New World Drifter

Remnant: From the Ashes and MGE crossover

Inspired by 'The Good Hunter' and 'A Hunter's New Home', among other things.

Author's Note: I don't own shit.

Chapter 1: World Beyond Remnants

It was all over.

Earth was saved. The Root of all evil was finally defeated here and now.

Well, at least, for the time being.

. . .

Even now, there are still pockets of resistance and infestation still rooted in areas known and hidden from our eyes. That's the Root for you. A stubborn weed that refused to die outright despite its current leaderships taken out. Harsgaard in the end was one surprise almost everyone expected. His leftover recordings and notes spoke for itself.

But the Dreamer inside the tower of Ward 17?

It still shook me, no matter how much I told myself it was for the best of humanity after finding the source of the Root's invasion to our world. He couldn't be saved. It was a matter of fact.

He was part of the problem and I took care of it. The Root got to the Champion that was supposed to save us all. The very chosen savior I was supposed to replace and continue his quest. What else could have been done?

What is one lost member of the tribe when they will just send another if I had failed the task? The Root had to be stopped at all cost.

It was that simple.

Yet, the thought of returning back to the homeland after all the strife and turmoil I went through did not appear in my mind. The Dreamer was only a road bump in my journey and Urik Harsgaard was the supposed goal post in it all. But something still bothered me, something I could not admit in my adventures until now. A somber outlook of things to come after halting the invasion.

What is stopping the Root from finding another way of coming back? What of the other worlds' denizens that I have visited during my search for salvation? The Buri? The Iskal? The Urikki?

The things beyond our world that we know nothing of?

That obligation was one of the reasons why I chose to stay in Ward 13. I still had a part to play by my own choice and being with the tribe did not matter anymore since then. What would I return to anyway but a dull tomorrow? The ruined city still has its secrets just begging to be dug up. Threats far and wide that needed to be dealt with. A new society to be born into this hopeless land.

They say hope is what makes us human. Things will be better tomorrow, they say.

Over and over, until we die.

I almost fooled myself thinking of such notions from time to time and the Root Mother knew better than to assume that the worst was over. That with the war over, we would finally be able to reclaim our world in peace and rebuild anew without the fear of facing another potential threat outside of us. That things will be better in the end.

Easier said than done.

"Master. You're doing it again."

And now I have to deal with this bullshit. Lost in some godforsaken new world caused by an unknown variant of problems that made the World Stone hiccupped and now being followed by some complete stranger that, for the likes of me, decided to tag-along because I looked helpless and out-of-place. That, or the need for protection from gods-knows-what in this unknown land.

"Master? Are you okay?" Something tugged my left arm with a brief shake.

I'm lost in the middle of some woodland forest. I have no sense of direction of where to go or how to get out of here. Some mutant bird lady in a tattered house servant outfit won't stop bothering me…

…Keeper of the Labyrinth or whatever fucking deities are out there. Just kill me already so I can go back to the nearest world stone, anywhere but here.

"Master, please stop ignoring me."

Yaesha was a lot easier to navigate alone despite the strewn out stone ruins and killer goat people out to get me. Well, the ones that aren't rebelling anyway. At least the landmarks made finding Founder Ford faster after being pointed to the prison's location, though Navun had an undertone of being a little too close to him. Kind of makes me think if they ever did…

"Master Strangeland!"

"What?!" My head turned toward the pestering source of noise that prevented me from thinking so far.

A stern stare greeted my white gas mask while the short woman kept a sure grip on my jacket sleeve. Yellow eyes reflected off the dirty glass lens as her expression was that of annoyance.

"I'm tired and hungry. We have been wandering without any rest for hours and you keep muttering to yourself about evil tree demons and goat people by the seconds!" She snipped in an exasperated tone, her face looking up at my neck height.

