Next chapter came faster than expected :) Now that I'm looking at everything, however, I realize that the next chapters are going to be a pain in the tush to write: After this is the count Mott arc, then the Albion arc, then the Reconquista arc. The only breaks I get are the treasure hunting/Dragons Raiment arc and the visit to the Valliere's home. So its going to be fight scene after fight scene after fight scene. Damn it...
Now before I start, I'm gonna say it again for the last time: I've been getting PM's from some readers that are dissatisfied with how I'm portraying the CU and his power levels. I'm gonna post this now: I'm not changing the character just because you whine. I've said my piece on why I won't, so you can accept it and move on or just not read my story. You want a strong CU from that start that's socially confident? Read Sargeman's "Familiar Souls". This story is a juxtaposition of that, so you're not going to get the same thing. If you want a CU that's "Less emo", then I can't help you. So please stop PMing me about complaints that will never be answered.
Being honest here: Familiar Souls was my inspiration for this fic. I vaguely thought about a Dark Souls crossover, but it was only after reading that fic that I made this story. But since I didn't want a copy paste story, I made the CU's personality and his circumstances a juxtaposition of his by making him more tired and cynical compared to the "Chosen" from Familiar Souls. So thank you Sargeman, and I hope your story can satisfy the people who are expecting a more powerful and confident CU.
The forests near the Academy of Magic wasn't as thick as the rest of Tristain's woodland. Due to the close proximity of the school, its was theorized that the rampant magic in the air somehow affected the growth rate of the trees and prevented them from growing as thick as the other natural forests. Other theories included the academy itself holding some kind of priceless artifact underground that prevented root growth or maybe that there was a secret batch of cultists doing something with the roots that killed off the trees.
The headmaster thought it was because of the rampant cutting of trees the school did in order produce paper, but what did he know?
It was this same forest that the Mage thief Fouquet found herself escaping to. She ran, faster than she knew she could, the rain continuing to pour around her and covering her in a thick blanket of water. In her arms she held a worn wooden case, holding it protectively close to her like a mother would to their child. As she continued to run, it became evident that she was limping and her breaths became more ragged the longer she went. She was injured, and quite heavily at that.
Anybody who saw her would've taken pity on her. Her cloak was torn, the edges and bottom of it shredded at the seams. Under her thick hood, tiny drops of blood dropped from her cheeks and onto her tunic. As if adding insult to injury, thick streaks of mud caked both her hands and fingers, no doubt from the muddy soil she had been stepping on.
She didn't know how long she'd been running. Her willpower still hadn't recovered and she feared what would happen if someone had caught up to her. She couldn't summon a Golem nor could she use any spell to defend herself. The best she could hope for was using the knife she had packed for emergencies, and even then she doubted it could do anything.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be an easy job - She had lowered herself morally in order to make sure of it! And yet, she was nearly killed by someone using magic that was an impossibility. What in the void was that, anyway? Even the most experienced fire Mages shouldn't have been able to melt her stone faster than she could recover it.
"Damn it all to the void!" She yelled, her voice jostling the trees leaves with its intensity. How did she get roped into this? She was a thief, not a mercenary for hire. She didn't requests from anyone except for her, and she had no idea what she had to do to support the two of them and the kids she harbored. If she was gone, Tiffa would be... no one would take care of her.
She shook the her head and sighed. As much as she wanted to shove this staff up the collective posterior of the people who hired her, she couldn't change the fact that they had her by the hair and that with the snap of a finger she would be nothing more than a memory to those who cared to remember her. She needed to get this staff to its destination and fast.
It wasn't purely for desperation's sake that she ran into the forest. Before the attack, Cesare had told her that their 'mutual benefactor' had given her a location on where to drop the staff off; a dead drop of sorts. He had mentioned something about a small abandoned building deep into the woods surrounding the academy. He gave her no directions, only stating that she would know it when she saw it.
It was only after a few more minutes of running that she saw it. Through the trees and almost completely masked by the foliage around it, a small wooden cottage that looked like it had seen better days. Even through the rain she could see pieces of the wall peeling off and a hole in the roofs side that would make living there inconvenient at best. But it was the last place anyone would think to look for a Mage thief.
The resounding slam of the door being forced open echoed all around the dusty interior. Fouquet rushed inside before collapsing to the floor, taking deep breaths as she finally felt safe. The reality of what had happened was almost too much for her too bear - She was nearly killed by something that shouldn't have existed. No matter how many times she repeated the memories in her head, they never stopped making absolutely no sense. A Familiar - A human Familiar - had summoned fire from his hands and destroyed her Golem. Not a Salamander or a Dragon, but a Human; or at least something that appeared to be human.
Wearily, she grabbed for the wooden container and opened the lid slowly. The staff was still there, in its primeval and unholy glory. She'd nearly died for this thing, and for what? She couldn't even bear to look at it for too long without making her insides lurch from sickness.
"Well, well, it seems you had fun over there."
Fouquet grabbed for the knife inside her cloak and stood up quickly, turning to the source of the voice. A man stood there, tall and well built from what she could see of his body from the thick cloak that surrounded him. He was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world. At his side she could see a Rapier- No, upon closer inspection it was actually a sword; the tip of it was blunter than a normal Rapier.
The oddest thing about him the mask he wore. A white mask adorned with a wide smile. A theater mask, Fouquet noted. Easy enough to get a hold of and a popular choice for a lot of nobles when it came to things like masquerade parties or simply if they wanted to look gentlemanly. Right now it was blocking her from being able to see his facial features.
"Who are you?" She asked warily. He hadn't attacked her yet, but that didn't prove anything. Mayhaps he hoped to interrogate her before he killed her.
"Same as you; a pawn in our benefactor's game," He shrugged, "My job was simply to observe what happens and whether you succeeded in your task or not. Failure meant that I would have to eliminate you to ensure you wouldn't be caught and interrogated. I doubt you have any info for that could gravely compromise us, but His Eminence wishes to cover his tracks well."
"So what, are you here to kill me now?" She didn't have her willpower anymore, but that didn't mean she would curl up and die.
He laughed, sending shivers down her spine, "Now why would I do that? You did your task well," He walked towards her slowly and picked up the box, placing it on a small table in the center of the cabin, "Or at least, you seem to be in the process of doing so. I assume you're aware of the true scope of your task?" She could just imagine him grinning under that mask of his.
