Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Hello, try not pelt me with imaginary stones please, I was lost in the briars of confusion, otherwise known as burnout. Luckily, a reviewer by the name of DG2 came along to roughly fling me away from such delusion, which stands for: "Hey! Dipshit, publish more content. This story was just starting to get interesting".
Now, he didn't actually say that, but the compliments he threw my way made it feel that way. Now then, I believe I owe you all some content, yes?
Oh, before I forget. Check out Illusory Wall on YouTube. He used AI software to recreate real-life versions of Dark Souls 1 NPC's!
Disclaimer: some character renders will scar you for life should you agree to follow my guidance. I'm not joking around, by the way.
NOW ON WITH ZE STORY!
My name is William. No, you don't get to know my surname because this isn't that type of cam show.
For all intents and purposes, I am the reluctant sob, otherwise known as the Chosen Undead of no legend.
"Sovereign Railgun!" a voice blurted out before a beam of shining white light lanced through the horde of hollow thieves as if this were a scene from Evangelion.
And that… was my very extortionate aide. Of whom, I must begrudgingly admit, is not the witless fool I had expected he was. His name is Griggs. He's a Harry Potter wanna-be. I know, you're probably wondering who isn't. Anyways, he's also about to die… but not before these lifeless husk's pincushion his ass and fashion his skull as the perfect masturbation tool. I've read that in the Wild West – a place I used to live near before I was bloody Isekai'd – various animals love to use the eye-sockets as onaholes. How apt, considering the mage's brown eyes seem to catch the light.
Griggs jumped back, out of the way of a swipe that would have taken his vocal cords before shoving the end of his staff into an attacking hollow's chest, cringing when it sunk straight through. William simply stared up at them from his position on the floor, posture resigned to living out the rest of his days as some well-endowed nimrod's late night booty call-
"Oi, could you get up already." Griggs asked, voice showing obvious signs of agitation.
And so, as I relay this mental journal to beings that will never read of my tragic end (save for the dipshit gods that brought me here… and that racist narrator guy), I implore you… if you glean anything from this extract of subconscious text, be warned: the cake is a lie. I repeat: the cake. Is a l-
SMACK!
"Ow!" William exclaimed, hands going up to clasp the sore spot suddenly stinging at the top of his head.
"Finally, you're out of your self delusion." Griggs said, standing above him with an unimpressed look on his features. The Thief glared back in anger with a retort on his tongue.
SMACK!
"OW! Ssss, what the hell was that for?" the undead questioned, vigorously rubbing his kneecap this time whilst the mage casually tapped his catalyst on his shoulder with a curious gaze.
"For antagonizing an entire community of hollows to spit-roast you in never ending daylight," he replied before holding out his hand. "Why did you steal from them in the first place?"
"I'm a thief," the silver-haired undead answered dryly, brushing a glove over his apparel and accepting the hand. "Or did the thought never cross your mind. Additionally, how was I to know a hamlet of hollow's could live together in harmony?!"
The mage raised an eyebrow in response. William grinned as he reveled in the petty win against an obviously smarter opponent, only to shout out as the hand pulling him up let go halfway.
"Oof." William's back stung as it impacted with the hard floor. He cringed away the pain and growled up at a smug looking Griggs.
"First off, good luck getting me to believe you're an actual Thief. I could hear you breaking down doors and unceremoniously killing hounds the moment you entered the Lower Burg." The undead went to argue that he wasn't planning on laying on the stealth when the sorcerer raised his staff.
SMACK!
"Ooh! For shit's sake man, could you stop-"
WHACK!
"Phah-ha-hah! Why in the stomach?!"
THUNK!
" Ouuagh, you just hit the baby maker…"
Griggs raised his staff yet again.
KONCK!
"Yowch!" William cried as he cradled his forehead and toppled onto his ass yet again.
"Secondly, you just made me incinerate a quarter of my clientele. Those hollows may have been dumb, but they purchased my wares regularly." The mage grumbled as he turned William over with the tip of his shoe and stepped firmly on the undeads left thigh to keep him steady. "And lastly, you can keep the stuff you stole. This feels much more rewarding, don't you think?" he said with a smile and raised his staff yet again. William's eyes bugged out of their sockets.
"No, no, no, no, no. W-Wait just a second here. Why don't we talk this out-"
SMACK!
The catalyst made contact with the undeads ass cheek and William swore he saw his life flash before his eyes – recalling that time Principle Mykock from Middle School made him endure seven of the best with a splintered beam of chipboard. Somehow, this felt equally as mortifying.
