Softly closing the door to the guest room behind him, he shut his eyes and thanked whatever god was watching over him in this universe that it was over. The myriad of questions wasn't too terribly much of an issue, especially compared to everything coming before it, but his exhaustion was starting to catch up with him and towards the end he was struggling to even stay conscious. He had learned quite a bit though about the world he now found himself in thanks to some questions of his own he managed to sneak into the discussion. What exactly he retained though was up in the air. There was only so much he could process in one day and things were starting to blur together. To make matters worse, the children and two other monsters had shown up for dinner right after the conversation had ended. Thankfully he stayed out of sight despite Toriel's request for him to join them. Food was the last thing on his mind, next to answering another hundred or so questions from four other individuals. Still, he was grateful. She had been extremely patient with him and was more than understanding on his sometimes brisk and shortened answers. When things began to get too personal, she would step back and let Richter settle. He knew that she knew that there was much more than what appeared on the surface when it came to Richter and his past but it was a point she refused to press. Her fascination with snails though was undying and she drilled those questions home as much as possible.

Opening his eyes to give his newer surroundings a gander, as he had been moved to the guest bedroom (Guess Toriel didn't want to risk having her bedspread be covered in blood), he admired the clean and orderly nature of it all. It seemed to be a study of some form, with maps, bookcases full of different educational textbooks, scrolls of ancient design, the bright globe she had used earlier, and a massive standing desk with parchment and an overwhelmingly large stack of papers. These papers were unusual to Richter, each one was covered in red marks, had a letter and a number on the front page, while all seeming to be slightly different copies of each other. F, 60. A, 98, B, 85. What these meant Richter knew not but they must have had some involvement with her teaching position. She deeply enjoyed talking about her students, age groups be damned, and it was surprisingly enthralling to listen to her go on about the different personalities of each child. Most of the children that Richter was familiar with, back when he was a kid himself, were very...bland? The village itself stifled all sense of personality from most villagers due the constant and perpetual fear of death from the monsters in nearby lands. Dracula's existence added an overwhelming sense of dread and despair to the mix resulting in groups of depressed and violent humans who just wished they could see another day. To think he was trained arguably at birth to be the monster he was now in such an environment. It explained his brashness at least. Softly smiling to himself on the matter, nostalgic of the past, he looked around the rest of the room. A large standing mirror rested next to a closet and it was there that, for the first time since his possession, he got a good look at himself. Sure he inspected his attire in the reflective waters and ice of the Underground Caverns, but mirrors were hard to come by in the Castle. Seeing the state he was in now though sobered him more than he thought possible.

He shouldn't have survived. Three-fourths of his body was covered in bandages, runes, and medical salves. The clothes that rested underneath were barely visible and were so torn that distinguishing them from the bandages was next to impossible. His boots were gone, same with his gloves, replaced by wraps. Of his face, he could only really see his eyes, nose, and mouth. The bandages wound around his head like a python ready to squeeze the meager amount of life remaining out of him. His tunic and overcoat were absolutely in shambles. There was almost nothing of it left. Bits of the frills around his neckline, soaked red from the alarming amount of blood he had lost, stuck out of the bandages like blades of grass. Thankfully his pants were intact enough to be modest but there was very little else left to say about them. All he had to do was die and rot a little and he'd be the spitting image of Akmodan. His dive through the window resulted in a bit of bleeding, adding a splash of color to the canvas of white that made up his now mummified body. With a quiet chuckle, he held his arms aloft like the mummies he had often killed just to get the image stuck in his head. A goofy albeit dark reminder of how close he had come to perishing. Death was very much so a close friend at this point (although not literally) and Richter felt like he had gotten a little too frisky for his liking. He needed to see what was under the bandages though. He needed to know that there was some part of him left after the constant battles he endured up to this point, that he didn't lose himself in the jump in time like he lost everything else. With that in mind, he began the incredibly painful and slow process of unwrapping himself.

