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)

7. Three Poems

Skeletons; Hulking abominations of earth, flesh, metal, stone and fire; Clouds of noxious air; Screams of both living and dead; Burning trees coming to life, bodies of once-living men and women impaled in its scorching branches; Apparitions of wrath and bitterness rampaging across everything; The children easily possessed because of their weak minds, forced to take the lives of their loved ones; The adults forced to watch as their bodies were mutilated by their son or daughter, some falling into deep despair as they are forced to kill the little ones out of self-defense; The elder subjected to torture, forced to unlife as zombies as every erratic movement made destroyed their bodies even further, devouring every living organism they saw as if it was a craving.

Destruction was everywhere. Hell in all directions. Suffering ran at every part in front of her. The Village of Earlham was ravaged by a Nightmare coming to life. Where she looked, a life was mercilessly snuffed out followed by more, cruel wounds and screams before the flicker of life was extinguished from the victims. Any attempt of escape only led to failure, in the hands of mechanical monstrosities that caged the eradication in a circle, butchering any who would dare flee.

There was no sympathy. There was no purpose. There wasn't even any reason for all of it to happen. It's just slaughter for slaughter's sake. Murder and brutality enacted as if it were a natural thing to do when seeing a large populace.

The Man, the monster who had done this, simply stood in the middle of everything. He didn't give the slightest glance of what he did, firmly planting his attention solely on her, as if he was testing her reactions to his handiwork. She could have been flying into a murderous rage for the things he's done, throwing all her hatred at him with all her might, tearing his multiple arms off, smashing his pale head against the soil with the force of all her demonic power, or even rip out every bone in his body and keeping him alive for as long as she can with her healing magic until she was satisfied….

….but she couldn't. Because of her failing to act the sooner she noticed the scent of the Witch on him, she had woken up to the consequences of her inaction while she was unconscious.

Lord Roswaal was eviscerated, nothing more than an addition to the hungry dead. Her Dear Sister was eaten alive, the master of the mansion feasting on her insides. Lady Beatrice was nailed to the wall with bones piercing her palms, still alive as she wept and cried in pain inside the Forbidden Archives, dying a slow and excruciating death. Lady Emilia was killed in her sleep, poisoned, the only one with the most merciful death compared to everyone else.

She lost everyone and everything. Even if she retaliated, she had no guarantees of survival. Even if she had survived, there was literally nothing for her in the aftermath. There's no home anymore. There's no family anymore. There's no reason anymore. She was already dead inside as she knelt on the soil, staring unblinkingly at him as he walked up to her and gently wrapped his hands around her neck once again. Even as he hefted her up, her feet dangling above the ground, she made no move to resist. She was already dead. He's only going to validate that to its fullest form, and she awaited it eagerly. At least in death, she would be together with her Dearest Sister once again.

Then….

"Tell me, Dear Maid….have you realized yet that you're already part of the living dead?"

There was processing, deciphering, then her mind slowly froze to a stop as she slowly acknowledged the meaning behind those words.

"The afterlife has been closed off to you." His voice has been low and gravely, the same inflexion used every time whenever in a neutral state of mind. It meant that what he's done and currently doing was nothing interesting to him. "You will never die, Dear Maid. You will not join your loved ones in death. No, I will not allow it. Instead, you will continue to exist, as a mistake—an insult to existence itself."

The grip around her throat suddenly tightened, creating the unmistakable sound of her neck bone snapping. She felt the break itself inside her nape. She even felt her windpipe ultimately disfiguring itself under the pressure. Her oxygen was long gone before he had a hold of her—

—yet, why was she still alive?

"Enjoy living forever as a living head for the rest of your unlife."

His face never twitched the slightest, not even a blink of his eyes as the flesh of her neck became thinner and thinner under his grip, blood spurting out of the gaps of his fingers and the broken openings of the tissue.

Within her mind, she could only scream in a throat that lost all power to do its intended purpose. Neck broken, her entire body is completely paralyzed. She could do nothing to stop him from forcing her into a fate worse than death. For the very first time ever since that fiery night, she was truly hel—

"Rem! Rem! Wake up! Stop it…! Rem!"

