Knock. Knock. Knock.

They'd come to collect the dead again. Too many adventurers and merchants were getting cocky. There was only so much room the infirmary had for the bodies of those who fell to their own overconfidence. It weighed heavily on Richter's spirit. Why was he stuck here when his compatriots and neighbors were throwing themselves to the wild just to perish before they could even draw their blades? He knew that he could do oh so much to stop the senseless slaughter but the Elders refused. "Let the folly of mankind play themselves out" they had said. So many innocent lives were being claimed from their foolishness and Richter could barely stop himself from intervening every time he heard the horns of hunting parties. None of those parties ever blew the all-clear. There weren't any survivors either. It had gotten to the point that mercenary groups conscripted and hired by the larger cities were paid handsomely to travel to towns, collect their dead, ward off any predators, and then leave (although they oftentimes tried to "convince" the villagers out of their coin). The Belmont had a threshold for the "folly of mankind" and every time the mercenaries came knocking, he made it well known that every individual villager in his small town was under his undying and unwavering protection no matter the gold offered. If he so much as caught a whiff of extortion he'd be on the warpath. Yet they never listened. The pile of the dead rose in numbers more often than not. Mankind ill needed saviors such as them.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Richter awoke from his nightmare with a start. An intense deep ache permeated throughout his body from the movement and he let out a quiet groan. The pain grounded him in his reality, his present. That was a nightmarish memory he hadn't had come up in a very long time. His village suffered through many affairs as the years went on. The Elders poured so much time into his training that they oftentimes neglected to acknowledge the rest of the town's population. One man should not make up a village and yet it was the case. The dead seemed to lose their individuality once added to the pile and quickly became another statistic; a statistic that mercenaries and hunters for hire loved to exploit. There were months where Richter killed more man than monster...although what the difference was blurred to the Belmont on occasion. It was just far from righteous the things they would do to their own kind. What dark twisted perversions of human decency they actually did hold oftentimes just allowed them to excuse the horrible acts they inflicted upon others. They were, and to this day Richter still believes it to be the case, far worse than the creatures of the night. At least with those beasts one would know exactly what they were dealing with. It is hard to see a beast outside of being just that: a beast. Man possessed such a devious nature that it was impossible to know what to expect. Speaking of expecting -

Knock. Knock. Knock.

-were they expecting guests? Richter finally wiped his eyes to get a good look at his surroundings. He last remembered falling onto the soaked ground outside of the front door the night prior. Now he was back in the guest bedroom and/or study. Faint beams of light shined through the blinds of the only window to the room. They had been mostly closed by the presumably sleeping Spear Guard that stood next to it. He was resting heavily on his spear with his helmet on one of the four bedposts. It was a pleasant surprise to know that they too needed rest like he did. Although the image of someone resting without a head was equally amusing and haunting. Richter had forgotten how many of the monsters in the Altar were variations of poltergeists. They were incredibly sturdy for what they were. Which reminded him... He quickly panned his still blurry vision around in the hopes to find his satchel. Find he did as it was directly in front of him on the desk across from the bed. It looked dry and unopened. That was excellent news. The Belmont had been worried that somehow the blueprints and the roster would become unsalvageable. There was little else that had changed about the room. His new companion kept things tidy enough and by the looks of it that included what was left of his attire. He had nothing left of his upper clothing outside of the (fresh?) bandages on his shoulder. He had a decent dressing around his waist and thighs but everything else was gone. His battle-wounded chest and body told stories he wished to keep under wraps (literally). He needed a new outfit. He'd have to ask Toriel if she's got any spares for him.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There it was again. Someone was most certainly awaiting his arrival at the door. Richter guessed he'd spent enough time in bed (although if the Spear Guard discovered him out of bed after only a single night's rest he'd never hear the end of it). He swore to himself slightly and closed his eyes as he swung his feet out from under the blankets and over the edge of the bed. He was just hoping to avoid a repeat performance. Crashing directly into the floor again didn't sound like very much fun at all. His feet touched the cold hardwood flooring and not soon after he partially stood up to put his weight on them. He hadn't collapsed so Richter took that as a sign of progress. Next to his feet though was, surprise surprise, a fresh set of clothes. Guess Toriel had been thinking on the same line as Richter. A baggy short-sleeved...tunic(?) for someone eight times his size, a grey "hoodie", and some dressy-looking pants. It would work for now. He'd take anything over his current state of affairs. But he needed to get to that door. With that in mind, he just put on the pants and slowly hobbled his way over to the knocking. He reached out his hands and-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

