Author's Notes: This is my newest idea, pitching the (arguably) Complete Monster protagonist Makoto Itou of School Days against epic quest of The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion. It may work or it may not. But at least it may buy you all a laughter or two, and that is all what I care.

Disclaimers: I own neither School Days nor The Elder Scrolls nor the lore in either universe. However, I have taken some liberty to modify the Dragon God of Time Akatosh to my liking in order to make some sense into this seemingly nonsensical crossover.

Note on Prologue: Lack of attention on my part means that I have to split the prologue into two. I hope it doesn't get into the way of your enjoyment, since I have tried to get the awesomeness that is "STOP! YOU VIOLATED THE LAW!" into the very first page.

Thanks, and enjoy!

The Elder Scroll IV:

Oblivion Days

"I was born eighty seven years ago. For sixty-five years I have ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But for all these years I've never been the ruler of my own dreams.

I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold the darkness - a doom sweeps the land.

This is the twenty-seventh of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh 433. These are the closing days of the Third Era. And the final hours of my life."

- Emperor Uriel Septim VII

Prologue, Part 1

"Stop! You violated the law!"

"Stop! You violated the law! Pay the court a fine or serve your sentence. Your stolen goods are now forfeit."

Those words, spoken with so much conviction the entire school building could have been torn apart from the sheer spirit, ripped through the dead silence of night. Given its ferocity, even the most steel-hearted could have been startled. The element of surprise more than sufficiently doubled the fearsomeness of those words.

But given the uniform he donned, the average person would not be frightened for more than a couple of passing seconds. From the antiquity of his outfit, it was obvious whatever 'law' he quoted was not that of Japan or any country in the modern Earth for that matter. His uniform seemed to have been lifted straight from the history book. A Roman legion helmet covered half of his face while a suite of smooth, heavy body armor made of leather and steel coated his body from top to toe. A round, reinforced shield and short gladius occupied his two hands, and a silver bow racked across his shoulder, completed with a quiver of arrows to match.

How such an absurdly dressed soldier got to the modern world, nobody knew. But one thing was certain – he was out to carry on the duties he usually took back at wherever he came from with all due diligence and fervor. If it was someone else, they would have instantly question the authority, if not sanity, of someone who walked around in such a suit in the normal, down-to-earth modern world.

But it was Katsura Kotonoha we are talking about here, caught literally red-handed. The blood of the man she called her boyfriend and her victim was still staining her hands, soaking up her sleeves and smeared more or less all over her garments. Her makeshift weapon was lying on the ground, coated in the new paintjob of blood and gore, as an undeniable witness to the crime she had committed. If it was to be considered a crime at all.

She was not well. Just the quickest glance at her face would show such disturbance seen nowhere else other than terminal mental patients. Her eyes were empty, any bit of sense they still retained was focused on the grim trophy cradled in her arms. It was a human head, whose eyes were still wide open from an untold horror. The victim appeared to have been quite comely in life, and even the grim touch of death hadn't yet destroyed the framework of his face. But perhaps it was because of that very handsomeness or misuse thereof that the victim had met his grim end.

And yet the person in front of Kotonoha cared little about her wellbeing nor her victims. The only thing he was aware of and vocal about, was that she had broken the law in the worst way possible. He was ready to be the judge, jury and executioner if needed be.

"Stolen… goods?" Kotonoha mumbled, clutching Makoto's head even tighter, as if trying to shield the grim trophy from the inquisitorial stare of the full-plated soldier. Not that it actually helped her cause in any sense at all.

"That," the soldier pointed exactly to the bloody head. "In the name of His Majesty Uriel Septim the Seventh and the Imperial Legion, I am confiscating this stolen head."

Taking a short pause for his words to sink in, the Imperial Guard continued.

Kotonoha shivered. While the Imperial Watch's threats sounded awfully like a mugging attempt, she has her own reason to not submit.

"No…" she mumbled, "Don't… take Makoto… from me…"

And then she clutched Makoto's head even tighter, the blood from his severed neck oozing all over her arms. A gruesome, nauseating sight for the uninitiated.

The Imperial Watch was not amused. Swiftly, he stepped towards the cowering Kotonoha, his steel Imperial boots clamping loudly on the granite floor. And then, when he was within an arm's reach from the girl, he reached out for the object within her grasp. With his large, steel-gloved hands, the Imperial Watch grabbed Makoto's hair and pulled it out of the girl's arms. Kotonoha struggled, to no avail. The Imperial Legion soldier then proceeded to house the head within a leather pouch he promptly produced from his person. Blood from the severed neck stalk stained the fine leather surface for all it was worth, making sure that after that retrieval, the pouch would never again be usable.

"The next move is yours," he said, his voice firm and decisive without even glancing once at the girl's expression. "Pay your fines, or I'll haul you a..."

To the Imperial Watch's dismay, Kotonoha's reaction came before he could finish offering her a chance to surrender. Immediately grabbing her weapon, the deranged schoolgirl lunged at the Imperial Watch. The look on her face was one of complete madness, like a raging, wounded animal cornered in the final moments of its life.

"Give Makoto… back to me!" she bellowed in a high-pitched, frightening voice.

The Imperial Guard, however, had apparently faced far worse than that. The soldier promptly drew his silver edge from his sheath, stopping for a split second to deliver his own brew of one-liner in between.

"Resist arrest, will you?" he smirked. "Then pay with your blood!"

The Imperial Watch's shield made short work of Kotonoha's lunge as perfectly as it had deflected the desperate blows of many a Cyrodyllic lawbreaker. With a swift counterattack with his shield, the Imperial Watch knocked Kotonoha back and down, her weapon ripped from her hand. Slinging the bag bearing Makoto Itou's head across his back, the soldier dashed towards the downed girl with his raised sword without any intention of mercy.

And then there was one single flash of metal rending through flesh…

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