After grueling seconds of forcing her little sister's hands off her own neck, the tear-soaked eyes of blue that was overloaded to the brim with primal fear revealed itself to Ram's concerned eyes, accompanied by a terrified scream that was heard all over the mansion.

And it didn't stop from there. Rem continued to scream hysterically, trembling violently and clawing at her own head. The magnitude of her shrieks was nigh-deafening, the vibrations even felt from the floor besides her own body, and her legs kicked and writhed furiously, as if feeling the surface of the floor with all her might. The horn even revealed itself on her forehead, sucking in mana greedily and increasing her physical power, causing a minor quake with her violent writhing.

Knowing the quick solution, she bit down on the glowing white protrusion and stimulated it with her tongue.

Same as before, the effect was instantaneous. The horn is particularly sensitive, and it immediately incapacitated the little sister.

Déjà vu. It reminded her of their time inside the Mathers Manor for the first time when they were on uneasy terms with Roswaal and Frederica at the time.

Releasing a relieved sigh, Ram adjusted her legs beneath her into a kneel and enclosed her precious little sister into her arms, tenderly burying her face to her breast. Rem trembled in her hold, and her face scrunched up while the tears continually leaked out the edge of her eyes. Night terrors, most likely. She soothingly and gently stroked her blue-haired head, whispering sweet words that befitted her role in Rem's life. As a big sister. "It's alright, Rem. It's just a dream. Don't worry. I'm here. Sshh-sshh-sshh….."

She maintained her place just like that, stroking her head and whispering warm assurance, hiding her rattled composure with a sisterly smile and providing as much security as she could to Rem with her mere presence, just as she did before. All her power was devoted solely to comforting her precious little sister. Due to that single-minded focus, she failed to acknowledge Emilia or even Roswaal who came to investigate the unpleasant ruckus at the bottom of the ground floor stairs. Witnessing the sight, they knew better than to disturb.

"Don't worry, your Big Siswill protect you."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He can smell the morning sun. He can smell grass. He can smell the moisture of midnight's cool being dried away. He can smell his own sweat beginning to form on his skin despite the morning cold in the early hours. He can smell a flowery scent, two that contained the scent of salt, and one that comprised primarily of cosmetics.

Above all those scents he could detect thanks to the finely-tuned sense of smell all those living in the Underground City were born with, the smell of Taint overpowered it all. It has gotten stronger than yesterday, as if he had dumped himself in an ocean of its source, whatever it may be.

But as yesterday had attested to, it's not just taint. It's the Scent of the Witch, this world's Embodiment of All Evil. All the suffering this world has gone through because of her, Satella, the Witch of Envy and the horrible thing she's done through a catastrophe that ate half the world….

….he found it strange that such an incident wasn't similar to what Pandemonium suffered in the hands of Supreme Corruptions of Sin. Instead of the world suffering a catastrophe, it was slowly rotting off from their influence. This Satella was defeated by a Hero, a Sage and the Dragon of Lugunica….in his world, it was slightly similar….he was involved in its—

A violent throb of pain erupted in his head.

He growled…..By the Dragon, he needs more quiet time to properly process the information he just learned yesterday, and he just woke up too. Learning something and letting it sink in to acknowledgement are two different things. His head's crammed with too much knowledge, demanding to be known to memory amongst the ones he learned in his sleep and time spent not doing so is giving him momentary lapses of head pains. Its severity was enough to make his nose bleed….

He honestly should retreat to his room. Skip breakfast, bath, study, experimentation—every indulgence he's known to be available in this mansion, he's going to sacrifice them for the sake of rest. A moment to properly rearrange the mess in his head like organizing books in a library into separate categories, filtering relevant information from the trivial ones.

But first….

Wiping bleeding his nose with his left thumb, his eyes still covered by a single pair of Mother's arms while the other maintained his head in an upright position throughout the night while he slept in his seat, he called out in a groggy voice to those who were nearby, "If you got questions, spare it for later….my mind….is not in the greatest condition for the moment."

….he's not foolish enough to not identify the scent of salt, cosmetics and flowers as part of the environment. He had classified all the members of the mansion not just by appearance and mana signature but also by scent, singling the most prominent detail to mark the owner. The dear girl consisted of flowers. The Dear Maid carried the salty scent of sweat, with a slight tinge of lavender. The Fair Maid carried lavender as well, but the smell of tea stood out more. The little archmage obviously smelled of leather and paper, books. The dandy himself reeked of cosmetics and ironed clothes, so easy to separate in a crowd.