-opened the door to see a very drowsy Asriel with what he recognized as a backpack of sorts slung over his shoulder. His paw was still suspended as if he was knocking and it took him a moment to realize that the door had been swung inward. He blinked, confused, before panning his vision up to Richter. A bright smile overtook his face as he seemingly tried to shake off the dreariness of waking up. It must still be very early in the morning. At his age it had to be schooling. Ah, those were days the hunter looked back to fondly. Richter just offered a soft smile back and glanced around the rest of the hallway outside to see if he had any other visitors. Nope, just Asriel. The Belmont turned his attention back down to the goat teenager and just waved his hand as to ask, "yes?". Asriel jumped, nodded, and walked into the room. Well that was one way to start a conversation. Richter just closed the door behind him and began hobbling his way back to where the two shirts were left. Meanwhile though, Asriel hadn't stepped too terribly far from the now shut door. In fact he was still looking at the floor. Now it was time to wait for the kid to say something.

"I'm not supposed to be in here right now but...um...I just wanted to say thank you."

"Hmm?" Richter had said partially distracted. Who in their right mind could fit into a short-sleeved shirt of this size! It was absolutely gigantic and easily dwarfed the largest blacksmiths the Belmont had the pleasure to work with. They'd have to have quite a literal barrel chest for this to even be snug-looking. Maybe he could find something more fitting of his stature elsewhere. He did turn to Asriel though to let him know that he did in fact hear his gratitude although he hoped the Goat monster knew that Richter was very much so confused as to why he was being thanked in the first place. Thanks for waking up your family in the middle of the night to take care of his ravaged corpse a second time?

"Thank you for I guess letting me hang out with you in the woods. That and coming back as late as you did."

Richter let out a quiet chuckle at the notion. Keeping one's company wasn't something to be thanked for. It should never be a rare commodity. He also had no control over the time that he arrived at but it was somehow helpful. He shook his head but the kid interrupted him. He'd finally looked up towards the Belmont instead of the floor he was anxiously burning a hole into.

"I'm already risking it with being in here so please don't tell mom any of this! I just needed to say that the story you told me helped me think about my situation here at home. When I got back, she was sooooo angry. She couldn't believe that I would leave and risk the chance of me getting hurt or whatever. I told her how I felt and how I wasn't looking for big changes or big events to work towards. I just wanted to be able to enjoy the small things that living on the surface gave us. She didn't know she was stressing me out this much and we had a heart to heart. She is just scared that she'll lose another kid... I don't think she could take it. But we talked it out! It'll take a while and all that but...thank you. It means a lot."

Richter just laughed. Not out of malice or disbelief, but out of genuine surprise and amusement. He had helped someone with a problem for the first time in countless years in a way that didn't require violence. Something in the grand scale of things as silly as a disagreement between mother and son left him feeling better than many of the raiding parties he had repelled when he was younger. It wasn't as if he had just saved humanity again but he felt the same sense of pride. It was such a small thing and yet Richter was unable to fight off the warmth in his face and the smile that came along with it. The differences in scale and the impact from them were seemingly reversed to the amusement of the Belmont.

"Ha, kid don't worry about it in the slightest. I've got to be good for something at this point so if you ever need someone to talk to, just let me know. Hell, even more so than that if you just want someone to listen to. I've got stories to spare and they're just collecting dust on this old shelf of mine"

Richter, in the silliest pose he could muster, tapped his temple with his finger to accentuate his last sentence. Asriel just nodded, pulled out a black box out of his pocket to look at for a couple seconds, and then put it back. Odd. Richter just shrugged it off as he went back to the standing mirror to look himself over. He needed to know how much of his physique and scarring would be hidden by the wagon-sized shirt. If worst came to worst, he'd just wear the hoodie. Upon seeing himself in the mirror though, he stopped. Almost all of his bandages were gone at this point. By ignoring his pants and legs, he had inadvertently framed the myriad of damage catalogued on his chest, neck, and face. His bandana still rested on his head but his wavy long hair was just about a strand away from getting into his eyes. His torso was a nightmare to look at with certain angles. The sickly white color of the scar tissue adorning his entire body seemed to reflect the little light that was entering the room. He was paler overall as well. His muscle tone and build was still there but it was buried under the damage. Asriel finally took notice to what Richter was so preoccupied with only to gasp slightly. He spent a good moment just looking at each of the scars as the Belmont fiddled with the hoodie in his hands. The shirt was most certainly not going to work (at least as a shirt for it would be a perfect blanket). Right before he put the Hoodie on though, Asriel shot him a quick question.