"...Find the staff's use," She recited bitterly. It wasn't enough for her employers that she get the staff; she had to find out how to use it or else the task was considered a failure. She'd considered it an easy enough task, but that was before she had actually held the staff in her own hands. The wand was a catalyst of darkness and corruption and she doubted anyone could actually use this.
"Correct," He clapped mockingly, "Finish that simple task and you shall gain your reward. I will be observing you until you do so. I hope you don't fail in your task; I would hate to kill a woman as beautiful as you."
Fouquet snorted. Flattery, of course. To commoners it might have been taken at face value, but she had spent enough time with nobility that she figured out quickly enough that flattery was ingrained into the nobility's system. Even those fighting duels to the death tended to compliment one another superficially as a way to show how 'noble' they were. She never believed it.
"One question then, if I can," The figure nodded, "You were observing the plan and had to have know things were going wrong. Why did you not step in to ensure that things were going to succeed?"
"Because I follow orders," He shook his head slowly in amusement, "I was ordered to watch you and I did it. Additionally, were a certain someone to see my face, my own agenda's would be ruined. I have a connection higher than that of a mere secretary, Miss Longueville," She was about to ask how he knew that before he left quickly, slamming the door behind him loudly. She was alone now.
So he knew her real identity? That was troubling. But what he said before that worried her. A connection higher than hers? Was he connected to the royalty? An heir to a family of well-known nobles, maybe? It would certainly explain why he was hesitant to allow his identity to be compromised.
But that wasn't her problem now. Warily she glanced at the case on the table. She needed to find how it worked, but there was no way for her to do that without killing herself or . She needed a willing Mage to use the staff and use its powers. She sighed: She would have to lower her already tenuous grip on morality even more. She was already responsible for the deaths of how many people, and now she was about to be responsible for even more.
She needed test subjects.
In all his memories, he couldn't recall ever seeing something like this.
Raziel glanced around him in silent astonishment. The normally empty field was filled to the brim with makeshift tents and bodies, with many of those still conscious either trying to heal those still clinging to life or burying those who couldn't be saved. It was a custom of their land, as his master had told him, to bury the dead so their soul would find peace in Brimir's lasting reign.
"Oh Founder Brimir, we beseech you, watch over your fallen children!" A clergyman - His name was Mazarin, as Raziel recalled - called out, raising his hands in a prayer to his unseen God, "May their souls find their way through the darkness and to your side where they shall remain for eternity. We ask you, as your humble servants, to protect us in the days to come and through the trials we may face."
Brimir. They kept repeating that name. Was this another God he didn't know about? He knew of the existence of foreign God's: Velka and Fina weren't part of the pantheon of God's in Lordran, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. Whoever this Brimir was, he was obviously connected to the sorcery of this place. He had simply assumed he was a powerful Mage like Logan, but apparently he was both this and a God to them.
He didn't believe in any God. Though that might have branded him a heretic here, he didn't care much for it - they would use any reason to burn him at the stake or stone him to death (again, in his case) now that they knew he was an Undead. It was a story he'd heard many times already.
The Undead Merchant told him his story. He was a respected merchant and beloved by his small community. He had a wife, a daughter, and even a thriving business. He had a perfect life. But when he passed away from illness and he reanimated, everyone watched the community stone him with a smile on their faces. To them, he died when the illness took him, and what came after was nothing but a monster. Only his daughter Yulia was willing to stand up for him, and she was branded a heretic because of it.
The Crestfallen Warrior had told him his story. He was a minor knight that had been sent on a mission that would finally earn him the title he deserved. But along the way, he was killed by Bandits and his comrades abandoned him when he came back from Death's embrace. Soon he gave into despair and whatever remained of his personality was absorbed by the sadness he felt.
Siegmeyer had told him his story. He was a loyal and famous knight of Catarina with many years of service to his name. But one day when he took a blade meant for his lord and he came back from death, the comrades he had fought with looked at him like he was some kind of monster and his own daughter was forced to kill him again in order to prove her loyalty to the royalty of Catarina. And despite all this, both father and daughter still loved one another and never lost trust in one another.
Rhea had told him her story. She was the sole daughter of an influential family high up in the (corrupt) church of Thorolund. But when she had turned Undead, her own father was forced to disown her till she found the 'Rite of Kindling' in what essentially amounted to as a suicide mission. Even she herself was aware of it, despite the front of being a holy woman she put up. She knew her father had essentially sent her to die (again) in order to preserve their families reputation.
Nothing mattered. Once you became an Undead, you were nothing but a monster in the eyes of 'normal' people. To them, he was a monster - An animal to be put down before he went rabid and started attacking. Now he was just waiting for their judgement.
While the priest was giving his sermons, the others - mostly commoners - were wrapping the body of their deceased in cloth and loading them in carts: To bring back to town, most likely. He found this intriguing - Bodies were usually burned in order to be sacrificed to the Flames and prevent them from resurrecting. This land may not have Undead, but the customs shouldn't have changed, right? It was almost as if he was in another land entirely.
Thinking back on it, why had no one reanimated? The Darksign was usually hit or miss about these sorts of things: About a half in half chance whether a person would resurrect or stay dead. And yet, not a single person had reanimated as far as he could see. None of the Bandits, none of the victims, no one at all. Odd, this place may have been prosperous, but the Darksigns reach should have extended to all.
Sighing, Raziel stood up from his place on the ground and stretched his right arm. Per his master's suggestion, he had gotten his burnt arm wrapped in bandages by one of the few healers around the area, along with his neck and stomach. Water magic wouldn't heal him and he needed a way to hide the burns and hole in his neck and stomach area so it wouldn't 'incite a panic', as his master said. Personally, he thought he got off rather well all things considered.
Speaking of his master, he hadn't seen her for a while now. She'd kept her distance from him on the slow walk back to camp and when they'd arrived she said that she would check on how the princess was doing, leaving him to his own faculties. She was scared of him, that much he could figure out. He couldn't blame her. She must've been disgusted when she found that she was harboring a monster with her and even staying in the same room with him for a couple of weeks. She must've been thinking on what to do with him now.
He should have let her die. There was no benefit to him saving her over going over that thief. He didn't expect her to be thankful for his actions; hardly anyone ever was. Once she found out what he was an Undead, any master-servant connection they could could have had was severed and he became nothing but a target for her. But he was too grateful to her to do that. Even if she hated him and wished him dead, it didn't change the fact that it was because of her and her alone that he had been saved from the Kiln.