You'd go crazy too if the Root almost drove everyone to extinction. The loony who worshipped them would make a cold-blooded killer such as Brabus look like a saint in comparison, if not for the fact that I am just as bad as the both of them from my actions alone. Corsus was dying anyway and I was only speeding up the process to justify the means.

A short look at the sky told me that it was starting to get dark soon. We might have to stop and make camp eventually once we find a clearing.

Shit, that would mean having to deal with her for the rest of the day.

"Alright, fine. I almost forgot that I have to babysit you." I grunted and began to find a good spot to set up for the night.

"Coming from a brigand, that would be considered a high remark." The bird maid sniped back in a smarmy manner, straightening her torn dress out of habit.

"Keep telling yourself that."

The amused smirk plastering her face said otherwise. "Oh, most certainly."

I ignored her banter to focus on setting up a campfire after some minutes went by to find empty ground. Soon, a ring of rocks surrounded the dry twigs and leaves placed haphazardly in the middle while I got to work on making that fire with a zippo lighter in hand. The fair maiden in question plopped down right across me with a look of curiosity at the small tool that I was currently busy flicking to get the flame sparked.

"C'mon. Lousy piece of junk. I just refilled the oil before I left…" Shaking the damn thing did nothing but fueled my frustration for not taking matches with me instead. Even tilting it upside for a moment to soak the wad was considered moot. "Shit, I should have bought the matches from Reggie instead."

"Who is Reggie?" She asked.

"Some kindly old fellow you will probably like. He runs a small kiosk shop full of odds and ends. Keeper knows where he gets his stuff from but I ain't complaining if it means more varieties."

"I take it he is from the land you hail from?" Bird lady prodded further.

"To put it that way, yes." I gave the lighter another tilt for a longer period before flicking it a few more times. Finally, a small dim flame came through from the ignited wick. A moment of pride ran through me after the many fruitless attempts just to get a simple fire going. "Voila!"

Judging from the way she rolled her eyes at me I was almost tempted to make a comment about her prim and proper attitude just to get a rise. Bird jokes would have sufficed too, but that would going so far as to be really petty on my end.

Instead, I off-loaded my travel pack and dug deeply for a cannister of stew to share with since I now have an unwanted guest to take care of for the time being. Even with her coy looking face and attractive standards followed by the highest fucking accent of silver on her hair/feathers, I'd sooner kiss Mccabe than admit having any feelings for… whatever the fuck she is.

Granted, if the ever so grumpy techno-wizard doesn't cave my skull in with that wrench in her hand.

I mean, not even five minutes after crossing paths and bird maid suddenly decided to throw herself at me for the need to serve! I can take care of myself, thank you very much.

Since when did I ever needed a servant to begin with? I'm a grown-ass man, for fuck sake!

"Is that supposed to be our dinner for tonight?" She eyed the dull green flask warily as I twisted the air-tight cap off.

"Your dinner first, actually." I handed the still steaming hot stew that Mud Tooth sold me during my usual scrounge in the city. It may not look much, but goddamn that old man can work his magic into making something so impossibly delicious. It's probably no small wonder that he is still kicking due to that stuff.

As to why the stew hadn't gotten cold yet? Well, I am still figuring that myself after a couple visits inside the Labyrinth and beyond.

You see, for some unexplained reason, the Worldstones (A.K.A the floating red rocks) tend to leave interesting side effects the longer you use them. One of them is not dying permanently every time you get killed by something and returning to the last stone interacted with. Ford himself became immortal during his travels to the other worlds. As for me? I ended up having a magic bag that lets me store a whole bunch of everything without the cons of massive weight bearing down on my body. Hell, it even stops the perishables from spoiling or getting cold so I can always have hot fresh food on the go everywhere I go to.

I call that a win. Thank you, weird floating red rocks, for bestowing your weird magic onto me. Killing fuglies and looting what's not nailed down never felt so hard afterwards.

Bird maid wrinkled her nose at the sight of stew and was hesitant in taking a sip, staring at it like it was made from thick mud. Honestly, I don't know what the old mudder put in his food but I sure as hell wasn't raised a picky eater after Earth went to shit.

