Authoress Notes: I'm not dead. Yet. Too bad, huh? I come back with another SO3 story, and one where I'll try to keep the characters in character. But given the plot, it'll be hard and I'll need some support and constructive criticism. With that aside, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: SquareEnix is the rightful owner, not me.

Plot/Summary: Weakened, fatigued, and brutally wounded by an assailant she fails to remember, Nel Zelpher wakes to find herself in a place not of her time. Not to mention she finds herself in the care of someone very unlikely…

You Found Me

By: xKuroSeraphimx

Chapter I

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I said I wasn't afraid to die…

Didn't I?

The woman, Nel Zelpher of the Crimson Blades, trudged, to more accurately say, limp, through the barren plains, droplets of fresh blood trailing behind. Her left eye was closed, swollen because of a hard, direct hit on the face, and cut in a small inch vertically on the lid. Her face was lined with streaks and blotches of blood, her black clothes torn and tattered. Her arm was at a weird angle; hanging motionless at her side while her other hand held a treasured weapon caked in crimson liquid. A vicious swing at her ribs made her lungs constrict painfully when she gasped for air, and pain jabbed at every known and unknown part of her body.

With only the functioning eye, the woman looked over the corner of her eye, checking to see if monsters in the surrounding area would come looking for the scent of fresh meat. She was traveling for who knows how long, in a field that seemed familiar, but with the messed up way her mind worked now, and the insistent pounding that ripped at her head, she wasn't sure to name the place correctly. Not that she could have in her state, anyway. She was unconscious for some time, and woke only recently. Her body had been working hard for the past minutes – or hours – to shut down and rest, slip into the void of unconsciousness.

But stubbornness was a borne trait in her body. Not to mention the thought that if she were to fully close her eyes, let herself fall into darkness, she wouldn't return again. Stubborn and fear, however, could only help her so much, as she vaguely felt the feeling in her legs give out and stumble upon her knees, her dagger embedding itself in the brown dirt.

I'm not afraid… I'm not afraid… I'm not afraid… I'm not… not…

Nel couldn't block the touch of fear that sparked in her chest when her mind slowly began to forget the mantra. Dread, accompanied with a burning anguish, rose to her throat, threatening to make her scream out the pain she held within her for years on end. She swallowed it back down as her green eye moved to watch the graying sky, promising the coming of a torrent of rain pour down the area, and she wished, just for a single second, that she could have said goodbye to her friends.

… I'm…

Her strength leaving her, the light in her eye vanished like the sun hidden behind a dark cloud. Swaying, she fell forward, feeling all pain, all feeling, all sense of touch and memory swept away under a curtain of darkness.

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A swift kick to her ribs caused the wind to get knocked out of her, propelling her a few feet away with unnatural force until she rolled to absorb the damage of the fall, stopping when her back hit an old birch of a tree trunk. When she tried to glare at her opponent, her eyes fell back to the ground when large amounts of blood spurted out of her mouth. Coughing, she threw a hand up to her mouth to stop the burst of liquid, feeling that one of her ribs must have been severely bruised or fractured. She distinctly felt the motion of her insides turning to soup at the attack.

Nel forgot when the battle started, only how. While on a mission and passing through Aire Plains, she felt the hostile presence of someone following her and only had a millisecond to defend herself against a sword slashing her shoulder from behind. Her enemy seemed weak at first, sluggish and amateur, until later on, he moved with vicious grace and speed like that of a professional assassin. Obviously, he was toying with her, and she could only catch a glimpse of a smirk under the dark veil of his hood to confirm that. He didn't speak, nor let a laugh of triumph to escape his lips. He didn't want the sound of his voice to be heard, cautious that she might be able to know who he really was.

Her rest ended quickly when he charged at her, his hard boots digging footprints in the dirt. She only had time to hold her dagger up to block a swing of his broadsword overhead, his strength immense enough to push her arm back and placing the locked weapons dangerously close to her face. He swung a leg back to kick her in the stomach, but she, with a roar of rage, broke the link of their weapons and rolled to the side, causing her opponent to break the trunk of the tree.

He wasn't human, she deduced earlier. He couldn't be. Even with the other worlds she had come to visit didn't include humans to have such strength. Well, at least not in her home world. Snarling, Nel put her left hand out to cast a runological spell, but suddenly, he was already in front of her and had managed to grasp her arm and, with a sickening crack, break it.

A scream of pain erupted from her throat before a punch to her face drowned the sound down. Again, she was thrown aside like a measly doll and stopped short only a few distances away. Her mouth tasted large amounts of metallic, coppery blood, the pain in her left arm agonizing and throbbing to the point it became numb seconds later. Her assailant stood ahead of her, almost in a smug manner, and she growled, using her undamaged hand to pull herself up.

I am not going to die here… Nel thought, determination flaring in her forest-colored eyes. Not when I don't even know who my blasted opponent is, and what I'm dying for…

She could think of many possibilities, each unlikelier than the next. She already asked who his identity was, but her only response was a side slash at her face that would have been fatal, had she not taken a step back to avoid it. She shook her head. No, she needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was not to die and have her enemy pay dearly for what he did.

I can't use runology… This guy's all speed. The more powerful spells would take too long… The woman calculated in her head, watching intently at her opponent who held his sword ready. He doesn't fight like any ordinary warrior… Just who the hell is he?

The assailant rushed forward to her spot, and she grit her teeth and cursed under her breath, evading a vertical slash at her face. But her body had slowed and was beginning to get tired, and so, ended with a scratch on the lid of her eye, eliciting a yelp of pain from her throat. He pushed his body forward in the follow through, attacking with a swift jab at her stomach to which she used her dagger to deviate away.