"Richter, are those scars from...you know, those...monsters you mentioned before?"

He had emphasized this by air tracing one of the massive splotches of burn tissue that overtook the lower left side of his stomach and up to underneath his shoulder. It was particularly a nasty one and something that Richter wasn't exactly the proudest of. He'd been caught off-guard by a Nova Skeleton and if he had been just a moment slower, he would have been cut in half. His entire body was a road map of mistakes and failures that would never leave him for as long as he still held breath. But Richter saw it as a good thing. He needed to learn and adapt. It was better to be wounded countless times and yet live to tell the tale than it was to only be wounded once albeit fatally. It was a general Belmont philosophy that even the Elders agreed with. But that was beside the point, Asriel had just mentioned monsters. Richter didn't know if the teenager had noticed the suit of armor hidden in the corner of darkness so he was trying to keep it under wraps. Too late for that though. Richter let out a sigh and threw on the hoodie. It was shocking to the Hunter: the "hoodie" was extremely comfortable. Especially compared to the materials used in his old garb.

"Yeah, damn. I had hoped you'd forgotten. Yes, that would be from them. All that training in my youth I mentioned did have a purpose."

Richter walked past Asriel again to sit on the edge of the very plush albeit large bed. The inevitable conversation had come up. The Belmont knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the topic forever and that if it came up from a source other than him (unlikely but the risk was notable), he would be in quite the pickle. The goodwill of this world's monster kind would be completely erased at the notion of a Monster Hunter hiding among them. He took a deep breath, braced himself for the kid's reaction, and continued. Maybe Asriel could lessen the blow for the other family members and the community. That is if they ever found out in the future.

"Asriel, I am a Vampire Hunter...and a Monster Hunter. I descended from a prestigious bloodline of holy warriors whose sole purpose was to eradicate the evil that overtook the land every one-hundred years. That included slaying every monster that crossed our path. In my time, folk like you were in a perpetual battle against the forces of light I swore my life to. It was my mission in particular to destroy all creatures that dared become involved with the war spanning countless generations. A dark tyrannical lord used those forces to overtake as much of Europe as possible. That left me with no choice. I...I have killed thousands. Thankfully it seems this realm has either long since abandoned that time or was never cursed with it to begin with...and I promise you, Asriel, that I will never lay a hand on you or anyone in your family. I am eternally grateful for the things everyone here has done and I am forever in your debt. My time as a Hunter has passed. It is with a small comfort that I say that I am no longer needed."

Richter continually looked for any tells or signs of fear that could adorn the kid's face. Trepidation? Confusion? Anger? Nothing. Absolutely nothing of the sort. The only moment that even remotely got close to that notion was a brief flash of personal turmoil that was hidden well behind the kid's emerald eyes. Richter knew that pain all to well. It had nothing to do with the story he had just told the teenager. It was a deep sea of regret that occasionally brought forth a tide of hellish nightmares and depression-fueled self-loathing. As fast as it came though, it was gone. Nothing else remained in that vein. Just several looks of awe, excitement, and oddly enough understanding. Why? Why was it that this teenage monster could hear the story of the genocide of hundreds of thousands (Richter may have lowballed the number to soften the blow) of his kind and not blink an eye. He was somehow okay with the sudden revelation that he had taken in and saved a Monster Hunter. The puzzle provided here simply refused to be put together and it left Richter more confused than Asriel probably had ever been. Asriel must have seen his confusion as he just laughed and walked up to where Richter was sitting on the bed. How had he been so nonchalant with the entire situation? There was more here than what met the eye.

"That's kinda cool, actually. It reminds me of one of the guys in a game I play. So you were a hero where you came from?

Games? Richter knew of the "games" he would play with the other kids when he was a child. They would grab sticks, act like they were swords, and vanquish the imaginary beasts of the night. Did he play something similar? As for him being a hero... He once was. He used to be so proud of the notion. The day he returned from the destroyed and crumbling Castlevania, his village held a massive celebration for him. They praised him and called him the greatest Belmont of his lineage. His girlfriend and sister were ecstatic to see Richter get the attention he apparently deserved so much. Yet Richter remembered feeling empty during it all. Sure he was smiling with the rest of them. After all, he just guaranteed that they would all have a safe life to the end of their days. But he couldn't fight the hollow feeling that overtook his heart. His time as humanity's savior was over. The torch had been passed to the future generations to once again conquer the forces of darkness. No more castles to overtake and Vampire Lords to overthrow. The Hunter had enjoyed the Hunt to the point that part of him wished it would never end. He certainly got his wish, that was for sure. What a hero he turned out to be. Damn it all.