Raziel looked up at the sky wearily. It was still raining, but it had turned into a light drizzle now. Despite everything that had happened, the time was actually just past noon: The Familiar Show, and incidentally the attack, had started early in the morning and it had ended early as well. This wasn't a war of attrition or a long and drawn out fight - It was a slaughter for both sides. The quickness of it all still left everyone grasping and trying to understand what exactly happened.
He let out a tired breath. He needed to walk, to clear his mind. He was just thankful that one of the Water Mage's kind enough to waterproof his bandages. He hated changing into these things; they always made them too tight. Hmm, maybe he should go into one of the nearby tents. The rain was relaxing, but he wanted to find shelter, especially since he wasn't wearing anything on his upper body.
He shivered slightly. Since his armor was destroyed, he had chosen to discard it both to make it easier for him to move and for the healers to have an easier time bandaging him. While forgoing upper clothing might have garnered him a few stares normally, just about most of the patients here were cut off from their tunics in order to see their wounds easier. No one would look twice at him being bare-chested considering everything that had happened. And at least he still kept his pants. THAT would have garnered him some stares.
He walked aimlessly around the field for a few minutes. The Cardinal was still doing his prayer and he could make some familiar faces in the crowd surrounding him. He could see Guiche, his head bowed respectfully to one of the Knights being honored and placing a rose on top of his body. Based on the expression on his face, he must have known the Knight either casually or closely.
Kirche was there as well, though she stood off to the side off the crowd and was leaning back against a tree with her arms crossed in front of her. She caught his gaze and winked at him, giving out a strained smile. Many of her peers had congratulated her, calling her a true noble and a hero, but she didn't pay attention to the praise. Seeing the dead was a sobering experience, after all.
He couldn't find Tabitha anywhere, though that was understandable. She must've been resting now, tired from the strain of keeping the air bubble over such a large area without respite. Overdoing magic tended to cost one their physical health, as Griggs had told him. It was tiring on both the mind and the body, though Seath was pretty much living proof of the former. Insane dragon idiot.
Off to the corner he could see a lone tent; this one red in color. That might be a good place for him to rest. Giving one last look at the gathered crowd of mixed status, he walked to the tent's entrance and made to enter the cloth structure.
"How many casualties?" The voice sounded familiar. The headmaster? "The attack took place only at a short time, but those bandits left quite a mess in the short time they were here." Right, it was the headmaster.
"Over two dozen so far; most of them Knights." That was the bald professor...Baldy? He forgot his name, "And that's just those we've identified. We still haven't counted those who died in the initial blast nor those who are in clinic right now being treated for their injuries. There are also people who are still missing, like Miss. Longueville."
Raziel raised a hand up slowly to the tent flap before stopping. No doubt it was a private conversation. He mentally sighed in relief at the fact that he had left Derflinger behind in one of the tents at his request; something about rust staining his blade. If he were here now he might have decided to talk and attract the attention of the two arguing staff inside.
"Ah...but how many students were killed?" The headmaster's voice had taken a weary tone, unlike the casual tone from before.
"...None so far," Baldy (He was spending too much time with Derflinger) sighed, "Some Wind user students were attacked and left bleeding, but for the most part any student was taken captive in the hopes that they could be ransomed. It appears that the bandits took the chance to try and kidnap the students in the hope of ransoming them later back to their families. The visitors who came earlier weren't so lucky."
In Raziel's experience, Bandit's tended to make horrible allies. He still remembered the guardian - and he used that term loosely - in the Darkroot Garden. The guy was the most chaotic among all of them and didn't even hesitate to slice through his teammates in order to try and get at him. Bandit's were outlaws because they decided that they cared little for anyone but themselves. It didn't surprise him much that they had disobeyed Cesare's orders for capture.
"Then, I suppose we should Thank Brimir," The headmaster replied, "As much as I hate to say it, we had gotten lucky that 'only' the visitors are confirmed to have been killed."
It was sad, and more than a little despicable, but Osman couldn't deny the fact that to the nobility the life of even a single noble was worth the deaths of a hundred commoners. Neither he nor Professor Colbert liked it, but they were staff of the Academy and they needed to place the nobility first in times of crisis like this. They needed to make sure that all of the students survived and, failing that, try and console the families in the hopes that the other nobles don't use their deaths as ammunition in order to extort from the school. Everything came down to politics and semantics.
"Raziel, what are you doing?" The confused Undead turned around slowly and came face to face (assuming he looked down) with his master, "I told you to stay still and let the healers patch you up, didn't I?" She wasn't angry, which was odd considering who he was talking to. Now she just sounded...tired, or worn.
She looked better that she did before. The cuts on her cheeks had been healed - no doubt by that 'water magic' - and there were no more traces of blood or tears from before. Granted she was still wearing her stained uniform, but she at least had the decency to wear a brown cloak in order to keep herself dry. She looked almost like Rhea in a way.
"I did," He replied, somewhat annoyed. Despite the deadened cells in his body, he was capable of feeling differences in the temperature, if only to a marginally lesser extent compared to normal people. And now that he had been sitting in the drizzling rain for a while, he was beginning to regret discarding his armor in favor of going bare, no matter how much more comfortable it would be.
"Master-" He reached his hand out to her before holding back. She had recoiled from him, her face flinching and her hands tightening their grip around her cloak. Vaguely he could see her shoulders shaking from underneath the thick cloak she wore. She was scared of him. Scared that he would snap her neck or burn her alive like he did to her captors earlier.
Raziel looked to the side, unwilling to face her. She was afraid of him now, just like he had expected.
They continued the silent stalemate before the pinkette went by him slowly and opened the flap of the tent, using her free hand to gesture at him to follow. Raziel looked up at the gray skies before quickly following his master inside. She hadn't said anything, but he was obviously expected to come here at some point. It was likely how she found him.
"Ah, Miss Valliere and Mr. Familiar, come in!" Professor Colbert bowed politely, gesturing at the seats next to table at the center of the small tent, "I know its a bother to you right now given everything that's happened, but we would like to ask you some questions about what happened earlier. As we understand it, you two had seen something that none of the other students have."
The two teenagers - though it might not have been accurate to call one of them that - nodded silently before sitting down at the chair's allotted to them. There wasn't much else at the tent; just a few lamps and some mattresses for anyone who needed to rest. It was a hastily put up tent made for protection against the rain, so comfort wasn't exactly a priority.
Colbert looked uncomfortably at the distance between the two of them. They were trying to avoid one another, "My apologies. Would you prefer it if we did this some other time? I understand if answering questions is too hard for you two."
