Re:Animated, Reliving Life in Another World From Zero

by Tall-Gothic-Guy

A Necromancer is easy to describe, but what people rarely ever know about them is that Death is their final wish above everything else. To return to dust and Rest in Peace in the Afterlife. Give a Death Mage the Curse of 'Return by Death', however, then Emurdol Viandegroc will eventually realize that dying in another world is easier said than done. (Graphic and Mature content)

2. White Bones and Black Steel

"Such an unfortunate district." He muttered silently, emerald eyes scanning over the misfortunate surroundings around him as he passed through without a hurry. He had theories regarding that Felt girl's origins, considering that such a spirited-looking girl would be brought down into stealing but he should have known that she hailed from the impoverished parts of the kingdom, even though he considered the possibility with her worn-down attire.

He's been following after the curse trail, hurrying as much as he can without looking like he's in a rush to be ahead of the white-haired girl. Out of the busy streets of the city, crossing through a forest, he soon ventured into the slums that was located at the edge of the Kingdom he's in, inhabiting the unfortunate lives of the poor, the needy and the independent. The environment was indeed sour and bitter, extending even to the air that it's clouded with dust. Many individuals are found lying on the side of the streets, some against the walls of houses, emaciated or passed out, some resting under makeshift shelters made entirely out of branches and dirty cloth. Those who were fortunate to live in a house likely didn't get anywhere better than the rest; from what he could see from the windows and the cracks of open doors, there was very little within. Not even a chair was there.

His presence did not go unnoticed, not that it would surprise him. Poor people are always curious to outsiders, and most not so welcoming. What did surprise him, however, was that those who stood on the streets and stared at him did not even shy away from him even as he passed them by. While the suspicion was nothing unusual, the boldness was quite new. Even when he revealed just a bit of his pale face and his bone armor without making it look deliberate, they didn't even flinch.

The lifelessness of the place is quite profound, not just from the lack of general activity but even the trees are bare from leaves. So much dust. Even a light step made a puff if he let his feet be seen from the cloak. The dust on his cloak is going to be a bother to clean up. Will a rain come soon? It's not like the cold actually affects him or—

"Urgh!" He stupidly bumped into someone.

"Oof! Oh my, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" The person apologized.

Holding down his irritation for not even looking at where he's going, he addressed the black-haired woman. "The fault is mine." His silver brow slightly rose in interest as he regarded the seductive attire. This woman's garb does not look healthy in such a place like this. With such a voluptuous body and a beautiful face, she'd be a target for the lustful. "You should not be wearing that in a place like this. It draws unwanted attention."

"My, concerned for me? I'm touched." This woman's voice even sounds sultry. She's completely exposed like a pot of honey to a bear's cave. "But don't worry, I'm not some helpless little girl for you to escort. I can take care of myself."

He blinked slowly as he acknowledged her words.

He can already see it. From her body language to the look in her eyes, she's truly not as helpless as she seems. In fact, many of the Resting Spirits are screaming in his ear right now. So many are afraid, but so many are mad.

"Agreed." He said stoically, his head slightly tilting to the side as the screaming in his ears got a bit too grating. "A beautiful flower like you…" He slowly took her long braided side-lock into his clawed grieves, brushing his thumb across the strands despite not having his skin feel it. His hand slowly raising upwards while maintaining his hold on the lock of hair, he slowly traced the dark purple flower resting on her head, caressing the petals. "….might be poisonous. A predator should watch out for your thorns."

It was only due to his iron will and constant experiences with it that allowed him to not let his face show the mental conflict happening in his head. The Spirits were chanting and rioting, ordering him to move it.

Despite his advances, she didn't resist them. Instead, she neared herself close up until her buxom chest is pressed up against him, her delicate hands taking a bit of fabric of his cloak as her beautiful face leaned upwards to his own, both their lips barely an inch apart as she whispered, "And you don't look too bad yourself. I'd be willing to let you accompany me to my quarters and have some drinks to know each other intimately, but I have business to attend to." Though he only had her violet eyes in his line of vision, he can feel her smirk. "Maybe next time, handsome."

And then she parted from the intimate contact, going on her way past him but with her hand still placed against his abdomen, feeling the surface of his plate armor through the cloak all the way to the side of his waist, ending with her fingertips running across his clawed grieves until there were finally separated.

As she turned and headed on with light steps, he still didn't let his gaze waver from the woman until she was no longer in earshot and the screaming in his head was gone.

He reached up to his ear and smacked it, as if there was something crawling inside as he continued to head to his destination. By the Dragon, the Spirits really didn't shut up in telling him to whip out his weapons and go to town with them. They are really unlike Mother, she had quite the restraint even when she knew the kind of person that woman was.

"It seems I found myself a target of interest." He told them, his voice as silent as a breath of air. "I hope killing her will not leave a sour taste in my mouth."

His hand felt for the wand strapped to his belt. Caution is now a necessity, it seems. Not even a few hours past and he's already getting into the deep end of things. The Spirits are telling him that the woman was a lot more dangerous than she looks, and ignoring their warnings is a deathwish.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hmm…." He touched his chin, his grieves preventing him from feeling the clean-shaven surface. Catching his eyes was the large two-story building with various signs of decrepitude and lack of maintenance. Aside from the broken glass windows, molds were growing on the walls and rooftops. Whatever paint left has peeled off and there's even discarded piles of 2x4 wood near an unfinished boarded window.

If this is the place Felt lived in, he would not be able to believe it. Her trail lead right into the doorstep and if she owned this place all on her own, it must've cost her quite the price. He can image the things she hoarded from people laying around like trophies or furniture.

Admittedly, he was interested in seeing the décor. A thief's home is usually disordered, maybe Felt could have a more matured sense of orderliness.

In a more cautious mindset, a thief would not let such a house that sticks out compared to the ones he passed through be left unguarded. There might be traps, not an unusual thing.

Surprisingly, he found no traps as he reached the doorway. His surprise lifted further as he heard Felt's voice inside, talking to a second person inside, talking about her day. At first it was a light conversation, a bit of a banter between a young girl and someone who's likely in his senior years but after a minute or two, there was a tone of panic lacing the little one's voice. Slowly the intensity of the tone rose until…

"I LOST THE INSIGNIA!"

He nearly broke out laughing.

Did she realize just now that her prize is not with her? She ran such a distance, right from the capital, through the forest, through the slums, and now into her safe haven, and she didn't even notice? He couldn't believe it.

He might as well get this over with and milk out as much fun as he could.

"Knock, knock." He politely uttered before kicking the door down, wearing the politest shit-eating grin he ever wore as the destroyed portal created a puff of smoke upon landing. He might be from the Order that enforced emotion suppression, from inside and outside for the sake of keeping their erratic spells from going awry but after 4 years on the field of work outside the Underground City accomplishing many feats for his people, he's privileged to become his own person. He can show emotion whenever he feels like it. It's not like the elders are here to criticize his work ethic, are they?

He reveled in the look of shock on Felt's face before the recognition settled in.

"Hey! Why'd ya kick mah door down!?" The mountain of a man yelled from behind the counter of a bar, reminding him of the people from the frozen North.

He turned to the little one, "Good afternoon, Felt." He greeted, still smiling darkly. "How have you been on this fine day?"

"It's you, isn't it!?" She pointed at him accusingly. Doesn't beat around the bush, does she? "You were the one who took it!"

"Took what? What are you talking about?" He asked, his curiosity half-true. It's part of his people's code to never lie but he has his ways around that. It's not like Felt showed him what she stole, right?

"You know what I'm talking about! The insignia! You have it! I'm sure you do!"

"And what makes you think I have this insignia you are talking about?" He asked stoically, his insides literally boiling from his pent-up laughter. He was glad that he's went through this many times that he kept his voice from cracking with ease, "What I wanted from you in the first place were answers and you ran away before I could get them from you." He shifted in place, crossing his arms underneath his cloak. "Unless, of course, you don't wish to admit that you just possibly….dropped it, perhaps?"

Her cheeks flushed, clearly stating that he nailed this one right in the head. Such a girl, pointing the blame on someone else even though he did nothing but play around with her. It's not like he did anything too harmful, he only pushed her, that's it. "Sh-shut up! I didn't! I was so sure that I put it in my pocket!"