"I guess you could say that."

Richter looked at the teen to see that he had his muzzle practically adhered to a strange black box which illuminated his face as he fidgeted with it. Richter really knew not what the device was or what the kid was doing with it, but all he could do was wait until it was over. A deep pang in his chest told him something just broke but the Belmont didn't know exactly what. Maybe he was hungry. It did not take long though for Asriel to put the device down and turn his attention back to Richter. When he did this, however, his face fell dramatically. He had gone from jolly to concerned. What could have caused such a shift? Was he alright? Maybe the context behind the countless slaughtering of monsters finally registered with him. He seemed intelligent enough though so that was highly unlikely. So what happened? The Belmont didn't have to spend much time debating it though as Asriel pointed one of his paws towards the man's cheek with a softness one would treat a dying man.

"You're...crying."

He shouldn't be crying, he couldn't be. Why would he be in the first place? The time for tears had come and gone long ago. Nothing to be sad about now, he filled the void with his goal for the betterment of his own monster-kind. Yet though something still seemed broken. Richter ran his palm across both eyes in a sweeping motion just to check. It returned wet.

"I'm so sorry Richter, I-I don't know what I said...Maybe I-"

A voice in the hallway, most certainly Toriel's, called out to her child with the mention of food. The offer was enticing enough to tempt Richter into legitimately considering any notion about food for the first time since he arrived in this reality. It was muffled behind the closed door but was distinguishable enough to know that there was some sense of urgency behind the sweet offering. Asriel hesitated, staring at the tears that had started to stain the bedsheet that Richter sat upon, before uttering out a silent apology. Richter just nodded understandingly and shooed him away with his hands. With that, the kid took his leave and punctuated it with the reclosing of the door behind him. A muffled "Coming mom!" could be heard but after that, it was quiet. He was alone again. The Spear Guard was still slumbering away in the dark. The silence permeated the room for only moments as soon another sound made itself known. It was the sound of someone quietly sobbing. For just a second, for just a singular moment in time, the Belmont knew the weeping was for him.

His morning could have been significantly worse, all things considered. Richter stationed himself at the desk across from the bed not soon after Asriel (and seemingly the rest of his family) had left the home. The process of drawing extremely detailed blueprints kept him busy, especially so due to the Belmont relying solely on memory alone for recalling each and every environment the castle had held. If he wanted to truly transfer the hundreds of monsters that resided in the Altar, he needed to be damn sure that they were moving into a space that would be both accommodating and enjoyable overall for them. Richter wasn't fond of the castle by any means but even he knew that it had its merits. So his self-imposed work went from just drawing blueprints to drawing blueprints, creating as accurate of a map of the castle and its secrets as possible, and then tabulating the creatures on the roster and sectioning them off to where they originally used to reside in the Castle. It was more work than the Belmont had anticipated. The amount of knowledge and organization necessary would normally take weeks if not months of planning to formulate by himself. He had a day. The last, and arguably the most vital, plan Richter would be putting into action was the creation of a Council. Like Lord Dracula had done for ruling swaths of land during his reign, the Belmont planned on organizing a Sectional Council to help manage the undeniably massive construction and excavation that loomed ahead of them. He had faith though. Many of the former bosses he had vanquished found themselves back on the roster he held. It was an unusual feeling to be allying himself with intelligent figures he once deemed his enemy for an entire lifetime. Richter thought the adjustment period would be significantly worse and yet, it felt as if his time as Shaft's Lord of the Castle acclimated him to the sensation. Odd.

The sounds of metal plates shifting alerted Richter of the Spear Guard's awakening. The beams of light that shone through the window's partially closed blinds reflected off of his metallic equipment. With a yawn that seemed to be coming more so from the room itself and not the armor, it rose to attention and turned towards Richter. For his own part, he remained in his chair and just nodded towards his companion. There sadly was not much to be done this day for the guard (at least not until nightfall). The Spear Guard gently placed the spear in the corner where he had previously been sleeping and elegantly bowed towards the Belmont. It reminded him that just about all of the spirits residing in the altar saw him as their Lord. That was something he was most certainly not comfortable with in the slightest. There had to be a way to dissuade them from seeing him as such. For all that it mattered, Richter was just an apologetic man with grand plans. The point of the Village Project was to remove them from the Altar so they would never be under the spell of another again. Richter did refuse to force them to see this side though. The usage of force to make him be deemed as not their "lord" just seemed wrong in every sense of the word. There was far from any clear solution though to both that predicament and his map situation. As he had been lost in thought, he managed to completely forget a significant part of the lower caverns while drawing. He swore to himself before tearing that section of parchment and grabbing a new scroll. Every mistake required him to redo the entire process and he was quickly running out of scrolls to write upon. The spearman seemed to notice the distress, as well as what Richter was doing as a whole, and stepped forward. The only sign of him looking at the maps was the slight bend to his back as he crooked his (nonexistent) head forward.