"Eat it before it gets cold."

She made a face. "It looks unappetizing."

"It's good for you." I took out another flask from my pack and sighed in content from the scent of hearty stew on my end, undoing some of the straps of the white gas mask while I was at it. "Trust me, I paid good money for this kind of fresh slop. You'll be full for hours and it got healthy vittles that taste like heaven."

Just to prove my point, I took my mask half way off to reveal a dark short beard and swung my head back to gulp down the stew. A few seconds passed by and I was gasping in satisfaction after emptying out half of the thermos from my gluttonous greed.

"Hmhm! That hits the spot!" My exposed mouth formed a gleeful grin. "Them's good eatin'!"

Removing the strapped mask off, my light skinned face was soon uncovered for all to see. The leather cowl kept my black hair in so I wasn't fully leaving my head bare. The warmth of the fire became most apparent, along with the stains of stew on my full beard as I pull out a handkerchief from my coat pocket to swab the mess dry.

Note to self: Have time to shave later.

Inhaling the rest of my meal in hand, I smack my lips once to the taste of wasteland comforts and glanced over to see her now staring at me like I was something new all over again.

"What?" I arched a questioning brow, blue eyes meeting her yellow. "Do I have something on my face?"

If I hadn't noticed it by now, those floppy ears of hers were way more expressive than that cool face she was currently exhibiting from the way she looked at me. What did she call herself again from our first meeting? A Kikimora?

Eh, just calling her bird maid is easier enough. Cupcake was another alternative, on the account that her white cap thing on her head looks like a friggin' pastry but that sounded too sexist.

"You look nothing like I would have expected." She stated.

"And that would be?" I pondered at.

"Someone of your caliber that would resemble and act like a brash and rugged adventurer hoping to gain riches beyond their grasp."

A mere shrug was soon directed. "Sorry to disappoint if you were expecting someone like me to fit your profile. I'm just trying to get by, is all."

Her soft glance washed over my person, almost as if she was showing pity. "Yes, I can see you quite clearly now. You're not at all what I assumed."

Okay… weird way of showing interest in my wellbeing, but what the hell is she going at?

"What the hell are you going at, bird maid?" Darkness was starting to fall closer and I didn't feel like playing her cat-and-mouse game at the moment when I knew things tend to go bump in the night every time for me not to risk being inattentive. Rhom was one thing since I could just find some rock crevices to squeeze in, but Yaesha made me all too paranoid after the last incident of settling in one of the tree huts.

Those fucking snake centipede things still haunt my dreams once in a while.

"My name is Celia, not 'Bird Maid', Master Strangeland." She pouted with a huff. "Is that anyway to treat your servant?"

"Never asked for your help and I don't need a 'servant'. Stop calling me that, too." Disregarding her cute display, I tossed another branch into the fire and watch the flames danced on.

"And yet, here I found you raving incoherently of end days and cursing the trees around for making you lost." Celia pointed out all too smugly. "Master."

Oh yeah, speaking of being lost…

"Yeah? And how come you're here then? I can't imagine someone like you would be wandering the woodlands, all dirty and cut-up when you found me. Heck, when you spoke of your job, I'd figure it involved a more urban area of your expertise."

"Cause, the way I see it. You're running from something. People like you don't just go nature walking for the hell of it, let alone without a 'master' to attend to as you say." A frown slowly crease on me as I found myself looking into her eyes once more with concern intent. "That is almighty suspicious, if you ask me."

Only an uncomfortable silence was greeted between us when she tried to look away, thermos gripped tightly. The corner of Celia's lip twitched slightly at the theoretical accusation thrown at her while my glare grew more apparent each passing moment. The fire between us got brighter after I stirred the pit non-to-gently with a long branch stick. The crackling of burnt wood and insect buzzing filled the empty air, but my cold glare remained steady.

