AN: Zacchaeus the Cheater here, back again, since I'm having some free time for the time being. This time, trying my hand on a new story.

I've always found the concept of a Left 4 Dead crossover so interesting, so I'm making one to remedy the fact that there's very few (if any) of it on here.

I chose Nick over Ellis, who was my first choice for this story. Since I find Nick to be the more interesting character. What with his shady past and all. Ellis' happy-go-lucky persona is a dime a dozen.

Kuroinu is a... weird choice for a crossover story, considering its... offbrand elements. But I've been reading a few crossover stories about it, and watching it (for research purposes, of course) and I found it to be quite an intriguing material to use.

Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Just a Regular Survivor

"Brat, are you sure about this? The journey to the capital city of Ken isn't exactly safe, you know." The bearded dwarf-looking man said stoically, facing a man in a white and blue colored suit. Although the suit looked like it's seen better days. On his back and side hung two different strange, metallic weapons. One was green in color, and vaguely rectangular in shape. The other one was gray, it had a rounder shape at its backside, and just as long as the green one. The man had a military-looking strap on his hip that housed many small, elongated metal that served as the metallic weapons' ammunition. He called them guns. Weapons of war, weapons of slaughter, and weapons of defense. Long-ranged weapons meant to take lives in an instant. On his right hip strapped his machete. An effective knife-like weapon. All in all, the man looked like he was gearing up for an upcoming war without the usual armor. If it wasn't for the snazzy looking suit he wore, he would have looked like a soldier, a really strange one.

The man possessed dignified features that many a women would consider handsome, and he had a short black hair that's slicked back. The man looked like he breaks hearts for a living. His appearance and mannerisms made him seem like a wayward noble who was cast out from whatever house he belonged in.

"Yeah, I'm going." The man said, releasing a small sigh. "Tell Beth to be safe."

The bearded dwarf man huffed. "Fine, I will." He stared at the younger man, "Do be careful though. Orcs have been running rampant these past few months. It's likely that you'll encounter some of them on the way." He cautioned.

"Don't worry about me, you worry about yourself, old dwarf."

The older man merely nodded. "Tch, brat. You better not die on the road. I wouldn't want one of my students to die this early. Think of my reputation, will ya?"

"Right, right. We'll, I'll be going now." He said, getting out of the dwarf's smithy.

"Just so you know, Beth's gonna be pissed with you leaving without so much as saying a simple 'good bye' to her." The old dwarven blacksmith said, puffing on a cigar.

Much to the dwarf's amusement, the man turned to look at him, an expression akin to fear etched on his face. "I know, that's why I need to get the hell outta here right n-!?"

The sound of loud door slamming alerted the two. The dwarf looked at the direction of the noise with a smirk, the other man adopted a face of trepidation. "Old man Gil, have you seen Nicky? He was supposed to take me out on a date by the river earlier, but he hasn't shown up at all!"

"Oh, well he's..." The old man turned to look at the white-suited man, only to pause when he was no longer there. The guy went up and left faster than the four winds.

Beth came in, tilting her head in curiosity at the sight of the old dwarf just standing outside the entrance of the smithy alone. "What're you doing just standing there, old man?"

"Nothin'" The dwarf man replied.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. "Oh, well, have you seen him around here?"

"He's uhh... Picking berries...?"

...

"Old man..."

"Y-yeah, he's... out there picking berries."

"Old man... I know when you're lying, you know."

'Shit.' The old dwarf cursed internally. 'Seems like I've got no choice. I'm really sorry about this, brat.'

Over at a distance, outside the village borders, the suited man ran like his life depended on it.

...

...

...

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LEFT THE VILLAGE TO GO TO KEN!?"

He briefly spared a glance towards the direction of the village as he heard the terrible sound.

'Well, that was fast.' He thought derisively. 'I owe ya one, old dwarf.'

And with that, he ran faster.

Monsters, these greenskins, were a bunch of utterly revolting bastards. They were massive creatures, vaguely humanoid, extremely large bodies and faces akin to that of pigs. Truly a face only a mother could love. They would have been truly frightening to the common man. To him, they were nothing but gnats that needs to be purged. They prowled the lands with ferocity, looking for the defenseless to prey upon. If not actually making snacks out of them, then making them their slaves, sex slaves, to be exact. The males would be the luckier ones. Being killed on the onset of the ambush instead of being forced to live the rest of their lives as nothing more than outlets for sexual satisfaction for these abominable beings until their minds would break. Forced to live in a hellish pit of misery, unable to do anything but to be defiled over and over again. The thought more than pissed and disgusted him, it made his blood boil.

*BANG!*

Blood and brains splattered on the ground as an orc's head was promptly, and very violently exploded via a full blast of lead from a SPAS Shotgun at point-blank range.

The man wrinkled his nose and scowled lightly, as the gruesome sight and the stench of fresh blood and gore reached his nose. He really wished there were any other cleaner method to kill these guys without making a huge mess and putting his $3000 suit in danger of being splattered of their disgusting bodily fluids. It's such a pain in the ass to wash blood and entrails off of the suit, and he really didn't think there were any laundromats in this place who'd willingly wash blood and brains off clothes without reporting him to the authorities.