He questioned why the 2 lavenders reeked primarily of salt today, however.

Nearly the majority of the Mansion's residents were nearby for whatever reason. It was enough to be a cause of concern, as this usually meant that something bad has happened in the mansion and he's picked as the likely suspect just like the many times it happened before, but he didn't spare himself any caution and instead told Mother to carry him to his quarters.

"Wait." Someone told. He wasn't sure who it was but it was a firm command.

He obviously wouldn't comply with such a demand. How could he answer anybody normally while his head's throbbing like crazy? Tightening his closed eyes, he reached up to cover them with his own hands to block the morning light just as Mother's own moved away and tipped his body over, 6 limbs preventing his back from landing against the floors and making him parallel to the ground as Mother carried him to the doors of the mansion with the grace of a 6-legged spider.

He didn't count the minutes that passed before his body was placed on hard carpeted floors. He's likely in his borrowed quarters by now. And in the same fashion as always, Mother removed herself from him and left him lying down on his side without any extra arms or functioning legs, clutching his aching head and curling his body while the information continued to violate his consciousness. The metal hands stroking his head and rubbing his back are the only comforts he could find amidst mental torture, hard and cold, devoid of any warmth, but comfort nonetheless.

For the next dozens of minutes, nothing coherent came out of his mouth, only soft growls and low moans. Movement was only limited to writhing and twisting aside from massaging his head. If he wasn't sure that his nose have bled a puddle beneath his head, the wet sensation on his cheek sufficed as the answer. There was just so much information being force-fed to his brain. Even if he could suffer an audience of a million spirits speaking to him and retain his sanity in the aftermath, he's still human. And humans could only take so much.

Even with his nose bleeding, he couldn't mistake the flowery scent nearby. It's easy to know what's going on without looking. The dear girl was likely worried upon seeing his current state at the gazebo, following after him, entering his room and offering to help but Mother stopped her before she could. He mustn't receive help while doing this, it would only block his brain from absorbing the knowledge he asked for. There's a price when you want something from dead men, and Priests of the Serpent are wealthy enough to pay it. Above-Worlders are so arrogant to think they are rich enough to do the same, no wonder they lose their minds too often, get possessed or simply suffer something even more horrible, like getting their bodies violently twisted like paper.

It likely took more than half an hour before the pain was starting to dull and his nose stopped bleeding a few minutes earlier. He still hasn't taken in all the information but they are all trivialities at this point. The important parts were absorbed, and among the ones that stood out….

"Ah, did the headache stop?" Emilia asked, kneeling on the floor above his head.

…the dear girl looks exactly like the devil of this world. Violet eyes, silver hair, and a half-elf. Because of that resemblance, she was subjected to the prejudice, hatred, ostracism and rejection of the public. No one wanted anything to do with her. Not only that, she's parentless….and she's guilty of a crime. Freezing an entire forest along with the elves that live in it because of her uncontrollable power. What's funny is how there's some sort of 'rift' in such details, indicating that the girl's personal connection to the event is rather...lacking, for one.

Still, he can only wonder how much guilt is secretly hidden in her heart.

About what Lord Mathers said about getting along with her very well…now he understands why. She's actually in the same position as him….except, a little different. Priests of the Serpent were not liked for their actions, Emilia's not liked just for resembling somebody who's done a lot worse.

Wait…her hand's on his head.

"What did you aim to achieve with your hand touching my hair?" He asked with a smirk, making no move to shake the contact off. "Were you attempting to absorb my features such as my green eyes to yourself by sheer physical contact? Sorry to disappoint you but that's not how the process works."

It got her to giggle, "….well…" She seemed sheepish, "…I wanted to help and see if my healing magic could help you but she stopped me." She gestured to Mother, who knelt beside his lying form the whole time. "I tried to insist but she was reeeaally adamant about not letting me so…." She ruffled his head, "…this is all I can do….was that not okay?"