Should have known something was up the moment she came across me.

"Well? Not going to defend yourself? Deny anything?"

. . .

"Huh. Then allow me to speak my mind. You see, I've been around other places that you've probably never heard of. Met some interesting characters along the way. Some of them, pretty decent folks. Most of them, though…" I put away the green flask and unbuckled a water canteen from the side of the pack. "…they ask me to do things for them. Deals. Barters. Demands. Whatever they want from me."

Unscrewing the cap, I took a long gulp and resettled my seating. "And the thing about them is that they at least have the decency to tell me straight upfront. Sometimes there would be some cryptic messages or belittling, but at the end of the day they tell me what they want and the only thing I can do is trust their end of the bargain after that."

"So," I sat up straight with steel in my eyes, "what do you want from me? Being chased by something or someone? In need of protection? Is that why you clung to me all this time?"

"Yes." Her response was timid.

"And you didn't feel the need to warn me of such happenings?"

"I-I was going to-!"

"When?" I cut her off, standing tall with anger slowly boiling inside. "When were you going to tell me that you are being hunted and put me in danger because of that?! Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I j-j-just w-wanted to…"

"Get my ass killed while you run off to live another day? Is that it!?"

"W-wha… Nooo! T-that was n-never my intention!"

Worry and panic covered her face as Celia cowed under pressure. Streams of tears ran down her cheeks as soft cries were choked back in her throat. I had every right to be furious at her for the shit I will have to deal with eventually. Why didn't she own up and tell me! Why should I even cover her ass for this bullshit?!

I'm willing to bet those tears are just as fake as her excuse!

Might as well just ditch her and…

…and.

. . .

And what?

. . .

To leave her to die? She wouldn't last days in here if she hadn't come upon me earlier.

The sight of her befuddled state reminded me a little of what I saw from Clementine when she first refused to come back to Earth. I let the worst of me took over and ended up calling her a coward for letting her people die when we needed her the most. There were no regrets then and I still won't take it back now if it meant saving Earth from the Root, once and for all.

But a small part of me chided myself for acting out so belligerent and cold toward her when I realized that she was still a child. A scared and lonely child out in the cold hellhole called Reisum. If it weren't Clementine, Harsgaard would have won and I wouldn't be alive right now to scold at someone scared and alone.

. . .

. . .

Just like me.

Slowly and surely, I sat back down and went back to staring at the dimming flames. The anger within simmered down. Celia's eyes went downcast as she tried to rein herself in, a few hiccups of sniffles and whimpers escaping. A quick glance at her shivering form told me she was afraid I would kick her out or that I was still contemplating on the possibility of doing so.

I wouldn't blame her for that, either. Life between the other worlds made me grow harsh and bitter after what I saw, but I still had some kindness in me despite the constant shit thrown in the fan.

Commander Ford saved my life when she didn't need to. Ace and Rigs taught me the proper know-how to survive out there. Reggie gave me the means of standing back up. Mccabe…

…well, let's just say she helped out too. I don't have anything else nice to say about her otherwise.

The point is, I wouldn't be here if not for the kindness of others. For a complete stranger like me that came upon their shoreline like a drowned rat looking for a way up.

Hell, even the Root Mother, Mudtooth, and Whispers of all people did me some favors along the way.

And I should be following their examples. Not spitting on them.

Even if I did some questionable things during my travels. For my own benefits, no less.

. . .

Shit. Maybe I'm starting to turn out like Brabus after all…

"Hey," I looked up to see her tear-streaked eyes slowly lit up at the curious golden fruit held in front of her, "eat your stew before it gets cold. Then eat this after. You'll feel better."

As I watched Celia gently sip the contents from the green flask, a small wave of satisfaction passed through me when I managed to make out a tiny hint of surprise followed by eager slurping. Course, I didn't need to tell her that the food was good anyway. Didn't need to rub it in her face.