"No, please continue!" Louise interrupted quickly, "Raziel and I are simply tired from today's events, that's all. We shall answer to the best of our abilities."
Colbert looked at Old Osmond uncomfortably, the Headmaster giving an unhelpful shrug. Truth be told, neither of them wanted to do this either. They were both tired from the rescue efforts earlier and, despite everything that had happened, they needed to find out what exactly what had been stolen from the sacred vault. They'd seen the Golem through the smoke and figured out quite easily that the bandits weren't attacking purely for their own sake.
"Mr. Familiar, please take my cloak," The bald professor sighed and unclasped his cloak, offering it to the younger male. He would need it more than he did.
Raziel looked at the offered cloak suspiciously before hesitantly accepting it. Colbert watched quietly as the smaller male wrapped the cloak around him. The frail teen looked somewhat sad, shivering in the overgrown cloth.
But first things first, they needed to disclose a few things to Ms. Valliere.
"Ahem," Colbert coughed awkwardly, starting the conversation "Well, Miss Valliere, I know this might come as a weird question, but do you know what exactly who your Familiar is?"
Louise's eyes widened and she could feel her body freeze up in shock. They knew. They knew that her Familiar was some kind of...she didn't even know what he was! She glanced at him nervously. He looked human enough, but he had ignored a knife being imbedded into his neck till she pointed it out to him. And he was using magic! Without a wand! He wasn't just a Mage.
Raziel didn't bother looking at her. How ironic. Just a few days ago he had met these two and the headmaster asked him if he was human like them. He had answered that he was, assuming that there were other Undead like him in this school. But he was wrong, there was no one else like him here. He looked down at his hands and sighed.
The armor had hidden it well, but the true extent of his physical damages were obvious now that he wasn't wearing the protective suit. His hands were still thin and his physique barely had any muscle to it, so much that his casual carrying and use of Derflinger would've been seen as a miracle by any experienced swordsman. To anyone who hadn't seen him fighting, they would've thought he was frail or sickly.
"I...I don't..." Louise stuttered out. This was so embarrassing.
Alright, they needed to start slow then, "Miss. Valliere, do you remember what exactly happened on the day of the summoning festival?"
Of course she did. None of her peers were willing to talk about it, and most were content to mock it was smoke and mirrors, but she still remembered. The smell of the smoke invading her nostrils, the heat of the fire in front of her, and then Raziel himself. The flaming corpse animated by some kind of sinister magic, walking towards like a monster straight out of a horror novel.
"Ever since that day there have been no incidents, but we never did find out what exactly happened. Do you have any idea-"
"Could we please cut the formalities?" The three Mages looked at the solitary Undead, "You dance around the issue like it is something that should be handled delicately. I prefer it if we all speak our mind."
"What exactly do you mean?" Osmond asked curiously, "We are speaking the truth when we say that we know nothing about the summoning that took place a few weeks ago," He smiled underneath his long beard, "In fact, I think its safe to say that only you really know about what happened back then, whether you remember it or not. All we know is that Miss. Valliere had summoned you and caused an incident due to appearing as a monster."
"Appear as one? You dance with words," Raziel sighed, "I may appear human to all of you, but I am an abomination that most humans would see as a monster. Master has seen what I am capable of, what I am able to survive when I killed those who . That should be proof enough of what you need to know."
The headmaster and professor turned from Raziel to Louise. Immediately the inept Mage looked down and started twiddling her thumbs nervously. How could she explain what she'd seen? She could barely believe it herself. It was almost too surreal even for her. And she'd heard the stories of what her mother did during her service to the corps.
"Miss. Valliere, could you please tell us what you saw? It would help us understand what happened," Colbert urged gently. They were the only people in the area when the Golem attacked. They were also the only two close by when they found the dead bodies of the few escaping bandits. So whatever happened, it was either they were responsible or they had seen who was responsible.
"He..." She stopped. What was she supposed to say? That her Familiar used magic? That he ignored a knife stabbed into his neck till she pointed it out? No one would believe her. They would call her insane and laugh at her explanations as the imaginings of a confused teen who had brain damage. She couldn't explain it no matter how she said it.
Raziel looked at his master's fidgeting and frowned. She was nervous, something he never took as a good sign. In the days he'd known her, the only time he ever saw her become nervous was reading some letters that she claimed were from 'family'. Anger or irritation was her usual mood, occasionally sprinkled with happiness when she got a good result from her classes. Nervousness was something else.
"I think...it will be easier if I show you," Raziel interjected.
Louise turned to him and tried to voice a complaint before clamming up. He had a point. She wasn't going to be able to explain anything without showing them anything. He was probably going to show them how his weird magic worked.
Raziel searched the sides of his lower armor for a moment before pulling out what he needed: A dagger. Louise unconsciously fidgeted in her seat. It was the dagger that had cut into her and the same one that had been impaled into his neck. She should've known he would keep it with him. Whether he was aware of it or not, his actions heavily indicated that he had a morbid sense of humor about him.
"Mr. Familiar, what do you hope to-" Raziel tightened his grip on the dagger before stabbing it onto the palm of his left hand. Colbert grimaced at the action, though he was doing marginally better than Louise, who seemed to be hyperventilating in her seat. Amazingly, Headmaster Osmond only gave a slightly raised eyebrow at the action and didn't even seem that surprised.
Raziel twitched slightly at the injury before twisting the dagger painfully in his hand. It hurt, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with given everything that had happened. He twisted it a few more times before pulling it out quickly and depositing the dagger onto the table. His master wasn't even looking at him anymore.
"Does this answer your question?" Raziel raised his hand and pointed the wound at the the adults. Colbert wondered what he was trying to show before he realized it: Blood. There was no blood, not even a single drop. He rubbed his eyes and checked again, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He could see the injury, the skin that had been displaced by the blade, but the hole was empty and he couldn't smell the metallic odor of blood. It was as if he was empty.
"Fascinating..." Osmond mumbled to himself, rubbing his beard in a sagely manner, "It appears you share qualities with someone I knew from the past...well, that's a story for another time," He waved off Colbert's and Louise's surprised gaze, "As surprising as this display is, there's very little we can say to it. What exactly are you trying to show us?"
Raziel was getting irritated. Did they want him to say it out loud? There may have been no Undead here, but that didn't mean they didn't exist! They were mocking him now, he was sure of it.