SMACK-WHACK-SMACK!
"AHH! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"
WHACK-SMACK-SMACK!
"SON OF A BITCH, PLEASE STO-"
SMACK!
"AAH!"
WHACK!
" Yamete!" William screamed girlishly.
"What?"
"What?" William parroted, eyes going wide as he processed what just happened. Griggs stared down at him, brows knitted together in a mixture between confusion and repulsion. He had no idea what that word even meant… but for some reason it unnerved him.
He opened his mouth to garner an answer from the undead but though against it at the last minute. "Uhh… never mind. You can stand up now." he retracted his foot from William's leg and the undead stood to his feet, cussing as he palmed his rear end. Griggs regarded him with a critical gaze as William examined the scorch marks left behind by his spell.
Taking a slow step back, the mage lifted his dowel toward the undeads unprotected spine and began whispering an incantation. Whoever this person was, they had forever ruined the relationship he had created with the inhabitants here. A little payback in the form of obliterating the dumb little shit would be adequate, at least in his book. Now, if the undead could just stand like that with his back turned for the next three seco-
"You called that last spell 'Sovereign Railgun', right?" William began and turned, before he paused – staring at Griggs who was scratching away a slinter at the head of his staff, a large bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he looked at him and answered.
"U-Uhm… yes?" he said uncertainly.
William tilted his head to the side. "Are… you going senile?"
A vein throbbed on Griggs' head before he snapped his staff out for the umpteenth time today.
SMACK!
"Gah!" William's head snapped to the side, cheek forming a red outline of said stalk of wood. "WHAT THE FREAKING HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!"
An hour later, a half-hearted apology and an unwanted invitation into the sorcerer's less than humble abode, and William was staring at the mass of bookshelves serving as one of the four walls within Griggs' study.
Whilst his personality was a cocky smart-ass, the storehouse filled with barrels one would find him in was anything but. In fact, it was the entrance to an actual cottage. Talk about out-of-bounds venturing.
The Thief made himself comfortable as he watched the mage strut around, collecting this codex and that transparent bottle of hollow hound piss to shove into his bottomless box, before moving on to stuff tomes of soul magic and trinkets the size of staplers into a satchel that dangled from a shoulder strap. His hair flew around his face and into his mouth as he muttered incoherently, hands grabbing things he didn't even need – like a wooden sculpture of the first Bell of Awakening – whilst staring into space.
William wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he looked but sympathized immediately. He knew what it was like to be in that state of mental chaos. That time he had cosplayed as a low-budget Doom Guy during his first time to ComicCon had been no laughing matter.
"I don't get it. What are you even fussing about?" William asked in the corner of the room, poking around in a journal about harvesting energy from demonic fecal matter to power a man-made version of the sun. "Weren't you just acting cocky a second ago, chanting terribly named super moves?"
"Haaaaaggh," Griggs sighed and blew a strand of hair out of his face, "if you insist on knowing, let me explain this in the simplest way I can to a less than noteworthy moron with borderline kleptomania." The Thief frowned at him as he continued to shove junk into his seemingly bottomless storage. He knew he wasn't as smart as the scholar, but that was completely uncalled for – even if one hundred percent of it was true…
"I've spent the better part of twenty-six years in this hovel, crafting tinctures that smell rancid, and healing wounds flooded with maggots and pus and Gwyn knows what else whilst I slowly fill up this broom cupboard of a home instead of continuing my quest. Now, whilst treating a colony of hollows is a gross misuse of my capable skills, it's kept me alive long enough to at least pin-point a singular stop my Master made within this decrepit wasteland before he went missing."
William's ears perked up at that last bit, even as he dodged the odd statuette thrown his way out of frustration and anger. So the not so puny sorcerer was still on the hunt for his wanderlusting principal. It seemed the main plot hadn't been derailed that much. However, for the young sod to be searching after Logan for nearly three decades? He was aware that the Griggs In-Game must have been looking around for sign of a big hat, and that by the time the Chosen Undead arrived it would have been a very long time but a score short of half century was just sad.
"But now that town of steady income has been turned on its head," Griggs said with a deflated huff, gaining the undeads attention as he strolled toward the man.
"And I don't think I need to reiterate this, but it's all…" Griggs began as he poked him in the chest. "Your," the mage's soft fingers jabbed him again and inched forward menacingly. " Fault."