A large greenskin, another orc, made to dash towards him, raising his bludgeoning club up high. The club still showed signs of its fresh kill, an innocent traveler that these savages had butchered just moments ago. The traveling merchant's blood drenched the club, and it reeked of rot from previous kills. The large-bodied greenskin was upon him in a moment, and its club went down with a force that could crush a horse's head in a single blow. The man dodged the swing by maneuvering out of its course, sidestepped inside the orc's guard and slashed at its knee with his machete. The orc howled in pain as it fell to one knee, using its large club to stabilize itself. The orc was now completely helpless, and at his mercy. Using another shot from his shotgun would be a waste of bullets, so he made to swipe at the thing's neck using the machete, effectively decapitating it. The man quickly got away from the corpse to avoid getting splashed by the abominable creature's blood that rushed out of the wound like a fountain.

The white-suited man looked at his handiwork. His surroundings were nothing but flesh, blood and innards strewn everywhere like a scene from some 90's slasher film. He wasn't new to such a sight, not at all. In fact, he was quite used to it. Hell, back on Earth, it was basically the same view everywhere you freaking looked, only dozens of times worse. The fact that they were former humans only ramped it up by eleven. The sight of red he was seeing right now were of greenskins, so it really didn't rouse any feelings inside him other than the feeling of satisfaction that came from killings these things.

The man let out sigh and relaxed as he examined his immediate vicinity, concluding that there were no hostiles left. These things were surprisingly cunning when it came to guerilla warfare. You can't let your guard down unless you're sure you've eliminated all of them, otherwise there'd be an arrow sticking out in between your eyes not a second after. Despite looking like fugly-ass monsters with barely any hint of sentience in them, they were much too tactical for their own good. Just goes to show that you really can't judge based on looks alone.

The man let out a tired sigh as he beheld the carnage that decorated the vicinity, a bloodbath. Whatever deity sent him in this world couldn't have been bothered to send him somewhere more... peaceful than this shithole. He'd have thought that his experiences in his original world would have at least earned him some reprieve, or better yet, a reward. Like a paradise world or something. The divine force that sent him here disagreed, however.

The man looked at the merchant's corpse, as well as those of his family and shook his head. His wife had been raped before succumbing to the shock, and his son a mangled mess.

The man frowned at the sight.

He was informed by Beth that a deity watches over the country. Gods, as he was told, existed in this world, or at least, had a hand in the dealings of mortals. And yet their existence hasn't made this place any better than a stinky toilet bowl at a chimichanga restaurant.

He wasn't a religious man, far from it. In fact, he was an atheist. He had nothing against theists, he just found them unreasonable sometimes. The fact that he was alive right now and in another world to boot was in every bit unexplainable to him. Although he was partially certain that there was at least some form of divine interference at work.

The man buried the victimized family nearby, and offered respect to their makeshift graves. He looked towards the carriage they had rode on, idly noting that all of their horses had died in the attack.

'Of-fucking-course...' The man drawled internally. There goes his ticket for a much faster trip to the capital.

The man navigated around the corpses of the brutalized animals and went inside the partially still in-tact carriage, looking for anything that might be of use to him. Any and all kinds of guilt he might have felt from stealing from a recently deceased family were squashed as soon as it surfaced within him. Not like they'll be using them anytime soon anyway. He mentally celebrated when he found two medium-sized pouches of gold out of a wooden chest.

"Now that's at least seven months of daily provisions covered." He smirked, satisfied. At least his efforts hadn't gone to waste. Although he still wished he had arrived just in time to save the family. But alas, they'd already fallen by the orc warband's assault with not a single noticeable evidence of any resistance from the family of innocent civvies. He was just on his way to Ken when he passed by the scene. After seeing the merciless destruction the orc warband had caused on the family, he had thought of nothing but the pure, wanton desire to annihilate the monsters as he sprung into action. To dig his machete into their green flesh and to blast his firearms into their large heads, and that he did. He had wanted to save the family, something he didn't do in his own world when the Green Flu struck. He was admittedly miffed, but the feeling wouldn't stick with him for long. He knew Ellis would have been devastated by this, that goody-two-shoes son of a gun. But he wasn't as good a person as Ellis was, and that fact didn't bother him in the least. Ellis was idealistic, he was a pragmatist. That's how he wanted it to remain. Although he did have to note that Ellis' idealism hadn't gotten much in the way of his killing out of necessity and the pure instinct, need and desire to survive through the apocalypse. That was something he definitely could appreciate with the southerner.

After bagging both gold pouches, the man went on his merry way towards the capital, the fortress city of Ken. Home of the supposedly goddess reborn, and the ruler of said city, Celestine Lucross.

New Orleans, Louisiana - The Bridge

Amidst the carnage, amidst the countless dead that littered the landscape like mere trash, and amidst the overturned cars and abandoned trucks, an unlikely team of four fought through. Despite their differences, despite their disagreements, they pushed through as a team. They forged a bond through fire, forged and tempered through all manners of life-threatening circumstance. Now they were unbreakable, unfettered at the challenges that they faced, and will face in the future. They were a fortress, a solid, impenetrable wall of pure grit and desperation to survive.