"Eat up, then get some sleep. I'll take watch."

The trees continued to stay the same during their trek in hopes of finding a way out. The clear sky was no different either. The tired maid brushed away the silver misshaped bangs that was blocking her sight as she followed her seemingly tireless patron. She needed a warm bath and a change of fresh clothes to do away with the grime she held. Her ratty uniform was in need of repairs that she could not find the time or tools to do so. Her pale skin was covered in small welts from the passing branches and the bones within her body were aching, especially her neck every time she spoke to the tall man.

In short, she needed a break.

But she was afraid to ask after what happened last night. Something she had a hand in by withholding information from her master when she should have told him earlier. A mistake she quickly rectified by explaining the reason she was on the run and the possible assailants pursuing her after he calmed down. The young maid could not manage to identify whoever attacked the woodworking village she was residing in at the time as everything was in panicked disarray, but the sight of magic involved was all she remembered when she fled the scene.

Master Strangeland said nothing in return, but there was sign of unease on his face. She saw a hint of coldness in his eyes, but she didn't know if he was giving thought of the risk of her attackers following from behind or…

…or was just staring straight through her hauntingly. As if there was no life inside the gaze he wore. Nothing at all. She noticed that during her uneasy wakefulness, he had no urge to sleep and would stare out at the open for a long period of time.

There was something strange about her traveling companion when she first lay eyes on him. A masked man that might have held malevolent intentions during their accidental meeting.

Her first assumption was that he was a wandering bandit that went looking for another victim to rob and do away with through his greed or lust if she was caught. She hid herself behind a large tree, waiting with bated breath that he would go away elsewhere. It took some short time before he wandered toward somewhere else, but not far enough to leave her sight. Screaming and throwing insults at the trees in a fit of tantrums. Making sarcastic comments about goatmen and how one of them has an obvious crush for someone called Founder Ford. The mentioning of being distracted by a stupid and sexy bug queen that tried to kill him, if she heard that correctly.

Her second assumption almost fell through when she noted how insane he acted, but disregard the thought the moment he stopped to take a deep breath in calming himself. Short mentioning of escape and finding signs of civilization came through his stretched mask, then more cursing toward the surrounding trees.

It then became apparent that this man could be just as lost as she is. More lost than she anticipated judging by his vague appearance and the way he presented himself.

Celia Hartwood didn't have time to make out her surroundings when she was forced to flee from the burning village behind her. She still remained masterless even then, no matter how hard she tried to find a suitable candidate to serve. But here is a man that could serve as a potential master to her if not for his wanton display of open violence.

The thought of joining his side after witnessing his mentally unstable act of butchering a small sapling made her hesitant. The sound of wood being chopped and splintered by his blade as he swore bloody murder at it almost made her reconsider such inane idea.

But she was desperate, and with no way of direction or any supplies to sustain on she had to make her decision swiftly.

And so, she stepped out. Expecting the worse to come.

Now? She didn't know if the choice she made was correct all this time.

Celia pondered at the man known as Karl Strangeland. The man she claimed to be her master despite his reluctance to accept her as a faithful servant.

He was kind in his own way, yet quick to anger at the slightest hint of deceit and manipulation when it came to his trust after last night's incident. He shared his resources without hesitation, but made snide remarks while doing so. Not once had he ever tried to touch her, let alone be anywhere near her until she took the initiative and the maid wondered if the thought of such made him uncomfortable or that he simply wanted to be alone.

From the young lady's point of view, Master Strangeland was almost the perfect match to be accompanied with.

Emphasis on 'almost' in her quiet opinion.

Here was a stranger who didn't know what she was. That never heard of her job role or even recognize that she is a mamono. Someone who was outspoken, but kept silent or evaded questions regarding about his personal life. A vagabond armed to the teeth that would fit the description of your typical outgoing adventurer, but felt more compelled to remain cautious than fall headfirst into the unknown.

Of course, his frequent ramblings were something else.