He had started with his hands, revealing the countless calluses on his fingers and palms from wielding the Vampire Killer. A weapon of that weight and magnitude used to tear the flesh off of his hands when he was younger. Shedding blood for the bloodline was all too normal and his training sessions used to leave him bloody, bruised, and sore. At the end of the day though, he was glad he went through it. He knew that it was what kept him alive when the time came for him to storm Dracula's domain. Outside of a few fading scars, his hands and lower arms looked fine. A few splotchy bits of scar tissue from fire here and there. His shoulders were where things started to get gnarly. A massive gash had been torn out of his left shoulder. He had caught the tail-end of a Bone Scimitar's blade while distracted. It had healed slightly but the depression in his skin and gaping flesh was more than enough for him to re-cover it. His chest was burnt beyond belief from the countless electrical and fire attacks tossed in his direction, but the most dangerous had been an arrow from a Sniper of Goth mere inches away from his heart. He shuddered to think about it. Saving his face for last, he moved down to his lower torso and hips. Most of his minor injuries had been located there. His lack of recent practice left him able to only dodge things scathed. By the time he had gotten into the swing of things, his body had been so worn down that it mattered little. Stab wounds, cuts, bruises, severe burns, frostbite, magical decay, and whatever else the monsters had thrown at him all landed somewhere on his legs or hips. Thankfully he usually wore tall boots and pants so covering it up wouldn't be much of an issue.

Finally, all that was left was his face. As he reached up and grabbed the bandage end adhered to his neck, he hesitated. What would he find underneath? His eyes now told the story of a man's spirit torn asunder by the atrocities he was forced to commit. His body had suffered the abuse his revenge-fueled quest led him to. His mind fragmented and repressing memories he desperately tried to ignore. Was he even the same person? If Maria had been here, would she recognize him? Even so, he knew he wasn't going to be the same as before...That wouldn't stop him from carrying on though. Damn it all, he thought, he was a Belmont. The last of the bloodline, the most powerful and prodigious Vampire and Monster Hunter his world had come to know. The Dark Lord himself feared him, so why in the Nine Hells did he have to fear himself? Ripping off the bandages in a rushed motion, he watched them fall to the floor from the weight of the dried blood underneath. Taking a deep breath, he panned his vision upward to finally look upon his face. He looked...tired, beaten, but very much so human with the fury he held towards his predicament burning behind his eyes. His hair had grown to be outlandishly long, even by his standards. Why Shaft had thought it looked good on him was beyond his understanding...but it did bring up a line of thought that disgusted him. He shook those thoughts away as he traced his jawline with one of his hands. It seems that Toriel's healing had done wonders for patching up his face. Outside of a massive scar trailing from his left eyebrow down to his right cheek (he could thank a Cave Troll for that), he looked remarkably like himself. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and smiled at his reflection.

That smile turned into a frown at the distasteful state of his clothing now mostly revealed. He left some of the bandages intact but now it did little to hide how destroyed his outfit was. His boots and gloves were gone due to the bandages (and he didn't know where Toriel had placed them if they were even intact). Shedding the remains of the coat and tearing off the sleeves of the frilled shirt he wore underneath, he turned his attention to his pants. The bandages worked well enough to hold the bits and pieces together so that was just about all he could do. Yet, he knew something was missing. He instinctively reached a hand behind his head and neck for the tied off ends of his old bandana that he knew was missing. He didn't know why he did but his heart longed for it to be back. Richter felt exposed with it gone and it was surprising that it took him this long to notice its absence. The Belmont conjured a dagger, cut off a long strip from a bandaged he discarded, and tied it around his head with his hair tucked back into it. Maybe he'd go for a ponytail if he planned on keeping the long hair. Admiring his handiwork took just a moment; there sadly wasn't much to admire but he did feel significantly more like himself. It was a start.