And now, they were at the last leg of their journey.

The four plowed through the hordes of zombies, or more appropriately, infected, as they crossed the bridge, towards safety, their final safe haven.

Bullets downed the infected again and again, carving through the densely packed battlefield they were in.

One survivor held a shotgun as he blasted through the horde. He was a rotund man, aged between the 40s and 50s, but nonetheless just as ferocious as his peers. An African-American man from Savannah. He didn't tell his name, but he was called Coach. He was the leader of the pack. The voice of reason and encouragement. He was the stalwart wall of their team.

Another survivor held a grenade launcher, effectively mowing down zombies and providing breathing room for his team. On his back strapped a katana, the once immaculate and sharp blade now slightly dulled from from cutting the flesh of the infected. He was a young man, somewhere in his mid 20s, lean build and appropriately muscled. The cap-wearing survivor was the youngest, and the most naïve of the group. That, however, didn't deter him from being a strong asset for the group. He was a man with a somewhat child-like persona that hid a warrior beneath the thin veneer. He fought with ferocity that utterly lacked grace and polish. But in this scenario, strength was more valued than grace. Ellis, with an indulgent smile on his face, fought with fervent resolve.

A female survivor held an assault rifle, mowing down the infected that came too close to the group. She acted as a look-out, making sure that no common zombie would get too close. She served as the disciplinarian of the group. Often times admonishing her teammates whenever they did something stupid (often times getting the whole team in dire situations). She fought with dexterity and alertness, always ready to alert her team in turn for any incoming dangers that they face. The woman's name was Rochelle. A former News reporter, now forced to hold her own against the world.

The last survivor was far and away the most dislikable of the group. He was helpful most times, but often he complained about their predicament, over the smallest things such as hygiene and his supposedly expensive suit. A germaphobe of the highest caliber. He was snarky, sarcastic and rude, often times making it his duty to criticize or insult his team. This earned him the initial impression of being, quite succinctly, an asshole. He was cold, selfish and pragmatic to a fault, preferring to keep himself out of danger as much as possible, even at the cost of other people's lives. Throughout the course of surviving through the apocalypse with his peers, he begrudgingly learned to trust them, earned their trust in turn, and even, as much as he tried to deny it, considered them close friends. Now, he was a valuable force for the team. A team which he had no trouble accepting as the reason he was even alive right this moment, his ego be damned. He was a badass, but there was no way his luck (or lack thereof) would have helped him much through this apocalypse on his lonesome. Nick kept a steady pace and a frown on his face as he shot a Hunter that missed him by a hairsbreadth. The Infected tumbled and flopped as its leap missed its target. The desert rifle's bullets carved through the special infected's skull without resistance.

'You're almost there, keep going!' The military operator blared out at the radio on Coach's hip.

"There it is!" Ellis shouted to his team, pointing at the chopper at the distance. "Let's hurry, y'all!"

"Alright lads, this is it." Coach said with a hopeful smile. "We're almost home free, people."

"Ugh, finally…" Rochelle grimaced as she shot an incoming common infected that came too close for comfort. "I'm not exactly sure if we can trust the military, but it's not like we have any other choice, do we…"

"You wanna hear my prediction?" Nick piped up, right behind the only female of the group.

"No."

"Nope."

"Nah."

They replied almost immediately.

Nick paid their nonchalant replies no heed. "I think they'll line us up against a wall and shoot us." He said casually, smirking when they saw their disgruntled reaction. "Think about it, as soon as they'd determine that we're carriers instead of completely immune, we're as good as dead. There's no way in hell they'd risk an infection inside their walls." The implication that came from his words settled on their minds like anchors, and they couldn't help but feel just a bit nervous. They wanted to brush Nick's words aside as him being pessimistic as always, but they know better. There's truth behind them. After all, it wouldn't be the first time the military would line people up and gun them down, even though they're not infected.

Nick continued, "At best, I think we'd spend the rest of our lives in boxes, never to see the light of day again. Worse yet, become lab rats."

Coach frowned. "Alright that's enough, Nick. Whatever they do to us is going to be far better than remaining here. Be positive, being negative wouldn't do us good right now."

Nick chuckled. The sound was dry, lacking amusement. "Whatever you say, big guy."

They ran, they ran as quickly as their tired legs can let them. A horde of common infected hot on their trail. Occasionally, they would turn to look back and open fire.

*GUUUUOOOOHH!*

An all too familiar scream alerted the team of a Charger. The special infected emerged right in front of them, just behind a collapsed part of the bridge, as if awaiting this moment, for a perfect opportunity. Without much warning, it charged, bulldozing through the commons like they were cardboard. Coach, Ellis and Rochelle managed to dodge by jumping away from its course. Nick on the hand, wasn't so fortunate. The man was still preoccupied in reducing the number of commons behind them. The moment he heard the Charger and attempted to dodge away, it was already far too close, moving at speeds surpassing that of a track runner.

"Argghh!" Nick screamed in pain as he took the full brunt of the infected's charge. Regaining his bearings and refocusing himself, he took out the machete from its strap and desperately hacked at its arm as he was dragged away from his team, across to the other side of the broken bridge.