She couldn't put her finger at his odd behavior, nor understand his absurd vocabulary during their travels. The murmurs of deadly fauna and twisted races he had seen from his experience. The assorted foreign weapons that looked too cumbersome to be wielded and the equally foreign garb he wore.

The even disturbingly strange sword that he would carry on his backpack that glowed eerily even in the daytime made it hard for her to ignore. A blue aura of swirling energy that sounded like it was whispering words. She could have sworn that it was talking.

But what perturbed her the most was not the sword, but the wielder himself.

Disgruntled ramblings of murderous Deadwoods and horrifically mutated tribals.

Hushed whispers of parasitical insects.

Unrelenting disdain for goats on two legs.

And outright fear for bloodthirsty ratmen.

Those are what she always heard from him, even now while they were walking to find a way out of these heavily dense woods.

"Rats with guns… Fucking gun-toting rat bastards…"

All she could do now was smile and bear with his bouts of slipping sanity.

"Roots. Damn the Deadwoods… To hell with these trees… fuck em'…"

Just smile and bear with it.

"Root of all evil… Walking tree demons… could be here any time…"

Smile and bear with it…

"Hah… Wonder if Founder Ford ever fucked that goat lady?"

Gods help her now.

It was another day inside this goddamn forest. Wandering past these goddamn trees. Being bored out of my mind for goddamn hours.

With my newfound abilities that I have picked up during the quest to save my world, menial tasks like walking long distances and running marathons became an afterthought. Taking breaks became less often for me because I hardly get tired for the most part. Though, I can't really say the same for my 'servant' on the other hand.

Hmm. I wonder if she can play the coconut well?

If I can find one, that is.

Is a coconut even an instrument?

Fuck if I know…

. . .

"Oi, Celia." I stopped in my track and turned around. "Why don't we take a ten and rest our heels?"

"Take a what?"

"A ten-minute break."

"Oh." Realization was seen in her face.

With that in mind, I sat my ass down against a tree and took off my mask and backpack. After laying them next to me, my hands went digging inside for some edibles to chew on. The rough texture of dried meat soon met my touch and I pulled out a strip of jerky afterwards.

Good ol' Rhom jerky. The secret flavor is the spice, which is not spice. Can't eat too much of that stuff if I want to live a little longer. Pretty sure as hell not going to offer any of it to bird maid for the same reason.

"Here, something to drink." With canteen in the other hand I leaned toward Celia, who sat further next to me, in offering. "You look like shit, by the way."

"Excuse me?" Her tone sounded a tad offended by my casual jargon.

"Sorry, I meant you look exhausted." I backtracked my words.

"Hrmph…" Was her response as she unscrewed the cap and began to drink.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Can I tell you something?" I asked, meat jerky still fiddling in my fingers.

"Of course." Celia prompted neutrally, placing the canteen on the ground.

. . .

"I'm not very good at this, but what I did last night… Well, I wasn't in the brightest mood when you told me about looking for protection and being probably followed by some unknown party that I should have been aware of. I mean, you came out of nowhere and started offering your service and all that…"

Get to the point, Karl. Stop fidgeting so much.

"…So, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. For yelling at you and making you cry. I am not going to leave you alone to fend for yourself. I am willing to help you out of whatever trouble you might be facing and you're free to keep following me if you want. Serve. Whatever. Y-you know what I mean. I'm sorry, okay?"

I took in a deep breath and waited for her response.

Her reaction was… mixed at best.

At one point, she was staring in bafflement at my half-assed apology. Then the corner of her lips started twitching. After that, I heard faint sounds of giggling when she turned away and covered her mouth.

And then she went full-blown hysterical right after turning back to me.

There wasn't any point in being stunned since I half-expected her to mock my formal attempt of mending bridges.

"Yeah, I know. Worst apology to come from me. I told you I wasn't good with all these soft expressions." The jerky in my mouth could only provide the distraction I sought for.

