Chapter 1: Damn, That's a Lot of Effort for a Medieval Festival

….

What the… Brandon did a double take. One moment he was aboard Rhadamanthus helping Klaus out with a project, the next…

A street that could have come out of any fantasy movie. Fantasy creatures and medieval styled streets and clothing, as well as wooden stalls selling all kinds of foods and other items he had only envisioned in fantasy novels.

Had he been teleported to some kind of cosplaying event or medieval festival?

It had been a few months since the Empire had been toppled and the old, democratic, government had been reinstalled, but for this kind of event to already be put on?

Wait, how had he been teleported in the first place? All wormhole technology was still being developed in Aeacus and wasn't even being tested yet.

What was going on?

He walked up to someone at a stall, "uh, hey."

The stall-keeper looked up, "hello, how can I help you?"

"Uh, sorry ma'am, can you tell me where I am?" He asked.

"Huh? The capital of Lugnica?" She asked in confusion.

"Staying in character huh," he murmured to himself, "sorry, I seem to be a little lost, could you tell me how to get out?"

"Just follow that path," she pointed, "then take a right at the second street, then a left and the gates should be there."

"Okay, thank you miss." He gave her a short bow before turning around.

"Hey! Are you really going to just leave without buying something?"

"Oh, sorry," he chuckled sheepishly, "I'll just get an… apple then."

"You mean an appa?"

He sighed, staying in character, "uh yeah. How much for one?" He asked as he fumbled around with his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill.

"Huh? What's that?"

"A fiver? It can't be worth more than this, right?" He asked in confusion.

"Sorry, I can't take another kingdom's money."

"Oh for fu- money's money right?"

"I can't do anything with it. You're going to have to figure out how to exchange it yourself."

He sighed, "sorry for the inconvenience."

"Just get out of my sight."

Jeez, he thought to himself, he knew they were passionate about this stuff but to go that far? Damn, turning down easy money? He would have given her the change as well. Ugh, whatever. He pulled out his phone… and no signal. Of course he wouldn't have any signal in the middle of bum fuck nowhere.

Although, it was surprising that no one had put in a request for a satellite to be put in geostationary orbit above them. Well, it was staying in character he supposed. How anyone is able to manage without technology for a day was beyond him.

But for how much effort was put in, there was no way this was a one day event. This was at minimum of a two week event, though it was likely that it would be held for even longer. It was surprising there were no merch stores but those were probably outside of the setup.

It was a large setup though.

He sighed as he finally walked out through the gates. The sun had already set by the time he made it to the gate. He had gotten lost several times as roads filled with dragon drawn carriages threw him off. He really wondered how they got those things set up.

Huh, nothing outside of the festival either. Weird, but it was probably planned. Well then, he just had to keep on walking till he got a cellular signal. Wait… there it was! A bar!

"HA!" he exclaimed, drawing a look from a driver of a passing horse drawn carriage. A connection to Rhadamanthus!

"There we go!" he exclaimed. Time to contact someone. He pulled up his contacts list… then dropped his phone as all the strength drained out.

"W-what?" he looked down to see a blue and turquoise blade protruding out of his chest like a horn.

"Filthy witch," someone spat behind him.

He gasped as the pain set in and even more as the blade slid out his back.

"What the fuck you Welsh psycopath?" he groaned in pain as he pulled out his first aid kit and started to seal up the wound.

He screamed as his left arm was cut off, the one holding the foam spray. "GAH!" he pulled out his sidearm and blindly fired in the direction in which the voice came from.

His right arm was cut off next.

His throat was screamed raw to where he could only heave.

"I've been following you all day," the voice said, "you think that you're so clever you can escape the city without Torna's notice? You damn cultist. Oh wait, you're clearly insane so you would think you could get away. I don't know what your plans are but they're over."

"I- w-w- I'm not part of a cult."

"Oh please, you reek of the witch's scent, I don't care how sane you present yourself to be… ah, you must be a sin archbishop then. All the more reason to kill you."

"What the fuck kind of medival fair is this?"