The face William made at Griggs was akin to a novice escort that just got told by her client to crouch over the kinky bastards face and give him a golden shower whilst wearing his deceased mothers knickers. Needless to say, the undead was sure that whilst he considered himself pretty in this world, he wasn't ready to get his rocks off with another man anytime soon.
"That all aside," the undead breathed a sigh of relief as the mage backed away to grab more garbage from shelves that never seemed to grow empty. "What's the likes of you doing down in these parts in the first place? I thought the Chosen Undead of legend had better things to do than pilfer houses of unused silverware whilst searching for a lone mage?"
William's black eyes grew wide as he processed that statement. How could the magician have known that he was looking for him? And secondly, how did he know that William was actually the Chosen Undead and not Oscar? Was it just assumption? Or was he using a spell to read his boggled mind? He had tossed that obelisk-looking statuette at him a few minutes ago, perhaps said object had some bad voodoo in it to make his mind readable? Wait, that was bad. His mind was not a platform any insane person should be delving into. They would see horrible things, they would! Like why he was a clean freak, the disturbing rate at which he remembered gross and unruly facts relating to the human body, how he had acquired two Lord Souls. And the worst one: where he hid the hentai on his computer.
The undead paled as he looked off to the side, and Griggs rewarded him with a soft chuckle. "You're quite paranoid despite the things people say about you."
"Wha?" William replied before frowning in confusion. "Wait, people say things about me?"
Griggs nodded, stuffing a handful of lizard eyes into a small jar, and cussing when one of them squirted goo onto his robes.
"It doesn't take a Dragon Scholar like myself to figure out who you are. Word about how the Chosen Undead cheated the Merchant out of his wares had spread to the furthest regions of the kingdom by now."
"For the last time, Goby and I had a mutual agreement about our specific manner of trade," the Thief groaned out and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just his luck, some shmuck robs a man blind for his goods and nobody bats an eye. But he smartly barters with a particular entrepreneur whilst skimming a little off the top and everybody loses their minds! Bloody hypocrites.
"And I'm not the Chosen Undead," William pointed a finger at the busy mage, "I'm more like his unlucky companion. The background best friend in a dating sim. Your run-o'-the-mill John Doe! But what can you do, really? The man saved my life, couldn't just stand up and agree for us to part ways-"
"Yeah, I call bullocks on that crafty excuse." Griggs cut in casually, making William stop and robotically move his head in the sorcerer's direction.
"S'cuse me?"
"You can stand there and argue with me until we both go hollow, but there's no way I believe for a second that that uncultured Astorian simpleton, with less than one brain cell, can be the Undead of legend." The robed undead moved around the wooden desk to their right and stood in front of William as he methodically drew lines into the floor with the end of his staff, said lines glowing mustard with each hollow scratch of the oaken shaft. "Grapevine describes this Oscar fellow as a vegetable, some blonde-haired prick without a copper of a thought worth considering as logically satisfying. A mindless slag better off servicing the dilapidated lavatory system instead of swinging his sword. If you asked me, even Old Man Mcloyf would call him a disappointment; and recent studies into the old god indicates he was barely sober enough to string together a simple sentence."
"Damn…" William breathed with a raised brow. This gossip pool was just as unashamed as the crazy bandwagons of simps supporting female VTubers.
"So, if you intend to stand on this infantile ruse, I'll oblige whilst silently doubting your minimal skills in deception and questioning my faith in humanity. However, you and I both know who the real Chosen One is."
The Thief hunched forward in defeat. Despite his best attempts – of which he barely put any effort into reinforcing the lie he was attempting to sell people on – it seems the jig was up. Even so, he wasn't completely disappointed. Even in the original game, Griggs was really quite perceptive. And besides, it wasn't like this version of the mage was about to spill the beans. He was too smart to make such a blunder. After all, people must have their hopes of their survival dashed now that they assumed Oscar was their savior. William wasn't about to change that outlook… yet; but first he needed to craft the Astorian into a vessel of indominable competency. It would pay off so well when the undead curse was suddenly lifted, and people realized that dopey Oscar was the one 'who dun it'. But aside from his future plans, William had to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind at the time Griggs confess the obvious.
"What really made you think the Chosen Undead was me?"
"You mean, you want me to be honest this time around?" William nodded in affirmation and the mage gave him a smirk. "You're holding two Lord Souls in your bottomless box."
"Papa smurf smacking a joint, I knew it!" the Thief clapped his hands together in mild aggravation, followed by the sorcerer's stomach-wiggling guffaw.