"Your form needs more work." She wiped away the wetness from her eyes and smirked.

"I know." Came my admittance.

"I accept your apology."

"That's great. Let bygones be bygones and begin again, yeah?" A gloved hand reached out to her as I stood up. Much to my mild surprise, Celia suddenly got up and kneeled before me. The last time I had someone taking the knee was that one Akari worshipper, and she thought I was a god.

Crazy times, I tell you.

"I am grateful for your company and I wish to return my gratitude by also apologizing for my reluctance in telling you the truth." She returned the gesture with both hands placed onto mine, her head bowed low. "I will serve you within the best of my abilities. That I swear unto you, no matter what cause you serve."

"Even if I treat you differently like a normal person, instead of expecting you to be at my beck and call?" I questioned.

"It is my duty to serve you." Celia stated in-a-matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, still not gonna get used to it."

"Likewise, it is my duty to serve your needs." She replied.

"And you're okay with that?" I asked again.

"Yes."

. . .

"You know I can't pay you, right?" I reached into one of the deeper pockets and fished out some scrap metal of screws and round bits with holes in the middle. Washers, I think Rigs called them. "Cause' I don't know what kind of money this place has here, but I'm pretty sure random metal parts aren't going to be readily accepted."

"You use metal scraps as currency?" Her long ears perked up in question.

"I take it that's a 'no' then."

"Correct. There is already coinage for that, but we are getting sidetracked here." She bowed her head again as I put back my pocket scraps. "Being by your side is enough to be my compensation. I am sworn to carry your burdens. That is all I asked of you."

"Yeah, but…"

"That is all I asked for."

"But that's just…"

"I assure you, that is what I want."

"But-!" I tried to interject my objection.

"Master Strangeland." Celia's voice went firmly tight. At first, I thought she was upset with me for complaining but then I felt some trembling and noticed that both of her hands were now clamped tightly around. "I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere to return back to. You know my reason of being here and I must apologize again for involving you in my dire situation. So please, I beg of you…"

Eyes full of desperation stared hard. "…take me."

She was trying not to show it, but the raw emotion was there. I could feel it. There was truth in her words and I finally saw something I thought I would never see again.

I saw myself back on the pier.

The very start of my journey. That stormy night when my boat was sunk and the Root hunted for me like feral beasts on a bloody prowl right after I came across him.

Mark. He fought like hell and went down to his last breath by my side. I didn't know the guy that much, but I saw a survivor within him just trying to claw his way out against all odds. He failed, but in his place I lived. Commander Ford made sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. Wallace reminded me throughout my stay in the Ward every waking hour.

Good kid. Strong, just like his older brother.

But I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes even after stopping the Root from entering Earth. Mark was the first shame I had to bear because I couldn't save him. Soon after, things took a turn for the worst. Houndmaster. Ezlan. The swamp elf at the graveyard. The emin thrall I shot in the face.

Even in different realities, I stopped caring about what I did and only focused on what I can get just to survive a little longer. I wasn't entirely heartless, but with the amount of leeway given to me I treated the other worlds like my own personal playground. Getting what I want without worrying about the consequences.

But this was no alternate reality. No Worldstone to turn back my crimes and get away with it. I had to choose carefully now. Nothing could be erased this time.

All my actions now mattered more than anything. I had to take full responsibility and keep myself from going too far.

Slowly, my right hand found its way on top of her head. A look of shock appeared on her face as she felt the soft pats over and over again.

"Everything is going to be alright." I stated calmly.

The apprehension ebbed away. Fear of being left behind was soon replaced with tears of relief as I said those words and she felt the need to give a heartfelt hug just to show how much she appreciated me.

Deep in my mind, I felt like shit. There was no likely chance I could keep my promise to her. I failed Mark in the beginning. Who is to say I might fail her as well?

Yet, when I look at her, the thought of leaving Celia alone to fend for herself did not bode my conscience well. She needed someone to be there for her when times are tough. The only question is, though, am I the right person for her to depend on?

