Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Mildred cricked her phantasmic neck as she stood to her feet, getting a feel of how the strange magic surrounding her somehow made her limbs feel like air and her weapon and shield weigh paper. It was an amazing experience to delve into the workings of magic, a pure thrill riddled with ecstasy. A wondrous merry-go-round of sensations against her bare skin. Truly, an unbelievable existence. How could she ever hope to life as something other than an undead?
She would have answered all those pretty questions. She honestly would have. But unfortunately, Mildred was an idiot.
Okay, maybe the term 'idiot' was too strong a word to describe her primitive and cannibalistic upbringing in the depths of Lordran's great sewage underworld. The correct term was that she was unable to communicate. Because she didn't know the common tongue. And because she didn't know the common tongue, she could not effectively speak.
But she had tried. Many, many times before. Often with the corpses of other undead she had just cleaved in two. It had been fun in those short moments. And a few times, she had even managed to say a few words right. But then the corpses never replied or gave her criticism on the language she was attempting to imitate so she had gotten bored, grabbed them by the ankles and warped back to her brethren so that they could have a feast.
But now she had gotten lucky. In the past four months – which was equal to an eternity to Mildred because, again, she was uneducated – all she had been capturing and bringing back home where the skinny bodies of hollows. And as much as her elder brother and sister were happy that she had brought something back home, it really wasn't that satisfying boiling and stripping dry, wrinkled flesh from brittle bones.
Yes, today was a special one, indeed. For she had not just stumbled upon one weak undead but two! She cocked her head to the side at the first undead in shiny clothes. She couldn't see his head because of that funny hat he wore but that didn't matter. All she would need is one good hit. Yes, one good hit and it would be over. He must have been pretty strong too, because those shiny clothes looked heavy. Maybe she could have them after she and her family were done chewing on his bones?
Heaving her meat cleaver onto one shoulder, Mildred began to run. Although she lived in a sewer, she didn't particularly like this smelly place very much. It was too wet. And filled with stinky lizards. She didn't like stinky lizards.
The first undead in the shiny clothes saw her coming and pulled out a long shiny stick from somewhere next to his stomach. Mildred froze momentarily before piling on the speed and growling. She knew what that thing was in his hand. She had seen them a few times in the hands of the previous undead she had killed. Those were called 'sords', and they were very, very sharp. They bit like vipers. She hated vipers.
Her feet reached the island the shiny undead stood on and she leapt, her strong muscles tensing as she slammed her blade downwards. The shiny undead shouted before jumping back quickly. Mildred grinned behind her sack. The shiny man with the shiny stick was scared of her. She liked it when they were scared of her.
Flinging her weapon up again, the undead lowered himself into a crouch, his sord pointing at her. She frowned. What was the shiny man doing exactl-
Her eyes widened when he shot forward, the sparkling silver of his weapon flashing forward to spear through her head if she didn't dodge left in time. Mildred stumbled and turned around to see the shiny undead loop his hand through something even shinier and pointy. Her eyes glimmered in recognition. So he also had a shield.
She regained her footing and ran up to him. For the second time, he dropped into a crouch, waiting for her. She didn't disappoint as she lifted her leg and slammed her foot against his shield. He grunted and stumbled back, obviously not expecting her smaller frame to carry such a punch. Mildred roared out as she swung her cleaver at him, but he rolled backwards, narrowly avoiding a beheading.
The shiny undead raised his shield again on his knees as she wailed down on him. She didn't think much of his fancy piece of protection. It was nothing against her weapon.
Taking a deep breath, she arched the cleaver over her head and slammed it downward. The shiny man tensed and her blade clanging off it loudly, making her arms wobble. She growled and tried again, and again her blade bounced off him.
With a snarl she dropped her cleaver and kicked underneath his shield and he yelped, falling onto his back and gasping for air. Mildred took that moment to straddle him and wrap her strong hands around where she thought his neck would be.
She struggled for a while, choking him as he tried to fight back, his hands pushing at her shoulders and face as his legs kicked out below her – trying in vain to flip them over. She huffed before planting all of her weight on his chest. There was no way he could get away, especially when she was the stronger one. She grinned like a maniac behind her sack as she increased her hold on his neck. Her siblings were going to be so happy when she returned. It had been just too long since they had gotten to eat something juicy for a change. And now that had two juicy undead to feast on!
At the thought, she cocked her head to the side. That was correct, there had been two undead when she had arrived here.
She ceased her choking on the shiny undead and he gratefully gasped for air, laying limp in the mud as Mildred stood up, wondering where the undead in black had gone. She hadn't really gotten a good look at him because the shiny one had seemed more dangerous, but if he hadn't jumped in to attack her whilst she killed his friend yet, then he must really be the weakest of the tw-
Thump
Mildred hissed as her body jerked to the side, her hands coming up to cover her sore head. It felt like someone had just taken a stick and hit her over the noggin.