He knew plopping the bloody Souls of Death and Life, respectively, into a storage outlet wouldn't go unnoticed to certain individuals he would eventually pass by. They were the founding pieces of the Age of Fire, for the love of Instagram girls in DOA cosplay. How intelligent beings could miss such monolithic power levels residing within a weaker lifeform was literally implausible. Which brought him to one of the reasons he was after Griggs besides being his knight in torn up leather (which just happed to also backfire since the bugger was anything but a queer chump hiding in a storage room).
"I'm guessing that since you know who I am and what I carry, you know the nature of my visit?" the undead asked crabbily as Griggs finished carving some sort of spell circle into the floor.
"Figured it out whilst you were on the floor monologuing your last will and testament."
"How convenient. Care to elaborate?"
Griggs sniffed as he completed the final touches on the spell trigram below them. "Whilst your image doesn't inspire someone looking to learn the intricacies of soul magic that Vinheim teaches, the understanding that one would still require a scholar to mask the aforementioned power, is well met. Truly, I'm impressed you've thought this far despite the absence of obvious wit."
As much as the Thief wanted to discredit the man's observation, it was true in the best sense possible. Factually, he had painted a burning red target on his back the moment he decided to absume Nito's necromancy from Pinwheel and press Quemera's love button, albeit indirectly. Nobody had noted this in the actual game, but anyone with half a brain could have come to the conclusion that after killing more than one Great Lord, you were more or less cemented as the Chosen Undead of that era. Furthermore, with souls of that magnitude in your back pocket or chilling in your Darksign, it would make sense why every hollow and soul hungry beast you encountered only ever decided to attack you, the player, and not the NPC's that could be nearby – game mechanics and coding ignored.
Whilst William agreed in the deep-seated hatred for the entire sect revolving around wizards and wand flicking mages, his only other option that didn't involve drastic measures was to use their magic to pull back the magnificent presence exuding from his person due to the Lord Souls he had already acquired. Regrettably, he wasn't entirely certain that any of Vinheim's scholars could pull off what exactly he was requesting, yet if he were to delve into the technical, the only people capable of possibly being able to help him were Griggs, Logan and maybe Beatrice. Now, two of those individuals were far more than a hop, skip and jump away; and whilst it seemed easy enough to just speedrun toward the Moonlight Butterfly and stomp on the self-taught Witch's summon sign, performing such a dangerous dash in reality (whilst his stamina was still shit, mind you) was not an option he could see himself taking any time soon.
He could just dump the souls somewhere safe, like inside Quelaan's sanctuary or in the capable hands of Anastasia whilst he happily paraded about as the pitiful soul he really was. But then that invited more trouble than it was worth. For starters, there was no guarantee that Quelaag, Quelana or even Kirk would agree to such an idiotic request made by him, and since the poor paraplegic Astorian back at Firelink was going to meet her end by a yellow prick with mommy issues, leaving the Lord Souls with her would be pointless – not to mention devastating were Nito to know how exactly his precious soul got stolen and shipped off to Fina with a ribbon tied on.
Therefore, his mind was made up. He would need Griggs to weave a spell to seal off the presence of the souls in his position. It would be easier to travel since the threat of invasions and the like would be reduced considerably, prompting him to invest more time in grooming Oscar to be his worthy successor. His plan was foolproof! After all, he was the fool that wrote it.
"That being said," the mage brought him out of his thoughts and William looked forward to see Griggs lifting up his bottomless box as it shrunk before slipping it into a pouch on his hip, "I have no intention of aiding you. Find someone else."
The undead blinked dumbly.
"Eh?"
"You're loud, obnoxious, inexplicably cocky and you've just ruined my tedious business venture. What in the name of Allfather Lloyd makes you think I'd bother lending you my help?"
"Uhhh…" William looked around him for an answer. As the silence between them grew ever more stagnant, it was clear he didn't have one.
Griggs sighed. "Look, it's been an absolute horror meeting you, William. Really, it has. But fortunately, you have nothing of value to offer me that could change my mind to help you become incognito. So, before that community of hollows return to claim their revenge on me, and you by extension, I have to depart and somehow predict the exit to this infuriating maze of streets known as the Lower Burg."
The mage turned around to leave, knocking the end of his staff against the symbol he had carved into the floor. In a burst of light, the yellow lines switched to a blinding white as the brightness grew in intensity. The undead turned back to William as he placed his hand on the doorknob.
"Have a doo-dee-diddly-day," he said with a nod and opened the door.