"Sire, are you having difficulties with drawing the castle?"

Why yes, yes he was. Guess the five or six torn up chunks of parchment scattered about his desk didn't give off that message well enough. Sarcasm wasn't the language of monsters however so Richter acquiesced and replied.

"Yeah, I just can't remember every blasted detail. It had been hard enough back when I was navigating it and I had the luxury of being able to run straight until I ran into either a wall or wherever I was supposed to go. Can't exactly afford to do that here."

That had been an exaggeration...mostly. The Castle was so outlandishly expansive on both of his journeys that there were more than enough moments where he found himself just walking straight. It worked tremendously well the first time he raided Count Dracula's domain. Sadly not as much so on his second go. With no tactile references and the Altar being a walk Richter couldn't accomplish in his current condition away, he simply could not finish and compile a map that showcased the different bits and pieces needed for the project overall. The Spear Guard though just let out a laugh (although he quickly silenced himself once he realized who he was laughing at) and offered his aid.

"Each spirit of the Altar possesses a perfect memory of Castlevania's current layout, sire. I am more than capable of lending you my aid here. I however don't have the...dexterity-"

He nervously fiddled with the fastenings to his left gauntlet at his own mention of the limitation the suit forced him into. The pause stuck out to the Belmont. It was odd that the poltergeist was as worked up about his spirituality as he was now. No pressure had been applied and yet the guard apologized indirectly like he dropped a bottle of wine.

"-to draw the map for you. I can guide you through the process yourself, sire. Would that solve the issue?"

For all intents and purposes, it would. Things would undeniably slow to a crawl but he'd go through with it for the sake of accuracy. Not much else to do now outside of immediately get to work. With his mind set, Richter nodded towards the guard and the two of them began the process. It soon became apparent how much the Belmont had forgotten about the Castle. The minute intricacies and side rooms that were both physically impossible to replicate in the Material plane but also borderline essential to the miniature environments reminded him of even more issues they'd have to overcome soon. The construction was not to be built around or on magic. It was a simple notion Richter refused to relent on. They needed to stray from the course the Altar had initially set them all upon. If that meant making his life significantly harder (and expensive), then he would do it. Not just for himself either. This was a decision he had made solely for the spirits joining him on the journey. The magic of the Altar, and of his world, was potent enough to leave its mark in the environment around it. It mattered not if the magic was directly targeted towards the nature surrounding it either. It was a corruption that just followed the dangerous strength his abilities and all other magical abilities hailing from his reality possessed. So it was noted that the meeting the next day should bring up such an issue. The Guard was more than willing to go to the Altar and bring back with him the spirits requested of him. That was, however, if Richter followed two conditions. The first was that he could not leave Toriel's home until the Guard returned with his guests. No exceptions. His health needed to be prioritized, the spearman had said. Richter acknowledged that fact and accepted. The second though was interesting. The Belmont HAD to, not suggested to, give the Spear Guard the task as an order. No wiggle room on this one like he might have possibly had with the last. It was brought to his attention that the spearman and all the representatives would be unable to leave the Altar unless told to do so. This too Richter acknowledged and accepted; and with the map done by the hour and Richter having sent his companion off, he was left with some time to kill.