"A fair? You think this is all fun and games? Messing with people's lives?" Her voice shook with rage.

"I'm going to enjoy cutting you to pieces."

The sword fell down on his neck.

"You all right?"

Brandon did a double take, "uh, yeah, I'm uh, fine…"

"You zoned out for a second there, what were you going to ask me?"

"Oh yeah, sorry, I'm a bit lost, could you point me in the direction of the city gate?"

"Yeah, head down this road, take a right at the second street, then a left."

"Okay, thanks." He turned and put his hand over his mouth. What had just happened there? Was he killed? But that can't be right, he's standing here now. The vendor had no memories of before… Had he hallucinated the whole thing? But it had felt so real… then again dreams feel real as well while they're in progress.

No. He felt a pair of eyes on him, and not just because of his clothes or the tech surrounding his body. It was that stare from before. A targeted stare. One of pure hatred. A welsh member of a group called Torna… She must be using the fair as a cover to move around with a real weapon. She's got the wrong person targeted though. Torna might be a group that was established to get revenge against a certain cult. Of course, without a strict regime put in place, cults and other criminals were bound to be more willing to risk being caught.

But better to let ten guilty men go than have one innocent man imprisoned.

There's got to be some way to communicate that he isn't part of the cult and isn't hostile… but if he slowed his pace now she would only suspect him even more. Plus if he made it out, there's no way she would attack in broad daylight. The last time was at least partially dark.

He reached the gate without developing a proper plan. He grit his teeth as he passed through the gate. He drew his sidearm again and kept on walking. Once he was a fair distance away from the city limits, he activated his light armor. He pulled out his phone to keep an eye on the signal. Once it was strong enough he would call for a transport to get him to the closest beanstalk.

He kept on walking until the sun set. He got a single bar but nothing strong enough to do anything with.

A familiar pain went through him as the same sword as before erupted from his chest.

He grit his teeth in pain. He didn't expect a sword to pierce through his armor that could deflect light pistol rounds.

But he could use it. He twisted his body around, wrenching the sword out of his assailants grasp, then put a bullet into her knee.

Se cried out in pain and fell on the ground. Brandon shined a flashlight on her. It was a… beautiful girl, dressed almost like a Japanese shrine priestess… with cat ears. But that wasn't the weirdest part about her. She had glowing blue circles on parts of her body and right on her sternum… A Core Crystal!

"Stand down," he ordered, "you are under arrest."

She glared at him, then stood up without a hitch. "You don't have that kind of authority, cultist."

Brandon gaped for a second, "shit, of course the core crystal."

She raised her hand, then a blade of water cut him in half.

"... then the exit should be right there."

Brandon sighed, "thank you." He walked off contemplating his situation. Maybe he should deploy his CMC armor?

Not much choice other than that.

Brandon popped his knuckles as the sun drew low again, then equipped his CMC marine armor.

Time passed and sunset became night. He walked forward, completely on edge… no sword yet.

But a strange feeling went through his body, then he collapsed and started writhing in pain as blood started bursting through his skin and his body swelled up.

"What the-"

"I increased the rate of cellular regeneration in your body. You have about one excruciating minute of your pathetic life left as your body tears itself to shreds."

"Why?" He groaned out, "why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve this?"

She hissed at him, not giving him anything.

Brandon could only sob in pain at that point.

Brandon stumbled as he walked through the gate.

He had lost count of how many times he had died. Everything from dismemberment and beheadings to supercancer and literally being popped like a balloon.

No matter how many times he tried to get past, he died. No matter what he did to change his fate, he died. He defended himself as well as he could, fought her off as well as he could, even did some serious damage sometimes, but thanks to the Core Crystal embedded in her chest, she regenerated from everything he could throw at her. Nothing he had could damage her enough to kill her, and nothing he had could even begin to scratch that Crystal. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she had ever managed to obtain one nor how she figured out how to use it.

After the first few users were horribly mutated, they were completely decommissioned and their processing power was reconfigured to serve as a supercomputer array. The whole idea of trying to achieve immortality was too close to playing god anyway.