"Damn, I hadn't expected that to work at all." A voice said behind her and she turned around to look at the second undead as he threw away a stick of wood he had broken off a nearby torch holder.
Mildred blinked as the tears in her eyes made her vision hazy. That strike had been really painful despite her being in this red and black form. When the pain went away, she was really going to hurt the second undead, maybe rip off the hand that held that stupid stick and eat it right here and now. It would serve him right for making her head hurt so badly.
"In any case, stop trying to strangle Oscar. He doesn't have many brain cells left and besides that even I haven't strangled him yet. So get in line!"
Mildred whined out as the undead in black continued to shout at her. Try as she might to ignore him, grab her cleaver and squash his face like goo, his voice had the strange effect of making her stop and listen. Furthermore, she was still feeling dizzy from when he had hit her, so all she could really do now was stand there and listen.
It was strange to her though. As much as she didn't really think about anything besides eating and sleeping, she was curious as to why the second undead hadn't killed her yet. She was unable to fight after that hit and he was standing right in front of her. Did he not have a weapon on him? Or maybe he was just stupid? No, he didn't sound stupid. And even though she didn't understand a word he was speaking to her; she got the feeling that he was way stronger than his shiny friend, even though his body seemed smaller.
Mildred shook her head and grunted to herself. It didn't matter why she wasn't dead yet. Her vision was clearing up, and when it did, she would kill the dumb undead in front of her. She had already knocked out the shiny one, so this one should be easier to handle.
"Hey, are you even paying attention?" the second undead asked her.
"Hngh." She replied and looked for her meat cleaver. The undead could keep talking if he wanted, at least she had a still target to chop down.
Mildred blinked and shook her head, her vision finally clearing as the first thing she saw was mud covered boots. She frowned. Those looked like nice foot socks. She had never found a use for them but they looked nice on the undead in front of her.
Deciding to waste some time and appraise him, her eyes travelled to his slender legs bound by tight fitting leather. She made an impressed sound at the back of her throat. His muscles weren't big like her brothers, but they were nice and firm. Good for running and climbing.
Her gaze travelled further to his folded arms resting upon his flat chest and she quirked a furry eyebrow. Although the thick black stuff on his body made it difficult to see what was underneath, she could tell he was hard there as well. Also, his arms seemed to strain slightly under his clothes. She was impressed. This looked like a real juicy one. She wanted his thighs and arms when he was chopped up and cooked. He just looked so tasty.
Her mouth watered and a lazy smile made its way onto her face as she finally looked at his face, only to choke on her spit and stare wide-eyed. His hair was long and silky. It waved about in the warm breeze in a way that had her head moving from side to side, mimicking the movement. But what caught her attention wasn't the length, it was the color. White, no, silver hair… she had never seen anything like it before.
Her gaze followed his hairline before dipping down to gaze at his face and her breath hitched. He had flawless skin, so smooth it glowed. His skin matched his hair and his eyes were deep black. Blacker than she thought black could be. His mouth was set in a snarl and he glared at her with such intensity that she felt her knees quiver.
She couldn't make a sound as he stared at her, waiting, as if daring her to even breathe in his presence. The atmosphere around him suddenly felt extremely hot and she wanted to take her sack off.
Mildred's mouth quivered behind her sack and her hands reached up to try and cover her already covered face as she shrank under his steely gaze.
Suddenly, she didn't feel like eating him anymore. But perhaps he could eat her instead? She shivered at such dark thoughts and rubbed her thighs together. Maybe she shouldn't have left home today.
William stared at Mildred, more pissed off than that time Studio Perriot decided to sack Sui Ishida during the direction of those shitty final seasons of Tokyo Ghoul. He had a right to be angry, besides being moody that the freaking ring on his finger hadn't worked like he had been expecting it to, she had choked Oscar nearly to death. Even he hadn't done that yet! It was terribly unfair. Just who the hell did this phantasmic, sack-wearing hussy think she was?
He sighed out and pinched the bridge of his nose. What mattered was that Oscar was still alive. If he had died, they would have had to take the same agonizing route back here. And William wasn't up for climbing down towers of rotting wood for another two-hour period, he had shit to do besides analyze the framework of bloody Blighttown.
"Out of the way please." He said and brushed passed Mildred, who in turn let out a quiet mewl he was sure sounded like a moan. He frowned and turned to look at her, but she just snapped her head forward and hugged herself. William shrugged. Maybe she was feeling self-conscious?
Oscar had just recovered from being suffocated as William's shadow descended over him. the knight flipped his visor up to get some more air into his lungs before his blue eyes found his companions disappointed expression.