"Do you wish me to spell it out?" He sighed irritably when they nodded, "I am an Undead, a monster that cannot be killed. I do not bleed, I do not age, I do not die. Death has loosened its grip on me. I am a decayed corpse animated by a curse that the God's of this world gave to human's in order to prolong their rule. I am not like you, despite how similar I look."
No one said a word. What he was saying was impossible. Life beyond death, something that not even Brimir or the legendary elves were capable of. Louise steeled herself and looked at him again. He said he was a corpse animated by magic, but she couldn't see that. She was afraid of him, scared to even go near him, but she couldn't see it. All she saw was a young man who looked frail despite his actions.
"An Undead?" Colbert was the first to speak, "That's impossible. You speak of the death returned to life as if it is something common. Magic may be powerful, and many times it has been used to take life, but the act of bringing the dead back from the abyss is impossible except for possibly void magic," He pointed at Raziel's left hand, "You may have the runes, but that does not make you a simple Golem."
Runes? Raziel looked down at his hands again. Derflinger said something about them marking his status as a Familiar. But what did they mean it didn't make just a Golem?
Raziel scowled. This made no sense. Everyone knew of the Undead; they were the reason the world was in shambles. Society was collapsing hard because of the Hollows. Every ally could turn into a mindless monster at a seconds notice. That was why they were all siphoned to the Undead Asylum.
That's what he assumed, at least. He woke up at the asylum with no prior memories and he had only found out from Oscar why people were sent there after he had managed to escape. His memories were fragmented, and the memories that Derflinger had showed him were too confusing to make sense of. He highly doubted he was some kind of aristocrat.
"I will show you proof," Raziel picked up the dagger and brought it across the bandages surround his neck. The pieces of cloth fell to the ground and he pointed at the bottom of his neck, "The Darksign, the symbol that marks all of the Undead."
They all looked at where he was pointing at. At the base of his neck, there was a small circle that looked like it had been burned into his skin. But what was this supposed to prove? It looked like a wound that had been burned closed.
"Um, Mr. Familiar, I'm sorry to say that we have no idea what you're trying to imply," Raziel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at Colbert's words. They still didn't understand? "Uh...lets try something else," He rummaged through his uniform and pulled out a worn roll of paper, "I was going to use this for my trip, so its lucky that I brought this with me."
Colbert laid the scroll carefully on the table before unfolding it: A map. Raziel blinked; landmasses that he didn't understand or had no knowledge of. He could see borders and names he could recall Siesta mentioning to him. Albion, Germania, Gallia, Romalia, and Tristain. The names of the countries or places that these people inhabited.
"Could you tell me where you came from? We may be able to understand more if we ascertained where you came from."
Raziel nodded and observed the map carefully. Germania and Gallia had the biggest landmasses, followed by the small states of Romalia, Tristain, and finally Albion. The lands were all connected, with the exception of Albion to the northeast. This was a full map? He couldn't see any of the place he had heard about before.
"Not...here," Raziel mumbled, looking up at Colbert, "Where is Lordran? Carim? Astora? Surely you must know the location of Catarina?" He looked down at the map again. Where was Anor Londo? He doubted that the God's stronghold and their main building wouldn't be on a full map. Where was this place? Twin moons and no corruption, unlike everything else.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Familiar, I'm afraid I have no idea what's you're talking about," Colbert answered hesitantly, "This is the full map of Halgekenia. The only other locations I can think of are the elven lands to the east past Rub a' Khali, but all that's there is dessert. Do you remember much sand from your hometown?"
"...No..." Raziel sat down at his seat again and sighed, "Lordran has...stones, forests, large bodies of water. Oolacile is a place with many trees and majestic buildings, but not much sand."
Now this was confusing. Osmond sighed at the explanation; it was one he'd heard long before in his youth. A smiling man who claimed to be from a land called 'Oolacile' - the same one from that popular fairy tale book - and using magic and weaponry that was alien to him. It seems his savior and Miss. Valliere's Familiar had similar circumstances.
"How did you become Miss. Valliere's Familiar, if I may ask?" Osmond asked.
Raziel turned to his master before looking away quickly, "She...saved me..." He started slowly, "I do not know how, and I care little for her reason, but she had ended my torment and I am grateful to her for doing so. I doubt I could ever repay her." She was constantly angry, bossy, dismissive, and easy to hate. But she had saved him, and that was something he wouldn't be able to repay.
Louise looked surprised at the explanation briefly before shaking her head. She needed to focus, "We're getting nowhere, Professor," She interjected forcefully before he could ask more questions, "He told you he was an Undead and I saw him get impaled in the neck with barely a reaction. He called himself a monster earlier. I saw him kill people. Why aren't you more shocked by this!?"
Colbert rubbed his bare head nervously, "Well, truth be told, I'm actually very shocked, but my mind is still trying to process what he's saying. After all, an Undead is something that's never happened before or been recorded in our long history. And despite everything he's saying, I can't see anyone but a teen wrapped in a cloak that's too big for him. Hardly a monster like the one he says."
"Yes, yes, same as Mr. Colbert," Osmond remarked dismissively.
...She couldn't believe this. These two, a respected teacher and the headmaster of the academy, both of them were almost disregarding everything Raziel had said. Just because he looked normal didn't change the fact that he was, essentially, a sentient construct! He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he apparently couldn't be killed either! And they were ignoring it!
"Raziel, show them what you did earlier!" He gave her a confused look, "You know, what you did earlier! Your Brimir forsaken wandless magic!" She yelled, almost hysterically at the injured teen.
Wandless magic? Now Colbert knew she had to be joking. The runes indicated he was a Gandalfr, meaning he was a master of all weaponry, but that didn't mean the runes granted him magic; and wandless magic at that.
"Understood," Raziel sighed and started unwrapping the bandaged on his right hand. The skin underneath was still burnt, but no longer raw and pulsating like earlier. The wounds he sustained from the Kiln took almost a week to heal, but regular injuries like those that came from fire or dagger impalement were easy enough to recover from.
He mumbled the incantation under his breath and his palm was instantly set aflame. Colbert grabbed for his wand to try and put out the fire before stopping. He wasn't in pain and the fire wasn't eating away at his skin, "Pyromancy," Raziel intoned, holding his hand out to the two of them, "Master calls it 'wandless magic', but Pyromancy never required anything more than the flame inside ones body,"
Raziel looked at the flame and frowned. During his time in Lordran, he had made his Flame stronger by sacrificing many souls to feed its flames. But now the power was gone, back to its base form. Damn it, he was hoping that the flames of chaos would keep burning inside him, but now all that was flickering in his palm was a regular flame. Nothing impressive.