An endless sea of ashtrees bathed in the glow of a violet heart looms before him. Below the floating heart rests the Altar wrapped in the chains of the Vampire Killer. He finds himself approaching without moving his legs. The heart begins to beat, shaking the earth and the trees around him with unrelenting shockwaves. His head is pounding, the ground begins to crack, and all he can do is lunge towards the stone fixture. Endless suits of armor and bone flood his vision before he and the Altar sink into the abyss now revealed below.

Something was calling him outside. He stood there covered in a thin layer of sweat, excitedly gazing out the window of the guest room into the developing darkness outside. Street lamps, as Toriel had called them, lined the roads in the neighborhood she lived in illuminating the pathway off into the distance. He had been asleep for just about an hour by his estimate. He could hear Toriel, her children, and the guests still talking now in the living room so it couldn't have been too long. Where was a clock(tower) when you need one? Richter chuckled to himself with that one before turning his attention back to the window. Richter never had dreams, only nightmares. It was just one of the many side-effects of being as magically-attuned as he was. Once he tapped into his Crashes in training, he lost the ability to dream. It wasn't like he was missing much anyway; the nightmares and insects gave him enough company during the long nights in the wild. Yet, what he had experienced didn't feel like a nightmare. It felt more like a message or a vision. The sages in the villages were always speaking and rambling on about visions and prophecies. He swore at himself for ignoring those lessons and focusing more on combat training. Was it a trap? Most likely. It peaked his curiosity though. Nothing to his knowledge went through the portal with him outside of the Altar so it was possible that a magician on the surface knew of his existence. That or the Altar itself was calling to him. He didn't know which option excited him more. He wasn't familiar with the magic of monsters outside of what little Toriel had told him. They could sense magic, many could cast it, and that they were made of it. The last bit was still a bit hazy to him but he didn't dwell on it all too much. He wasn't itching for a fight (at least not anymore) but instead to learn more about what had happened to him. The altar was an excellent start as it served as the gateway to what brought him here, and the monster magician was...he didn't know, wise maybe? He just assumed most powerful magicians were wise and well-learned. Again he wasn't the best student.

Either way he felt slightly reinvigorated. It definitely beat standing around reflecting on his injuries. With one last look at himself in the mirror and an adjustment of his bandana, he hurriedly moved to the door and swung it open. The sounds of laughter and conversations drifted down the hallway. Voices he didn't recognize stood out to him but he couldn't be bothered to listen, he had much more important things on his mind. Richter smiled to himself as he walked down the hallway, past the living room without giving the guests a second look, and out the front door. He didn't pay them much attention so he couldn't even say if they called out to him or not. He was on a mission now to investigate the strange vision and he damn well knew he wouldn't get sidetracked. The fact that his legs were burning from the exertion alone also went ignored. Something unnatural was driving him to conclude this search and for once he felt like agreeing with it. Somehow he knew exactly where to go. Onto the streets he went, following the sidewalk as the lights above illuminated his shoulders. Walking without his shoes was far from comfortable but the bandages did enough to make it more bearable. With that, he was alone again at dusk. He gave a quick glance to the stars above to again see that the stars and constellations were different from the ones he was taught. How something like that could change baffled the Hunter but he brushed it off as bad memory. He was definitely still rattled from everything that had happened just recently.

The streets were barren of life outside of himself. If anything, he saw it as a good thing. A quiet and peaceful night to accentuate a man on a mission. It wasn't long until the streets gave way to a tremendously large swath of ashtrees. The forest itself was incredibly thick, with only a dirt path cutting through it; reminding Richter of an unwanted scar. Multiple sets of footprints littered the dirt pathway and if the hunter wasn't in such a rush, he would have stopped to investigate. He just guessed this was a popular path. What definitely wasn't a popular path though was the sudden and devastating clearing further into the forest. So many felled trees rested next to what he considered the beacon - The Altar. Upon impact it had managed to create an explosion of a decent magnitude resulting in the destruction of much of the nearby landscape. The light of the moon perfectly illuminated the stonework and gave the dried blood that adorned it an unnatural sheen. Part of him knew that this was it; this was where he was meant to be. Why, he knew not, but he knew this was something he needed to do. Guess there wasn't a magician after all, oh well. Walking oh-so-carefully towards it, hand outstretched, he was just inches away from placing his palm on it when a voice called out from behind him.