It must have been fairly late in the evening when Richter finally mustered up the energy and spirit to leave the study. There was only so much he could accomplish cooped up in a room with nothing to do but reflect. He wasn't looking to start much though, even conversations, as he was still wrapped up in the implications of what the Master Librarian had told him. To think that Richter continued to be the enemy he swore to destroy and commanded the now reconciled forces of Darkness his countless forefathers vanquished for generations. There was a cruel sense of irony to it all that was far from lost on the Vampire Hunter. Maybe it was his path to redemption that set him on such a quest as the one he embarked on now. Maybe it really was just simply something out of pity. Either way though, he had a job to do...a job that couldn't be done with an empty stomach. Richter had kept his mouth shut when it came to food. After all, the last thing he sought was to be any further of an obligation to the extremely kind host Toriel had been to him so far. She had stopped by once or twice just to check by. He somehow managed to dissuade her on the matter of dining, saying that he had eaten when he was out. That was clearly a lie but she refused to push. It was at this point though that he couldn't really afford to turn down a good meal as his body ached, his head grew light, and his stomach churned from hunger. He listened to his body and thus found himself in the hallway leading to the living room and, more importantly, the kitchen. Even from the hallway though, Richter could hear sounds of someone speaking. Not a voice he recognized either. He guessed that was to be expected though, Toriel seemed to keep quite the company on the occasion. For what reasons though he knew not. It was more than possible she just had a massive family as given by the wall.

Speaking of walls, the Belmont noticed a distinct light shining from around the corner of the hallway and onto the entrance way to the kitchen. The lights were seemingly fluctuating in color and representation as if showing something. Odd. The speaking sounded muffled and distorted as if heard through a spell. Was there some kind of magic being cast for the likes of this? Richter's curiosity got the better of him as he rounded the corner into the living room and found himself presented by a very much so unusual sight. The furniture had been pushed around somewhat as the couch and the massive lounge chair were side by side facing the source of the light and sound: A magic scrying box. It resembled the practice well. Inside the moving image stood a human man behind a desk speaking something practically indistinguishable. Given the paperwork the man was holding, it seemed almost like a report. The Belmont remembered, albeit faintly, how trained sages used to broadcast messages to each other through scrying diamonds or mirrors. It seemed that the practice had really taken hold in the future generations. He was about to approach for a closer look when he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room: sleeping on the couch was the human teenager. Textbooks and paper surrounded his form as he had curled up instinctually on his side. Poor lad must have passed out from his studies. Richter was glad to see that some things never changed. He remembered on quite a few occasions how he was the one to sleep during his futile attempts of studying. The history of Arcana was equally in-depth as it was boring to the Belmont. The practice of magic however was a completely different field he was striving to practically drown in. Strange how much of a difference interest made.

" 'supose he hit the books too hard, huh? they need the rest anyway. got a lot on his lil' shoulders."

The deep voice that seemingly shook his core caught him by surprise. He wheeled around to find the short skeleton from the night prior, now dressed somewhat appropriately in a blue jacket and shorts, walking from out of the kitchen. Splotches of red stained his white shirt along with crumbs of food as he walked straight past Richter, pulled a blanket out of an ottoman hidden nearby, and delicately tucked the youngling in. It was clear by the way he handled himself that the skeleton had practiced this many times before now. It was a tender display that again put the Belmont at odds with his past experiences. The atrocities he had witnessed skeletons commit were arguably never going to leave his mind. It was instilled in him by his training to never forget. So to see a skeleton treat a child like how a child should be treated was a juxtaposition he knew he'd have to get used to. He couldn't help but wonder how many times he would find himself thinking about the unusual nature of his new world. It would eventually become old, right? Sans finished tending to the kid, picked up an odd small black device off the table, and turned his head to Richter slightly. Guess it wasn't going to wear off anytime soon then. What caught him off guard was that soon afterwards, the skeleto d.

"this'll blow your mind. called a tv, you watch it and get bored 'specially with what's airing nowadays. nothin like magic, i promise ya that."

By fiddling with the device, the voices from the "tv" grew louder and clearer. It seemed to act like an amplifier of sorts. Richter could actually make sense of the words being spouted out. What he could finally hear though brought him little to no comfort.

"- third monster district has become the target of revolts as statewide protestors continue to congregate and forcefully shut down local businesses. The spokesperson and liaison of the ETPD has refused to issue a statement as tensions continue to mount. Reported cases of muggings and violence have shot up by -"

The tv immediately lost its picture and sound as it wiped to black. It was somehow interrupted and shut down. Richter was just left confused. What had stopped the broadcast?

"media, more like mean-dia am i right?"

Oh, that's what happened. The Belmont turned his attention to the short skeleton as it placed the device back on the table. He had more important things to worry about though. What was that about monster districts and revolts? He thought that monsterkind had formed at least some kind of sanctioned pact or bond with humanity so issues like this would never happen again; and why districts in the first place? What was the point in segregating and chopping up a landmass into districts when a unified city was more than enough to get the job done. Was the separation really even necessary? Or, just maybe, it was another of the "folly's of mankind". Richter prayed to himself and his old lord that it wasn't the latter. He had dealt with enough violence for one lifetime and to have left a soon to be peaceful land just to arrive at a soon to be chaotic one seemed extremely unfair. Not just to himself either, it seemed that monster-human relations were always in some terrible state of disrepair. Not much he could do about it in this state though, but thinking about it did give him something to do. That was until Sans spoke up.