Brandon grimaced. It seemed like the Republic's resources were still around in space but everything on the ground was just… missing. No communication towers, no pylons, no buildings.

Where was he that he could barely even get a satellite signal?

He sighed as he felt his body crumple in on itself.

That was a new one. It was also surprisingly painful.

He blinked and he was next to the guard station. He chuckled ruefully. Did the universe reset his spawn point? Had it grown that tired of watching him fail at leaving a fucking medieval fair? Well this sucked. At least he didn't have to walk through the city again.

It was obvious he couldn't beat his adversary in one on one combat. So what was the plan? You know what? If the universe was going to laugh at him, he might as well laugh back. He would head back into the city. There was no way his assailant would risk attacking him in the city with hundreds, if not thousands, of witnesses.

It took him until sunset to do a sweep of the city. It was seriously impressive for a mock. But no police station and there didn't seem to be many "guards." When he asked around about Torna, he was met with mostly confused stares. What little information that he managed to wrangle out seemed to point towards Torna being a terrorist organization that was founded specifically to fight the Witch's Cult, whatever that was. Torna, apparently, wasn't shy about taking towns and cities under control if it suited their goals. The "kingdom," while not fond of Torna, let them go about their business because at the very least they kept the Cult at bay.

This didn't seem like an act. It seemed like there actually was a Cult and a group trying to take it down. He was just surprised that this was the first he had heard of it. Usually cults make big news because there were so few religious groups left. He didn't really understand the dedication to cosplay but it was a passion for some people so he might as well entertain them.

Brandon groaned as he sat down on a step in an alleyway. What was he supposed to do? This member of Torna could literally pop him with her mind and any physical damage he dealt would be immediately regenerated because of the damn core crystal embedded in her sternum.

Brandon lurched backwards as he reflexes kicked in, barely avoiding the tip of a turquoise sword. He immediately started sprinting, screaming for help at the top of his lungs.

Then his voice stopped working as he gasped in pain, the familiar turquoise sword pierced through his stomach.

"Nia!" He heard someone yell, "what are you doing?"

Brandon's vision started to go dark, but he could just barely make out a figure dressed in blue.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm killing this cultist."

"Are you crazy? In the city limits? Even as Torna, we are still knights of the kingdom. You heard him yelling for help, that implies some level of intelligence, do I have to remind you that we take intelligent ones in for questi-"

Brandon awoke suddenly in a bed. He winced in pain as he slowly sat up and glanced around. It looked like a hospital of sorts… if it was built in the dark ages. Damn, the people here had even gone to the lengths of making the hospital look the part, but judging by how little of the stab wound remained, it looks like they had the sense to at least use modern medicine.

"Oh you're awake!" Someone said from his side.

He looked over and immediately had to try to stop his jaw from dropping. She was a gorgeous redhead, wearing a clean white nurses uniform with even a lab coat over the top. The only thing that threw him off was a brilliant red sword that hung by her side. It looked almost comical, with it being almost half her size.

"Uh… I guess I am?" How was he supposed to respond to that?

"And seems like you're up mentally as well. Stay here,"

He snorted, as if he had a choice.

"I'll go get Rex."

Who was Rex? It had to be someone important, or at least someone who knew what was going on.

His question was answered as a short… kid entered the room. He was dressed in a royal blue armor, a large green sword strapped to his back, among other gear attached to his armor, flanked by the redhead and another girl.

Were the two girls twins? Other than the fact that one had blonde hair and looked annoyed, and the other had red hair and looked sympathetic, it would have been impossible to tell the two apart.

"Hey there," The one he presumed was Rex said.

Huh, so he was British.

"Where am I?" He asked the stock, standard question, "why am I here?"

"You were stabbed earlier by one of my subordinates. She believed you to be a member of the Witch's Cult and therefore attacked when she saw the opportunity."

"What the fuck?" Brandon exclaimed, "so she attacked me without proof of anythi-"

"Calm down mr…?"

"Name's Brandon, Brandon Hunter," he responded gruffly.

