Hello, people who've decided to read my story. This is my first attempt at a fan fiction of any kind, so any feedback or suggestions you can give me will be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if a similar idea has been used before, but here goes.

Traverse the White Light.

A man in mix-matched armor stepped forward as he eyed his opponent, the azure-blue tassel of his helmet swaying as he approached.

How many times has it been already?

The man thought to himself, the chains on his gauntlets clanking together as he drew his sword, a large-black greatsword, a weapon that once belonged to a powerful warrior, and a black-medium shield with a flowing canal chiseled into its face.

You don't even understand what's happening…

The sorrow and fatigue he felt as he thought this disappeared as he readied himself. He regarded his opponent, a hollow shell of the man he once was, focusing on the neck behind his opponent's rugged beard, as he walked forward slowly. His guard was down, but only as a feint to draw out his mindless opponent. He rolled forward as his opponent launched into the air to strike him from above, its large-flaming sword coming down hard, but just missing the golden armor protecting his chest. He immediately stood to face his opponents back.

How many times have I killed you, Gwyn!?

He wanted to yell, almost as if he had hoped it would awaken his opponent's hollowed mind, as he swung his black greatsword. The blade barely missed its target, which had slid out of the way before immediately charging in, swiping at the black-iron leggings the man wore with its flaming greatsword. The man jumped back this time before charging in and swinging his own greatsword at his opponents head, this time he didn't miss his target.

A young girl stood, in an open courtyard, all around her, her classmates lined up to take part in an important ritual, the Springtime Familiar Summoning. Some of her classmates had already finished summoning and contracting their familiars, and after a few more minutes, it would be her turn to try. Given her track record with magic, she was understandably nervous, unsure of if she'd be able to summon anything at all.

After seeing the kinds of creatures her classmates were summoning, her anxiety had compounded. They had all summoned such interesting beings, like manticorns, salamanders and even an enormous snake, even if she succeeded, she was afraid of summoning something disgraceful, or worse, of only summoning a portion of her familiar. It was uncommon, but still possible to do so, effectively killing most familiars outright.

Enter the Mist.

The man recoiled as the flaming greatsword smashed into him repeatedly. He had gotten distracted by his opponent and was pushed back against one of the large stalagmites littering their battlefield. He quickly rolled forward, barely escaping his opponents reaching hand. He didn't want to be picked up by the hollowed beast of a man he fought.

You have no idea what you've robbed humanity of.

The man attacked his opponent's back. His strike landed, and he took his chances and attacked again, and again, until he was forcibly pushed back by a powerful swing of his opponent's greatsword, which he blocked with his shield. The man put some distance between himself and his opponent after recoiling from the strike, he was lucky to have avoided his opponent's follow-up attack. His opponent walked slowly toward him, then charged again at him, letting off a flurry of strikes, most of which were dodged by the man, who rolled behind his opponent, the ones he hadn't dodged struck his shield.

Did you even know the consequences of your actions when you took them!?

He had known for a long time that his opponent was beyond being able to understand his crime, or even be punished for it. All it was capable of receiving was an end to this façade of a life it held. His opponent charged him again, but before it could reach him, the man put his sword away, and immediately after, a flame appeared in his palm, he pushed his hand forward and created an explosion from the flame. His opponent hastily jumped back, though whether the reaction was from fear or reflex was unknown.

Your light perverted the natural order of the world, and no matter how many try to perpetuate its glow…

He calmed his mind as the flame in his hand disappeared to make room for a crude, axe-like catalyst. He held up the catalyst, and from it spilled five dark figures that floated above his head. His opponent was already charging in at this point, causing the man to roll forward again. As he did, the dark figures grew in size and flew toward the hollowed opponent, almost like they were trying to cover him in some twisted embrace. Before his opponent could recover from their assault, he let fly a line of dark balls of energy which spread out before him. Only a few of them hit their mark, the rest landed to the left and right of their target.