He snickered as he looked away, "Your efforts are appreciated." Mother then pulled him up into a seated position, leaning against her skeletal chest while one set of arms hugged around the shoulders and a third hand stroking his disarrayed white locks. He wiped his bloody nose with his robes, the bloodstain nonexistent on the light-eating fabric. "The pain is bearable now. It might take a couple more minutes before it disappears completely...ow…" He wiped his face, only to stop as he felt the wetness on his cheeks. Ah, yes. He bled a puddle and mashed his cheek to it. Looking at the floor, he actually did bleed a puddle.

Goodness.

"Here." Emilia passed him a white handkerchief.

"Gracious but no need. I can do this instead." He nodded in thanks before bringing his hand up to his face and made a claw gesture, the bloodstain on his face and the puddle on the floors floating off their respective surfaces and morphing into a round ball of crimson above his palm.

Blood magic. An uncommonly-used technique of the Order of the Serpent that mainly earned its use as a way to prevent bleeding. Even though he can't do the same, it's possible for other Necromagi to steal the lifeblood and the life force of others, regenerating or empowering their own, but these days, no one does such a thing anymore. They would rather risk death in conflict and hasten their departure to the Afterlife.

"Ew…." He wondered though: how could such a girl, subjected to the same hell as him, grow up to be such a kind Soul?

[That's just how she is. She was already a wonderful person at heart and Hell forged her into someone even more beautiful.]

His clawing fingers twitched, his expressions completely tame but he was actually surprised at the sudden voice quipping inside his head when he wasn't calling for an audience to the Dead yet. Tapping into his senses for a second and finding no third entity, he replied to that voice mentally. [Puck?]

[That's me! I'm kinda surprised you're taking this quite well.]

He mentally rolled his eyes but he couldn't hold back the sigh coming out of his lips, [I speak to the Spirits of the Dead everyday. They speak to me just like this. Do you actually think something like this is enough to catch me off-guard?]

An awkward tone laced the fay's voice, [Ehehe. Must'a slipped my mind.]

[Get out of my head and converse with me properly.]

[Okaaay.] Then the cat spirit presents himself out of the girl's nape and waving a little paw at him, "Good morning, Emurdol. Nice weather today, yeah?"

"It is not." He denied, scowling before holding out the floating blood ball in front of the fay, which the latter got the hint and froze it solid, landing atop his hand in a smack. Throwing it into the Void for safekeeping, he continued, "This 'Nice Weather' is the primary reason why I had to leave the gazebo and abandon my sleep."

"You were actually sleeping there the whole night?" There was genuine astonishment in the fay's voice. "I thought Lia was only kidding."

"I thought I was too! But Ser Emurdol, you could get a cold!" The dear girl told in concern.

He shook his head, exasperated. The girl really doesn't remember much, does she? "I cannot be affected by natural illnesses, Your Ladyship." It's unlikely at this point that Emilia won't remember what he says unless he refers to himself instead of referring to the Order of the Serpent as a whole in regards to their feats. "I am not like you Above-Worlders, so fragile that a mere brush with cold climates sends you to the disease. If yesterday's evening was cold, I haven't noticed."

"But why didn't you simply come inside and sleep in your bed?"

"Because I lost consciousness at some point." He reached up to press two skeletal fingers against his temple, still feeling the dull headache. "There were so many Souls, you see. I've been asking all sorts of questions to them. I ask one and everyone barrages me with their answers. Even for me, their chatters wears my mind."

"But you started during midday…" It seems the facts caught the dear girl in disbelief. Could it be that despite her status as a Spirit Mage, she cannot maintain long conversations with the Spirits of Nature? "…and you were still communicating with them by the time I went to bed…..I'm surprised you lasted that long. I wouldn't be able to last 4 hours if I could help it. Entertaining so many voices at once…."

"What've you've been asking them, hmm?" Puck asked.

He pondered over his response carefully before he answered, "All sorts of questions. What upbringing did this kingdom have? What circumstances surround the Manor? What was its history before? What was the lay of the land? Is there any villages nearby?" He looked at his skeleton hand, rubbing his thumb and fingers together as he smiled lightly, "Among others, I have realized that I may be illiterate."

"Eh?" The dear girl is positively bewildered, "B-but how? How could you not learn how to read and write despite your age?"

This might get a little complicated. He fiddled with a single lock of hair before explaining, "I did not mean that in the general sense but…your written language is unlike mine. And even then, the personal written language of the Order of the Serpent is unique as well. We've learned to read and write in Common written language as part of our preparation before heading out Above-World, and I was baffled to find out that this country has its own set of unique alphabets."

