Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Waking up from the tranquil depths of inertia was like being euthanized whilst having a seizure. How William knew what both of those felt like when he was both an insomniac, yet an all-round healthy yellow-bellied turkey, was anyone's guess. The point was that he was in tremendous pain.
It was no shock that he had fainted after that fall. After all, the shock created from such an impact was enough to shock the shock right out of his shocked mind and wring it on a windy dryer to soak up some sun. So, it would be accurate to say that when he woke up, the surprise of seeing both his legs turned 270 degrees from the kneecaps wouldn't have fazed him, right?
"OH MY GIBLETS!!! NOOOOOO!"
The answer to that assumption was no. Because William, for all his minor perfections, was still pretty pathetic.
"Oh no, my legs. I can't walk. I can't stand. I can't freaking lift my hips! What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?! Ah! Ah! Ah! Hah! Hah- wait."
He stopped hyperventilating for a second and reached a hand to his hip before bringing up his Estus flask. He peered through the fogged emerald glass and saw that there was still a quarter of the elixir leftover. He sighed out. Looks like he wouldn't be stuck here dying until he went hollow after all.
Not wasting anymore time, he chugged heartily only to sigh out in relief as the coursing pain ebbed away, replacing the feeling of severed nerves with a light cloud of pins and needles. William smiled, showing white teeth. He could hate over 90 percent of this recreated fantasy world – and for good reason – but one thing would always be certain, and that was the blessing of glorious Estus. A man's drink by any standard.
Whilst praising whichever designer thought up the make-up of the flask in his hand, the undead made the very terrible mistake of looking down at his lap. If he thought that the feeling of breaking your bones was agonizing, then the sight of said shattered bones was akin to walking in on his mother and her boyfriend shagging whilst on his brand new suede couch – a bloody nightmare, all pun intended.
"GAH! What the f- aggghh!"
He almost fainted at the sight of watching his twisted limbs spin back into their original form as the sounds of popping sinew and snapping tendons echoed around the vast cavern. Luckily, however; he mitigated the spell of dizziness and chose to direct that energy into throwing up.
Directly over the summon sign he was meant to step on.
"Aww. Well, shit." He cussed and rose to his feet after he was sure he was fully healed. He noticed the corpse lying behind him and gazed at it for a moment, taking note of the ledge that held a deceased cleric with his ass dangling in the air whilst his hands were stuck reaching out to grasp something to steady himself.
The armor he wore was still pretty unspoiled, all things considered. He would have wasted time struggling to get it but thought better of it. He didn't have nearly enough strength to wear the damn helmet, never mind the rest of the set. Clerical outfits just didn't suit him. Besides, he was fine with lighter gear. He wasn't going to be engaging in fights so there wasn't really any point in seeking good protection.
He turned around and stared at the summon sign below him. There were four neat lines of scribbled symbols that glowed black with orange outline on the floor. He still couldn't make out what language it was but stepped near it all the same. When he did, a wispy image of Leeroy rose from said sign and stared at him blankly.
William dragged a finger under his nose. After he summoned the paladin, he wound need to make sure he got his trouble's worth. Meaning that he would have to get the phantom to do more than fight a deranged necromancer before pissing off to his master's coffin. However, that was easier said than done when there wasn't much he could make Leeroy do in this pit, and besides that the paladin wouldn't just listen to him – because summoning did mean he was having help from the real undead.
Additionally, he didn't know if there was a cap on how long a summon was allowed to aide someone in their own world. The game didn't have any timer, but that was different now that Dark Souls was the real world. Oh, well. He would just have to wait and see.
Toeing the text before him and being cautious not to step on his own regurgitated fluids, William watched in great fascination as a matrix of runes and symbols began to circle the summon sign before trails of thin white mist flowed from its center.
The circle then pulsed, and a person's form became visible to his black eyes. After a moment, the mist surrounding the form got thicker, before it rose to full height. And there stood the Paladin Leeroy, dressed in iconic armor and carrying a heroic Grant that he slung on his shoulder, crossed visor staring at him blankly as his phantasmic visage became tangible.
It was mystifying, amazing and quite radical for the Thief to watch. But then he noticed that the phantom happened to be covered in his now cold vomit and his bedazzlement faded somewhat exponentially.
Leeroy peered down at his armor and noticed what William was gawking at, only to jump at the sight and stare at William – quite obviously annoyed.
"Aha… sorry about that. I, uh… got sick on the way down here." William said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Leeroy, for his part, merely two-handed his club.