"Without even double-checking or even considering the fact that you were jumping around too often that it might have slipped out from your erratic movements?" He asked rhetorically before shaking his head in mock disappointment. After placing the broken half of the double doors against the open passage way, he walked towards the bar, bringing out a bag of his currency in hand as he did. He never left his gaze on the little one's own, practically staring her down, "I cannot help but begin to think that thievery is not fit for someone like you."

"This isn't my first job, y'know!? Besides, it's not like I have a choice, do I!? In my shoes, you wouldn't have any too! If I didn't, I might just sell my body instead!"

His gaze hardened, "I'd kill the very first person you would sell yourself to before you get the chance, Little One." He placed the bag atop the counter with a jingle, perking Felt's ears as she definitely heard the coins rattle inside. He turned to the large elder, "I will pay the damages for the door with 10 silver coins, Ser. Pardon the rude entrance, I just couldn't help myself." One of his unfortunate flaws in his work ethic, causing an unnecessary ruckus in most of his entrances, contributing to his reputation as somebody who leaves a grand impression. Most of his brethren would settle for quick and silent operations, less of a hassle if done correctly.

"Geez…" The giant scratched his bald head. Emurdol couldn't take his eyes away from the red tattoos on the left side of the forehead for a moment. Is this man truly not from the North? He may be too large even by their standards but he just couldn't get the resemblance out of his mind. "I thought you was gonna be some nutcase lookin' fer trouble but at least yer payin' for it."

"Hey, Grandpa Rom!" Felt called out his name. So this hulking old man is Rom, huh? They don't seem to be related, judging by their body sizes. They could just be close despite the age difference. "Don't start taking his side all of a sudden! You can't believe what this guy just did to me!"

"Avoiding the bigger issue, Felt?" He asked, turning his green eyes to her as he placed coin after coin on the table. "If it's even an issue to begin with. Why not just steal another one? It's not like some insignia would do you any favors, unless you plan to look pretty with it or sneak into the organization it represents."

"Hey, somebody is paying me to steal that! Besides, it's not just any insignia! It may look small but it's a lot more valuable than it looks!"

His hand froze from laying down the last coin for a few seconds before setting it down, his amusement suddenly gone. Pocketing his pouch back to his side, he asked with genuine wonder, "You were paid to do it?" That was outside his expectations. This was not part of the planning. Oh dear, this could go wrong if he doesn't think it through quickly…

Felt crossed her arms over her flat chest and nodded, "That's right. My client told me that I'd get ten holy coins for it."

He huffed lightly from the payment rewards. 'Holy coins', what kind of currency is that? "Not that you have the item now, do you?"

Her eyes widened again before she began to fume, looking down on her knees bitterly as she sat on the stool, muttering about the kind of trouble she'll be getting when her client comes.

Goodness, she really doesn't know a damn thing, does she? If only she asked the right questions, he might have told her that, yes, he does have the item with him.

By the way, when will that white-haired girl come? This should've been the perfect moment to step in. Didn't she already have a lead from that fruit vendor? Maybe she's late. She'd better be, otherwise this thing's not going the way it should be for him. She better not be getting lost in the slums either, he had high hopes for her and he expects her to uphold them.

"Here ya go, Felt." Rom poured what looks like milk into a cup and slid it towards the little one's reach. "Another one."

Still pouting, she took the cup in hand without looking away from the ground, "I told you, it's bitter, Grandpa Rom…." Despite that, she drank the thing whole and quickly emptying the cup.

In a quick glance, he looked over the entirety of the interior: this place does not seem like a safe haven and more like a shop. There were weapons, armors, jewels, stylized pottery, ornate shields, gold chalices, and other valuables. A loot house, perhaps?

"Hmm." He silently hummed, resting his elbow on the counter and supporting his cheek, spinning a silver coin idly while staring into space. Deciding that it was getting stuffy and there was no use being secretive at the moment, he let his hood down, freeing his white tresses. It felt like heaven, the damn thing was getting heavy after 3 or more hours of wearing it after that scuffle earlier.

He heard a deep hum in wonder, "Ya sure are sportin' some interestin' looks there, buddy."

He continued to spin the coin, not giving the remark any mind. He's used to it, "Thank you."

Spin…..spin….heads.

Spin….spin….heads.

Spin….spin….

"White hair, pale skin, and yer face looks too sharp for regular folks...ya look like ya come from nobility."

….tails.

"Incorrect. I look down on nobility. I despise royalty. And I hate politics." He said it all in an emotionless droll as if it was a repeated sentence, continuing to stare into nothing. "My people are always as pale as the dead and as sharp as knives. We were born this way, made this way, and are proud of it."

Spin….spin….tails.

"Hey." Felt called.

Spin…..tails….spin…..tails.

"What's your name?"

Spin…spin…..spin…heads.

He looked to the side, staring back at blood red orbs, "Emurdol…." He let his eyes flash green, eliciting a flinch from her. "….Viandegroc."

Spin…..spin…..

"That's quite the name there. Never heard anythin' like it. Where ya from, eh? From the North or something?" Rom asked, leaning close as he rested his massive arms against the counter. Each one was as long as Felt's upper body and bigger than his head.

….heads….

"Underground." He answered, opting to give the most common knowledge known to common folk and never about the explicit details, hoping to keep his people's fearsome reputation and secrecy intact for the sake of their safety. "Wherever this country is, it doesn't know that we exist. And I intend to keep it that way."

Spin…..spin…..

A knock came from the broken door, jolting Felt from her seat.

He slammed his palm on the coin before raising it up, gracing him the side of heads. Smirking freely, he stood up and went for the door. "I'll open it for you."

"No, wait!" He felt a tug from his cloak, stopping him from moving any further. "Don't! It's gotta be my client! I can't face her without the insignia!"

"I don't think that's my problem, Felt." He pointed out, "Besides, you can blame no one but yourself for your lack of attentiveness." He then began moving forward, easily slipping his cloak out of Felt's grip as if her hands were oiled and easily reached the door in two strides. Though to the giant and the little one, he might've looked like he was gliding when his feet isn't even visible.

With his hand on the door grip, he slowly pulled it close.

"Wait!"

"Too late~" He said in a singsong as he moved his body out of the way and let the door slam to the floor once again, puffing up the dust on the floor, making sure that the person outside sees Felt first.

And then…..

"Found you. This time, you're not getting away." There's the white-haired girl he was expecting. He forced back his victorious smile, keeping it hidden behind his stoic mask as he glided back towards the stool he recently sat on. "Ah! It's you!"

Oh, she noticed him? He kept walking to the stool, "Good afternoon, Dear Girl. Took you long enough to come here." He then took his seat, not facing the pair of eyes that's boring a hole into his back behind him. "But that's not important anymore." He gestured to Felt, who stood up stiffly. "She's all yours."

"Y-you set me up, didn't you, Old Man!?" Felt accused.

Goodness, these accusations sure keep coming from that girl. And did she just call him 'Old Man'? "I technically did but I was never specific. I merely pointed at where you went, she merely took her information on where you live from a fruit vendor." He pointed out, motioning to the person at the door.

"Wait, how do you know that?" The dear girl asked.

"Because I was tailing you." He answered matter-of-factly, still not facing her as he interlocked his clawed metal digits on the counter. "Now are you going to keep inquiring about my actions or are you going to reacquire your stolen item back?"

"What? Oh, yes. You there, return what you have stolen and I won't have to hurt you." He felt the mana in the air shift, the telltale sounds of crystals coming to be from the air gracing his ears. "Return my insignia. It's very important to me."

"I can't! Because…because…" Oh my, Felt's struggling.

"Because?"

"Because I lost it!" She actually admitted it, quite the humility this girl has. "I must've dropped it while I was running…"

"What?" There was the horror in the girl's voice. He could practically hear the gears in the girl's head turning at the possible consequences, whatever they were, "N-no! I refuse to believe it! You could just be lying! Tell me the truth! Right now!" He could hear more crystals being conjured. She's getting desperate~

"I'm telling you! I lost it! I-I'm sorry! I wasn't bei—"

"Do you even know how important that was to me!?" Oh dear, the girl broke out shouting. He nearly flinched from the outburst, "Don't you know why I even had that insignia with me!? Don't you realize that—"

"GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHA!‼"

He lost it. He couldn't take it anymore. So he broke out laughing raucously, loudly, throwing his head back as his white hair hung behind him like a curtain. He lightly thumped the counter as his stomach began to ache, his guffaw bouncing off the walls of the loot house. He could feel the odd stares of the three around him, likely thinking he's starting to become a madman.