"Oh no, Nick!" Rochelle screamed, horrified.

"Shit! Hang on, we're coming!" Coach shouted at his teammate, as he shot at the commons in his way.

"Motherf- Nick!" Ellis shouted, hacking through the horde with his katana.

"Ack!" Nick grit his teeth as the Charger slammed him onto the concrete pillars of the bridge. The man ignored the slight watering at the corners of his eyes as the pain coursed through his body, his bones creaking from the blow. The Charger grabbed a hold of Nick's white suit with its much larger dominant arm, attempting to smash him against the ground. Fortunately, Nick was able to find an opening, and his machete swung, tearing through the throat of the special infected. The once human creature let go of Nick's clothes and slumped down, dead.

"You alright there, son!?" Coach shouted from a distance, his voice that of worry.

"Dandy…" Nick attempted to reply, but his chest hurt like a bitch, and his voice was coarse and small. The white-suited man clutched at his chest as he regained his balance and attempted to slowly get up. Luckily for him, the commons mostly targeted his teammates due to them blasting their firearms which attracted the commons, leaving him to recover.

Then as if God himself came down from heaven to Earth and gave him the biggest middle finger in the history of man, the bridge suddenly shook. The tremors shook the cars, collapsed certain parts of the bridge, and most interestingly, made the commons shit themselves. Nick, Coach, Rochelle and Ellis shared a look pure anxiety and fear, with Nick quickly changing to that of disbelief. This shaking can only mean one thing.

'Oh you have got to be kidding me!'

"TAAANK!"

As if to confirm his fears, Ellis shouted.

'Fuck.' Nick cursed internally.

"T-there's two of them! We need to get out of here, NOW!" He heard Rochelle.

'FUCK!' Nick cursed again. 'Give me a fucking break…'

"We ain't leaving without Nick!" Ellis yelled, eyeing the pair of Tanks that were barreling towards them. With how fast they were going, they're gonna reach their position within moments.

"Look out!" Coach shouted as a car was flung in their direction, courtesy of one of the Tanks. They were lucky enough to not be hit by it as they jumped away, closely avoiding the metal contraption.

"Go, go, go! The chopper leaves in 1 minute!" The radio sounded once again, reminding them of their main objective.

Nick tried his best to get up, only to slump down immediately. His ribs were cracked, his tendons damaged, one of his leg was fucked and he was tired as hell. There's no way he would be able to get out of here in time. So he made a choice.

"GO! JUST GO!" He shouted to his team.

"N-Nick!? What the hell are you saying! We're not leaving here without you!" Coach responded, his aged voice coated with denial. The man was slowly inching backwards as the two behemoths made their way towards them.

"Goddammit, Nick!" Ellis shouted, his voice filled with desperation and hopelessness.

"Nick." Rochelle muttered, her face an expression of defeat.

"GO, leave me!" Nick said. He didn't shout, but his voice was loud enough that they could hear him. "Don't worry about me."

"Nick…"

"…Better me than all of us." The man said, taking out two pipe bombs from his person. Contrary to the hopelessly inescapable situation he was in, he let out a resolute smile. His eyes shining a determined light, "This is my last stand."

Nick cringed. Not only because of the cringe-worthy one-liner he just uttered without shame, but because of the whole situation itself. It was wholly uncharacteristic for him to be sacrificing himself in any situation. He wasn't like this at all. He was understandably quick to associate such a decision to being merely 'in the heat of the moment'. He didn't want to die. It was a mystery to him, that he was able to make such a decision.

He supposed he was just being logical, given the situation. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want his team to die as well.

"Nick!" Ellis shouted.

"Go now, or we'll all die here!" Nick had to grit his teeth has the pain in his lungs flared up. Feeling like shards of glass prickled every inch of his chest.

Coach spared a look in his direction, then to the younger southerner. "Ellis, we have no choice. Let's go!" The larger man gripped at the younger man's arm, as he dragged him away. As much as Coach desired to save Nick, there's really not much he, or any of them can do. Time wasn't on their side, as it always had been throughout their journey. He only wished it could have gone just a bit better.

"Fuck!" Ellis looked at him, then briefly closed his eyes and ran towards the chopper, with Rochelle following closely behind him. For a second there, he thought he'd actually seen some tears there, but nah. Ellis was much tougher than that. The idea was quite bizarre to him. Then again, this was Ellis. It actually wouldn't surprise him if that man-child actually cried.

'Heh, I guess this is it for me.' He thought, resigned to his fate. He would have preferred surviving, if only to know where being held captive by the military would lead. But he supposed that his friends surviving is enough for him. At least, if they get lined up against a wall and shot at, they'd see each other again very soon anyway. The thought was both disturbing and hilarious. Still, at the very least he would be spared from the shit porridge that is the current state of the world.

'I've come this far, even almost making it out of this shithole in one piece.' An exasperated sigh escaped him. 'It wasn't enough in the end.' He couldn't believe this was actually happening. It all still felt like a dream to him. He got hurt more times than he could count throughout the journey, he got through them all, recovered from the most grievous of injuries, and cheated death more times than the universe allowed. And now, the jaws of death has finally caught up to him, and he can do nothing but welcome it. He had somewhat expected for something like this to happen, he just didn't expect it to be like this. Although he supposed there's no better death than dying for the survival of his friends.