"Wha-What is it, William?" he said in a hoarse voice. William's saddened look only intensified as he held out a hand.
"You got your ass handed to you by a half-nude girl without any military training. You need your head examined." He replied and pulled the Astorian to his feet.
"She was stronger than I thought," the knight argued, "and her kick dented my armor. Just look at it." He pointed to the three holes shaped like toes in his breastplate. William's pale brow rose a fraction. Oscar was right. This chick's nails must be harder than freaking rock.
"In any case, seems she's not going to fight us any longer." The Thief pointed to a shivering Mildred with her legs together, both hands blocking her groin from view.
"What… exactly did you do to her?" Oscar asked, dropping his visor, and sheathing his sword.
"Nothing. I just told her to stop."
"Then why is she fidgeting like that?"
William shrugged, simply replying with: "Maybe she needs to piss." Before walking toward her again.
Now that he got a good look at the character the game Dev's only created to during their Alpha test, he agreed that she had been changed quite drastically in both appearance and form.
For one, as a phantom she seemed to be made out of watery glass or marble, and the black tendrils running over her skin were like streams in a lava lamp. She was still the same five feet in height that he remembered, but her arms and legs possessed a more muscled tone to it – faint lines that showed her conditioned figure.
Her stomach was incredibly flat; and showed even fainter lines of a six-pack. Her arms were incredible, however, their small but buff appearance really impressing the undead as he studied her. She possessed some good curves too. A plump rear clear behind that flimsy loincloth she wore, and he would be lying if he said her chest didn't catch his eye – her fun bags were bloody double-D. It was quite hard to ignore when coupled with her lean and curvy figure.
It was vastly different from the bottom-heavy weight class the Dev's had set her as, but William had to admit that he liked this one whole lot better. If only he knew what her face had looked like under that stupid sack, it would complete the stellar look she pulled off.
"Perhaps you should talk to her." William suddenly said. Oscar turned to look at him as if he were mad.
"You two did fight, after all. Hashing things out might improve your relationship."
Oscar folded his arms stubbornly. "You just want to see if she attacks when confronted, don't you?"
"Yep, and since you're used to it, you know how best to handle it. Now shoo." William replied before giving his companion a strong shove.
The knight stumbled before righting himself, adjusting his now soaked surcoat and clearing his throat. He approached the phantom woman cautiously, not wanting to unintentionally initiate another fight by invading her personal space abruptly. When he eventually did reach her bubble, she turned her head slightly and peered at him through the gaps in her fingers. Oscar almost mistook her for an innocent lady with how withdrawn she suddenly was.
"Um… hello there." He said awkwardly, sticking out his hand in a non-threatening way. He had never this before, conversing normally with a foe that he had tried to kill. And he supposed it was more or less the same with the phantom woman. However, William had changed his perceptions greatly with regard to the world and its many wonderful facets thus far. So, if the strange and passively vulgar undead said that he should mend non-existent bridges with a red and black tribal woman – even if he was being used as a human shield in the process – then he would gladly do so.
"Now that we're done fighting, how about we get along?" the woman cocked her head to the side at him. He could understand the odd sentiment. Becoming friends with the person you just tried to kill? It seemed rather implausible, but he was still willing to give it a try.
"My name is Oscar," he continued, placing a hand on his chest before pointing to the coat of arms on his armor. "Oscar of Astora."
"O-ker?" she repeated in a thick voice.
The knight brightened. "Yes, Oscar."
"Os…ker?"
"Oscar."
"Oscar."
"Yes, that's right. Oscar!"
Both of them shared a small laugh before she accepted the Astorian's handshake – awkwardly lifting her hand up and down.
William stared at it all with a deadpan expression. That had been more anti-climactic than a dad walking in on his son about to crank out a good one on his girlfriend's face. He grumbled and shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he tried to erase the happy ending in front of him. He had hoped for the cannibal to go Hannibal of Oscar's ass but oh well. Wishes were hard to come here when every god in existence was either trying to kill or manipulate you with jugs the size of Jupiter.
"Uhm, William. Where are you going?" Oscar asked as his companion strode forward, an annoyed look on his face.
"Toward the second bell. Where else?"
"But how do you know it's in that direction?"
"Are you blind or did your mind just ignore the white tentacle mountain a hundred meters from us?" he said, pointing to said mound guarded by a line of beefy Lizardmen hauling boulders over their heads.
"Oh…" Oscar replied as Mildred turned her head toward the sight and froze. William merely sighed out again. It was going to be a long road to Chosen Undead-hood for his sad excuse of a candidate.
Yeah, that last part wasn't funny at all. I kind lost the funny plotline I was going for so I settled for this weak conclusion.