Soon after a single minute and a dozen more seconds, he released a sigh of relief as the mirth left him and faced the two girls, swiveling in his seat. "Ah, I had my fun." He reached into his pockets and brought the eponymous item out, drawing gasps and shocked looks from both women.

Oh, this is so wonderful! Their faces, so priceless! Ha!

"AH! I knew you took it from me! You lied!"

He turned an incredulous eye to Felt, his stoic mask away for the moment to reveal a condescending look in his eyes, "Lied to you? When you accused me, I asked you why you thought it was me. You never answered it. Had you simply pressed me on, I would have submitted and gave it to you."

"Un, what's going on?" The white-haired girl asked, looking at the both of them oddly, her confusion rising to new levels. "What happened? And when did you have my insignia? I thought you two didn't worked together."

He sighed lightly through his nose. This girl can't seem to remember much, does she? "And that fact is still true. I work alone." He raised the insignia up to eye level, "How I acquired this is not important. What's important is that you're here. As to why I even hid it from Felt and you, it was to have a bit of entertainment at the expense of both your predicaments." He let himself smile, expressing how it went for him. "And I was not disappointed. Now that it's over, I should be giving this back to you."

"Eh?" The confusion rose even further on the girl's face. "What?"

"Damn you, Old Man." Felt cursed grudgingly.

He stood up, "Now that you're here, I'm going to give this to Felt."

He deftly placed it on Felt's hand.

"Eh!?"

"WHAT!?"

"What the!?"

By the Dragon, why is this so damn funny!? This has got to be the second stupidest thing he ever did and the looks on everyone's faces, especially Rom's, did not disappoint! Oh, he loves his job!

Fighting back the boiling laughter and keeping his face leveled, he swerved around Felt till he was behind her. "And now, you two have to fight." He placed his clawed hands atop the little one's shoulders and pushed her forward.

"Wait-wait-wait-wait!" He let go of her. "Just what the hell is going on!? Why'd you give it back to me!?"

"I have the same question." The girl commented helplessly, still confused, "What is going on?"

"I'm just making sure you get the privilege to earn your prize by your own hands, Dear Girl." He answered in a matter-of-factly tone again, "I'm not so audacious as to get in the way of your right to claim what's yours."

Felt sputtered even further, looking at him incredulously along with a glare as she swiveled her stares between him and the girl.

"Huh?" Goodness, this girl still doesn't get it. Is she still not over her confusion? Does she have to hold his hand to get it? "W-what?"

He sighed, deciding that it's hopeless to get the desired reaction out of her. It was fun anyway, he got what he wanted. Now to bring the conclusion of this complete bullshit of a situation he just created….

He opened a bag that was slung to his back, allowing the dust inside to slip out and powder the floors underneath his cloak. Gliding forward, standing beside Felt, he said, "However, you and I still have unfinished business. Ser Reinhard's interference was not supposed to happen." Snapping his fingers, the bone dust that littered the floors rose up as if swept by the wind and they gathered together in the air beside him, solidifying into one matter, creating a slim and smooth spear made entirely out of someone's leg with the foot replaced with a spearhead. "Be prepared, girl."

An indigo-colored glint flashed in the darkness behind girl, as if it was a blade reared back to—

"Right shoulder." He said quickly before letting the bone spear shoot forward like a bullet, whipping past the girl as she side-stepped its trajectory and it stabbed into the wooden wall, its spearhead piercing through and jutting outside. His target had already jumped upwards, nimbly twisting in the air with the dark cape flying behind before setting her feet on the ground, body slouching forward with the arms hanging.

He recognized the revealing attire, the dark hair and the purple flower immediately. His eyes flashed green once more, this time of pure malice. "You….!"

"That was a close one." The Spirit from before emerged from behind the girl's nape, looking at him appreciatively, "I didn't even see that one coming, thanks, Old Man." It thanked, giving a tiny thumbs up with its cat-like digit.

"Thank me when this is over, Spirit." He demanded without looking away from the assassin, waving his right hand in a pulling gesture and the bone spear on the wall flew to his hand obediently. "This woman deserve to die."

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. That's what the Spirit's keep yelling at him when he conversed with the woman the first time, and now he's willing to satisfy their bloodlust.

"A Spirit…That is a Spirit, isn't it?" The assassin rose her slumping body upwards, her voice remaining low and sultry, and the look on her face revealed the sick desire to give pain to others as what the Restless Spirits from before had warned him about in a chorus of screams. "How wonderful. I haven't dissected a Spirit's abdomen before."

Killing her is definitely a must. Her Soul would definitely have some interesting stories to tell once he imprisons it just like the rest. He can only hope to enjoy it when she falls under the scythe.

"Hey, what do you mean?" Felt asked.

"We can hardly negotiate if the item's original owner is here." This was Felt's client? How careless of her. "So I have a change of plans: I will slaughter everyone here." There's his cue. He has all the prompt he needed in order before given the right to take a life without any impunity. "You failed to see your job through to the end."

One step forward, and then the floor cracked underneath his sole as the distance between him and the woman was halved in an instant, his spear morphing into a scythe as he swung for her head. The latter elegantly ducked under the sharp end and twirled to strike at his abdomen. His free hand shot out to grab her wrist, letting go of his bone weapon as it pierced into the ground, stuck, and he landed a roundhouse kick to the waist, sending her tumbling on the floor before skidding to a stop on all fours.

She raised her head up to look at him, the seductive look on her face never left, only getting aroused as if the kick turned her on. "You got me, Handsome."

A split abdomen. That's what the Restless Spirits' consistent cause of death was. It holds to a simple conclusion: this woman was a serial killer. The sort of scum that his Order absolutely hated. He had no love for such types either and he intends to make her suffer just like the others before their demise.

Picking up his scythe, he wrenched it off the ground and added shorter blades below the one above along the shaft, turning it into a weapon that was fit to deliver supreme pain and copious amounts of bleeding instead of a quick death.

"Such power…what kind of magic is that?" The scum asked as she rose to her feet. "It catches my eye."

"The kind that will rot your bones and break your flesh." He answered darkly and gravely, never hiding his spite in the least as he closed the distance again as he took another step and swung directly downwards. The woman flipped backwards to evade, cartwheeling to the side and crawling on the walls as he swung after her, leaving broken wood and scratches behind him. Even with his finesse with the cumbersome farming tool, this woman is slippery. "You will intimately know the Order of the Serpent's magic before I take your Soul for myself!"

"Oh, a Secret Order?" The woman guessed in wonder and child-like interest, her voice maintaining that seductive inflexion even as she was flipping away from his skeletal weapon. "I feel honored to witness your arts in person."

"You have not seen everything, bitch." Now backing the woman against the wall, he spun in place and swung horizontally. She ducked underneath the blade as it sunk against the wooden surface and she swung again for his abdomen. Seeing it coming, he snapped the pole in half upon landing his weapon on the wall and, in a split second, a small bone shield conjured itself into his bracers, blocking the strike, fragments flying from the impact and allowing him to send another roundhouse kick to the waist, sending her tumbling away.

"That's the 3rd time." He said icily, the bone fragments on the floor floating up to his shield and reshaping into a small scythe in his hand. Grabbing the halved scythe behind him, it shifted into a smaller version as well before he charged, the dual bone arsenals crossed in front of his chest before he threw them. Lithely, the woman stood to face the side and both weapons passed in-between her.

He smirked; big mistake.

The weapons exploded like a shrapnel bomb, lethal fragments flying in every direction, creating holes on the walls, splintering wooden furniture, embedding into the floors and crumbling into dust before any could harm anyone that's not the assassin.

The result was as gruesome as the damage potential implies when someone is buffeted with fragments flying at top speeds. The most prominent detail was the blood that sprayed everywhere, a result of the woman's body being blown to pieces. Chunks of meat are present too, some lying on the floors while some slid down the walls from a hard splat, leaving red trails all the way to the ground.