"That thing looks pretty scary".

Of course, curse his luck. He'd been followed. If he hadn't been so caught up in his goal to get here, he damn well knew he would've detected them before they even got the chance to speak. The voice jolted him enough to pull his arm back inwards and turn around to greet his unwanted visitor. Despite the darkness the moon was more than bright enough to shine on the figure. Shrouded the figure was not, it was the goat child.

"Asriel, right? You shouldn't be here."

The teenage monster just shrugged his shoulders and put his paws in his green "hoodie". He was wearing baggy pants, the hoodie, and something Toriel had called sneakers. Maybe that was how he snuck up on him, did they grant him powers? Toriel had offered Richter some clothes during their conversation but he declined. He felt bare and exposed without his old garb and anything else simply couldn't fill the void left in its absence. Besides, the clothes sold nowadays provided no real protection from what he could tell. Maybe that was a good thing though. It did seem a lot more comfortable than the tight tunics and leather armor he was constantly saddled with.

"You shouldn't be walking around, Mom said so. Guess we're both breaking the rules, huh?"

He could see the cheeky smile adorning the kid's muzzle under the moonlight, a shit-eating grin. It reminded him so much of himself when he was a teenager. The Belmont was incredibly hot-headed and tenacious in his youth and it got him into a LOT of trouble. He always had something to say and a comeback in his pockets. But that was long ago and now he needed to think of something, some kind of excuse to explain why he was in the forest. He didn't want to tell the child about what was really going on. Would he even believe the truth?

"I was just looking for my boots."

Ooooooo, that hurt. As the last word left his lips, he visibly cringed. Richter knew that it was a horrible excuse and Asriel knew it too as the kid just tilted his head in disbelief. There went that chance.

"Suuuuuuure~"

Asriel looked up at the same set of constellations that Richter struggled to understand and sighed...wistfully? He was upset over something and for whatever reason, that troubled the hunter. He despised seeing kids depressed and used to spend much of his time as a young adult cheering up locals with his magic (while showing off).

"You don't have to lie to me, Richter. I just wanted to talk away from Mom. She always wants me to be close ever since I came back. I love her but it can be a lot."

That sounded familiar, but what did he mean by "came back"? Another question for another time. The Belmont's own family was incredibly controlling. He HAD to attend every training lesson, he HAD to be home by a certain time, he couldn't wander off in case something happened to him. Lord knows what would happen if the Belmont died before Dracula's return. He understood now why they were so possessive but at the time he found himself to be incredibly miserable. He had taken much of his frustration out in combat and the training he did. Probably wasn't the healthiest thing to do. Richter grasped all too well Asriel's plight and nodded understandingly. He huffed before sitting on the dirt in front of the Altar, patting the ground next to him. Asriel gave him a wide-eyed expression before hiding it, he must have not expected the Belmont to actually want to talk to him. Why, he knew not, but it was again troubling. The teenager strolled over before sitting down quietly. It was silent for a few minutes as they watched the stars and listened to the local wildlife nearby. Eventually though, Asriel spoke.

"You know, if you were anyone else my Mom would kill me for doing this. She's so scared I'm going to hang around with someone unsafe or talk to some mean humans. It's part of why I snuck out. When I saw you just walk straight past us and right out the door I knew you had something on your mind. I guess we both do."

Toriel deemed him safe? That baffled the Belmont, why would she think he was safe after only talking to him for a day? But the kid was right about them both being preoccupied by something. Richter turned to look at Asriel who was still fixated by the stars above. He had this expression of wanderlust set on his face and the Belmont knew that the monster was unaware of it. Why he was so fascinated by the stars and being outside in general brought up even more questions, and more things on his mind. Might as well ask. Turning back to look at his scarred palms, he softly began.