The lie you created, no matter how sweet it is for some, is still a lie.

It was her turn now, she took a single, calming breath, before stepping forward. She closed her eyes and began to chant the words of the spell while focusing the magical energy through her catalyst, and as she reached the end of the spell, she opened her eyes to see a few sparks in the air in front of her. She had failed to summon anything. She tried again, and again, each time failing. None of her classmates had said anything, but she could hear them talking about it in hushed tones, and a few had not so subtly broken out into laughter.

Her professor, a balding man with a large catalyst called over to her, urging her to continue. She looked at him silently for a few seconds before attempting the spell again. In truth, she doubted this time would be any different, but she decided to keep trying until she was told otherwise.

Traverse the Fog.

This was it; one more strike would kill his hollowed opponent again. The man breathed in deeply as he prepared himself for what was to come. His victory here was assured, but what happened after wasn't always the same. It mostly lead to him waking up in that decrepit cell again, only to be given some means of escape shortly after, at other times, it lead him to an old cabin, situated inside an enormous cavern. Fewer times still, it lead him to his own grave, a simple stone coffin, surrounded by a myriad of other coffins piled haphazardly around it. Where he ended up had long since lost all meaning to him.

His opponent charged one final time, trying to grab him with its free hand, only to miss as he jumped backward. He charged again and slammed his black greatsword into his opponent, who fell to its knees before disappearing. He stood there, staring at the spot his opponent disappeared for what seemed like eternity, before walking away. He looked to his two options, to kindle the flame, or to leave it to die. At one point, the decision weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he could hardly remember the last time he felt that way about anything.

Why am I still here?

He questioned himself. He had given into despair over these endless cycles long ago, but he hadn't been able to find any release from it. The cycles never ended, and he never hollowed. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and yet, that too, was a mercy he never received. He wanted to collapse, to give in, to die, but he couldn't. Some would say his supposed immortality was a gift, but they were wrong. Whatever was happening, that stopped him from hollowing, from finally, truly dying, it was a worse curse than the Dark Sign could ever hope to be.

He started walked toward the bonfire, intent on kindling the flame this time, before he heard something. It was faint, but unmistakably there. It was the sound of a voice calling out to him from the entree way. It didn't belong to Kaathe or Frampt. Differences were rare, almost non-existent as he worked his way through this damnable cycle. He had lost count of the number of times he had gone through it all, but he could count the number of differences he found between the cycles on one hand. Without thinking, he walked toward the exit, and found that it was being blocked by a reflective disk, measuring in at roughly two meters tall and one meter wide.

He looked at it in silence for a few seconds, considering what it could be, before the voice started calling to him again. He couldn't understand the words, but the tone gave off a specific impression. It wanted him to come toward it. He regarded the disk once more before reaching out to it, even if it was nothing more than an illusion, it still warranted investigation. If he were lucky, it might finally lead to an end to this horrendous cycle, or at least, to his hollowing. As his hand touched it, he felt… Nothing. His fingers sunk into it, then his hand, wrist and forearm. He pulled his arm back to see that it was still intact, before stepping through it.

The man woke up in a daze. He was lying on the ground as the bright light of the sun beat down on him. As he sat up and opened his eyes, that same light blinded him temporarily, causing him to shield his eyes for a few seconds as they adjusted to it. Now on his feet and able to see properly in this new light, he could take in his surroundings properly, but first he looked down. He held a crude wooden club and a similarly primitive wooden shield, the only thing covering his body was a thin leather loincloth. Just like before, anytime he arrived someplace new he lost everything he had gained elsewhere, save for his knowledge, and even that could be forgotten.

All around him in the courtyard were young men and woman, wearing similar uniforms. The women wore white blouses and grey-pleated skirts, and the men wore white-dress shirts and dark colored pants, though everyone in the crowd wore a black mantle over their shirt, save for an older looking man who wore a dark-long robe with sparse white trimming, and a pair of glasses on his balding head, though the most eye-catching thing about him was the large catalyst he was holding. He could hear some giggling and murmurs from the crowd of young people.