"You...can do do this without a wand?" Colbert adjusted his glasses and took a closer look at the flames. They weren't illusions; he could see the vibrant color and he could feel the heat emanating from them. The bald professor looked between the flame and Raziel. There was no secret, no wand he kept hidden. He was doing this by himself.
"Does this mean you're a noble, then?" He continued, "Yes, it might explain why you-"
"I told you: I am an Undead," Raziel reminded, "Pyromancy is nothing impressive; anyone with the willingness to learn can harness its power. I am more concerned that you seem to not care that I am an Undead. I had expected you to try and transport me to the Asylum...though, given everything that's happened, I have my doubts if you even know where it is."
That was mostly because they had no idea how being an Undead made him different. He obviously wasn't a mindless Construct, and he wasn't animal-like in intelligence, so it was hard to distinguish him from a regular human. He didn't kill people and steal their blood like vampire's did either, so him being an Undead essentially boiled down to saying he was a monster.
The people of this land never experienced the Hollows nor had they seen their loved ones rise up from the dead in order to kill them. Undead weren't despised simply because of their status, but also because of the danger they posed to those around them once they lost the will to live. But neither of them had any idea of the dangers Undead posed. They hadn't seen him burn a man alive or tear through the bandits like they were made of paper.
There was also the fact that the human mind unconsciously blocked out anything it didn't comprehend. So no matter how much he yelled it out, only his master seemed to actually care about the fact that he was an Undead. And only because she was forced into a situation that made her unable to question what she'd seen. Now that everything was calm again, Colbert and Osmond had the luxury of being able to deny it or rationalize.
"I'm sorry. As I said, I'm still in shock," Colbert laughed stiffly, "Still, I'm interested in how you did that magic of yours. Wandless magic has only been recorded to have been done by Elves or Vampires...and you've made who you are abundantly clear to us already."
They didn't didn't know how to react, really. Should they have been afraid? He wasn't attacking them now and, seeing him shivering in the cloak, they had a hard time believing that he could be any sort of threat. But then again, one didn't need physical perfection in order to be a complete threat. Many powerful Mages were quite out of shape and relied solely on magic to see them through.
It was the 'wandless magic' that concerned them the most. His ears weren't pointed so he wasn't an Elf, and he didn't drink blood - for void's sake, he didn't have any blood - so they couldn't call him a Vampire either. Was he part of a race that simply called himself Undead? Because unless he was rotting corroding right in front of them, it wouldn't have been fair to call him dead just yet.
But they had seen a lot of things at their age. Threat's were easy enough to deal with.
"Well then, Mr. Familiar, I must admit your circumstances are certainly...unique," Colbert tested carefully, "Yes, you are a unique individual. Able to perform magic like any noble, able to survive without blood, you must be unique among where you come from."
"Unique?" Raziel almost laughed, "Undead are commonplace. It is your knowledge that worries me. Do you never experience the dead returning to life? Or your friends and loved ones Hollowing and attacking you? You act as if I am something you have never seen before."
"I'm relieved to say we do not," Osmond answered, "We bury our dead and mourn their passing, but we move on from the loss. Perhaps in the land you came from, a place that is not known to us, this is common. But here in our land, we do not have what you call 'Undead' or 'Hollows'. It is highly likely that you're the only one of your kind here. And I must admit we are ill-equipped to deal with your circumstances."
Well they weren't threatening to burn him at the stake, so he didn't actually care what they thought of him or how 'ill-equipped' they were. They didn't even seem to mind that he was an Undead to begin with, caring more about the fact that he was capable of Pyromancy than the fact that he was an unnatural corpse animated by unknown magic.
How ironic. From where he came from he was one of the simple masses of Undead; a shard in a castle of glass. But here, no one else shared his...situation. He was something that these people had never seen before. Not those bandits, not the people from this school, and especially not his master. It made his former title as the "Chosen Undead" almost appropriate.
"Well, I would like to ask more questions, but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short," He pointed at his shoulder where a wet mouse was currently sitting on, "Chuchu has just informed me that they've found Miss. Longueville injured on the school grounds and I believe it would be appropriate if Professor. Colbert and I attended to her. We shall call on you again later after we have discussed with her where she was for the attack. We still have to ask you what you saw near the vault's location."
"And, at least for now, let us keep the nature of our discussion secret. Given everything that's happened, we don't want to incite another panic after everything that's happened."
Colbert bowed respectfully to the two of them before leaving to follow the headmaster. It was just the two of them now; a situation Louise was hoping to avoid given everything that had happened. She looked around the tent, desperate to try and find something else to focus on other than her Familiar.
"...You are scared of me," Raziel broke the awkward silence, "Your actions say it all."
"I'm...not scared. I..I mean, what kind of Master would be scared of their Familiar? Stop speaking nonsense, Raziel!" She replied back hotly, doing her best to try and keep her stuttering in check, "So...So what if you...you're an Undead!? That doesn't change the fact that you're my Familiar!"
She was lying. He could see the signs of it. She didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid, "There is no need for you to lie," He gave a small, strained smile, "We are...monsters. Many accuse us of being simple remnants trying to copy our former lives. Your fear is not unjustified, and it changes nothing of how I view you. You saved me, and that is something I will never forget no matter how much you hate me."
Despite his words, he still retained the same emotionless tone he had used since the day they had met. Louise scowled. Even after everything he refused to show how he felt: Sadness, Happiness, Anger. The smile on his face was hollow - She knew it from experience. Smiling just because you wanted to put other people at ease. She could see it; his smile was broken.
"...Stop it..." She slammed her hand on the table, "Stop acting like that. You say this with a smile on your face and I can't even understand what's going through your head. Why aren't you angry? You saved me despite your own injuries and I'm too busy being scared that I can't even look at your properly. Be angry, be sad, be...something! Just stop acting like this isn't bothering you."
"...What is it that you wish me to do?" He asked back slowly, "Do you wish me to say that I regret saving you? That I should have let you die?" He shook his head, "No matter what happens now, I have made my choice. It is wasteful to spend time regretting what could have been done and it is better to await the results.
Louise sighed, this time in frustration; fear and caution being pushed away by her rapidly boiling anger, "Then tell me what exactly you are," She gritted out, "You call yourself an Undead, but you never explained what exactly you are. Are you a corpse with no free will? Are you a spirit inhabiting that body even if it doesn't belong to you? Tell me so I can understand."