"You could say that. I'm sorry if I left everyone worried. I just needed to be here...Uh, soooo...why the stars?"

Asriel jumped slightly and turned his attention everywhere except up.

"No reason"

"Kid, if you want me to talk, you have to talk to."

Grumbling, Asriel flopped onto his back and spread his arms wide on both sides. His head was resting on the elevated stone lip of the bottom of the Altar and his face was a confusing mix of emotions Richter struggled to place. He began to talk soon after as Richter had asked of him.

"When we were stuck Underground, we never saw the stars. We used to play make-believe and talk about all the things we'd do once we were freed. I just wanted to see the stars my mom and dad talked about so much. All my friends thought it was boring, they were all talking about exploring mountains, seeing animals, and fighting the bad humans their parents told them about. Now that we're finally up here, now that I AM finally up here, we haven't done a single thing. Just normal stuff like school or shopping. Sure, I guess it all looks nice and it's better than being cramped down there but I just wish I could do something. Whenever I can actually do something, my mom won't let me! You're the most interesting thing that's happened since we got to the surface."

So that's what was bothering him. His mother had mentioned the history of her kind briefly after Richter had asked about it. From what he could recall, the monsters had retreated Underground in the mountain after losing a war with mankind. Guess that would deprive them of things to do. Letting out a quiet laugh, Richter looked to the surrounding treeline as he pulled up some long-forgotten memories that seemingly called to him vividly.

"I've always loved animals. Dogs especially. I would ask and ask and ask my parents and the village elders if I could have a dog of my own that I could go on adventures with. They always said no, -" Richter put on a terrible mock voice of a generic old man "- Richter, you can't have a dog and you certainly can't go adventuring! The dog would interrupt your training and you know that you're not allowed to leave the village grounds unless told otherwise. Be happy with what you have blah blah blah... So of course I used to hunt in the forests back home when my training was done in the hopes to find a stray dog I could tame. I'd sneak off at night with a torch and look for the tracks in the ground. Every night that I wouldn't find anything, I would sit under the canopy of trees and just listen to the insects keep me company. I'd return after a few hours, act like nothing happened, and life moved on. I got in trouble a few times but what where they going to do? I was already practically grounded until my purpose had been fulfilled. Well one night I got lucky. I found a wild pup stuck in a trap set up by a few local hunters. The poor thing was pitiful. I took her home, dug out a little area for her near the treeline, and every night I would visit her and tend to her wounds and feed her...until one day she came home with me. My parents were pissed and the Elders almost put down the dog right then and there."

The Belmont, not looking at Asriel to see if he was listening, grabbed a nearby leaf and began to thumb with it. He pulled himself deeper into his memories and continued the story.

"My parents proposed a deal to me in return for convincing the Elders to leave us alone on the matter. To be able to keep my dog, I would promise to NEVER leave the village without permission again. I wasn't going to really abide by it at first, but the thought of abandoning the dog I had nurtured for a month hurt more than the idea of losing my freedom. I said yes and named her Ember after all the time we spent under torchlight together. Once I had a dog, though, you know what I did?"

To Richter's surprise, Asriel replied almost immediately. He sounded so enraptured in his story that it caught him off guard.

"Did you sneak out with her?"

"Nah, we didn't do a thing. I had gotten what I had spent years looking for and after getting it, nothing changed in the slightest. At least so I thought, what I didn't realize was that it changed everything. It was the small things. My morning routine was different. I had a dog to take care of, feed, and give attention to. My morning patrols weren't so lonely anymore. She used to get so excited when I trained that it gave me motivation to push myself harder. My attitude towards my training changed drastically. I was excited to run around with her, to have her barking in excitement when I was dueling, to have her come up to me when I got hurt in concern. It was for a while the only companionship I had. My family loved me, sure, but it was suffocating what they put on my shoulders. Having Ember led me to appreciate the importance of the small things in life and it gave me hope for my future."