"Brandon, may I call you Brandon?" he didn't even wait for a response, "Brandon, she did not attack without good reason. According to her, the scent of the witch envelopes you."

"The fuck does that mean? What kind of scent?"

"Obviously we are not able to smell it, and not many who can smell are able to recognize it. She, however, has a history with the Cult."

"What? So she attacked me because I smelled funny?"

Rex sighed, "I guess I'm partially to blame, I should have made it clear that she should investigate further before engaging, but again, she holds a strong grudge against the Cult."

"A Cult which I am not a part of. I didn't even know the Cult was a thing before today."

"So you say," he turned around and walked up to a drawer to rummage around, "it does seem like you haven't been turned yet." He turned around to produce a small book, almost reminiscent of a bible. "Have you ever seen one of these before?"

"Never in my life."

Rex looked to the girls behind him. They both nodded.

Rex gave a bigger sigh, "seems like you're telling the truth." He bowed deeply from the waist, "I truly apologize for my friend's actions. If there is anything I can do to repay you, just ask."

"There's nothing. I would ask for monetary compensation but I'm not really sure what to value that at, especially since you healed me, even if one of your own caused the damage. Just give me your contact info and we can work it out later."

"Contact info? I'm afraid you misunderstood, now that you know of our existence, I cannot allow you to leave."

"What? So I'm your prisoner here?" He tensed up, his hand instinctively resting on his pistol.

Rex had the decency to at least look guilty. "We are a group called Torna. Our organization is not exactly… legal. And if that wasn't enough, if it were discovered that Torna consisted of the best knights of the kingdom, the council would be torn to shreds, both by our people and the governments of the other kingdoms. We are already in trying times with the selection process as it is."

Brandon snarled and drew his pistol, "you are going to let me leave and go back to my home."

Rex looked unfazed by the weapon in Brandon's hand. "I would strongly recommend against that."

Brandon pulled the trigger. The sound of the pistol was incredible in close quarters, almost as if a cannon had fired, and yet… Rex still stood. He had… caught the gauss spike in his hand. He had caught a bullet that was traveling at mach six with his bare hands.

"That is an interesting weapon you have there," he said, "not exactly what I wanted but not unexpected either. Mythra, can you take his weapons, and search him for more, Pyra, will you make sure that our guest doesn't leave?"

"Of course."

Brandon could only drop his pistol in resignation as the twins approached him. The blonde picked up his pistol and seemed to almost look through him as she scanned him up and down. Somehow she immediately knew where his combat knife and photon saber were located, though she didn't take the pieces of metal that were the housing for his armor, rifle, and shielding.

Pyra gently pushed him back down onto the bed, and cuffed him to it.

It was just his luck, any other time and that situation would have been kind of hot.

Perverted thoughts aside… Why didn't the blonde, Mythra, take his other gear? He thought to himself as the three left the room. She took his dagger, his photon saber, and a multitude of other gear from his belt, but not the really dangerous… weapons… that weren't shaped like metal.

Mythra had to have some kind of HUD contact lense. No other way could she have almost x rayed through him… but his gun and armor were attached to his body almost like life support. That's what she must have thought they were, and given that it seemed like she had no experience with the Republic's military, there was no way for her to know that it was weaponry.

Well then, he would just have to wait for night to fall, then he could break out.

Though what Rex had told him struck him as weird. He was talking about a kingdom and an organization of knights. He had thought that was just role playing by the people here, but Rex had said it with such conviction. Was it actually possible that he was in an independent kingdom?

No. There was no possible way. Even the few monarchies that remained in the world are governed by a senate with the king or emperor as mostly a figurehead with little real political power beyond the ability to declare war. Besides, even if this was somehow a kingdom that flew under the radar, they should still be up to modern standards, and it wouldn't be so common place for people to walk around in costumes, especially when there were restaurants and bars that served only those people.

Yeah, this had to be just a large event and Rex, if that was even his real name, was simply using it to confuse him, probably so that he would know less about Torna.

That was only logical after all.