To his surprise, the woman lost only a left arm. Usually, those of the receiving end lose more than one limb, and most of their insides. The woman, while filled with holes and bleeding a pond on the floor, with a face ruined to the point of being unrecognizable, was amazingly intact in comparison to his usual victims. With her clothes ripped and tattered along with her cloak, bones were visible through the open wounds, organs either shredded or pulverized, and her guts are spilling out too, just as what she had done to her victims.

"Y….you…..you just…." He can hear a voice stricken in horror. Felt, most likely.

"I pity your choice of employers, Little One." He told placidly, facing her with a nonplussed look, the front of his form splattered with blood as well as a few chunks of flesh. It created a slightly terrifying image on his person. "I would doubt that knife of yours and your meager fighting ability to be useful against her."

"But boy, you messed her up!" The Spirit appraised with morbid fascination, "You practically broke her into mush!"

"Puck!" The dear girl reprimanded, "You should not say that! It's too harsh and disrespectful!"

"But still…" Only the old giant seems to be calm despite the occurrence of violent magic, "…least she's dead. She was gonna kill us, after all."

"And she killed hundreds more, merely for the pleasure of seeing their insides." He informed, reaching up to wipe off the chunk that was sticking on his pale cheek. Once he did, he curled his clawed digits, the metal creaking under the pressure and the wicked smile crossed his lips. "Now….where were we?"

"W-what?" The dear girl was taken off-guard by his change of demeanor. "What do you mean?"

"First Ser Reinhard, now her." He nodded to the corpse behind him, "These interruptions are starting to annoy me."

"Huh?" By the Dragon, can't this girl get the damn hint already?

"Geez, Old Man, you're still gonna go for it?" He was only glad for the Spirit's presence. It's the first to get what he meant, not expressively threatened and only crossing its feline arms. "Do you have a grudge against us or something?"

His eyes flashed green, annoyed, "I'll have you know that I'm past my second decade…." More bone dust spilled out underneath him, forming into large fangs that revolved around his tall form protectively, promising anybody that came close immense pain. "….and just before I begin, this is nothing personal."

The Spirits screamed something to his ear.

Oh yes, he forgot.

"By the Dragon." He uttered irritatingly before suddenly swinging his arm behind him, the flurry of teeth crumbling to dust and solidifying into a flying spear before blasting a hole into the floor where the corpse was. The bitch was no longer there, instead the latter nimbly jumped in a flip and landed gracefully back to the floor before she could suffer the punishment, arching her back and moaning sensually.

Her clothes are still tattered, her form is swathed with blood all over, but her wounds were closing, rapidly at that. Even though this wasn't the first opponent with such a quirk in their name he ever faced, he still couldn't believe his eyes.

She had her severed arm in her hand and she reattached it to her shoulder. He watched the flesh merge together impossibly. Testing its ranger and motion, she turned to him. "Ahn….that felt…horrible…! I've never died like that before…..!" She informed, breathing heavily and her cheeks flushed hotly. By the Dragon, it reminds him of somebody he tortured, killed and imprisoned before. It ignited a murderous instinct in him but he suppressed it.

"Whuagh!?"

"You're still alive!?"

Ignoring Felt's and Rom's shocked reactions, Emurdol only had a certain remark to mention, "I thought you were merely bleeding."

"I was….but I didn't die, that is." The woman drew out her kukri, spinning it around her fingers with uncanny ease, barely even putting effort into it as she eyed him like a lover. "And you are full of surprises, Handsome. That really spooked me."

Growling and leaning forward, he once again closed the distance in an eye-blink and he was not surprised to see his diagonal swipe of his weapon being blocked. With a long kris in his right hand, a wavy knife of shining steel, meant to leave grievous wounds if it ever sunk deep into flesh, he brought the memory of his knife-fighting training back, executing the starting swipes; left, diagonal right, vertical right, stab, spun before switching to the left hand. He and the assassin traded slash for slash, sparks erupting from every collision of both metals, neither giving the other any ground for an opening. A swipe for her legs and she back-stepped out of the way before going for his exposed head. He leaned back, swinging the knife at the same time towards her outstretched arm—

—and began walking away.

The assassin did evasive maneuvers reflexively before her mind realized that her foe was not following up with another attack. Her expression cracked to reveal another besides amusement, glee and ecstasy: surprise. "What? Where are you going?" A genuine question.

"To the stool." He answered very matter-of-factly, trying not to take note of the equally shocked or incredulous faces of the others. He turned to the cat, feeling too proud to refer to the being with the way it called itself, "Fay, now's your cue. Expend all that mana you gathered."

"Ahaha!" The being laughed, "That was the most audacious move one would ever make to an opponent! You sure are interesting, Old Man. You got me starstruck with those bones flying around. I hope I return the favor with tricks of my own."

He settled back to his stool, resting his back against the counter before placing one arm atop it while the other playfully spun the kris into blurs and resting his ankle atop his knee as he felt the mana take shape into crystals that filled the air. Their numbers were plenty, counting up to 40.

"We haven't introduce ourselves, haven't we, Lady? My name's Puck." The numerous crystals descended down on the woman, "Remember my name in the afterlife!"

Dust gathered as the barrage landed on the woman, the sound of ice gathering and hardening filling the air as she was imprisoned within.

"Did they got'r?" Rom asked, eyes wide at the easy victory.

"Like hell." He replied. There's no way it's ever that easy to end a fight with just that, especially if the opponent is somebody that's more than she appears. And his suspicions were correct. The ice prison was starting to crack, shining from within as the same voice started speaking again.

"It's a virtue to be prepared." The prison shattered into a million pieces before fading into nothingness and the sight of the assassin covering herself with her cape graced his eyes before the cloth disappeared in a flash of light. "I didn't want to wear it since it was heavy but it certainly served its purpose."

So, a cloak woven with magic to shield against one spell. Hmph. It surely didn't work on his. Those sickles were made from actual bone, not from mana.

With a flourish of her weapon, the woman advanced on the girl with terrifying speeds that matched his.

He thought he should intervene but when the girl conjured another icy pane of protection that blocked the knife coming for her head, he figured that he should leave the whole fight to the pair. Swiveling on his seat to face the counter, still spinning his kris, he realized that Rom had retreated to the side next to Felt. He mocked a pout, "No bartender to serve me something cold to drink?" His question was muffled from the sound of conflict happening behind him, ice embedding into the ground and continued banter between the spirit and the assassin.

"For a girl, you're surprisingly good at fighting."

"Well, it's been a long time since anyone referred to me as a simple girl."

"From my perspective, most people I deal with are babies. But still, you're so strong I'm nearly pitying you."

"To be complimented by a Spirit must be quite the honor for me."

He tried to ignore it but he was slightly surprised that he could hear the bitch talking from the walls, even as she dodged every crystal bullet thrown her way. Was she scaling it again? She must have amazing grip with those hands, crawling on walls like a spider. Considering who she is, the comparison wouldn't be far off. She's an attractive woman with a knife hidden behind her back, anyone caught in her web is bound to be eaten.

Oh, he could feel the mana gathering towards the girl again, and the amount this time is quite intense, enough to eat up nearly the entire interior of this building's worth of energy.

The battle fell silent. Did they stop firing? He turned to the assassin and he found her foot encased in crystals to the floor, pinning her in place.

"My foot."

"I wasn't just throwing those things around in random, y'know." Puck pointed out.

"Does this mean I've been caught in your trap?"

"Goodnight!" He felt the massive eruption of mana energy come from the girl's last position, creating a powerful jet of pure crystal, representing a battering ram propelling at massive speeds onwards to the assassin with enough force to even destroy the door behind her. The effect was immense as it was preceded by white light, and it incased the interior of the building with sheets of ice.

His eyes widened as the woman actually dared to let her foot be shredded in the motion of escaping the trap and jumping out of the ice attack's way, letting blood flow from her leg and flick out into the floors and walls before landing in a not-so-elegant poise to the ground.

"How lovely. I thought it was over for me." Not the most ladylike conduct he's seen in the Above-World. It was a common assumption that only men would go that far. This woman is clearly a deviation, and that makes her more dangerous.

He heard a hushed conversation between Puck and the girl. Turning to face the two, he was just in time to witness the spiritual being fade, its miniature form becoming transparent that he could see the wall through its furry body. In a flash of mild-green light, dispersing into little balls of light before gathering to the gem hanging from the girl's choker.