"A-Anyway! I summoned you here because I need some help. There's this black robed thing not far from here that's giving me quite a hassle, you see. Raising the dead and sending necromancers all over the place."
At once, the paladin straightened. William's brow rose a fraction.
"So, does that mean you'll help me?"
He nodded once and William internally sighed. His hunch had paid off. It seemed the deceased undead knew who Pinwheel was. Now that he had Leeroy's attention, he could afford to make certain demands whilst still keeping to the main goal.
"Okay. Great. That thing, Pinwheel, I think I heard someone call it; has something I desperately need. Have you heard of the Rite of Kindling?"
William received a nod.
"Great, I need that for a friend of mine. Unfortunately, that Pinwheel guy has it. Do you… think you can help me get it?"
This time the paladin nodded his head vigorously. William grinned deviously before hiding it behind his hand. It wouldn't do him any favors to be seen as suspicious this early on.
"Well then, let's head out."
William and Leeroy dropped into the ledge below them before jumping onto the base of the cavern. With some good directing and positive feedback, Leeroy dispatched with the wheel skeletons easily, leaving them with a literal mountain of bones piled beneath their feet. Seriously, all it took the guy was a single burst of energy from his club and that was that. He would have been a stellar ally if he weren't dead.
"Alright, I need you to knock this wall down for me." William said, patting the face of a massive slab of rock. When he turned to look at the paladin, he was met with another cocked head, as if to ask him if were mad – to which the undead would have answered 'yes', because how could one not be insane in a world where insanity was the only way to be sane?
"Oh, come on. Work with me for a minute. Don't you hear that clanging on the other side? I think there's a blacksmith on the other side of this wall. And I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not really equipped to fight yet." He pressed, motioning to his leather garb and straight sword.
Leeroy tapped his visor pensively before he approached, his curiosity getting the better of him as he pressed his helm against the wall to listen. After a few seconds of being drowned in the serene, continuous clanging on the other side, he stepped back, looked at the Thief and nodded his head once and drew his Grant.
This was going better than he hoped. He had originally expected the paladin to be one of those no-nonsense figures, only dedicated to the sole objective of their summoning. Interestingly, the dead Way of White worshipper was quite happy to go along with the various pleas William threw at him, provided his reasons were acceptable enough.
But either way, he was getting to have his cake and eat it with the way Leeroy reacted to his requests, and if he played his cards right, he could exploit the phantom so well that the entire hassle of clearing the Catacombs would be like a walk in Darkroot.
Taking a few good leaps back, William chose to find cover behind the ledge they had previously dropped down from as the paladin raised his gigantic club over his head. Usually, no undead would be able to shatter the wall before them due to the game mechanic that made walls and other surfaces immortal objects. However, this wasn't the game they were in – or at least William didn't think so. There was still too much controversy to say for certain at this point. Anyway, his point was that in this realm, anything was possible; and if a simple alteration in an NPC's dialogue could be achieved with minimal effort, it was a safe bet to say that creating monolithic shortcuts everywhere and anywhere wouldn't be that difficult either.
His point was further intensified in its truth when Leeroy smashed the flat wall into a thousand pebbles and stones. Again, the fool that dared pull him from his comfortable recliner was slowly redeeming themselves with how they allowed William to edit this nonsensical existence.
"WHAT IN TARNATION?!" screamed a voice that sounded half human and half metallic. And the silver-haired undead smiled broadly. Things were going just as planned.
Out from the corner of the crumbling wall, the amalgamation of a stout skeleton appeared, a decorated crown on his head and a smithy's hammer in his hand. Leeroy made a move to intercept and destroy said skeleton but was stopped as William flashed between the two, his hands raised to block both from engaging in anything violent. After all, if the phantom got hurt, it would make him that much less capable of fighting Pinwheel, and he didn't want that. Conversely, if the stubby skeleton with the accent got his bones crushed to powder, there would be no one to forge Chaos enchanted weapons for him. And William didn't want that either.
"Hold up a sec! I don't think he's hostile." The Thief mentioned.
"I will be if you don't explain why you broke down my wall," the skeleton known as Vamos waved his hammer at William's face, "and you better make it quick. You've already spoiled my focus."
The undead resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The supposed Astorian prince had been down here for possibly a few centuries. Ruining his focus would be like trying to make Oswald lose his condescending smile.
"Err, right. Sorry about that. I heard tell-tale sounds of good smithing going on here, so I asked my buddy to break down this wall."