Out of all of them, there was one person that stood out most to him, though not for her appearance, but for just how close to him she stood. The girl looked young, almost like a child compared to everyone else, but she wore the same uniform as the women around her, and carried around a similarly large catalyst to the older man. Her eyes and hair were both bright blue in color, and she was around a foot shorter than himself. She stared up at him silently behind a pair of red rimmed glasses for a few seconds before finally deciding to hand him her mantle. She spoke to him in a soft voice as he fastened it around his waist, though, even if she had yelled, he still wouldn't have known what she said.

"I don't understand your language." He said plainly. He didn't expect her to understand what he said either, but when she heard the difference in their language he hoped that would be enough to get the message across.

She broke eye contact with him and furrowed her brow, seemingly considering how to convey her message to him, before looking back at him and making strange hand signs, he was confident in his ability to understand and convey things non-verbally, but her motions seemed odd to him. She made a talking motion with her hand before pointing to her catalyst and him in that order. He didn't know what she was trying to get across, but nodded to her, deciding to play along. He didn't feel any hostile intent from her, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to get out of there safely when he was this outnumbered. He watched as the girl began chanting something in her quiet voice before stepping closer to him. She placed her hand on his cheek and gently pulled his face towards hers, lightly kissing his lips before stepping back and looking away from him in what appeared to be mild embarrassment.

After her lips left his, a feeling of warmth, then heat, began to build up in his body, enveloping him in its choking embrace. He looked down to inspect his body, twisting and turning to look at his back as well, looking to see if there was anything visible happening to him, but he saw nothing strange. Just as he was about to strip the mantle and loincloth off because of it, the heat drained from his body. First, his appendages cooled down, then his torso, neck, and face. The heat lingered on his forehead before finally subsiding completely. He slowly reached up to touch his forehead, but felt nothing.

"After failing several times at Summon Familiar, you completed Contract Familiar on your first try. Congratulations, Miss Orléans." The older man said as he walked over to the two. Wait, why could he understand him? Did this man speak his language, or…?

"Professor Colbert…" The girl looked like she wanted to continue speaking, but stopped herself as she considered what to say. The older man, Professor Colbert, stared at the partially naked mans' forehead before finally speaking.

"I know it's… Unorthodox, to summon a human as a Familiar, but what you summon is important for your growth. It helps to determine your element and what classes you should take." Professor Colbert said to her before he rose into the air. "We need to go back and finish afternoon classes. Miss Orleans, please get him some clothes before coming back to class." He continued before he flew off towards the nearest tower. The crowd of students around them followed suit, flying toward the tower. As they left, some could be heard mocking the girl and naked man in barely hushed voices.

The girl watched them leave before turning back to the naked man.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Roland." She nodded as he responded, and then pointed to herself.

"Charlotte."

"You know my language?" He asked the girl, Charlotte, as they locked eyes.

"No. We understand each other because of Contract Familiar." She said tersely. He didn't know what that was, but he assumed it had to do with the kiss she gave him.

"You mean when you kissed me?" Roland asked back. She broke eye contact with him at the question while she tried to hide her embarrassment behind a neutral expression. Charlotte nodded in response before walking past him, motioning for him to follow her across the courtyard. They came up to a small wooden door near a fountain where a pair of servants were doing laundry. It was a perfectly normal, everyday activity, but it seemed foreign to Roland.

This place itself was completely foreign to him. The grass was green and lively, the sun shined gently, and the air felt warm and pleasant, this place even smelt different. Almost everywhere he had been before had the unmistakable stench of death or decay, barring that, the atmosphere in most places was terribly oppressive. The sun never shined like this, and whatever life existed struggled to do so in most places. Everything here seemed so… Calm. Though, the biggest difference had to be the people. He couldn't remember the last time he had been around so many people who weren't trying to kill him, in fact, he couldn't remember if he'd ever been around that many people before.