Not wanting to have herself open for an attack, she rammed her shoulder to his chest, savoring the grunt of surprise that rumbled from his lips. Following this was an arc to his stomach, but he pulled back in time to only have her weapon graze the flesh. She was about attack with another swipe until her eyes caught sight of something in his hand.

Then…

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Rays of light peeked past the yellow curtains while a light breeze billowed between the sheets, creating yellow waves to blow in the air. It wasn't early, but early enough to have the light reach the occupant sleeping inside a regular-sized bed.

A frown marred her delicate brow as a stray light reached her face. Slowly, an eyelid cracked open, and, not used to having such sunlight hit directly into her pupil, she moved her head to the other side, a low growl of irritation leaving her mouth.

Slowly, she reopened her eye again, but didn't bother turning back. When she tried to move, she moaned out in pain as her body lanced with a dull, aching throb. Little by little, however, she began to realize that she was not dead and that she was in someone's house.

And bed.

Trying to muster as much strength as she can, the red-haired young woman moved to sit up, noticing that the demonic rays of light only reached her neck.

Once she sat comfortably on the mattress, she looked down to scan her body. She was clothed in a simple, white robe made of cotton, and her left arm was bandaged and held in a sling. The slight opening of her robe showed little traces of thin bandages wrapped around her upper body. Reaching her right hand up to her head, she felt similar wrappings circling her head and felt a small gauze pad taped to her left eye and cheek.

Where am I…? Nel wondered as she surveyed her surroundings. The room was simple, but still lavishly decorated. An oak-wood desk was situated against the wall under the window, another drawer made of similar wood stood across the bed she sat on, and above it were swords and daggers suspended on the wall as symbols of power.

The sheaths, she noticed, seemed to be well taken care of as the light perfectly gave the sleek black and red-colored metals a luster of their own. One, she noted, had a carving of a gold dragon with chips of ruby as its eyes embedded on the scabbard. Nel arched a brow at the intricate detail, unknowingly becoming fond of the weapon. But nothing could beat her likeness to her father's treasured and precious swords, the Blades of Ryusen.

Wait.

Where were those?

A spike of panic touched her spine as she whizzed her head around to search for her missing weapons. None. They weren't anywhere in her line of sight, not even on the nightstand or bedside drawer.

Completely throwing the state of her body out the window, Nel threw the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. But before she could move to stand up, a rapping on the wooden door stopped her dead in her tracks.

Is it the owner? Who could it be? Nel asked in her head before the door opened to reveal her visitor. Her emerald eye widened once it laid itself on her guest.

Even though he looked a decade or so younger, Nel could no doubt see traces of Count Woltar in the man standing at the doorway. He stood straight and proud, still exuding an old, but wise and fierce aura around his frame and his slate eyes, when they centered themselves upon her, held a quiet, powerful fire that was all too familiar.

But she could not recall a spell or potion, or some odd ritual that could turn back the wheels of time for others. So how could this Woltar look seemingly younger? His head was showing signs of slight balding, but still retained a mass of short, dark hair that was slicked back and heavily grayed at the temples. Without so much clothing that he would wear later and donned in a simple, but highly effective armor and shirt, he looked more fit than ever. He kept the same, velvet cape around his shoulders. Even with a sword strapped to his waist, he held a cane to help him walk towards her bed, a limp in his long strides.

"Ahh, you're awake," he said, his voice not heavily aged and rough from when she last heard from him. "How very fortunate. I was starting to lose hope for the loss of such a life that I never even got a chance to say 'hello' to."

With a sigh, he pulled a chair away from the desk, dragging it to the side of her bed, and sat down. Woltar stared at her expectantly, and Nel reluctantly lifted her legs back into the bed. He seemed pleased by that.

"Wh-Where…" Her own voice sounded hoarse and scratchy, as though she had not used it for a while. How long had she been asleep?

He held up a hand to silence her. "In my mansion in Kirlsa. I was quite surprised, really, when you were found. And so heavily wounded, my lady! It looked like you'd been fighting hoards of monsters."

Memories of her fight rushed into her mind at the mention of it. She remembered being attacked… Having her arm broken… A flash of light…

… And a face that could only belong to her assailant.

For some reason, she could not distinctly remember it. The image was hazy, vague, like a painting doused with large amounts of water, mixing all the colors into a weird blend. Nel tried as hard as she could to remove that veil of haziness, only to have her head pound painfully, causing her to grab her head with a hiss.

Woltar took to this with alarm. "My lady, where does it hurt? I will fetch—"

"N-No…" Nel said through gritted teeth. Once the headache ebbed, she turned her head to face the old man. "Just… Where… I should thank you for helping me, but… Wait, how did I come across your mansion, Lord Woltar…?"

"That is…"

He was cut off by another knock on the door, and the two turned to see the door slightly open. Nel couldn't see who left the opened ajar since the visitor would not move from the cover the door provided, but Captain of the Storm Brigade did and he smiled.

"I think this is the young lad you should thank, milady."

The door fully swung open and Nel had to blink twice to know if she wasn't hallucinating or not. She wasn't, and for once, she wished she was having a dream as she stared at a familiar mat of black and blond-tipped hair, wine red eyes that blinked underneath a coat of bangs, and an all too familiar face. A violet-red cape shadowed his body, yet the boy looked no more than nine-years old.

Albel Nox?

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Well, that's the end of this chapter. Criticism? Reviews? They're all welcome to make this story better. So please, click that button over there and review. I'll be working on other fics now, be they Star Ocean, Yu-Gi-Oh!, or Xenosaga. See you.