He let out a low, rumbling chuckle at the thought. It surprised even himself just how much he'd changed in such a short amount of time. This wasn't how he usually was. He wouldn't care about other people's survival above his own. He was selfish like that.

Running around in the apocalypse sure can do things to you, he supposed.

Glancing towards the right, he saw his impending doom coming like hawk on a rodent. Two Tanks, with a horde of at least several dozens of zombies behind them. If they left just a bit too late, they would have died the same way as he was about to.

It surprised even himself that he felt no apprehension nor fear as he activated both pipe bombs. Death was an inevitability for him now, and its not particularly a nice death either. Even so, he did not feel fear, rather he felt peaceful. Strangely peaceful. No fear, just peace. Death was a concept he utterly hated, detested and feared throughout his life. Quite ironic, considering he himself was willing to live a life of constant, imminent danger. And yet, he hadn't felt this kind of peace since forever. Since he married his ex-wife, since… since… he couldn't really remember.

The injured man shook his head. Seeing as he had led a crime-ridden lifestyle most his life, he supposed he was going to hell, if it even existed. Strangely enough, as it turned out, the idea of an afterlife was a far more comforting concept when one was knocking on death's door. The idea of completely ceasing to exist after death, no form, no thought, no time, no space, just a void of nothingness, just doesn't sit well with him.

Once again, a chuckle escaped his lips. This apocalypse had really taken its toll on him. Although he supposed now's a good a time as any to have an existential crisis.

*peep* *peep* *peep*

The pipe bombs sounded, ticking closer and closer towards his death. The loud noise attracted the horde, as well as the tanks. Changing their direction from the three running survivors to the injured one. He relaxed, and took a deep breath.

*peep* *peep* *peep* *peep**peep**peep**peep*peep*pi*pi*pi*pipipipipipipipipipipi-*

And with that, Nick closed his eyes.

An explosion rocketed his senses.

And then nothing.

Eostia, South of Ken

Nick woke up lazily, feeling the warm rays of sunshine on his face. The journey to the capital had been a rough one yesterday. A few orc and goblin scouts here and there, and a shit ton of man-eating beasts. Apparently a daily occurrence in this world. He had camped in the woods for the night, an activity he wouldn't recommend to anyone. What with the constant appearances of monsters and whatnot. Luckily for him, no monster spotted his location while he slept. After a quick breakfast consisting of a crudely cooked dear meat, he continued on towards the capital city of Ken.

It had been two months since he'd been transported to this world. After that event at the bridge. After he'd… died. Or at least, he was sure he had died. The fact that he was alive and was now trudging his way towards an otherworldly city made him think that a divine force was responsible for this entire thing. And he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever deity sent him here had some work for him to accomplish.

Ah, hell. Whatever, at least he was alive. That's all the matters for the moment. Idly, he wondered if the guys back home had made it. He hoped so, he would have hated for his sacrifice to be for nothing.

'Nah, I'm sure they made it.' Nick assured himself.

The world he got transported to though, was quite frankly, shitty, to say the least. The world of Eostia, is what it is called. While his own world wasn't doing any better currently, this world had been suffering for a long time. Its inhabitants were either warriors or civvies. Civilians were far more vulnerable to the hazards of the world than those with competent fighting prowess. Not only do people of this world have to deal with flesh-eating monsters, they would also have to deal with constant kidnappings, murders and other crazy shit that run rampant inside the city walls. Not that his world doesn't have those. It's just that in this world, it's plenty common to have those kinds of crimes, to the point it's almost normalized to a degree. Not even their governing bodies can put a stop to such shady dealings easily, especially considering corruption is a widespread problem within the government as well. Not to mention that traveling from kingdom to kingdom was highly dangerous, as in, the probability of civilians surviving the journey was between 40 to 60 percent on a good day. Most people would get ambushed and killed, and women would get raped and abducted. The kingdoms had been on a major war against the northern kingdom of Garan, home of Olga Discordia, the Jagged Queen.

Although to be fair, he did hear all of the things he knows about the current state of this world from a village bumpkin who absolutely hated the major kingdoms. So he wasn't so sure if he should take such information at face value.

He had been staying at a small village several miles south of Ken. People in this village had mixed reactions for the current rulers, particularly the Goddess Reborn, Celestine Lucross. Apparently, some viewed her as merely a powerless ruler with nothing but her beauty to show, others were far more kinder, preferring to call her a benevolent queen. The topic didn't interest him at all though. He didn't care for some monarch. Although considering the rumors of her 'otherworldly' beauty, he was at least interested in seeing her personally.

They were relatively accepting of him, despite being an outsider. After waking up in this world and having absolutely no idea where to go, he had just walked in a random direction, hoping it would lead him somewhere. Luckily, his luck wasn't acting up. Not too long after, he saw a teenaged-looking girl surrounded by wolves. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and figure that seemed to be far too mature for her age. Turns out later that she was far older than her appearance lets on. She was wearing clothes not too dissimilar to that of clothing from the 14th century Europe. A dress of brown and blue, particularly one that he'd seen many times in medieval centered movies. Which initially led him into thinking that he got sent backwards in time. Such a theory was immediately dissolved when he noticed some creatures of this world were blatantly alien to him.