He had fallen asleep at some point. Laying there in a bed will do that to you, but at least it killed time, enough for it to have turned dark. He activated his light armor, of which the exoskeleton gave him enough strength to snap the chain. He could force the actual metal ring off later but for now he just moved on to the window. Metal bars covered them from the outside, which he had not noticed earlier. Did Pyra put them in?

Damn it, this would have been so much easier with his photon saber. Mythra had taken his fusion cutter as well.

He tried pushing the glass but all that did was cause it to crack. He winced slightly, hopefully nothing heard that happen. If he wanted to leave that way it looked like he was going to have to incur some property damage. Not that he was afraid to at this point.

He was afraid of the sound it could make though. If there were any hidden mics or cameras, he'd be screwed. But judging by how no one was coming through the door, it didn't look like there were any cameras, but mics on the other hand, weren't out of the question yet.

He glared at the window. He would have to chance it. He smashed the window as quietly as he could then bent the metal bars. He stuck his head out to see that he was a floor up. It was easy enough for him to slip through and roll when he landed on the ground. He glanced around. It looked like he was in a field, with a wall stretching to either side in front of him. He analyzed it for a moment before scaling it and jumping over to the other side.

"You know," Brandon froze, "I told him that you would try to run. But he wouldn't believe me. Said you were a soldier, said a soldier would understand duty."

Brandon turned around with wide eyes to see Pyra, her sweet smile seeming almost sadistic in the moonlight.

"But he also said that if you tried to run, I had permission to kill you."

"L-let's talk about this…" he raised his hands and backed up till his back touched the wall.

"What is there to talk about? You went directly against the wishes of sir Rex. For that, you must die," she lunged as she finished her sentence.

Brandon leaped to the side, activating his heavier CMC armor and drawing his gauss rifle. He opened fire at Pyra but she dodged the bullets nibley, and those she didn't, she easily deflected off the massive red sword.

She bounded forward and slashed at his torso, but the blade simply bounced off.

Pyra narrowed her eyes then lifted her sword, which clicked and expanded and was wreathed in flames.

Brandon started hyperventilating in terror as Pyra stabbed at him. He just managed to dodge but the sword managed to scrape by his side, gouging out a massive chunk of his armor and left a burn on his side.

He fell to his knees, clutching his side in agony.

Pyra stepped up to him and raised her sword, "you should have listened," she brought the sword down.

….

I think I have the first fanfiction in this specific crossover section. For those of you who have not read my other stories, welcome. I also must inform you that yes, Brandon is an OC from the land of Morytha, which, yes, I have taken some liberties with.

For those of you that are still here after the turnoff that is an OC and characters being OoC, you probably have some questions. Those questions probably depend on which fandom you are from and whether or not you have already read my other stories.

Basically, the basis for every single one of my stories (so far at least) has been Xenoblade.

(Big spoiler warning if you haven't beat the game yet, either 1 or 2)

Because of the nature of how the universe was reset by Klaus, I thought it would be cool to explore the multiversal possibilities. So the idea of writing crossover fanfiction appealed to me. So I thought, "hey, it would be cool to have a character from Morytha that experiences all of these different universes." And thus Brandon was created. (Well technically I made him up way before I started writing. Basically I got bored of self inserting so I made up a cooler and more interesting character to insert. Some might even call it wish fulfillment. I prefer "creative liberties." Even if you do consider it to be a self insert, hopefully I can at least craft an entertaining story that you'll enjoy.)

Also, Subaru is there as well. He just won't make any appearances until much later. How the overlap of return by death works will be interesting for me to explain. So interesting in fact, that even I don't know how it works yet.

PSA if you like to flame, please don't. I'm studying physics, not english, for a reason. I hate to be that guy, but if you don't like, don't read. If you see potential but it's bad, then comment on it. It doesn't pay to be an asshole on the internet, all you'd be doing is wasting 's server space which is at a premium right now with the Coronavirus turning us all into otakus.

Finally, sorry if you don't like long author's notes. I like putting them in because it feels like it gives the author a face, not just some nameless idiot writing in a college dorm room.