Did the being exhaust itself? Maybe maintaining a corporeal form has a time limit for Spirits. That's one thing to remember from now on.

"Going away?" He snapped his attention back to the assassin, watching as she grabbed a piece of the crystal formation beside her and placed it against her injured foot's sole, creating a makeshift shoe. Tapping it against the floor, it showed that she regained her mobility. "How unfortunate." She charged towards the girl at breakneck speeds.

Gripping the hilt of his kris, he turned his head to the opposite direction just in time to see the dear girl shield herself with the pane of ice again and a single crystal floating behind her. The assassin circled around her rapidly, striking with her knife at any opening she saw only for the girl to block with either the green crystal or the pane of ice.

He can tell that it won't last. The woman's speed was increasing, the slashes getting too numerous for the girl to keep up. As the exchange proceeded for as long as almost a single minute, the rhythm was finally broken as the assassin spun at blurring speeds around the ice pane and kicked the white-haired girl in the side, sending her flying to the counter, only to land gracefully in a crouch, holding her side.

Like a spin-top, the assassin spun at impossible speeds until she reached the counter and slashed vertically at the girl's position, which she dodged by jumping away and unwittingly slamming her back against the shelves. She collapsed on the floor and the shelf contents buried her in a cloud of dust.

Well, that wasn't graceful. And that happened almost right beside him, not that he flinched, of course. Without hesitation, he swung his kris at her and it was subsequently blocked, sparks erupting from the impact, all while he didn't leave his seat.

The ground shook as massive footsteps stomped on hardwood floors, belonging to the giant that was Rom holding a massive spiked club in his massive hands for an attack. "Here I go!"

"Oh my!" The assassin leapt away as the club swung at her last position. He found himself impressed with the speed of the swings despite Rom's size. It seemed as if he was swinging a toothpick. The gusts of wind that came with it brought a nostalgic feeling as well. Truly a good reminder of Northmen strength. "Isn't it a little rude to cut in on the dance?"

"Hey!" He heard Felt's voice call out to him. He turned a bored eye towards her.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice barely above the scuffle happening behind him that he was almost unheard.

"Aren't you gonna do something!? Why are you just sitting there like nothing's happening around you!?"

He easily suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, "I've done my part, Little One. The Dear Girl has done hers. Rom is doing his. Now it's your turn as well. Be prepared."

"But—"

Whatever she had to say, it wasn't able to continue as the entire building quaked from the destructive blow of a club destroying the entirety of the crystal formation, sending more than a few objects of value falling from the shelves as well as making every table and chair bounce. He turned his eyes to Rom and he found the assassin standing atop his club with apparent ease. "What the!?"

"It's because you're so strong that I could do this!"

The purple blade was coming down on Rom's exposed neck.

"Not happening!" Felt yelled and he watched her thrown blade spin towards the assassin, hitting the descending blade and sending it off-course to slide on the side of the giant's neck. Blood spurted uncontrollably as the large man fell to the ground like a boulder, shaking the floors once again as he lay still, blood pooling below the neck.

"Grandpa Rom!"

That was an impressive hit from the little one. He saw it for sure. The assassin's knife completely missed the vital area. There's still a chance to save the giant. Someone of that size needs a whole lot of blood to keep himself up and that amount of bleeding doesn't look fatal to someone like Rom.

"You bad girl." The assassin now had her sights on Felt. The latter now began to shake in fear. He could see it. "You have neither strength nor resolve to fight, you should have just stayed in the corner looking small."

He clenched his fist on the counter, the metal creaking against the tight grip. Come on, Felt. Move it. Fight back. Use that fear to strengthen your movements and fight back.

The woman was beginning to close the distance between her and the little one, simple steps taken as the violet weapon was slowly raised up, ready to end a life. And Felt's not even moving away.

What is she doing!? For all the spunk she showed earlier, she's now frozen in fear!? Come on! Move it!

The blade swung down.

Damn it.

A boney hand shot out from the hardwood floors, its length as long as a tall man's leg as it grabbed the assassin's wrist, stopping the blade from dropping any further to reach Felt's head and distracting her long enough for him to walk up and deck the bitch right in the chest with an armored fist. The woman's feet slid across the floors and she hit the wall with a loud thud. A crystal was coming to impale her head from the left but it was easily deflected, recovering from her hit quite easily.

It seems the dear girl has recovered. No wonder he has high hopes for her rather than Felt, she knows how to fight and she doesn't know when to quit. One of the many things he can admire from Above-Worlders.

While the two resumed their dispute, he'll have a word with the little one.

First off, "AGH!" He slapped her with his armored hand. She should be grateful that he's not utilizing the claws at the fingertips. They're not just for decorations, after all.

Secondly, he grabbed her by the vest and drove her to the wall, pinning her there as he raised her up, her feet dangling off the ground.

"Gng…!" She grunted, pained tears leaking out of her eyes as she looked at him with shock and newfound fear, "What're you….!?"

"What?" He said with a cold tone, his eyes glowing a violent green and casting a horrifying image on his face, "You ask me 'what?', after you just stood there like an idiot instead of striking back or moving out of the way?"

The fear was clear in her eyes, stuttering as she tried to find the words to say, "I-I was…."

He pulled her close and slammed her against the wall again, no longer lifting her up and instead letting her feet feel the ground. "You got two choices, Felt." He told, his voice a malignant hiss, piercing throughout the noise of conflict happening behind him and reaching her ears, "You be useful and fight. Or, be useless and get the fuck out. I will fight her and I don't want your pathetic behind hindering me or the girl by being a distraction." He said with full finality before releasing her.

Twisting around, his cloak flying in the motion, he drew out his two of his signature weapons. A pair of sickles in each hand, curved like crescent moons with black steel glinting from the limited light, souvenirs from his adventures outside the Underground City.

While the assassin was occupied attacking the unbreakable pane of ice, he struck, his weapons motioned for a scissor maneuver. Seeming to have sensed his presence and intent, the bitch turned around and moved out of the way. Not allowing her to go far from his reach, he advanced with a spin, his weapons slicing through the air dangerously before swiping both down at once. His weapons were held back as the knife stopped both from skewering her eyes.

"Move it!" He barked, his voice a guttural growl. "Felt, move your damn ass! NOW!"

The little one needed no other prompt. She bolted up to her feet, springing and moving so fast that the untrained eye could not keep up with her, she high-tailed to the window.

"You think I'll let her escape?" With one hand, she held back his sickles with the knife while the other drew out a small knife from her hip. As she threw it over the blade lock aiming for the thief, a skeletal stalagmite rose up from the ground to intercept it, saving Felt from a stab in the back.

"HA!" He roundhouse kicked her again, but this time she blocked it with her knee and kneed him in the gut, sending a wave of shock across him.

She actually hit him. Well, congratulations. Not enough to beat his record of the hits he managed on her.

"That's the first time in a while that someone has made me feel a little angry."

"Savor it." He emotionlessly said, spinning the sickles in his grasp for a bit. "Rejoice, for that one single hit will be all the effort you'll ever manage." Another flash step and he barely chopped her head off with a scissoring cut as she bent her body backwards at the level of her knees before spinning in place and swinging a knife to his neck. Bringing up one hand to block the attack, he brought the other to sever the arm.

He failed to see the kick to the back of his head coming. Disoriented, his feet brought him towards the wall without the slightest stagger until he rested his back against it to get his senses back together.

"What was that about being the only effort I'll manage?"

"Shut the fuck up….!" He growled, his grip on the sickles tighter than ever as the swooning environment began to settle.

"Don't forget about me." Oh, that stupid white-haired girl. She shouldn't be announcing herself like an idiot if she's going to attack someone from behind. He wasn't surprised when the icicle bullet was sliced apart as if the assassin was swatting a fly.

"I've grown tired of that game. Do you think you can still keep me entertained?" That smile. That voice. She's provoking him.

The nerve this bitch has to taunt a Priest of the Serpent. In times when it happened, the choices of a fitting punishment are endless.