He had saved the girl with a few shots from his desert eagle. The girl, ever thankful to her rescuer, led him to her village, and the rest was history. The girl's name was Beth, and she was every bit of an annoyance as Ellis was, only amped up to eleven. The damn girl was a smithing prodigy, apparently, and his weapons had been the subject of curiosity for her. She wouldn't stop asking about the guns, their details, how they operate, what their parts are, and so on, and so forth. If not about his guns, then the girl bugged him about his past, his personal life, his non-existent love life, and all those topics that women seem to love to talk about. If not about his past life, then the girl outright flirted with him. Her flirting disturbed him at first when he didn't know what she really was. She would occasionally break into his room in the middle of the night while wearing nothing but her nightgown, often times resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep whenever it occured. Ignoring the girl proved to be an ineffective strategy, as she was as stubborn as she was annoying. The girl was extremely insufferable. And he had to put up with her out of principle, since she was the first person he had encountered in this world, and she'd helped him by leading him to her village. If he had to be honest she would be, what, about like 40 percent of the reason that he's decided to move out.

The girl was actually a dark elf who fled her kingdom of birth, Garan, some decades ago. She had unwittingly revealed her origins to him when she got drunk after a failed attempt at getting him drunk. She wore an intricate disguise magic to hide her pointy ears and darker skin. She was probably older than his grandmother for all he knows. He was pretty sure 'Beth' wasn't her real name as well.

The village had been called Maple village, in part due to the abundance of maple trees in the area. The village itself looked… very old-fashioned. Wooden and brick houses, dirt roads, water wells. It was as if he was indeed in a village during the medieval era.

It was in this village that he had learned magic. Yes, magic. Magic was as common in this world as hotdogs was back on Earth. That still boggled his mind, although it didn't have the same effect as seeing 20 foot flesh-eating caterpillars. That shit still disturbed him, even more so than he first laid his eyes on abominations like the Spitter and the Jockey.

As it turns out, being a student of an old grumpy dwarf blacksmith wasn't such a pleasant experience. Gilbierro, that old bastard taught him how to magically forge with the intensity of an uber-passionate PE teacher and the volume of a fucking banshee. Not that he disliked the old man though, in fact, he respected him as a teacher. Very few times did Nick showed respect, but when he does, they deserved it.

He had wanted to learn the skill to magically forge so as to remedy the fact that his firearms would become useless baggage soon without bullets. In the end, he had learned the absolute essentials, the skill to duplicate existing bullets through magic forging, and the ability to forge weapons normally. Though he has only, admittedly, scratched the surface with regards to the art of forging, magical or not. He hasn't been learning the art under the dwarf for long until he eventually got sick of the village and wanted to bail.

It was also in this world that he'd discovered the changes in his physicals, most likely due to the influence of the Green Flu virus in his blood. For instance, he was far more durable and stronger now. He was once able to completely block blows from an alpha wolfman when he'd unknowingly walked into its den. An average wolfman was said to be dozens of times stronger than regular humans, so much so they can kill a human with a few punches. And he even defeated the alpha wolfman, something no human can accomplish, other than those who are blessed by the Goddess, trained by the absolute best Knightly order, or Vault himself, the leader of the Black Dogs. He could still remember clear as day how Beth had widened her eyes to comical proportions when she'd witnessed first-hand how he defeated the alpha wolfman. Insisting that he wasn't such a 'normal' human after all. Of course, he had shrugged away such notions back then.

Now that he'd thought about it, he had actually started to notice his change in durability back in his own world. He was shot at a few times, Rochelle wasn't exactly the best at aiming her guns. He'd considered the bullets to be minor irritation back then. He had tanked blows from tanks and got smashed by chargers and only suffered minor injuries, he'd gotten mauled by hunters a few times, and it didn't even leave more than a few scar on his skin. He was... unnaturally sturdy, and he was certain it was the same for Coach, Ellis and Rochelle as well.

Another thing he had noticed was his newfound regenerative powers. He had noticed that his wounds would heal itself at a far faster rate than before. He wasn't a doctor, but he was sure normal humans don't regenerate open wounds in like, thirty minutes at most. This ability was also one of those oddities he'd noticed back then, but never really questoned it.

He had assumed that the Green Flu virus inside him had mutated to the point of actually changing the inner workings of his system, making him far more durable and stronger than before, making his bones sturdier and his muscles denser, and somehow giving him regen without actually turning him into a full blown infected. It was batshit crazy to think about.

Also, he hasn't infected anyone yet despite being carrier of the virus, so that's nice.

After six agonizing hours of walking under the sun, he was beginning to get sick of walking. He wasn't used to trekking long distances. Much less linear paths like this. He had half a mind to just give up and go back to the village. His empty canteen and grumbling stomach encouraged him to continue, however. The city of Ken can't be much farther now.

"RAAAGH!"