"I am not a spirit possessing this body," Raziel replied, somewhat exasperatedly, "All of us who are Undead were reborn because of the Darksign and we retain our memories and personality from before our death. Rest assured that we didn't lose our free will or our ability to make decisions for ourselves."
"So you were killed?" He nodded. Though he had no memories of how it happened, it didn't really matter. Given how life went in the world surrounding Lordran, he was probably some no-name warrior for hire who was killed after he bit off more than he could chew. Given how there were other bodies in the cell he was staying in, he was most likely dumped there because no one cared enough to even identify him from the other dead bodies.
"Why would anyone kill you?" She asked warily. He shrugged and answered that he didn't know, "What do you mean you don't know? I thought you said that you kept all the memories you had from before you were killed? Or are you telling me that you're not an Undead and you were lying from the start."
"I did not lie," He was beginning to get slightly irritated, "I awoke in the Asylum with no prior memories, the reason for which I am not aware of. I asked Solaire of this and he told me that it was unusual, though it was something I would not be able to fix," He let out a slow breath, "It matters little. My personality is my own as is my will. What you choose to do with that knowledge is up to you."
She chewed on her lip nervously. He was an Undead, a person who had come back from death itself and survived to live again. She'd seen what he did. He killed those bandits with barely any hesitation and he had little trouble injuring himself just to prove a point.
And despite all that, he had saved her. He confirmed it himself that he could make his own choices and he had come to rescue her despite making it clear that he expected no gratitude or praise afterwards. He could've killed her at any point and let her die today. He'd killed all those people and many more but he had done it in order to protect her and help everyone.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared," Louise finally admitted, "But...you protected me when I needed it most, and I wouldn't be a good master if I simply ignored that," She took a calming breath before turning to face him, "Regardless of who or what you are, it is my duty as your master to deal with it. So regardless of what you say, you are my Familiar. Am I understood?"
"..." Raziel stared at her blankly before turning away quickly. Louise wondered briefly why he had done so before she heard it: He was laughing. It was soft and barely noticeable given how low his voice was, but she could hear him laughing under his breath. Louise's right eye twitched slightly. He found her declaration funny? It took a lot of effort for her to say that!
"I apologize, I did not mean to offend," Raziel apologized before she could fire off her complaints, "I had simply expected a more...violent reaction from you. I thought you would end our relationship as Master and Familiar and incite a crowd to stone me to death again. I am...happy that this was not the result."
"Well then, maybe you should be thankful that I'm feeling grateful for everything you've done up to today," She rubbed her head and sighed, "Do you honestly think this makes sense to me? Resurrection is something that's only been talked of in the rarest of Brimir's legends. There are stories of how he resurrected his most trusted disciples as gratitude for the sacrifices they made for him. And yet here you are, not only claiming to be a resurrected person, but calling what happened to you a curse made from dark magics. Who would view a second chance from death as a curse?"
"Actually-"
"Not only that, but you used magic," She continued, almost hysterically, "You used fire magic without even using a wand! How am I supposed to react to that? You're using magic in a way that contradicts Brimir's teachings and is against every book and lesson we were taught since we were young."
"Master-"
"If the church of Romalia saw you now, they'd brand you a demon and a heretic and burn you at the stake," She gulped, "And as your master, they'd brand me an even bigger heretic and boil me in hot water via an inquisition! Headmaster Osmond is right, we can't tell anyone about you! The results of doing so will lead to our deaths!"
He had officially given up trying to interrupt her. He watched in slight amusement as his master continued to ramble her thoughts, imagining something he couldn't and didn't want to comprehend. She continued to do this for a few more minutes before stopping and slamming her head against the table in frustration.
"I'm scared of you right now...but I'm even more scared of what will happen to the two of us if anyone finds out about what you just said," She got up from her seat and started rummaging through the packs at the side of the tent, "You cut off your bandages earlier so we need to put them back on you before anyone start asking questions. Stay still, I still remember how to do this."
She wasn't thinking straight. Who would ask questions about his injuries now when there were dozens of others in even worse condition than he was? Still, better to keep his mouth shut in the hopes that she calmed down rather than interrupt her and send her into an even more hysterical frenzy.
"...Where did you learn to do this?" Raziel asked somewhat nervously as he stuck out his right hand, "I was under the assumption that Mages and Sorcerers relied more on their magical skills rather than their ability to mend wounds physically."
"I learned it from my mother," She stared down at the burnt arm before carefully unwrapping his old bandages, "Mother taught me when I was younger that I needed to learn skills that didn't rely on my magic alone. She also taught me about knitting and horseback riding, both of which I'm very confident in," She tried not to stare at the burnt skin as she wrapped the new bandages around his arm, "Bandaging is something that's easily learned once you figure out the steps necessary. I patched myself and the Princess up at times when we were younger. We fell off the trees a lot."
"You never talk about your family," He commented.
"Neither do you, Raziel," She sniped back, "The subject of my family never came up and it was never relevant."
"...Could you tell me about them?" He asked. At least they were conversing now.
"I suppose," Louise finished up his arm bandage before moving quickly to his neck, "My father is the Duke de la Valliere. He owns many lands and our family has always been loyal to the royal crown. My mother is the Duchess de la Valliere and married my father many years ago. She was the one who taught me when I was younger, "I have two older sisters: The eldest is the most likely heir and is about to be married to the Count of Burgundy. Big sis- I mean, Miss de la Fontaine has her own circumstances and was given property and a different family name by my father because of it."
Raziel didn't miss the fact that she hadn't named any of her family members. Even when expounding on family one needed to be respectful, he supposed. He observed it was common practice among the nobility: When Guiche was forced to call his father by name, he called him 'General Gramont' rather than any given name. And when he apologized to his master he called his sibling 'My brother' rather than specifying which one. Nobility took their titles and names seriously, it seemed.
Still, he couldn't imagine his master having sisters. He shuddered slightly. If his master was so quick to lose her temper, what more for her older sisters? There was always the chance that one of her sisters was sickly and gentle like the Fair Lady was to Quelaag, his mind reminded quickly, but he wouldn't hold his breath. If it was indeed true, he would slap himself in the face.
"We're done with the neck," She announced. Raziel moved to stand up before Louise pushed him back down, "And where do you think you're going? I said we were done with the neck, not that we were finished. Aren't you forgetting something?"
Raziel looked down at his left palm and groaned. He had nearly forgotten about that. There were still marks on his palm where blood should have been. Suppressing the urge to sigh, he raised his left hand and offered it to Louise.