"I'll show you FUN!" Revealing the entire front of his bone cuirass as he swept aside the front of the cloak like a curtain, he charged with quick steps and sparks flew when sickle met knife. A swing to the shoulder, the violet knife directed the swing downwards, creating an opening to his head. He kept her from taking advantage of it by his other hand swinging to intercept the strike, parrying it upwards and allowing him to swing horizontally with the other sickle. She dashed backwards before dashing back forwards, nearly shredding his entire torso if he hadn't crossed his sickles together to block, sparks erupting from the contact.

The second swing coming his way was intercepted, by an accurate shot from an icicle from the girl.

Uncrossing his arms, he spun in place like a windmill, his blades cleanly bisecting a nearby chair and leaving several lacerations on the bar counter without impeding the speed of his deadly twirl in the slightest. The woman had jumped over him, landing outside his reach and placing him in-between the two women in the room so there wouldn't be any support coming from the girl unless she tries the risk of hitting him instead of the assassin.

Slamming his foot down to stop his movements, he twisted sharply and swing both sickles to the left horizontally. As the assassin back-stepped out of range, he swung one sickle back to the opposite direction. She ducked underneath it, his other hand quickly swing to the same direction—

The wrist was caught in her hand.

"Got you."

And it was severed from the elbow with her knife.

His eyes widened in complete shock. Outside of his control, his other arm struck back in a return swing, only for it to be severed as well, landing on the floors with a thick metallic thump before he was kicked in the chest hard enough to send him sliding backwards. Right beside the girl.

"Oh no!" He felt concerned hands lay on the back of his shoulders, "Your arms! Are you alright!?"

He didn't reply, only taking his time to acknowledge the situation he was in. As he did, dirt fell out of the stumps of his arms.

"What is this?" Elsa wondered, picking up the severed metal hand and looked on as more dirt poured out of the cross-section as she tipped it over. She turned her eyes to him. "What are you?"

"Is this…." He saw the girl place a hand below the cross-section of his elbow, bits of the substance landing on her palm from his peripheral vision, "…dirt?"

"I'm glad…"

"Hm?" The bitch tilted her head as his low voice reached her.

"I'm glad the Order taught me how to let the very earth come to life." He commented, his voice toneless but full of authority, demanding to be heard and paid attention to, "I'm glad I taught myself how to recreate bones from dust."

The dismembered arms twitched, as if forcing themselves to stay alive and active, defying death's grip. The dirt on the floors and on the girl's palms began to levitate, defying the gravity of the world.

"I'm glad that I suffered this incident many times before. I'm glad that I don't need a smithy to repair these arms anymore."

A second pair of arms emerged from his cloak, reaching to take large folds of the dark fabric before pulling it off his head and stashing it inside the bag strapped to his back. He can feel the eyes of both women widening as they took in his entire form bare for the world to see.

He wore simple plate armor, tinted black and strapped comfortably against his gaunt form from torso to hips, built from the metals of the north. Light but durable. Just the way he liked it. But an entire set of bones framed his entirety, as if his skeleton was placed outside instead of inside. A full ribcage surrounded his entire chest, complete with a spinal column that lined the middle of his back. What should be the pelvis is replaced with a boney belt, a long-dead creature's spine circling his waist while a skull with extra-long incisors served as a buckle. His pants, completely covered in black armor of necromantic design, were lined with fingers bones from thigh to ankle, human skulls covered his kneecaps and there were two femurs placed on both sides of each leg, attached to the skulls as if to function as a fitting swivel for the knee.

The detached arms flew back to his stumps, the discarded dirt slipping into the cracks and filling the interior to the brim before the distinct click of metal sliding in place pierced the stiff air.

"I'm glad the bones inside were already spread apart. Saves me the time from repairing them back together again."

But the entire armor in his person paled in comparison to the one detail hanging from the level of his shoulders. He had 6 arms. Each wearing a matching pair of clawed gauntlets, one pair was recently repaired, curling fingers experimentally before hanging loosely from atop his shoulders; another pair hung behind him, likely his original arms, interlocking fingers behind his waist before they unraveled, glowing in swamp green energy while one hand took the bony wand with a skull top out of his belt; and the last pair, connected behind the joint of the second pair, were elegantly crossed behind him before separating, drawing out two wavy daggers that stuck out from the downward-facing sheaths found in-between his bag and his waist, spinning like a blur from clawed fingers before passing it to the first pair of arms.

"Even so…" With a roar, front arms gripping the two krises in an inverted grip, the middle arms low and glowing with deathly arcane energy, and the back arms curling its fingers like claws before reaching forward past his shoulders, he charged with the ground shaking from the bones rising to his call from the earth, "...YOU STILL HURT MOTHER!"

In a flash, he was right in front of the assassin with 2 pairs of arms swinging in an attack, one motioned to leave a cross cut and the other motioned to grab. In a blur of black, the woman had disappeared to the ceiling, then rebounded to the walls, bouncing off the ceiling, floor, and walls before descending down on him.

Sparks of the assassin's violet blade flew as the knife hands reached behind him at an impossible range, the elbows bent fully backwards and blocking a killing swipe from landing on his neck. As the woman began bouncing all over the place again, the wooden floors fell apart as countless stalagmites erupted from the ground, a graveyard of skeletal pillars taking over the foundation of the loot house. Like traps, they exploded in a cloud of deadly shrapnel at the flick of his wrist or the snap of his fingers as soon as the bitch was near one of them.

"So beautiful! You truly are strong, Handsome." She complimented, her voice laced with both honey and venom. The sounds of bones exploded should have blocked all voices from being heard but her voice pierced into his senses quite clearly. "You're magic is nothing short of amazing. I can't help but be jealous." Three pillars exploded in unison, her presence setting them off but failing to land a single nick on her.

2 skeletal arms formed from 2 separate pillars, picking up the dropped sickles and throwing them to the owner. The back arms easily grabbed both out of the air and his defenses are fortified, now allowing him to defend from both front and back. Now no longer needing to worry about an attack coming from behind, the green glow in his hands brightened, the energies gathering to the nearby pillars of bones and skulls.

9 pillars close to him dispersed, spiraling into a clump of bones above his head like a cloud, shooting an endless barrage of teeth, claws, serrated bone, and other lethal parts of the human anatomy, artificial or natural.

The assassin, starting to become a representation of the Order of Witch Hunters that continually hunt his kind, renowned for their agility, acrobatics and prowess in silent kills, moved without stopping, evading the shrapnel stream of bones with blurring speeds as always as she ran across every available space, from floor to ceiling. With a snap of his fingers, the cloud of bones exploded, creating a large hole on the roof and sending countless fragments into all directions, littering everywhere that's not him with the lethal ends of its entirety.

"Thank you for the available cover." The woman thanked as she emerged behind a nearby bone pillar riddled from the bone storm, instantly closing the distance as quickly as he had done before, only to block vicious swipes from a sickle and a kris as two right arms sensed her presence. The middle hand flicked the wand it held and a bone spear nearly skewered her side before she was flipping away in slick backhand springs, the next stream of bone weaponry coming in from all the remaining bone pillars, their entirety slowly reduced from being used as ammunition. Swords, spears, knives, stakes, darts, teeth, and claws. The pillars creating these weapons were slowly shrinking, their integrity waning very quickly from the visibly desperate attack.

Inwardly cursing and without giving it away from his face that expressed nothing but a silent rage, he was starting to realize his bad luck. His mana was starting to deplete. Before he was forced into this country, his mana was already brought down by half. After finishing his final assignment, leaving the entire reputation of his people brighter than they could ever imagine, placing them in the most venerable position greater than their rivals, the Order of Holy Knights and releasing the land from all the Supreme Sins, he needed no more replenishments as he planned to finally settle down. He had no elixirs to restore his lost mana and he hasn't eaten for more than a week!

If he doesn't kill this bitch sooner, then his defeat will be most certain and guaranteed. If only he could grab ahold of the woman, he could make her organs implode or even poison her entire system, sending her to a slow passage to the maw of the Dragon, writhing and choking in her own breath. Or even simply, exhume the most potent toxins out of his body and render the entire building completely contaminated and inhabitable.

But there's still innocents in the building. The old him wouldn't have cared, and he hated himself for it.

He growled balefully, the reserves of his mana nearing the limit. Deciding that it's either now or never, he will have to finish everything in one final spell. Looking over the girl once more, still hidden behind the barrier of bones he created earlier to keep the shrapnel from hitting her, he let his pillars waste away until there was nothing more. And when there were nothing more, he let his will grab ahold of every skeletal weapon scattered everywhere to levitate from the surface they lay on or stuck to, and he screamed.