A shout alerted the survivor, his hand reaching towards the strap of his machete. The sound was feminine, he was sure. It came from north of his position, which conveniently where he was heading towards. With a faster pace, he moved to see what the hell's going on. After reaching a suitable distance where he could see the figures up ahead, he climbed up a tree to see the situation from a higher vantage point. It was just as he'd expected, a group of people, another victim of an ambush from an orc warband. What he didn't expect, however, was the existence of the female knights. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look… and yep, they were indeed female knights. They wore breastplates, shoulder pads and shin guards, they wielded swords and spears, and most strangely, had varying hair color, like in one of those japanese cartoon things that Ellis seemed to like so much. Although he did find their armors to be rather conspicuous and impractical, especially in terms of durability. Their armors showed so much skin that he suspected the designer might as well be a perverted degenerate with a knight fetish pretending to be an official armor designer or something.

"HAAAAAH!" One knight roared as she slashed an orc across its putrid face, killing the monster.

"YAAAH!" Another knight shouted, plunging her halberd through an orc's gut, skewering the orc and bringing upon it an agonizing death.

Nick observed the battle, as the battalion of female knights fought with equal amounts of ferocity and elegance. They slashed with polished grace and skill, and moved like dancers. Quick, precise and flexible. He was almost enraptured simply from watching them fight. Located at the middle of the knights was an intricately designed carriage of silver and gold, fit for royalty. He immediately assumed there was an important figure inside, perhaps a noble.

At first, the knights had a massive edge over the orcs. Defending their charge with skill and strength. One knight in particular caught the con man's interest. She was blonde, forgoing to wear a helmet in favor of showing her long, flowing hair to the world. She looked like a teenager, somewhere between 17 to 19, although he had a hard time comprehending the fact that someone so young, and a girl at that, could be that skilled in battle. The female knight was the leader of the bunch, as far as he'd seen. She commanded the knights with the authority of a noble and the strategic acumen of a general. She fought with strength far greater than most other knights with her. She was far more skilled, she had slain far more greenskins than her peers to show for it. Her sword sliced through orc flesh with ease, every swing purposeful and passionate. She was a force to reckoned with. But in the end, her incredible strength couldn't hope to match the numbers that the greenskins possessed. It was like constantly fighting a steady stream of chargers, and an occasional tank for good measure.

The edge they had over the orcs started to slowly dwindle as exhaustion set in largely due to the orc warband's relentless numbers. Their strength started to wither, and their feline-like nimbleness started to slow down, and now they were at a disadvantage. The orcs had started to overwhelm them.

One by one, the knights fell to the might and numbers of the orcs. A few were unlucky, having been inflicted lethal wounds. A knight fell from a club to the back of her head, and she hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, out cold. Another fell from a punch to the stomach, such was the force that she spat out blood and curled over from the pain. The punch was then subsequently followed by a kick to the head, which knocked the knight out. And after moments, their numbers had halved.

"Tch!" The blonde knight clicked her tongue, as she beheld the situation. "Compress and don't let your guard down!" She shouted to her remaining soldiers, "We must prevail, lest we suffer. We must not allow these pigs to do further. Our lives and honor as royal knights depends on it!" She spared a worried look at the carriage, "And above all else, protect Prim at all cost!"

She attacked, her swings now lacking the same intensity and strength from before. A sneaky punch to the jaw reeled her over, the blow shaking her brain and disorienting the knight. Then a punch to the gut. The girl dropped her sword as she clutched at her midsection. Right after, the offending orc caught her by the hair, her body hanging limply at its hold. The orc stared at her with intent, licking at its lips lustfully. Right after she had fallen, her remaining knights fell as well. They were now completely at the mercy of these orcs.

She had failed.

The orcs laughed at their victory, looming over the beaten female knights. Tied up against each other, the knights were allowed no freedom of movement as they stared helplessly at their captors. Some prayed that death would come to them before the orcs could do anything dreadful.

The orc chieftain easily wrenched the doors of the carriage open, revealing a girl. Pink-hair and pink, ornate dress. Fresh tears streamed down her young face as the orc dragged her out of the carriage

"PRIM!" The blonde shouted. "Get your hands off her or I swear to the Goddess your head will roll!" She demanded, her beautiful face contorting in rage. Though her voice fell on deaf ears as the orcs merely laughed at her. The knight watched in utter horror and helplessness as the orc casually ripped the princess' dress, revealing her bare skin. The orc pushed her to the ground, the large greenskin looked at her with vile intentions. The knights closed their eyes, refusing to witness what they've trained all their lives to avoid.

"PRIM, NO!" The knight leader shouted, now tears staining her face.

"Alicia!" The terrified girl squeaked, her voice shrill and quivering.

Nick has had enough.

Still perched at a tree branch, the white-suited man aimed his desert rifle at the orc chieftain, particularly aiming at its head. He pushed the trigger, and watched in satisfaction as the orc's head exploded like a melon, drenching the girl below it with its blood. The loud, thunderous sound of the rifle surprised everyone, knights and orcs alike, flinching as they heard it. The orcs whipped their heads around, looking for the trespasser, only for their heads to promptly explode as another quick succession of the thunderous noise resounded in the area. The knights had widened their eyes, as hope started bubbling from inside them

"What in the name of the Goddess…!?" A knight voiced out, shocked beyond words.