Louise took hold of his hand and observed it carefully. Other than the holes and displaced skin, she could still see the markings of his runes. Derflinger had told them about his suppressed memories not too long ago. Could the runes be the reason why he claimed he couldn't remember anything? It would certainly explain why he was so easy to order around.
"I have to say, I'm surprised at your explanation," She started, "You act like a warrior and you talk about death so casually, but you look barely older than I am. How old are you, anyway?" She asked curiously.
Ah...that was something he would have a hard time answering. One one hand he had spent a hundred years or so burning in the Kiln, meaning it wouldn't have been a stretch to call him an old man. On the other hand, he was really only 'aware' for about a year before said burning, so calling himself a child would have also been accurate...if extremely degrading.
If he had to take account his physical appearance, then he could call himself an adult, which was a middle ground that he was comfortable with. But there was also the fact that the current body he harbored now appeared to be that of a young teenager, which complicated things somewhat.
"I am old enough," He answered vaguely.
Louise scowled at the half-answer before sighing. She wouldn't be able to get anything out of him, "Its not just your age that bothers me. You don't look like a warrior. Heck, you barely look like you can lift a sword," She gripped his hand and raised his arm, "Thin as well. Barely and muscles to speak of. You look more like Guiche than any kind of warrior."
Raziel resisted the urge to frown. It was true that his appearance was severely lacking now. The worst part of it all was the he had no idea why this was even the case. He appeared to be muscled back in his memories, with the face of a grown man. But now he looked frail, almost androgynous in a way. The only consolation he could find was that many of the other male students and some of the servants seemed to share this trait. He at least took pride in the fact that his skills and strength hadn't been affected by his new body.
"There, I'm done," She wrapped the last of the bandage around his palm before sighing in relief, "The next time someone asks you for proof, try to do it in a way that doesn't involve injuring yourself. I don't want to do this again, Raziel."
"...Why are you calling me that?" He asked suddenly, "Not too long ago you called me as 'Familiar'. But now you call me by the name I told you off a few days prior. What is the reason?"
Louise paused. Why had she been calling him that? She hadn't even realized she was doing it till he had pointed it out. She had called out to him by that name and it was only after that when he rescued her. She'd been doing it out of reflex, she supposed. She still didn't feel safe given everything that had happened and called him by that name unconsciously as a defense mechanism.
"There no reason," She shrugged, "I could go back to calling by 'Familiar' if you wish."
"No need." He found it more appealing to be called by a name rather than a designation. He always hated it when people called him 'O Chosen Undead'.
"Good," She nodded and wrapped her cloak over herself, "I'm going back to the healer's tents. Princess Henrietta is helping with the curing efforts and I promised her I would check up on her when I had the chance."
"I am going with you," He didn't trust that princess to be alone with his master. Well, that and he doubted a princess actually doing anything for anyone but herself. Monarch's like Dusk were the exception, not the norm.
"...Alright, but I don't want to see any aggression from you, am I understood?" He let out an annoyed breath but nodded all the same, "Good. Then keep that cloak wrapped tightly around you. We're going to visit the Princess and I don't want my Familiar showing indecency to her royal Highness because he decided to get rid of his armor." And hopefully they could find a tunic he could put on.
Fine. He wouldn't be aggressive, but passive aggressiveness was fair game.
Now to address some plot holes: I mentioned multiple times that he doesn't sweat or bleed, but this is contradicted in-game by the 'Bleed' status and the fact that one Pyromancy allows you to sweat to lower damage. These are my own additions to the story. Hey, this is called fanfiction, so I'm allowed to add my own stuff as long as it doesn't obliterate canon. Though given the nature of this story, canon is already on the breaking point.
And I know some of you are disappointed that only Louise, Osmond, and Colbert talked about his condition. To be honest, dragging over Colbert and Osmond was already a stretch. Kirche, Guiche, and Tabitha in the room would be breaking the suspension of disbelief since they'd have no decent reason to be there given what just happened. They have their own things to deal with.
Or the fact that their reactions are pretty calm. Ask yourself this: If a classmate or co-worker told you he was an Undead, would you be screaming immediately or try to process and rationalize? Colbert and Osmond have been through a lot, so it would be way out of character for them to start yelling hysterically rather than trying to understand. Even Saito telling them he was from another world got one excited outburst from Colbert at most before he calmed down immediately. Osmond didn't even seem to care. Louise is the only one who would be panicking and she's doing her best to try and stay calm throughout the chapter.
Twigon Halolover - Yes, but to compensate for that I made him more durable. The cumulative abuse he took during chapter 11 should've been enough to kill him twice over, but he survived. He also has some low key regeneration like the one the "Sanctus" shield gives you when you equip it.
Keeper of all Lore - He has all the skills; you don't actually need to be capable of using them just to learn them.
Necrofantasia - Given everything that's happened, going out and yelling out to everyone that he's an Undead wouldn't be the best idea. Louise treats him better now, but that's about it for the moment. This story is slow going and not everyone is going to instantly find out he's an immortal animated corpse. More people find out gradually as the story goes. That and, unlike Louise and the others, his magic is alien and requires no foci to cast. They're more curious about that than whether he's some kind of aristocrat.
Demons Anarchy - Nope, just a random pic I found. I think its supposed to represent Manus (Sif was in the picture originally), but I thought it looked appropriate enough that I used it as a cover. Generally, covers are just there because I think they look nice.
Kraut - Thank you for the long review. Don't worry, its no bother to read at all. Anyway, don't worry: I also planned to write about the white/black phantoms and their actions. And about Cesare and Micheletto: I liken them to Pinwheel. Pinwheel is a strong necromancer with who knows how many years of knowledge...but he's up against a person whose likely killed God's at this point. Same deal here: Cesare and Micheletto are genuinely threatening bandits...but they were fighting against an angry Undead with Chaos Flames. It would've been an asspull if they somehow put up a fight after Raziel just demolished the Golem beforehand.
Kuwuse - Fixed!
AnubisGundam0 - That comes later:)
Oh, and this has crossed my mind before, but what do you guys think of an Adventure Time and Zero no Tsukaima crossover? Not a full crossover, mind you - Too busy with this story as it is - but just random oneshots and humorous drafts. Like Finn and Jake instantly foiling Wardes plans because they could tell he was evil from that evil goatee he has or Zombie!Wales kidnapping attempt failing...because the Ice King saved Henrietta in order to kidnap her himself. Would certainly be more lighthearted than this.