Charlotte was talking to the two servants, asking them for any clothing they could spare for him. Apparently they couldn't spare the clothing they were washing now, as it belonged to the first years, but one of the pair, a maid with black hair adorned by a white headband, said she would get him something to wear, and asked him to follow her. Just as he was about to, he felt something holding onto his wrist, it was Charlotte.

"When you're dressed, come wait out here." She said. Roland nodded back to her, and she nodded as well before walking towards the tower Colbert had entered.

Roland had followed the maid into the servants' quarters and was given some spare clothes from a few of the male servants. He was told he could dress himself in their living quarter. After putting the clothes on he looked into the small mirror on the wall of the room to get a look at his face.

Whenever he wound up in a new land his appearance would be different, but it was always in some minor way, this time was no exception. His hair and eyes were dark brown, like usual, and his face looked mostly the same as it was previously. His eyebrows weren't too bushy or thin, his hair was a few inches in length, and his face was clean shaven. All in all, he looked mostly the same as usual, save for one, significant detail. On his forehead, where the heat had concentrated before, were strange runes. Roland tousled his hair with his hand in an attempt to hide the writing; he didn't want it visible, as he never cared for tattoos or brands.

He picked up the mantle, loincloth, club, and shield he entered the room with and exited to find the maid that procured his new clothes, a long-sleeve white-cotton shirt, brown-hide pants, and brown leather shoes, waiting for him. She had tried to take his club and shield from him when she offered him the clothing, but he refused to relinquish them. She looked unsure at first, but decided against trying to persuade him.

Their walk back to the courtyard was mostly silent. Every few paces the maid would try to engage him in small talk, but it didn't get very far. Roland wasn't trying to be rude, he just wasn't much of a talker, nor was he very expressive, so he only gave the minimum required responses. Still, she tried her best to talk to him, so he appreciated the effort, even if the conversation she was hoping for didn't really get anywhere.

It didn't take them long to get back to the courtyard, or for her to bow to him and say her goodbyes as she went back to work on the laundry. With nothing left to do, he began exploring the courtyard before deciding to wait by one of the towers connected to the courtyard. He wasn't sure, but he thought this tower was the one the older man, students, and Charlotte, had gone into earlier.

He leaned against the wall and began to absent-mindedly look around, considering what had happened so far, and, more importantly, what would be happening from now on. He was in what could be considered a wholly new situation. In every other place he'd been there was always a few things that were similar. Namely, that whatever society had existed there was gone when he arrived, almost all the people that were still there had turned Undead, and most of them had already hollowed, the fires were beginning to fade, and someone, or something, was trying to continue the current Age of Light, while others wanted to extinguish it.

It didn't take much to realize that most of that wasn't the case. He was in a currently functioning society, from what he could tell, and there were no signs from the people he'd met so far that the Undead Curse even existed, which seemed almost unreasonable, but the world itself seemed to confirm this. The world around him exuded life and warmth, two things that he'd never really seen in his travels. That also meant that the fires weren't fading, as they would've taken the warmth and energy he felt with them. He continued to consider these things as he waited for Charlotte to come back, and though he'd seen the same places hundreds of times before, and explored them as thoroughly as he could, there was still much he didn't know, or couldn't remember.

A few hours passed before he saw Charlotte again, inside a crowd of her peers as they all walked away from the large tower he was standing by. As she separated from the crowd she looked around for a few seconds before locating Roland, and walked up to him. She stood, staring up at him in silence; her stare was piercing, almost like she was trying to read his mind through sight alone.

"You don't seem upset." Charlotte said as she took her mantle back from his offering hand.

"About waking up here?" She nodded in affirmation. "I've woken up in worse places."

She eyed him strangely at that statement, probably assuming he was talking about alcoholism or some similar vice. Regardless of what she thought, she motioned for him to follow her to a tree by the edge of the courtyard, away from the chaotic din of students, and sat down in its shade. She looked at him expectantly as he sat across from her; he figured she was waiting for him to talk. It began to dawn on Roland that she wasn't much for talking either.

