hand to slash at the air a few times before sending it flying like the rest.

"Yeah… I can definitely work with that."

Wanting to complete the look of the overly dramatic and edgy gothic teen outfit, an attire that suited him with his dreadful cult given name, Seth pulled up the hood of his new cloak. As soon as it was fully over his head, an unnatural shroud of swirling shadows filled in the head and obscured his face from view.

If it wasn't for the mirror showing him the appearance of the shadows, he wouldn't have known they were there in the first place as it didn't impede his vision in the slightest. But that wasn't the only addition the hood came with.

Seconds after the shroud settled into place a silver point erupted from the sea of black, rising further and further, the base of the silver crag growing thicker until it blossomed outwards.

It wasn't long until the rising structure settled into place, letting Seth see that he was now wearing a raven's skull mask that shined like freshly polished steel. The elongated beak, which was missing the lower jaw, was roughly 8 inches long with the eye sockets enlarged so he could easily see out of them without it interfering with his peripheral vision.

All he needed was a wide brimmed hat, a fancy cane and a handful of leeches to complete his new look as a mediaeval plague doctor.

As Omelette let out more cries of admiration, seemingly happy that his companion had embraced the superiority of the beak, Seth ran his hand over the skull mask and winced in pain as he cut his finger on the razor sharp underside of the beak.

'Well, at least I don't have to worry about anyone grabbing it… Makes for a good distraction even.'

Despite its bone-like structure, it definitely felt more metallic in nature, like its finish would suggest. Rapping his knuckles against it, he heard the hollow echo it made and yet it didn't budge on his face even a single millimetre despite seemingly not being attached to anything.

He even tested one of the feather blades against it, slicing at the side of the beak and barely being able to scratch it.

While it might not be the most stylish, it would certainly help keep him alive longer. And, at the end of the day, that mattered more than looking good. Even if it was only a little bit more important.

A loud growl tore him out of his vane thoughts, but it wasn't the sound of an angry monster. Instead it was the untameable beast that was his stomach demanding to be fed. Placing his hand on his stomach, he felt it grumble unhappily once again.

"Alright, I get it. I get it."

Letting go of his stomach, he gave Omelette a scratch under his chin and listened to the happy, chirping purrs the Wyvern let out in response.

"You'll probably want some food too, huh little guy?"

Omelette let out another chirp, nodding his head at the mention of food. However, long gone were the days of being able to go to the supermarket or order a takeaway. He'd have to hunt down his food if he wanted to eat.

Luckily, he didn't have to do it alone. In fact, he didn't even have to do it himself. Looking throughout the room, he took in the sight of the various mannequins littering the store.

Why do the dirty work when he had puppets to do it for him. With all these lovely candidates here, it would be selfish to leave them standing around and not give them a new lease on life.