William poked a thumb at Leeroy who looked at the appendage, grabbed it and began to bend it backwards. The undead cried out at the pain before the paladin let go. William nursed his bruised thumb and pouted at Leeroy who simply folded his arms in annoyance. So, apparently, they weren't buddies. He didn't have to be so bloody forceful about the topic.
Vamos, meanwhile, stared at them both before scoffing and walking back into his tunnel.
"In any case, you were right about the smithin'. If you've the souls, I'll forge the metal. Just bugger off after I'm done. I don't need any more disruptions."
From the sound of his lighter voice, it seemed he had been charmed by the compliment. William grinned and began to follow closely behind. It was then that a gauntlet had clasped the back of his collar before hoisting him up, creating a comical image of the Thief walking on air as the paladin held him up in annoyance.
"Ugh, okay. Okay. I get it, you don't want to wait until I'm done, I get it." William said, trying in vain to reach for the phantoms hand. Just how strong was the guy if her could lift him by the scruff of his neck? "And put me down. I'm not some mindless drone, ya' know."
The paladin complied and William huffed, staring at the cross phantom before an idea sparked in his mind, making him grin creepily.
"Hey, I know how you can keep busy."
Leeroy adjusted his posture in reply.
"Ever fought a Black Knight before?"
Leeroy suddenly straightened like an excited pecker before a stripper in a black bodice. The undead smirked. Like talking to an enthusiastic puppy.
Three garments, one sword, a crate full of souls and sixty-seven strikes from a hammer later, and William was practically shining as he put on his reinforced clothes, Leeroy leaning against the broken wall with his hands crossed as the undead exited Vamos' tunnel.
He turned to the phantom and the phantom turned to him. Nothing was said yet both past and present undead nodded simultaneously before heading through a winding pathway that got darker with each step taken.
"I'm guessing your escapade went well?" William chirped with a smirk as Leeroy casually withdrew a charcoal shield from somewhere on his person before handing it to him.
The Thief silently accepted it before he asked: "What about the battle axe it was holding?"
Leeroy withdrew a large shard of the weapon William was talking about from a pouch on his hip and William nodded, a sad look on his face.
"I see. A shame, that. What a beautiful weapon to part with."
The paladin nodded once and tossed the shard behind him as they reached the opening of what seemed to be a coffin. Said coffin was titanic in size and would have fit the lower half of a fully grown hydra. It was here that both undeads prey lurked.
"Okay, what are the odds of you not killing this Pinwheel guy?" Leeroy nodded once and turned to him, as if to ask why. "From what I gathered from your effervescent acceptance toward fighting this thing, I'm guessing he also took something dear to you."
The paladin was motionless, but his silence might as well have been a roaring yes. William continued.
"Good. Then since we both want something from it, my approach is to talk to it and convince it to hand over the items in question. If I can do that, then there's no need to kill him, right?"
Leeroy tilted his head to the side, obviously caught between a rock and a hard place. William couldn't exactly blame him. He had essentially just cornered the phantom into agreeing with him in any case. After all, the reason he was so chipper to help him was because Nito was now his master, and since the Gravelord's power was stolen by Pinwheel, the paladin would naturally want to take it back by any means necessary. However, since he was brought up by the Way of White, he still held certain moral codes to his name – even if said codes were formed under the banner of a nihilistic faith which was founded by an even more twisted deity.
Therefore, by appealing to Leeroy's humanity and taking the prospect of killing out of the equation, he was only left with a mutated necromancer that was capable of surrendering within reason. And if Pinwheel decided not to engage the paladin in combat, it meant that Leeroy would effectively be fighting a civilian. And killing civilians or the 'innocent' was something a paladin would never stoop to. Because killing an innocent would most likely be considered a gross crime to his faith. Thus, the phantom had no choice but to adhere to William's proposal.
And that was why the paladin nodded his head like the idiot he was.
"Okay, great!" William cheered before an idea struck him. "Say, do you happen to have an extra banishing crystal on you? I kind of lost mine on the way down here and I wouldn't want to keep you long if Pinwheel ends up running away."
Leeroy thought about it for a moment before ducking a hand into his pouches and dropping a palm-sized crystal in William's outstretched hand. He thanked the phantom whilst subconsciously rubbing his hands together like a puny fly plotting mass destruction of human life. There was no way Pinwheel would end up running, the Father and Mother masks wouldn't be having a retreat when someone dared to enter into their domain, it was typical behavior when they had a child present that they would protect to the death – even if said child was attached to them.