He sighed as he pondered what to say, it was pretty apparent he'd have to be the one to carry the conversation, which was a wholly new experience for him. Most people he'd known would talk to him regardless of his interest in what they were saying.

"So where are we?" He started with the obvious question.

"Tristain, Academy of Magic."

So he was at a school of magic. That made sense, despite their strange uniforms. He'd been summoned by her, but outside of phantoms, he'd never heard of physically summoning another being. The fact that the students, and who he assumed to be their teacher flew away was also strange, but this girl seemed even stranger. She had somehow been able to insert knowledge of her language into him. In comparison, him having never heard of Tristain before seemed like an unimportant detail.

"Why am I here? How did you summon me?"

"I was supposed to summon a familiar." She responded. "You answered my call."

"What is a familiar?"

She paused, what little expressions she made showed that she was surprised by his question. Was it really all that odd to ask?

"It's a Magicians' Partner and servant."

Roland looked around the field; many of the students there had creatures with them that accompanied them out of the building just a few minutes ago. He had thought they looked strange, and some dangerous, but no one here seemed particularly scared or put-off by them, in fact, they seemed to treat them more like pets than threats, partners, or servants. Were they other familiars? Charlotte had noticed his gaze and nodded when he looked back to her, having picked up on what he was thinking.

"Human Familiars are rare."

"It looks like they're treated as pets, not partners." He told her what he thought of the other familiars, though her only response was a conflicted look that faded as quickly as it appeared. Did his statement upset her? She didn't say anything if it did.

"Why can I understand you now?" Roland asked, both out of curiosity and a want to avoid an awkward silence.

"Contract Familiar allows for communication between Familiar and Magician. It alters your mind and body." She expanded on the answer she'd given him earlier.

He didn't like that answer. Having his body or mind altered without his permission made him uncomfortable, but aside from his current understanding of her language and the markings on his forehead, he felt no different than before. Still, he felt it important to ask what exactly she meant by that.

"Do you not want to be here?" Charlotte spoke before he had a chance to voice his own question. Her inquiry derailed his previous train of thought temporarily. Roland hadn't really ever considered what he wanted, aside from some ending to his journey, be it death or peace, so if being here could somehow lead to an end, he'd be better off staying in this place, though, he wasn't sure how to answer her question. He knew she was asking if he wanted to be here with her due to the summoning, and that was the difficult part. Whether he was with her or not, if this place, Tristain, somehow lead to an end, he'd be satisfied with that.

"I don't mind it." He responded, deciding he'd like to stay with her. If he was to stay in Tristain, he figured it would be better to be with someone who knew the rules of the society they were in. After all, functioning in society was different from killing everything that attacked you.

Charlotte seemed relieved by his answer, but only slightly, as she leaned in closer to the tree trunk she sat next to.

"So… What do you mean by it affecting my body and mind?" He asked the question he was most concerned with.

"… You're more likely to risk yourself for me… And you're more inclined to follow my instructions." She responded, her expression remained neutral, but her tone expressed her distaste for what she was saying. Roland wasn't sure how to take that response, but he didn't get the impression she was the type to take advantage of that kind of power. If she was, she probably wouldn't have told him about those effects, still, he decided it'd be best to be cautious around her.

"I'm not sure how it's affecting your body." She continued in a lighter tone. A strained silence fell over them as she finished her short explanation.

It looked like she didn't want to talk anymore, as she pulled a small book out of her skirt pocket and began reading it. Roland still had a few questions, but decided to leave them for later, deciding it would be a better idea to walk around a bit to get a look at the rest of the school grounds. He had only looked around the area between the two stone pathways that marked the edges of the courtyard, and figured it would be good to familiarize himself with the rest of the school grounds.

He told his intentions to Charlotte, who only nodded in reply as she kept reading.