"you okay buddy? ya know i was joking about blowing your mind, right? earth to richter, major tom to ground control?"

Richter physically waved off the joke. There were far too many questions running through his head again and with an empty stomach, he predicted he wouldn't be able to ask any of them. With that in his mind and a dismissal at his lips, he spun around and meandered his way into the kitchen. Wait...Or at least he was going to but something stopped him. The skeleton knew his name. Toriel or one of the children must have told him as much, but it brought his attention to an earlier comment. Sans mentioned magic and yet it never came up in conversation. For all intents and purposes, Richter could have known what a TV was before Sans told him of its purpose. So what gives? Richter's nature as a literal man out of time should have been a well guarded secret. There was more to this skeleton than what the Belmont assumed. He turned back around again and waggled a finger at Sans. He kept his posture from becoming accusatory but his voice came out a smidge more jaded than intended.

"Just out of curiosity's sake, what made you think I thought the tv to be magic? Or that I was unaware of it in the first place?"

Sans just continued to smile and stare Richter down where he stood. There was something unnerving about those pinprick eyes of his. It was as if any moment they'd sear a hole straight through the Belmont's skull and quickly become the last thing he'd ever see. It, he, had no right to be as intimidating as he was.

"i was right, ain't i?"

He was indeed right. Richter had thought of it as a scrying mirror, but how would anyone know that beforehand? He never pegged Toriel as the type to reveal personal secrets about house guests and Richter's history with, well, history was most certainly a secret needing to be kept close to the chest. It was a tidbit of knowledge that could prove to be dangerous if told elsewhere. So where did this short pile of bones learn of it? Had he peered into his conversation with Asriel when he was distracted? The door had been shut though, there was no way for someone to have gotten inside without his knowledge of it.

"Well...yes, but that wasn't my point! It's a bit of leap to think like that, that's all. From what I understand, you came and integrated with human society where humans clearly must be aware of something like this. That was a human broadcast. What makes me any different?"

The question didn't even seem to phase the monster. That smile was practically, no it literally seemed to be, plastered to that skull. Not even a head tilt at what Richter had said. It just...stood there. His hands were in his jacket pockets and outside of a very faint swaying from side to side, not a single damn thing was altered. No movement. No tells. Richter couldn't read a thing and it was ungodly infuriating. At least with the monsters he dealt with in the past, he could learn tells in combat. Everyone and everything had a method to the madness, a reason behind their swings. To battle is to lay out your life and soul into the field in the hopes that your own experience and luck hold to be true. It makes reading an opponent incredibly easy. Yet, this puny skeleton was clearly not itching for a fight so it just irritated the hunter. He despised the mysterious types.

"ya seem angry, did i say somethin' too close to home? guess you don't like being on the receiving end of someone ya don't understand. welcome to the club, pal."

Someone you don't understand? So there was still much that this skeleton was unaware of. Good, Richter could use that to his advantage. But why was this even a conversation they were having in the first place? How could he know what he did-

"did i get under ya skin? good. you know, it just ain't every day that a man just drops outta the sky here. at least on the surface, heh heh heh. especially someone as dangerous as you. i know those hands of yours have seen their share of violence. i don't even need to see your soul to know what sins crawl on that burned back of yours. you're all smiles and goodwill but i know.

The white points of light coming out of his skull vanished completely, leaving a dark abyss hiding behind. It reminded the hunter of an infinite and all encompassing void. Where dreams and thoughts went to die, where the ambitions of the strong-willed burned down to the wick faster than their bodies could carry them out. It sent a shiver down Richter's spine. There was something unholy, unnatural about this creature before him. He just didn't know what. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and his hands tensed up reflexively. He bit down the urge to summon something to defend himself with. He wasn't being attacked after all...at least, he hoped not.

"you ain't fooling me, murderer."

And with that solemn threat, the light quickly returned to his sockets along with the jovial timber to his voice. It was as if nothing had even happened and it only further added to the stress induced by the situation. Now he had been threatened by two monster skeletons of two different realms. Although something told Richter that he needed to fear this one almost as much as his own. He simply refused to let the threat stick with him though, he was so used to having enemies at this point that it was just another on the tall list (although most of them ceased to exist in this reality now). It seemed to recognize Richter's tense shoulders and just shrugged with a laugh.