The banishing crystal was just William's insurance should anything go horribly wrong. It was a foolproof plan so long as everyone stuck to their unknown roles in this short skit of madness.
The two reached the edge of the coffin's opening, staring down at the long fall with blank faces.
"Welp, broken bones here I come." William said cheerfully.
The entity known as Pinwheel stood hunched above a splintered table, pouring over yet another volume of the old arcane crafts. Summer's had come and gone, kingdoms had risen and fallen and heroes had arrived too late to save the day on more than one occasion in the sequence of time immemorial, yet still the master necromancer stayed beguiled over endless tomes that flowed with useless knowledge that it did not seek.
The Annals of Londo, the doctrines of Sorcery Supremacy; even the many fables noted by the glorious Knight-King Rendal was paid no mind as Pinwheel searched and scoured for that which would make it un-whole again.
A soft whimper caused it to shift, and it was only after the topmost mask on its hunched form noted the visage of its son shiver quietly. Pinwheel shifted, a gangly hand reaching up to stroke the mask of the child, face petrified in endless tears. The necromancer felt a fresh stab of guilt through it as it stared at the child's face. Because of its naivety, this had occurred. Only because it had sought power it could not hope to control nor understand, had this horrendous accident come to fruition. And the consequence of such a mistake was laid bare for Pinwheel to see, day in, day out. If only it had listened. Adhered to the warnings of its beloved and stopped in whatever aimless objective it had tried to reach eons ago. Perhaps then it wouldn't have ended up like this, conjoined, deformed and miserable; with those it had wanted to protect now suffering the most.
To make amends, it had tried to undo the damage done, but sometimes even the most basic of curses are the hardest to unbind. That was why it had stolen from the Gravelord, taken control of his minions and made the once peaceful City of the Departed a crypt of vile creatures turned to walk amongst the living despite their unwillingness.
That had been Pinwheel's most gross error. And now here it was, paying for it with every agonizing second that passed. For every moment it had to remain cursed like this meant another eternity that its family was forced to endure the same torment.
The sound of muffled voices bounced around the hovel it had secured as its home, causing the necromancer to turn around just as the appearance of a tall figure landed heavily on the wet cobblestone floor, with what appeared to be a human in its arms.
"Hoh, that was magnificent!" shouted the huma- no. It was undead. Pinwheel could tell as much from the stolen power of Nito flowing within its veins.
The white figure which was carrying the undead appeared to be a phantom. Another undead. Dressed head-to-foot in armor that seemed awfully familiar to it for some reas-
Ah. The Gravelord's right-hand. The necromancer would have guessed that it's time would be up. It just didn't think that today would be that day.
The mask of its beloved quivered and Pinwheel stared down at it with its topmost face covering. The mother was livid. She had a right to be. These two undead had intruded on their 'home'. And to intrude on their home was to put their son at risk.
Pinwheel looked up again and growled. Nobody put their son at risk.
The fall into the hephalump-sized coffin was easier this time now that Leeroy had decided to carrying William before jumping down like he was Hancock. The only downside was that he felt as if he were some damsel in distress… or baggage… yeah, neither sounded that bad now that he thought about it.
Nevertheless, they had finally reached this heap of bones, books and brawny bastards with three people merged into one. Really, it was a wonder how Pinwheel was able to move about freely when he had the thoughts of not one, but three constantly bouncing around his empty skull. Must be a nice place to play some laser-tag in there, if you ignored the whimpering voices of course. That reminded him, could he even call Pinwheel a 'him' when it was technically an 'it'? Meh, who gave a flying fish anyway?
Back to the moment at hand, William turned his head skyward to gaze into the crossed visor of Leeroy, who by his stiff posture, was getting overly annoyed by the current situation the two of them were in. That being said, William did the next best thing in the moment. By clasping his hands below his chin and staring at the phantom with a look of adoration.
"You have beautiful eyes." William said breathlessly.
Leeroy responded by unceremoniously dropping William onto the soaked floor.
THUMP
"Oof!"
Before casually planting a boot on his stomach and walking forward, pressing his entire phantasmic body weight on the downed undead, giving him a reason to be breathless.
" Phaaaa…!"
From afar, Pinwheel stared at the two whilst scratching the area its head would have been. Were these… really meant to be the servants of Nito it was expecting?
" Ah, okay, I get it. I'll stop horsing around." The lither of the undead said as he rose from the floor clutching his midsection. The paladin didn't respond. He just drew his weapon and turned to face Pinwheel.