There was nothing but a sandstorm of bone, like a twister of horrifying intensity and murderous design had invaded into the building, decimating every possible material present, from wooden tables to steel objects. He wasn't safe from it either even as he was in the eye of it. Some of the fragments flew off the terrible cyclone and struck his armor, piercing through his grieves, slipping through the gaps of his cuirass' troll bones and one even embedded itself to his shoulder. He bit back the pain, and did not try to pull them out.

Draining every last bit of his mana till he was nearing the bottom, he swung his hands apart and the cyclone held still, as if time had stopped, before the sharp ends of each fragment pointed outwards and he barked the last call. "HA!"

With the speed of an arrow, each bone projectile flew and embedded themselves to every surface possible in the building, puffing up a heavy cloud of dust and filling the air with a powerful sound of wood being crushed and pelted in a single instance.

Everywhere in his line of sight, there wasn't a layer of the building interior without a skeletal weapon sticking into it. Whatever remained of the chairs, tables, metal, stools, the counter, or anything of value is reduced to pieces and splinters. There was more moonlight breaking in as well, the ceiling filled with numerous holes from the destruction.

Despite his clear exhaustion and sudden coughing from the dust, his legs refused to give in, instead holding firm in keeping his entire upper body up. His slumping back is the only indication of his tired state. His middle arms resting on his knees, the rest of his other arms lowered with the grip of their respective weapons relieving their tension but not loose. With a gesture, the shrapnel embedded into him slipped out and crumbled to dust. He didn't bleed.

Turning his eyes to the bone wall he created to protect the girl during his merciless onslaught, he saw her peek out from the middle of a ribcage.

"Is it over?" She asked.

She's alright. He let himself release a well-earned sigh of relief.

Then his weapons were raised up again in a stance.

"Nope~"

His eyes widened in horror at that honey-and-venom voice. He turned his eyes up to the hole in the ceiling and watched as the assassin crawled inside like a lizard before dropping to his level with an elegant flip, her form showing no change on her already damaged form. Not even a new nick of injury on her blood-soaked skin.

"That could have killed me again, but it was your fault for giving me lots of cover." She remarked with the same seductive smile on her face, the sadism in her eyes becoming more apparent than it was before. "Can you still continue entertaining me? Your mana has depleted. You're tired. And you can barely keep your body up. Your age must be catching up to you, Handsome."

Damn it, even this bitch considered him an Old Man. Looks like he will have to leave it to Mother. He didn't expect to start doing it again so soon, and the last time was merely 4 weeks ago. He hoped that she doesn't ruin his body and his armor five times over like last time.

"What are you waiting for?" He hissed, his entire body slumping forward like a zombie, his middle arms sagging while the rest remained primed and ready for another confrontation, wavy knives and sickles glinting in the air as they illuminated from the moonlight breaking in from the holed ceiling. "Come closer and meet your death!"

The assassin was quick to comply, her body leant forward like his own with two of her signature knives in hand as she charged him. He let his consciousness fade away, letting himself submit to his tired state and as he was fully prepared to let his body be manipulated by Mother—

"That's enough."

His concentration was completely snapped as a very familiar voice erupted from the ceiling.

He was instantly brought back to an awake-state, his alertness jumpstarting as he watched the section of the ceiling between him and the assassin cave in, allowing a cloud of dust and a large ray of moonlight to break through and expose the very familiar silhouette of a certain Swordsman that entered from the new opening. Fiery hair. A large blade sheathed behind his waist. It's him.

"It seems I was too late. But I'm glad that it didn't get any worse."

The visible details brought the name very quickly to his mind, "Reinhard van Astrea."

The swordsman turned to look over his shoulder, giving him a polite smile, "Good evening. I didn't expect us to meet again, Good Ser."

"No one expected you to arrive out of nowhere." He retorted, his extra arms sheathing their weapons, realizing the arrival of help. He inwardly admitted that he's glad for the intervention. He can't fight any further, his body's aching too much, and the bones embedded in him, especially his shoulder, are starting to become a bitch to bear silently. "If you are here to help, you are fucking late."

Reinhard chuckled sheepishly, "I can't blame you. But to compensate, I will finish this battle for you." He motion with his hand to the girl peeking out of the bone wall. "Would you kindly head over there and guard her? I'd appreciate it if you do."

Even if it was practical, it's still annoying to have someone else do the job for you when you could do it on your own. "I'll do as you say. Just end it, quickly!" This man carries immense power, and as bizarre as it is to him, he's far stronger than Emurdol himself.

He closed his eyes, holstering his wand and tipping his body back with his arms crossed over his chest as if resting in peace in the coffin, his form about to meet the floors, and his extra arms' joints bent backwards as they slammed their palms on the floors, keeping him elevated from the ground with his legs joining in the motion. Like a six-legged spider, his form skittered on the floors, crawling up to the walls, his form literally horizontal as his four other arms stuck to the walls like glue until he reached the girl's distance.

Seeing that he was secure behind the bone wall with the girl, he let the extra arms lay him gently against the floor beside Rom's massive body before they sagged around him as if exhausted. He can feel small hands feel his chest and head.

"Are you okay?" The girl frantically asked, her gaze scouring over his form for any injuries. "Oh dear, look at those wounds. Don't worry, I can heal you." She told him before a warm sensation crossed over his neck, the feeling of his open wounds closing the same way he would with Reconstruction.

So she knows healing magic?

"One on the left shoulder." He told, relaxing himself and fought the urge to drain the mana from the atmosphere. She's using it to heal him first. "And another on my left wrist."

"Right." He felt the sensation of soothing warmth start from the shoulder and spread all over his chest, making him sigh in content as the tension of battle seemingly left his body, as if goaded into believing that everything will be fine. His wrist is then healed afterwards when the warmth on his chest was gone. He was just about to pass out from the relief when her voice turned into a yelling prompt, "Reinhard, do it! I've finished healing him!"

His eyes shot open as every mana in the atmosphere gathered to the direction of the swordsman. What's happening?

"The Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert."

"From the line of master swordsmen, Reinhard van Astrea."

A bright light emanated behind the bone wall, the ground shaking tremendously.

Then came a powerful explosion that leveled the entire half of the loot house to nothing.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

When what was comparable to a cyclone's gust of wind had finally stopped blowing, the objects of the building now landing back down to the ground, his extra arms steadily raised him up to his feet, his body level with his knees before he rose up to an upright posture like a lever. His tired eyes turned to the location of the spectacle, only to see the outside, the entire section of the building that Reinhard faced simply gone. The other slum houses, the dead trees and a wide view of the night sky greeted him.

"Such power….if that woman's vaporized, it would not be a surprise…." He muttered in awe, staring up at the Moon before facing the swordsman, looking at him in a new light and allowed a wry smile to cross his lips, "If you are that strong, it may be wiser to be a friend of yours instead of an enemy."

"Well, if you want to. Sure, I have no problem being your friend." Reinhard said, his voice kind and accepting, "And you're strong yourself. I may not have seen much but looking over the handiwork you've done before I arrived, it's a clue that you're a formidable opponent. I'd hate to be an enemy of yours if I can help it."

Hmph. Strong, Modest and friendly. He was tempted to chuckle. Such qualities reminded him of Pericus, that annoying bastard.

"Oh, and…" He just realized that the swordsman was wielding one of his bone swords before it crumbled to dust in his hand, "…I may have used one of your weapons without permission and...broke it. Sorry about that." He apologized, looking sheepish as he rubbed his head.

"Hm." He shook his head. "I can just make more."

"Is it over?" The dear girl who was still on the floor asked weakly, leaning against his leg as the extreme siphoning of mana as well as healing him must have affected her too.

"Fortunately." He answered her. He grabbed both her hands and steadily rose her up to her feet, "Can you get up?"

"Y-yes, somehow…." She replied, shakily rising up to her feet and still leaning on him for several seconds before standing up on her own.

He turned to the swordsman once again, "But more importantly, how did you know hwat was happening here?"

"Well…" Reinhard turned to face behind him, looking at Felt who was peeking behind what remained of a pillar. "I heard her desperate calls for help and I did as she asked, coming here to intervene and perform my job as a knight."