"if you're looking for somethin' to eat, i got some hot cats in the fridge. they're better cold 'spite the name. try not to wake the kid up, i gotta check up on my bro."

Trying his best to shrug off the heart-pounding anxiety from that conversation, Richter gave a quick gander back towards the kitchen. What the hell was a fridge? He'd heard of the term before surprisingly. It had something to do with cooling and storing meats although the village used dug out cellars with ice magic to keep the meats frozen and fresh. He turned back to ask another question from the skeleton only to see that it was gone. No noise, no nothing, no traces of him even walking out. Could he teleport like many of his own monsters? It was possible. Richter mumbled to himself as he wandered in. Guess it was time to figure out a few things about modern society himself. He needed the lesson anyway and he always believed he was best when self-taught. At least no one would find out about his mistakes; mistakes like nearly tearing off the door to what he assumed to be the fridge simply because he was trying to open it the wrong way. At last, food. It wasn't nearly as gratifying as destroying a wall to find a pot-roast or a turkey leg but it would do. His stomach ached but Richter didn't want to eat them out of house and home. So just a few sandwiches would do~

Toriel's study, and Richter's temporary safehaven, held countless tomes that peaked his interest. Textbooks especially were of a specific interest. It gave him an in-depth if seemingly one-sided history of humankind, their countless wars, and their inventions along the way. It was far too much to take in on a single sitting so he mostly skimmed. Surprisingly though there wasn't a single mention of the war in Europe. Sure, Europe had its fair share of wars but those were with their fellow man. There was nothing on the history of Romania's relationship with Count Dracula. It finally confirmed his suspicions that the Belmonts never existed in this realm. Why would they? If monsterkind had been sealed underground for more years than they can even recall, there would have been no need for a hunter like himself. Monsters seemed to be far weaker in this reality as it stood anyway so the possibility of a vampire lord like Dracula existing seemed impossible. All in all, that was a good thing and something Richter found himself happy with. A world that never had to know of the devastating effects a tyrant like that on the globe left them far better off. Although to be fair, some of the dictators that blemished humanity's history were awfully close to his own... The sounds of people entering the house, cheers, and miscellaneous conversation brought him back from his thoughts. Richter pulled his head out of the textbook he had been reading. The context behind the World Wars were absolutely fascinating and must have kept Richter enthralled enough to not notice that night had fallen. It was funny, the Belmont hated learning the history of much of his own world and yet here he was, glued to the very idea of familiarizing himself with a completely new one. It was a hollow joy though. He shouldn't even truly exist in this realm, he had no ties and he was willing to bet that his forms of magic were unfamiliar even to the monsters of the land. He was a complete and total stranger. It was as if he had been cursed by fate; with everything ahead of him, it really was a horrible night to have a curse.

Richter gave one quick look outside the window only to see that it was MUCH later than he had been expecting. He had a meeting to host tomorrow and doing such a thing on little rest would probably drive himself and whoever he was presenting to mad. There was too much to do. He tried to clear out a bit of space in the study by rearranging whatever furniture he could. It would be an incredibly tight squeeze, all things considered, but he was sure he could make things work. If the worst came to light, he would simply just have the meeting outside somewhere. Preferably somewhere where they wouldn't garner too much attention by their human and monster neighbors. Some of the names on the list belonged to creatures that Richter only faced many years ago. Their sizes weren't exactly a priority tidbit of information to keep within his mind. He'd have to make due with whatever he could remember. Plenty of knights though. If he could recall correctly, there were a few knights in the countless pictures that lined Toriel's scrapwall. Maybe that wouldn't attract much suspicion. He shook off the notion though, he was worrying too much over something he had no control over. There was little point in getting worked up on the details. Richter much preferred the attitude of do as they come. It made his life more interesting albeit oftentimes not easier. Just a trade off, he supposed. Turning back to the bed, the Belmont couldn't contain the yawn that clawed at his jaw. With watery eyes and sore limbs, he tossed off his shirt and fell into the bed. If need be he would crawl under the covers but he was generally warm enough as is. Whatever it was about his elemental magic made him produce heat like a furnace. It was a blessing in the caverns of the Castle on both trips. The imagery of the crystal blue ice lining the stone passageways slowly overtook his senses as he felt himself drifting away like the water flowing underneath the rock he had stood on so long ago. No mermen or killer fish, not even the massive toads. Just the sounds of water droplets dripping from the low ceiling like crystal teardrops.

And with that, he was out.