"How touching." A new voice appeared far beside us in dripping mockery. "To think that I would have my sights be sullied once more by the ignorant actions of such blatant heresy."

Out from the corner of my eye, I glanced toward the newcomer that had appeared at the worst timing ever.

There was some foppish-looking, young blond dude with short hair and light-tanned skin standing there with a look of utter contempt planted in his expression as a hand went toward the hilt of a sheathed sword on his left hip. Intricate designs of embossed silver and hints of light blue covered his armor-plated body. His sharp green eyes leered at the both of us for the apparent display of open affection as if it was the biggest deal in the world.

"You there!" His uncovered blade was pointed at me as he spat out. "A brigand, are you? I am not surprised that a low-born cretin would be so foolhardy to readily accept the filth that clings to your body."

"Uhhhh… What?" Came my reply when I turned to face him.

"Tch! A dumb one, for sure. Well, I had hoped you would come to learn the consequence of your folly but I suppose a brutish lout like you need to be taught things the hard way!"

"Huh?"

A lot of things were flying in my head right now. Questions like who the fuck is this guy? Why is he threatening me all of a sudden? And what does Celia have anything to do with heresy?

The holier-than-thou warrior then sneered like he was a gift from some higher deity. "I am Sir Theodore Helmut, knave. One of the Chosen Heroes of many, blessed by the Chief God, who will rid the monstrous stain from this land! You, heretic, are the many reasons for that. I will smite the both of you for the offensive actions that have been committed!"

"What are you talking about?" I scratched my head. "You're not making a whole lot of sense there, buddy. Can you tone it down on the ye olde English?"

"Imbecile," Sir Theodore Helmut scoffed at my obvious confusion as he brushed his two front bangs away from his eyes, "which part of what I said do you not understand properly?!"

"I don't know. Everything!" My shoulders came up. "Stop talking funny and speak properly!"

I was playing dumb, of course. Hitting the books and scrolls that I have collected throughout my adventures taught me most of everything to know about the histories and knowledge behind certain things and places. The amount of time stalling him eventually allowed me to take a closer look at who I was dealing with.

Good looking fellow with attractive features. Check.

Medieval styled equipment that looks to be well made and really expensive. Check.

Pretentious shitty ass attitude that constantly demands respect from the lower-class population. Definitely a check.

In short, I was looking at an honest-to-Keeper goddamn knight in shining armor. Like those guys in the pictures of your usual comic books or stage-plays. Somewhere along the lines of fantasy works and loosely accurate historical representation.

But in my current line-of-work, I'm just as much fantastical as the guy before us. Just much cooler, is all. And from the sound of his tone that I was starting to dislike, less of a prick as well.

Celia recoiled at the sight of the Hero with new fears arising and hid herself behind my back. I, however, was too preoccupied at the fact that I was staring at his head. An actual head.

His fully intact head. No glass cage in place.

Just a normal looking noggin without a helmet that was not constantly screaming death threats at my direction for every five minutes.

Didn't he say his last name was Helmut?

"What are you gawking at me for, you imprudent twit?" The knight demanded, stepping closer. "Do I need to spell out everything for you to comprehend what you have done?"

"Actually, I do have a question." I slowly raised my left hand.

"And what is that?" Sir Theodore Helmut tilted his head, clearly not paying attention to my right hand.

I made the best shit-eating grin I could make for him to see. "Do you ever SHUT the FUCK UP?"

Without warning, the magnum revolver was brought up in a flash and I pulled the trigger.

AN: This idea came up to me and was held on to for a very long time during my wait for new chapters on things related to Monster Girl Encyclopedia. By then, I decided to join the club and try my hand into doing something similar just for the heck of it. Chapters will come in at my pace, so I'm not really putting all my time into it since I just wanted to get it out of my head.

PS: I still don't own shit. No suing for you.