Luckily for William, his brain had been working overtime to come up with a solution, when a sudden phrase the sorcerer mentioned caught his minds eye. Without any prompting, he lifted his head and spoke the moment the black robed mage placed his foot out the door.
"Wait, if you didn't know the way outta here, why the hell didn't you just ask?"
Griggs stopped dead in his tracks, arms limbs frozen in place to resemble the roadside motif for walking. His head slowly turned back to the Thief and William's face lit up with a shit-eating grin as he realized the mages greatest oof.
"You didn't think of that… did you?" he asked in smart tone that only ticked the scholar off further. Nevertheless, Griggs took a bite of humble pie and re-entered the house, walking up to William and slamming his staff against the glowing incantation searing the floor – instantly killing the intolerable white it was letting off.
For the umpteenth time that day, Griggs sighed out before speaking. "I suppose you've convinced me to aide you, despite my initial deduction." He ignored William's cocky smile as he dropped his satchel onto a nearby chair and fished out a slip of parchment from a pocket inside his robe, along with a quill. "Just hurry up and tell me the way out of here. Those denizens could be banging on my door any second now."
"Calm ya' tits, I'll get to that." William replied as Griggs began scratching away at the page in his hands. "However, before I do, I should clarify that the two exits I know of would be useless to you at this point."
Griggs' quill stopped writing and he looked up at the Thief with a deadly glare, only for the undead to wave off his skepticism of whether he was bluffing or not. "You said it yourself, the hollows here are probably gearing up to tear you limb from limb, and both doorways to your great escape lie precisely next to the homesteads of these savages."
The mage processed his words before frowning deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then what would be the point of me helping you? If what you're telling me is true, it would be pointless for me to even consider leaving, lest I get a dagger in the back for my troubles. If that's the case, the only way out of here would be with the impudent scriptures those bigoted clerics favorite." Griggs curled his nose and spat on the floor, as if mentioning clerical magic was like saying he enjoyed boba tea. William raised a brow in curiosity.
"So I guess Vinheim and Thorolund don't always see eye to eye?"
The mage scoffed. "As if we could when their baseless dribble on this prophet and that verse of Gwyn utterly contradicts the fact that soul manipulation is not a gift given to us by the gods, but an art crafted by the genius of humanity."
"I'm confused," William mouthed and crossed his arms, "I assumed only Vinheim Scholars dabbled in soul magic?"
"And within the advent of spellcraft, I would have been more than happy to agree." Griggs grumbled as he messed up a scribble on the piece of parchment he held and tossed it aside, withdrawing another card from within his robes and continuing to write as he spoke. "But upon recent study, and by that I mean more than half a century ago, it was established that whilst those bald headed monks used a deep sense of meditation and prayer to convert spiritual energy into tangible essence, an expulsion of the soul was also required to effectively create a Miracle from one of their sacred excerpts.
"Understandably, the Head Priest's and Holy Fathers of the order would be loathe to admit such an evident conclusion to the age-old argument. Doing so would compromise the beliefs of their cult and dismantle their power as a holy kingdom, after all. That being said, I would have expected as least a few of the top-heavy clergy to learn the truth staring at them in the face with a pair of binoculars in hand."
The scholar licked the tip of his quill for a moment, after he had finished ranting, and added what looked like the final touches on the square of writing material he was working on. William found it odd that said word dispenser hadn't touched an ink well yet, but said nothing – just in case he be seen as an idiot for not knowing that the current era had already learnt how to insert ink into the spine of a writing tool.
"That explanation of your dislike for zealots aside, what exactly were you attempting to tell me?" William finally asked as Griggs lifted his staff to cast whatever he had been scribbling for the past five minutes.
"Oh, my apologies. I got caught up in the moment there." He shook his shoulder-length tresses and placed the parchment against the Thief's chest. "What I was getting to was that their cowardly escape spell would be perfect in this situation, you know, since my stock of Homeward Bones is quite literally expended."
"It is?" the undead quirked his head before digging a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a fingerbone. "Then it's a good thing I brought these along for the road. Honestly, this was the way out I was going to pitch to you anyway."
Griggs' face morphed into a surprised look as if he were on the receiving end of a nine-inch dildo with studs, before he retained his calm exterior and raised his staff and said: "Very good then. I think we have a deal."