The necromancer, likewise, had similar sentiments as the protruding spikes around its body began to glow at their bell-shaped ends before spinning hypnotically; conjuring trails of orange and yellow flame to be fired. If this was to be its final resting place, then it would at least put up a decent fight. After all, its beloved and child were still present, it would not just stand there and leave them to die helplessly.
William noticed the tension in the atmosphere and immediately sprang into action, rushing between the adrenaline-charged beings before raising up both hands in a placating manner.
"Just hold on a damn minute, we just landed inside this shithole! Err… no offence the mask that looks like a wailing woman." The Thief nodded his head toward Pinwheel's beloved, who snarled back in reply. William cringed. Not the best approach but at least he hadn't blown it yet.
"Anyway, we're not here to fight. Leeroy over here just wanted to polish that thick-ass pipe he uses to smash people into the floor. Right Leeroy?"
The paladin made a move to step forward.
" Right Leeroy?" William said again, this time winking his eye and tilting his head to the side for the idiot to get the message. Unfortunately, as if some god hated him – like the cunt that had Isekai'd him for instance – the white phantom did not get the hidden message on account of his swollen head being too filled with pleasing his undead master like the necrophilic nympho he was. And the moment he had taken his first step forward… the moment he had been flung onto the other side of the room by the massive fireball conjured by a rapidly multiplying Pinwheel.
"Ah, for shit's sake." William clicked his tongue before having to dodge a heavy book thrown his way. He rose back to his full height before glaring at the black robed asshole that dared to defile the timelessness of written art.
"Seriously, man? I just came all this way to say that I could help you dismember yourself in exchange for the shit you stole. And what do you do?" the undead picked up the book at his feet and held it near eye-level. "You throw a book at me. A leather-bound, six-hundred and something pages long book, with gold filigree. Do you know how long someone probably spent writing this heavy rectangle? Do you? Because I'm sure that whoever wrote this book right here, called the…" William glanced at the spine before he paled.
What stared back at him in bold and fancy calligraphy were the words: "The Kamasutra".
A spell of silence was cast onto the large chamber before William sighed out and let the tome fall to the wet floor with a splash before rubbing his face and looking at Pinwheel.
"You know what, forget everything I said. The worlds already too screwed up to fix, what's another messed up couple with kinky fantasies mean at this point in time? Not that the two of you can get it on with your kid right there… and the fact that all of you are attached to one another, but whatever."
William was beginning to sweat. This had escalated pretty quickly. Unfortunately, it had escalated in the wrong direction he had been hoping for. He desperately needed a change of topic.
Luckily, that was when Leeroy stood up. And he looked pissed – which was essentially a good thing when you thought about it. Now he could wail down on the three-headed weirdo without a moments rest and they could both go home whilst singing kumbaya. Wait, he wanted to save Pinwheel, not kill him. Bad William. Bad.
Oh, he knew! He would just use categorical imperative to solve this drawn out cock fight. Kant's theory, to be precise. A clear, mostly fair method to deliberate and solve an issue without the need for desperate measures like clubbing Pinwheel continuously like a blood-thirsty caveman.
That was it. Now he just needed to establish the first few steps. Step one was simple enough: propose the maxim.
"Hold up!" William shouted, and both Leeroy and Pinwheel turned to look at him. The Thief smiled. Now that he had their attention…
"Paladin Leeroy wants to kill the deformed entity known as Pinwheel all for the sake of obtaining the items said entity stole from the Gravelord."
Leeroy quirked his head in confusion. William didn't blame him. He had just made it known what the phantoms true intentions were without having him say it out loud – not that he could when he was a phantom. That being said, however; it wasn't as difficult to piece it together even if he didn't possess his in-game knowledge. Leeroy was like a golden retriever. Wore his heart on his tail like a gullible lap dog.
Getting back to the matter at hand, William turned to Pinwheel, prepared to utter the second step.
"Now, let's say that all the people in the world want to kill Pinwheel all for the sake of obtaining the items said entity stole from Nito. Wouldn't that be a real hassle?"
Pinwheel's faces looked at one another before staring back at him and nodding in unison. Well now, this was going better than he had hoped.
"So, don't you think that this maxim is unconceivable? I mean, imagine the entire world trying to enter through that tiny gap above us and filling this moderately large space before us. We wouldn't all fit in the slightest, right?"
The mask of the child nodded dumbly before its mother turned to it and snarled. William took a step back. Had he crossed a line he wasn't supposed to? Or perhaps she was just really protective that she couldn't handle a joke? Maybe. Maybe not.