The leaf he had been turning over in his hands slowly began to burn away as he pushed even further into the past, Asriel's quiet gasp would've told the Belmont that he was watching but he was too wrapped up in his memories to notice either thing.

"It was like that for several years. Until the day I spent the night away from the village. I was nineteen and allowed to have my own house, so I had built a hut in the forest near the spot I used to spend the nights enjoying the nature. Yet, I never stayed the night there. The time I did, disaster struck. The village was attacked, the castle had returned, everyone was killed or kidnapped, and my dog had been brutally killed by the monsters who kidnapped my girlfriend and her sister. She died protecting my family and I was furious. In that moment I let my rage blind me of everything Ember had done for me, everything that she showed to me...It's only just now that I find myself thinking back on the outlook I used to have."

The leaf, now completely turned to ash, stained his freshly revealed hands as a single tear rolled down his cheek and was absorbed by the bandages around his neck. He had forgotten entirely about her. How could he have forgotten about something as important as her? Damn that dark magician, Richter hoped he lived a thousand years of endless bone-grinding torment in the depths of Hell. But he couldn't let himself dwell on it. He turned to Asriel to see that unlike Richter, he was a complete mess. His fur near his eyes was damp from tears as he sniffled and wiped his muzzle with his hoodie sleeves. Richter felt a pang of guilt for making Asriel cry. That was very much not his intention. Was it the mention of the monsters? He had completely let that slip without even knowing and he hoped it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

"Y-yeah, I guess...*sniff* I guess that makes sense. Anger *sniff* sucks so much. I think I need to get home *sniff* before my m-mom gets even more worried. Thanks for talking to me, I think it *sniff* helped."

Asriel spent a moment trying, and failing, to regain his composure before giving up entirely. He got up, stood there awkwardly as, Richter assumed, he tried to think of a way to thank him again. Or do something with his paws outside of wipe his face. He settled on gently patting Richter on the back before beginning to retrace the steps that led out of the forest. Before he could get too far away, however, Richter called out to him.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, let me know. I've got plenty of stories and I promise not all of them are as sad as this one!"

Richter tried to make it sound cheerful but it ended up more desperately hopeful than anything else. At this point Richter didn't even know the extent of any of his memories. If something as important as this was buried deep in his subconscious then there was most likely a mountain of memories that Shaft had either destroyed or buried. Asriel just nodded at his proposal, his hood flapping around wildly, before he ran back into the forest...leaving a somber Richter alone under the moonlight with the Altar. The forest had gone from welcoming to depressing and the Belmont decided that sticking around wasn't in his best interests. Keeping his own composure was important as he needed to finish what he had come to the forest to do. Standing up and wiping the ash on his bandaged legs, he turned his attention to the Memorial Altar. Simply staring at it at the close range he was at seemed to limit his awareness of everything else. An impulse in the back of his head screamed at him to touch it, to place his palm on where the two bronze hands met. The image of the altar overtook all his senses and his vision. A massive bronze monolith wall with two partially naked robed figures, one standing straight up and the other upside down reaching down from the top of the wall, touched in the center. Two pillars, one on each side, framed the scene as did the ripples that surrounded the impact of the hands. The marbled stone soaked in dried blood below his feet reflected the light of the moon giving the altar an almost holy aura.

To his better judgement, he with a gentleness he swore he lost long ago rested his hand on the center of the statue. Nothing happened at first and Richter felt like a fool. Slowly though things began to shift. The air around him began to stir and whirl around the altar as a beam of light began to envelop him and everything else with it. It seemingly extended into the heavens above and illuminated the entire forest clearing. Closing his eyes as the light grew to a blinding intensity, he braced both hands on the bronze fixture. The feeling was far more intense than what it used to be like. The process felt disrupted, shaky, as bits of the stone beneath began to crack. He could hear the wind pick up the uprooted trees and toss them deep into the forest. With one resounding guttural yell to steel himself for what was coming, he lost consciousness. Despite everything, he hoped to be home.