The expressive sigil drawn onto the paper glowing on William's chest explained multiple complicated equations he would never know the answers to. What he did know was that if it worked, he could go back to being anonymous. Which meant feigning ignorance in the face of beings he knew would most likely see through his ruse in different scenarios. Which also meant that he could freely skip around with a pair of Lord Souls in his back pocket and everyone else would be clueless! Finally, now he could happily shack up with the many sweet honnies on this sad little rock without having to worry about being seen as Chosen Undead and being potentially shanked whilst he was getting his freak on. Which reminded him, it was about time he started training a certain numbskull to fight his battles for him, primarily the next one against the gargoyles on the Belfry…
"Now then, I have a grasp on your physical capabilities," Solaire mentioned as he poured fresh tea into Oscar's porcelain cup. How did he even acquire a tea set, one would ask as they gazed upon the two Astorians resting on a grassy balcony overlooking a magnificent view of Lordran. The answer was simple: he was Solaire. That's how. "However, I fear that time spent away from Astora has dampened your skil-"
"ACHOO!" Oscar jerked as he sneezed to the side loudly. Solaire gave him small frown as he placed his cup onto his saucer daintily.
"Bless you," he said politely.
"Ahh… thank you," the smaller knight replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the aggravating tickle in his nostrils. Solaire nodded.
"As I was saying-"
"ACHOO!" Oscar cut him off the second time as another sneeze escaped from his lips, spraying his fellow countryman full in the face.
Solaire barely flinched as he simply wiped his face with a handkerchief possessing a smiling sun motif.
"Oh dear, are you falling ill?"
Oscar sniffed. "I don't think so. Undead aren't capable of catching colds since our bodies are half dead and all. Or was it sexual infections? I can't recall."
"Well, if it's not the flu, why are you sneezing so many ti-"
"HA-CHOO!!! Oh, I think I pulled something…" Oscar groaned as he keeled over on the floor. Solaire looked down at him in sympathy, left hand lowering the serving tray he had used to block that last spit shower.
"Is the problem maybe that you cannot sneeze once?" he asked with a tilt of his head.
Oscar nodded sadly. "Unlike most people I know, I sneeze an average of three to four times if I get a tickle. Been the bane of my life for decades now."
"My sympathies, friend." The Sun Knight patting him on the back as Oscar reverted back into a sitting position. "But could we continue our discussion now? This final point might aide you in dealing with overpowered foes."
"My apologies, Solaire. Please continu- ACH…!"
Solaire's hand flashed out to squeeze his companion's nostrils shut as the final sneeze appeared. They waited awhile in silence, but saliva buckshot never came. With a sigh, he released Oscar's nose and leaned back on his hands.
"Did that work?" He asked hopefully. Oscar nodded genuinely.
"Many thanks, my friend."
Solaire gave a joyful shrug. "Jolly Co-Operation works in many different ways and facets. Now, lets get back to strength training."
William looked down at his profile and observed the scholar's handiwork. He didn't feel any different, which was either good or bad depending on how legitimate Griggs' skills were. He turned on the spot and felt his forehead.
His temperature was normal, which meant the spell hadn't screwed with his body and caused his balls to creep up through his anus and explode inside his organs (he groped his crotch just to be sure), which was also good…
Though that begged the question hanging on his colorful tongue: what the frikkadel had the mage done to him exactly?
"I tinkered with the sorcery, Hush, in an attempt to nullify the physical appearance of the Lord Souls in your possession," the undead clarified in front of him, most likely reading the expression on his pale face. "Additionally, the magical presence and potency those souls contained needed to be condensed, which was mildly difficult given that the only tools I had to work with was a quill and my intuition. Thankfully, I had this on hand."
The mage dug a hand into his satchel and withdrew a scroll which he then tossed to William. The Thief caught it deftly from the air before casually unrolling it with a flick of the wrist. He was lucky Vinheim used English as their first language. He wouldn't want to appear illiterate towards Griggs after his other numerable screw ups. Without wasting time, he glanced down at the text before his brow creased into a frown.
"Wha?" he said in confusion before looking up at the mage with wide eyes. "This scroll reads: 'Hidden Body'."
Griggs gave a wry smile in return. "Indeed, it does."
This only went to confuse the Isekai'd Thief further. "What's a Vinheimian doing using Oolacile magic? Isn't that a breach of your institutes rules or something?"
The mage laughed as he retrieved said document. "There is no magic we are forbidden to learn, and even if we were… do you think any of us alumni would head such a hypocritical warning when the school was founded on the Grandfather of Sorcery?"
William raised a finger to interject with a response but came up short. The wizard was right, who in their wrong minds would follow such an idiotic rule? It was like telling a pair of horny teens not to shag on daddy's favorite sofa whilst watching an episode of Rick and Morty.