"Uh, anyways, my point is that the whole world wouldn't benefit from killing you, right? So, in hindsight, there's no real need for Leeroy to kill you… right Leeroy?" the undead tilted his head toward the phantom who was about to launch himself at the robed necromancer. Thinking quickly, he flashed the banishing crystal out from his pouch and gave the paladin a glare that dared him to take another step forward.
Fortunately, the phantom had stopped in his tracks and relented. William mentally sighed out. Step three had failed, meaning that the maxim to kill Pinwheel seemed illogical and overall immoral. Which incidentally meant that the necromancer was less likely to fight them. Despite his victory, the undead felt as if he were a seventy-year-old man. How did something so simple end up collapsing into this catastrophe, anyway?
Perhaps it was because he had chosen to let the masked amalgamation live. It was quite a surprise since William didn't particularly care if Pinwheel or any other NPC turned living being bit the dust. Quite frankly, if everyone, besides the select few he was willing to stick his neck out to save, burned to ash right this minute, he would snort at how much easier things had become for him.
It wasn't because he was cynical. Well, he was… just not that cynical. It was just that he didn't possess that suicidal and idiotic moral compass all those other main protagonists did. He was raised to only look out for himself and those he had plans for. If someone else just happened to be trapped in the burning building he was in, then he wouldn't bat an eye as he let them die. That was just his way of life, really – screw whoever thought of him as inhumane, pathetic, worthless, undeserving of life and all those other pretty words. It wasn't like he would just flip a switch and change if they did call him out on it. He was too far gone to change, and he preferred to keep it that way.
The only reason he didn't want to kill Pinwheel was out of pity. And for the reason that he didn't want to fight something that could create multiple illusions of itself and run away. That would just make obtaining the Rite of Kindling that much more difficult.
Pinwheel, in response to his earlier comment, dropped its gangly arms and allowed the flames growing on the end of its many spikes – or where they tassels – to die out as it agreed.
"Good. Now then, if you hand over the stuff you stole, I can give you an idea of how to change yourself back into three individual people."
At this, the necromancer snapped upright, its full attention on the undead with the silver hair. William allowed his mouth to grow into a pleased grin.
"Ever heard of Seath?"
Pinwheel nodded quickly, a soft groan emanating from somewhere inside its mass.
"Awesome. The reason I brought him up is because I think he'll be able to help you. Well… his books and research, that is."
Pinwheel sat down heavily as it listened. Leeroy, who was still a couple feet behind William decided to sag his shoulders and lean against the far wall – realizing that he was obviously not going to be hammering away at his master's thief any time soon.
"From what has been spoken about the Duke, he's been trying to make himself immortal by studying other living beings and conducting horrendous experiments," William continued. Glad that he had managed to revert the situation back to the discussion phase. If only his mother could see him now, interacting expertly with supernatural entities as if he were an Esper from Mob Psycho. "Rumor has it that he'd been abducting fair maidens to test his crafts on. In the process, said maidens would be found deformed, as if they were turned into monsters. The reason I bring this up is because Seath is most likely the only creature in Lordran with the magic and knowledge to possibly help you. And I'm betting that since nobody's heard from the scaleless dragon in decades, his Archives might be empty for you to explore and tinker in peace."
Pinwheel processed the information, obviously thinking of heeding his advice. And that was a good thing. It meant that there would be no more squabbles in this damn stinking trench the necromancer called a home. Furthermore, if they did cross paths again (and if Pinwheel even managed to reach Anor Londo intact), it would mean that William had an unofficial ally. And who wouldn't want an unofficial ally?
"So, now that I've told you how you can potentially fix that ugly mug of yours," he received a half-hearted growl in reply, "will you please give back what you stole? Like you, I'm also trying to help someone get better. But that can only happen if you give me the Rite of Kindling, and Leeroy the other thing you stole."
There was no way in hell he was going to spell out that he knew what Pinwheel stole from Nito exactly. That would just put him back in hot water. Making it known that he knew something was stolen was alright because of the clues Leeroy left behind. Making it known that he knew what was specifically snagged was like walking into a changing room filled with yandere women that liked to polish butcher knives in their spare time. So, he would shut his mouth about that little tidbit, least he become the most suspicious party in the room.
William mentally scoffed as Pinwheel and Leeroy rose to their feet. It seemed all his time playing Among Us with various strangers had paid off. And they said gaming would never help you in the real world. He wondered if his washed-up guidance counselor with the saggy jugs was still alive to receive a shiver down her large spine?