What… just happened?" Another knight said. Looking as perplexed as her peers.

The blonde knight just looked around, her eyes wide in wonder. Whatever miraculous event just occurred had also killed the orc that held her by the hair, splashing some of its blood on her left side.

"Wha-what?" She muttered in astonishment. Then her panicked gaze went to the smaller girl. "Prim, are you okay!?"

The pink-haired girl sniffed. "I-I think so…"

The blonde sighed in relief. "Oh thank the Goddess-"

They immediately recoiled as another batch of thunder boomed, and the remaining orcs went down, their heads either sporting large circular holes, or has completely exploded. Greenskin blood drenched the area, their bodies untidily littered all around the battlefield. Not a single orc was left with their heads intact.

Nick mentally celebrated. It seemed he was getting better and better at head shots. Probably even better than Ellis. Oh, if only the homeboy could see this. Their little head-shotting contests had been one of those fun things that the southerner had successfully made him participate. These contests had unknowingly made him better at head shots. They were quite a fun past time to do in the apocalypse, he had to admit.

With that done, he dropped down from the tree, his rifle now slung freely at his side. Nick walked towards the would-be victims. He reached them moments later, just as the blonde knight girl had finished freeing her allies that had been tied up earlier. They were still a bit jittery, nervous and suitably disturbed, but otherwise they were okay, as far as he'd seen. They had a few casualties though, which was quite unavoidable in that situation, he supposed.

The blonde one's eyes shot towards him, then relaxed the moment she saw his form, realizing that he was not an orc. She approached him, her form still dignified and graceful despite her injuries, fitting for a noble knight.

"Halt, stranger." She began. " Identify yourself."

Nick sized her up, realizing, after looking at her up close and personal, that she was indeed quite young and beautiful, despite the few bruises that decorated her face. Not beautiful in the sense that he would be attracted to her, no. He preferred women his age, after all. Perhaps if he was a decade younger, he would have tried his luck on her. He looked at her, his eyes showed nothing but casual disinterest.

"Your savior." He replied curtly. He glanced at the carriage, sighing in relief when he saw that it was relatively untouched, all horses were alive and accounted for. Based on where the carriage was facing, he guessed they were heading towards Ken as well.

The blonde knight's eyes widened. "Y-you mean you're the one who killed those-!?"

"Yeah, I'm the one who killed those orcs." He interrupted rudely, though the princess knight was too gobsmacked to react to the man's disrespectful countenance.

The royal knight glared, doubting his words. "Prove it." She challenged.

Nick merely huffed. "Fine." He said, before pointing his desert rifle at a random direction towards the woods, and firing. The blonde knight, the smaller pink-haired girl sitting at the carriage, and all other knights who weren't out cold flinched at the sound that followed. The loud cacophony that emanated from the strange metal instrument was undoubtably the same one as earlier.

The knight girl's mouth was slightly agape, "I-I see, so it's true."

After a moment, the blonde one eventually collected her bearings. "I-in that case, allow me to thank you for saving us." She bowed, the pink-haired girl, who was now covered by a disposable piece of fabrics, and some of her knights came up to him and bowed.

"Thank you for saving us. I owe you mine, Prim's, and my platoon's lives." She and the girls remained bowed for a few moments. The man on his part, just stared at them, the slightest bits of a smile gracing his lips. Well, they're certainly polite. He liked that.

"Yeah sure, kid." He replied. Smirking when the girl's smile strained and her eye twitched ever so slightly. She must hate being called a kid, then.

The girls had scrambled to do what they needed to do, with most of them began getting ready to continue on the road, resting, patching up the injured, or mourning their fallen.

The girl composed herself. "Please allow me to repay you. Once we arrive at Ken, you have my word as a royal knight of the Arcturus house that you will be suitably rewarded."

Nick looked at her and shrugged. "Alright, I'll take you up on that offer, then." More gold means more decent food and less sleeping out in the open, so a monetary reward he would accept with open arms.

The girl smiled, the bruise on her cheek did very little in besmirching her beauty. "My name is Alicia Arcturus. An honorary Royal Knight of the House Arcturus, the heir to Feoh's throne, and one of the Seven Shields serving the Goddess Incarnate."

Nick just stared at her, eyes widening slightly. Looks like he hit the jackpot. And Rochelle said he didn't have luck to speak of.

The princess knight looked at him expectantly. "And your name, good sir?"

He looked at her, then continued walking past her towards the carriage, seemingly ignoring her. The knight's eyes widened slightly at his rudeness. She was about to admonish him for his manners when he replied.

"Nicolas. But just call me Nick."

The girl stared at his back. Her eyes beheld the slightest bits of suspicion and curiosity. "I see, then Nick. What exactly are you?"

He stopped at the question. And after a few moments of silence, he replied.

...

"Just a regular survivor."

That should be enough for now.

Still need to brush up on my Kuroinu lore knowledge. The hentai surprisingly has pretty good world building imo.

For those waiting for my other story, it might still get delayed. I'm still trying to make sense of where I'm going with the story, especially with the Hundred Year Quest manga in tow.

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