An amused smirk crossed his lips. "If your occupation includes wrecking buildings apart, you have done mightily."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh, Good Ser?" Reinhard said, wincing and putting a hand over his chest. That dramatic action alone looked dignified. It was almost sickening.

"She's…" He turned to look at the white-haired girl behind him, regarding the little one with mixed emotions. He turned back to Felt, staring at her right in the eye, which she looked away from.

He let out a sigh. At least she deserved this, "You did well, Felt." Felt turned back to him, shocked. "It seems you have proven me wrong. You contributed to this conflict. I appreciate your efforts." He said honestly, even though his voice held little emotion out of habit and out of exhaustion. He really needed that intervention. Mother's control is not what he likes at the moment.

Felt smiled slightly at his thanks, "No problem."

"As for you…" He turned around, facing the white-haired girl. "…are you alright?"

"Uh, yes. Somehow." She answered, unsure for the sudden concern when he attacked her twice in a single day. "But what about you? Are you alright? You just used up a lot of mana with those…horrible spells and you look out of it. I'm surprised that your legs are still holding you up like that."

He sighed. Well, it's not like it's a secret anymore. She did see him reconnect the front arms and she even heard him say the juicy details of its entirety as well. He should just let it out, "It's not what it seems, Dear Girl. Just like these arms," He gestured to his 4 extra appendages, one pair was crossing its arms behind his back while the other hung loosely behind his waist, interlocking fingers. "My legs are also—"

"Look out!"

His instincts flared at the same time Reinhard shouted,

His legs and appendages sprung to life, twisting him around against his will and he beheld a pile of rubble burst apart, presenting Elsa who was formerly buried under it, the assassin coming right for the girl with her knife reared back for a last desperate attack.

Mind and body quickly acknowledging the incoming threat, he willed the arms to push the girl out of the way to take her place while he, even if he was nearing his limit, pushed himself anyway to create one last stalagmite of bones to rise up from the ground. His four other hands were ready to strike and dismember once the block is successful, but instead of that happening the slash that was meant for the girl was powerful enough to pulverize the pillar to dust and send him rocketing to a pile of rubble behind him just from the blast of impact.

That one hit felt like it came from a hammer instead of that damn knife of hers.

The back of his head had hit something hard, making him feel dizzy as he tried to see through the wobbling world, Reinhard and Elsa stood facing each other until the latter jumped away and scaled over the broken walls, saying something about bowels.

At least that's a problem out of the way.

"Ow." He rubbed his head, easing the pain.

"Are you okay!?" Asked the girl worriedly as she knelt before him, looking at him worriedly. "That was too reckless! You just used up all your mana and you pushed yourself even further! What if your gate was broken!?"

Such concerns. It's been a while since he heard them being directed his way. No one would dare show concern to somebody who looked like one of the demons he killed.

"Not the worst thing I have done." He said, slowly feeling the pain at the back of his head fade away as he felt the necromantic energies return to his legs and arms as he tried to stand up, bringing Mother back to his being. Reinhard and the girl quickly took both of his arms to help him up. Only when his legs seemed stable did he tell them to let go. "Thank you." He turned to the last place he saw Elsa leave. "Is she gone?"

"For now." Reinhard answered, looking at the same direction before turning to him with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Good Ser. The fault is mine for letting my guard down. If it weren't for you, this person would have been wounded, and if that were to happen, I would be underserving of my title as a knight…"

He growled lowly, waving off his guilty rant. "Learn from this, Ser Reinhard. Do not rest until you find the body and made sure it is dead. I watched people make that same mistake several times in my life and I end up being the only one who lived."

"Yes. I shall not forget your advice." The sword saint bowed, dignified in every little movement. "Once again, forgive my carelessness."

"Mm." He looked up at where the bitch was last seen, and he sneered, "If she comes back, she will not live again." He promised, releasing what should be his final sigh of relief. Thank the Dragon it's over. "Finally…" He turned to the girl, "….once again, are you alright?"

"Yes." She bowed with sincere gratitude, "You saved my life. Thank you. I'm sorry but I never got to know your name. Will you please share it with me so I can thank you properly?"

Such dainty manners. He likes her already. "Hmm." He flicked the locks on his right gauntlet open, loosening its tight enclosure before pulling it off with a satisfied sigh, making him feel the wonderful sensation of release as his surprisingly lanky hand, pale as snow and calloused from past battles, met the cold air. He then held it out to her, palm upwards, "Before that, why not tell me yours first, Dear Girl."

She stared at his hand, then up to his stoic face, which revealed just a bit of humanity in them, especially when his green eyes now carried a soft and gentle flare within them when they were burning with pure bloodlust minutes ago as he squared off against the assassin that wanted her life when he had no reason to defend her.

Deciding to consider his good intentions, she smiled and held his open hand with both her own. She was surprised at how soft it was, despite its cold temperature and battle-worn state, "Emilia. Just Emilia. Thank you for saving me."

"E-mi-lia…" He tested the name, and he found it really easy to pass through his tongue. "It's a lovely name." He closed his fingers and gently shook her little hands up and down before letting go and having his extra arms clap the pattern of greetings before inclining his head, "I am a Priest of the Order of the Serpent. The Third Right Claw of the Dragon. Emurdol. Emurdol Viandegroc. It is my greatest pleasure to know you."

"E-mur-dol." Reinhard tested his name, "What a fascinating Organization you belong to, and an interesting name and title as well, has quite the foreboding feeling as well. I would like to know what you meant by the part about the 'Third Right Claw of the Dragon'." He commented with a smile.

"Very well." He nodded as he crossed his arms, his gauntlet still in his left hand. "It is my earned title through the feats and accomplishments I have managed in my homeland, under the blessings of the Queen, Lady Sabarra."

"Of a different allegiance, and yet you still saved a life. This couldn't have ended well without you, Ser Emurdol." He complimented with a smile. "Anyway, I'm glad you managed to defend Lady Emilia in time." Reinhard gestured to the pile of bone dust, "That pillar of bones sure was a lifesaver. Ironic and maybe a bit morbid, but it did the job. We can be glad that we can walk away without any fatal injuries."

His extra hands sprung to life, grabbing at his abdomen, as if they were trying to keep something from coming out. "Wha…"

Then he felt the sensation of a deep cut, through the armor and into the flesh beneath. His eyes widened in complete horror. The realization made the blood spurt out dangerously through the gaps of his artificial appendages as they tried to cover the unnoticed wound: he got disemboweled.

…

….

…..

Such a sight, being looked down with deep distress and concern by the girl he just saved and the man who saved him. What a way to go, being gutted without even realizing it. He thought he would grow old, either inside or outside the Underground City, either taking an apprentice or raising a child to pass on his knowledge and legacy before either dying from violence or from the poison that tainted his body ever since his rite of initiation. He never expected to die in another land, saving a life while all of his energies are depleted.

It seems this is it, but he's not distressed in any way. He only looked forward to being welcomed in the afterlife. The Order of the Serpent never feared death, neither did he, accepting it as a part of life and regarding it as merely a thin line that separated the Living world and the Spirit World. The Perfect World of Knowledge and Eternity, where the Dragon resided. And now, he's going there.

Finally.

The Unity with the Dragon. To be one with the Dragon, to rest peacefully with Her and be away from the pain and suffering of the living world, it is actually happening to him.

Finally.

But before he must go, he will make sure that there will be no destruction following in his passing. With all the remaining strength he had and the willpower he could gather, his bare right hand grabbed the wand out of his waist and plunged his hand straight to instant decay using the energies inside it to activate the dangerous spell, sending it into a necrosis state and the rigor mortis instantly settled in, locking his fingers in place and keeping the volatile weapon in his grasp, never to let go.

"Don't…." He forced out through gritted teeth, his lungs straining to even let himself be heard. "…ever…take it…away…" He warned, hoping that it was enough to convey the message of never letting the wand separate from him for the sake of their safety.

Within his final moments before all was darkness, he saw the moon in the sky, the eye of the Serpent looking down on him in acknowledgment as if to congratulate all the things he's done in the world before he's taken home. The warmth in his chest indicated such, a euphoric sensation that heralded the moment that he'll return to her loving arms.

To Mother's arms.