As promised, the necromancer walked forward and deposited a bright red sliver of flame into William's outstretched palm. The undead gazed at the object, appraising it critically in case it was just a replica of the item he desired – not that Pinwheel would be that smart. Pfft. Stupid necromancer.
The Rite was weightless in his hand. Awfully bright yet incredibly dull, too. It was an off-balance between the two contrasts that left him feeling a bit dazed but mesmerized at the same time. One thing he did know for certain was that the slowly roasting flame in his hand was brimming with untold measures of magic. And for good reason. Why else would the Way of White seek something like this, even if the task was just so that undead clerics could be killed and forced into hollowing? That reminded him, he needed to pay Petrus a visit when he got back. That arrogant, fat duck needed to be feathered before William cut him up and fed him to the skeletal dogs down here in the Giant Tombs.
Closing his fist and watching the Rite travel into his palm and up his skin, he found Pinwheel approaching Leeroy cautiously. The paladin, for his part, merely stood there, hand outstretched and expecting.
This was going well. Better, even, than he had anticipated. It seemed that the phantom too, understood, that needlessly killing an unwilling fighter was a worthless endeavor. How good, how very good that his efforts had borne sweet fruit like this.
…now he just needed to insert a few worms into the flesh of said fruit.
As Pinwheel reached out his hand to make contact with Leeroy's, William caught the faint ripple of black matter coalesce around the Necromancer's fingers. He blinked, and another ripple formed near Pinwheel's hand. And then another. Before the scent of sickly-sweet and toxic Death made its way to the undeads nostrils, making him half gag as he attempted to stop the sudden feeling of drowsiness that attempted to pull his consciousness down under into a world of eternal slumber.
So this was the power of Nito that the Necromancer had stolen. Leeroy had a right to be angry when he saw the deformed creature. This was the true power of the Gravelord. A force that commandeered the dead themselves and forced bodies of departed souls to rise up again to do the bidding of the wielder of such intense dark magic. It was almost unreal that Pinwheel could manage to walk around normally when it possessed that much unknown power within itself.
William managed to stable himself before he breathed in grateful gasps of air. This stolen power was magnificent. Potent too. He knew that Nito was stronger than the game gave him credit, but this exceeded his abnormally high expectations. And also forced him to literally piss himself.
Because if Nito, the resigned owner of the Death Soul, was still this strong after giving almost all of his magic to the underworld… then just how powerful would the likes of the Witch of Izalith be at her fullest potential – despite being a literal raving bed with hands and claws.
Never mind her, what about Seath and the Four Kings? Their power was surely more destructive for obvious reasons, but now that he was in the actual Dark Souls Universe? What about Gwyn himself? Even hollow, who was an issue to fight when he was programmed to unconventionally attack as if he needed to spring a leak? How strong would his ashen formed be when they entered the Kiln? And what of the Black Knights? They were a cake walk in the game, but he wasn't as naïve as to think the same now. He had already formulated suspicions long ago before he and Oscar had landed in Firelink. He flicked his gaze onto Leeroy.
The paladin was no doubt a tough son of a bitch, but that didn't mean he was invincible – he was still dead, after all. He had returned after battling the Black Knight William had pointed him to unscathed, but that didn't mean that the phantom had killed it. The thought left a growing pool of anxiety in William's stomach before he grunted and shook his head.
It was no use stressing out now. That would just leave his mind unfocussed, and he couldn't have that. He still needed to brave Shit Creek – a fancier word he had come up with for Blighttown – and convince a red-haired spider woman that he wasn't a threat. He couldn't allow his mind to wander now. With a concise agreement with himself, William reached back into his pouch.
Pinwheel's hand was almost touching Leeroy's when the Thief called out to him.
"Hey Leeroy… no hard feelings about this. Alright?"
The paladin cocked his head to the side in confusion before he spotted the black crystal sitting in the undeads tight grip.
Without missing a beat, the paladin dashed away from the necromancer in a surprising burst of speed. His right hand went to his Grant and he leapt into the air – aiming to stop William with an overhead slam before he could crush the banishing crystal into a thousand tiny pieces.
In turn, the silver-haired undead rose a pale eyebrow as Leeroy descended on him in slow motion. He had not thought the phantom would react with this particular strike. Then again, there was no need to anticipate what move he would use against him. Just anticipate if he would move in the first place.
As the bulbous head of the paladin's weapon neared William's head, he tossed the crystal up casually before stepping to the side.