"Point taken."
Griggs smiled wider as he stuffed the spell into his satchel. "The scroll itself was a bastard to acquire once I knew that it was circulating on Lordran's black market. Cost me well near four million soul's, too. You're lucky this was a life-or-death situation; else I might have asked you to give me everything you had plus the rights to use you as my personal guinea pig when practicing dangerous alchemy."
"Wait a minute," William raised a hand to stop the mage. He was just too shaken by this sudden news, "Lordran has a black market? But this place is already a ghost town."
The sorcerer patted him on the back, like a doctor that just screwed some guy's wife all in the name of science. "My sincerest condolences, then. One day, perhaps you too will be enlightened."
The tick mark that grew on the undeads temple throbbed with as much passion as a neglected boner in the early morning sun, but he said nothing. He had gotten what he wanted without incidence. Whilst he couldn't recruit Logan's student to one-shot bosses when they were in a fix, he could at least glean some good info. After all, the sorcerer lived down here as the local apothecary for as many years as it took Might Guy to overpower the entire Narutoverse with extreme exercise and martial art. There must have been something the educated plonker knew about the Depths.
"Before you leave, you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Griggs turned to him nodded, a collection of five Homeward Bones gripped tightly in his hand as he, once again, stuffed it into his bloody satchel.
"There's a rumor going about that some poor pecker got himself kidnapped and thrown into the Depths. Word is he was a Pyromancer of some kind."
"You're correct in your presumption, but what would a Thief find entertaining about that Swamp-dweller?"
"Well, if I want to learn the heretical arts, which I do, I think the survival of one mud-covered nomad would be instrumental… don't you think so?"
It would do him no good to let on that William knew almost every nook and corner of this world based on the rate at which he overplayed it. That said, he could still use the excuse that he was an aspiring Pyromancer as a front to make people believe that what he was after was a teacher. But that was complete bullshit. William didn't want anything to do with learning magic. That would involve forming a covenant in the future, something he detested more than the existence of God.
In reality, what William really desired was another ally. Laurentius himself was a laid-back NPC, his personality resembling an American representation of a chilled out Australian beach goer. If said character remained unchanged, the Thief would have no issue convincing him to be a free helping hand in certain areas. If his luck really played out, he could use his relationship with Quelana as his trump card. Besides, if there was anyone he could subtly manipulate without the gods here even noticing, it was Laurentius.
"Hmph." Griggs stifled a chuckle by clamping a hand over his mouth. The tick mark on William's forehead only grew in size.
"Okay, what's so damn funny this time?"
"Oh, nothing…" the quiver of laughter in the mage's voice said otherwise. "It's just… I don't expect you to be able to conjure anything noteworthy, whether that fire flicker is a stalwart instructor or not."
"And why is that?" William asked dryly.
"Well, for starters, you possess little to no magic reserves in the first place."
"…"
"Uh, William?"
"…"
"William?"
"… what?" The Thief said softly before looking down at his hands.
To say he had been expecting this would be an utter lie. It was true that he didn't want to learn any magic, save for Undead Rapport due to its endless uses, but to discover that his magical capabilities were basically zero? That was like being turned down by a gyaru that was notorious for jumping anything with a baby elephant's trunk between their legs, whether male or female.
"Wait, how can you even measure something like that?" the undead asked skeptically. Griggs shrugged and approached the silver-haired Thief.
"There are different methods for different sexes. In the case of female spell casters, we look at their natural motor skills, physical development in maturity, as well as the rate at which they can multitask. It really helps when they learn to craft difficult sorceries in short amount of time."
William blinked in astonishment. So all that shit about upping his Intelligence and Attunement at bonfires meant nothing this entire time? But that wouldn't make any sense since he was still able to upgrade his person whenever he visited a bonfire. Honestly, it almost felt like he was still in the game when he rested next to the flames and saw the soul distribution table only his eyes could see.
"And what about measuring a man's magical output?"
Griggs grinned before stretching apart his thumb and index finger. "The length of one's manhood, of course."
"WHAT?!" the undead screeched in dismay as he slapped the mage's hand away. "The hell do you mean: 'tHe LeNgTh Of OnE's MaNhOoD'?" he mimicked in a broken voice.
"Whilst strength and intellect are parameters we look for in male scholars, what really counts is the girth, size and shape of a man's member." Griggs explained it clinically, a straight face on the entire time.
"But why a dude's dick?" William prompted.
"From the studies done, it has something to do with genetics. Apparently the more masculine your father was, the longer your penis would appear, thus, the greater your magic could become."
William's eye twitched. Whilst the douche was correct with regard to the science of shlong sizes, the fact that you needed a big boom stick to cast panty-dropping magic was just… unfair.
To be frank, from what William knew about his father, he could attest to being immensely more masculine – partly due to the reason that whilst William was younger, his old man was a drag queen – but now he just felt pathetic.
"Wait," the undeads eyes snapped open in sudden realization, "how in Baldur's Gate do you know my pork sword size?!"
It was a valid question. William hadn't dropped his pants once in the sorcerer's presence – however pretty the bastard's face appeared in reality – so how could he have known what he was packing? Or rather, what he wasn't packing?
"Oh, that was simple. Twice the size of your ears equals the length of your member."
"Bullshit!"
"You don't believe me? Think about it."
William did as he was told… only to sigh out in depression that such a stupid measuring actually rang true. And he did have tiny ears. Goddammit.
"Dick comparison's aside, there's still one more thing I need from you."
The mage adjusted the hat on his head. "And that would be?"
"The key to enter the Depths itself. Word is, the Capra Demon that moved in down here has it. And I don't know if you've already guessed it, but I'm not as strong to face that big asswipe on my own-"
"Here you go." Griggs tossed him a key that was three inches long and the undead stumbled to catch it.
"What the- you mean you had this the entire time?"
"I praise your knowledge despite not having any informants, but the upstanding goat was dealt with weeks ago."
"You killed it?" William asked wide-eyed. The sorcerer shook his head.
"The hollows here were hungry. What was a better meal than lean demon muscle? They overwhelmed the beast in the afternoon and went home with full belies after supper."
The Thief's jaw hit the floor. No wonder Griggs was so eager to ditch this joint. The inhabitants here were batshit crazy.
"So, why didn't anyone say anything about it? Wouldn't such a pariah's death make the local news?"
Griggs huffed in amusement before turning to the front door. "Only important gossip makes it around these parts," he said as he turned the doorknob.
"How do I know you're not lying to me?" William narrowed his gaze at the undead but received a laugh for his troubles.
"Its bones were donated to me for study. Look behind you."
William frowned and swung his head around only to choke on his spit and nearly bite his tongue off. There, standing nearly as tall as a Tyrant from Resident Evil, stood the skeletal structure of one Capra Demon, giant machetes in hand.
The undead took a hot second to examine the beast before nodding to himself in appreciation for the memento mori. As he did so, a question floated through his mind like a hazy cloud of cigarette smoke.
How the shit did I miss something that big?
"Come along," Griggs' voice shook him into reality as he blinked dumbly and turned to the door. "I'll lead you to the Depths entrance before I depart, but that's the end of it."
"Gotcha, wait up a sec-" he began but his eyes caught the spell circle still drawn into the floor. "Say, what was this sigil you drew for, anyways?"
"Hmm?" Griggs popped his head into the room and looked down at the trigram. "Oh, that was a massive bomb. It was set to explode the minute I left the room."
William's face paled, if possible, before bursting crimson with rage and marching out the door.
"You mean you were going to blow my ass sky-high for the fun of it?!"
"To be frank, you did botch my comfy life here, so yeah."
"SON OF A BITCH!"
SMACK!
"Ack! Wanker, you're lucky I deserved that one."
"Shut up and show me to the freaking door, you big dick."
"Well, at least you admit it."
"Again, SHUT THE SHIT UP!"
SMACK!
"OW!" Griggs shouted, cradling his glowing red cheek. This Chosen Undead was a real piece of work.
Word Bank:
1. Absume – (v.) To bring to an end by a gradual waste; consume; destroy; cause to disappear; to use up and burn out over a long period of time.
I really didn't mean for this chapter to be nearly 10K in length, but then again, I needed to redeem myself for being a sloth. Hope you enjoyed. I'll make more now that my creativity isn't shoved up a gutter somewhere.
Oh, yeah. For those of you who actually measured your manhood to your ear size, that was a complete joke for kicks. Please don't tell me you really thought I was being sincere. The thing about how long your shlong can actually be, however? Yeah, that's true: your genes, masculinity, lifestyle, and even weight determine size and girth of little Excalibur. I never thought I'd ever research something like that, but it was pretty informative and now you know as well. Use this knowledge however you see fit.
Have a swell day my fellow weebs, gamers, and general fanfic readers.