Behind his helmet, Leeroy's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he watched his weapon mercilessly crush the banishing crystal to pieces. He wanted to shout out in indignation but the immediate pull of magic from said object robbed him of the chance; sucking him into a deep obsidian vortex faster than a fruit fly could lay its eggs on rotten food before dying of old age.
William waited a full minute in complete silence before his lips curled into a crooked smile and he laughed like some maniacal villain in a kids' cartoon. He had pulled that off brilliantly. What a way to end the encore.
A sound of muffled grumbling alerted him, and his eyes met Pinwheel's three masks. The necromancer seemed utterly confused, astonished and jumpy at the same time. It was kind of cute.
"You're wondering why I betrayed my comrade?" he asked, and Pinwheel nodded. The undead snorted before spitting into the mossy water below.
"He may have been with me at the time, but he wasn't any friend of mine. Besides that, he was beginning to piss me off. And he stepped on me. Freaking walked on me. Pay it no mind." He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "You can keep Nito's power if you want. There's no real need for it but who cares, us Thieves gotta look out for one another, yeah?"
The necromancer thought about it for a while before shaking its body from side to side, opening a palm and depositing a small, black orb into William's other hand. The undead looked down at the orb before staring up at Pinwheel as it took a few steps back.
"You're sure about this?" he asked with a raised brow. "You never know, I might use this for all kinds of evil – possibly kill all the undead I see walking about just for fun."
Pinwheel replied by shrugging its shoulders. It seemed it didn't care, or perhaps it didn't believe William's threat. If the latter was correct, then the necromancer was sharper than it appeared. Even so, it was time they parted ways. He had already gotten what he came here for.
"Like I said before, Seath's Archives might have what you're looking for. If it doesn't, then I hope you find alternative ways to fix yourself. The dragon's keep just seemed like the most logical option to me."
Pinwheel nodded again, seeming not to mind that the Archives might be a dead-end. It waved to him with a gangly arm before its spikes twirled and flared and it disappeared from sight.
William sighed out and looked at the orb of Nito's essence in his palm and he brought up a Homeward Bone. He gazed at both open hands for a moment before scoffing.
On the one hand, he could crush the black orb and become the new overlord of the undead. The Ainz Owal Gown of Dark Souls with skin. On the other hand, he could snap a brittle finger bone, teleport his ass back to base and meet up with stinky-crotch Oscar before going to nab the two of them sexy Izalith Daughters – William called dibs on Quelaan for obvious reasons.
It was a big decision to make, really. A damn reenactment of The Matrix right in front of his slender face. However would he decide?
Snorting in amusement, William snapped the Homeward Bone, watching the spell circle come to life around him, illuminating the room in a warm wash of light. He wasn't some foolhardy douche out for revenge after being left for dead at the bottom of the Orcus Labyrinth. So, he was taking the blue pill. Or did he mean the red pill? It had been a few years since he had watched Keanu Reeves act like a twenty-something badass in the future. That reminded him, what would this place be like if John Wick was the person Isekai'd instead of him? He hummed for a moment in thought. Damn, now he wished he was at his computer. The crossover he would write would have been legendary.
The circle around his feet pulsated once, a few seconds from taking him back to fake sunlight and grassy floors when he felt the odd sensation of someone behind him.
He frowned and turned around, wondering if Pinwheel was still here collecting its copy of the Kamasutra before something clobbered him over the head and he fell like a sack of potatoes.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes feeling the solidness of bones against his body, other times experiencing extreme vertigo as his vision collapsed in on itself. He didn't know what was going on or why he felt a distant pang of worry enter his mind as he was moved within the Catacombs.
It all came back into focus, however; when he was finally placed back on his feet and allowed to regain the feeling in his limbs once more. The only issue then was that when he eventually looked up after cussing the dipshit that didn't have the decency to change his soaked pants, he was face to skull with the Gravelord himself, laying comfortably in his enormous coffin.
"Ah. So you're awake, are you?" a soft whisper of voices, like the gentle rustling of leaves entered his head as he stared blankly at the combination of a few hundred skeletons resting in a stone box.
"Well, human? Say something already. It's been over a few centuries since I was able to commune with something living, and I don't wish to be ignored; especially not by faux thief who relieves himself pathetically before the sight of real power."
William gulped in trepidation. He should have taken the red pill.
This was… longer than anticipated. Damn it. I paraphrased Immanuel Kant's Categorical Imperative significantly. If you want to know more about it, go onto Google. Really interesting stuff.