"You mean you haven't prepared yourself before coming to this country?"

"I thought you're the kind of guy that prepares for something before doing it."

Now that's the most dangerous question there. The dear girl still thinks he's from another country as opposed to being from another world. Luckily, he had already prepared to answer that question with honesty while not giving away the full context of his words. "Truth be told, you two, I was…forced here. If I could have prepared myself before coming here, I might have done so."

"Forced?" The worry was starting to grow on the dear girl's face. "H-how?"

The fourth arm joined the ones wrapped around his neck before a metallic hand began patting his head. He can feel Mother's concern through that. Even she couldn't explain what happened to the both of them that day. "It is hard to explain…." He frowned, trying to think up possible theories but instead found no easy ground to start. "….I was simply heading home through the forest….then the land suddenly became quiet, a….a foul stench erupted around me, I wasn't certain of its source….but after a single eye blink…it was no longer evening and I found myself standing in the Capital's center." He curled his lip, his bone hand clenched into a fist tight enough to make crackling noises.

And for a brief moment, wickedness and malice burned from his face, complete with a sneer that nearly bordered into a sadistic smile. It was the visage that made every assassin or mercenary going after a Priest of the Serpent like him reconsider their intents.

He's going to find the one responsible for his being here, and when he does….there will be blood…so much blood.

"Emurdol, calm down. You're gonna scare my daughter here, you know."

Ah yes, the fay could read minds. His killing intent might have been noticed. With a slight moment of focus, the raging emotions were immediately shut down. Emotion Suppression.

"Good boy."

Ignoring the condescending tone used on him, he decided to conclude the talk with the last detail. "Returning to the set of questions I've asked to the souls, I have also learned about the circumstances surrounding you…" He turned to Emilia, looking at her straight in the eyes, "….Dear Girl."

"Circumstances? Wh-what do you mean, Ser Emurdol?" She asks that, yet he can tell that she knows exactly what she's talking about.

He reached over, placing a hand to the back of her head and gently pulled her close till his forehead bumped against hers. Instead of blushing over the close-contact, she only had a confused look, "S-Ser Emurdol? What are you doing?"

He closed his eyes, his fingers lightly stroking her white locks with his fingers. "You and I share the same suffering, Dear Girl. You for being a half-elf, silver-haired girl who looked just like the devil and I for being a Necromagus who raises the dead and manipulates Souls for my own reasons." He felt her stiffen from the contact. His lip curled at what she might be feeling inside, but he wasn't finished speaking yet, "But with a few distinctions: yours is unfounded and unwarranted all because of your appearance…and mine is wrought by the crude morals of humans, sometimes with little good reason."

He drew back but didn't let his hand move away, instead letting it glide to the top of her head. Her expression showed all the effects the prejudice of half-elves the public had on her. She's downtrodden, hurt and rejected. The resignation was there as well.

He patted her head, "Remember what I said, Emilia. I will never treat you any differently than any mortal I ever met. Who I have under my left hand is Emilia and no one else, a naïve little girl who saved my life and gave me kindness, not the devil who's called Satella. Besides…" He ruffled her head with slight roughness, making her head sway under his grip and make her grunt in protest, just to make her forget about her down mood. "…you're my friend, the one I'm glad to have in a land I was forced to. And just so you know, it's a privilege to be my friend. I hate Above-Worlders, they are blind and the misplaced dislike they had on my people sickens me to no end. To earn my favor is a special thing." He placed her side-locks behind her elven ear before drawing his hand back. Emilia never left her gaze on him, hanging on to his every word. "As a friend, this Priest will find ways to take away all your sufferings and keep it for himself."

"Take it away?" She parroted softly, disbelief clouding her features.

He nodded firmly, "The prejudice you suffer from, it doesn't belong to you. The Order of the Serpent has been feared and hated since only the Dragon knows when. Our sufferings has long since become a part of our lives, yours are not. The feats of the Order of the Serpent preceded the Catastrophe created by the Witch of Envy. The birth of my people's suffering preceded the birth of your people's suffering, the half-elves. This crime will not stand."

If he no longer has the desire to die, then he would need another reason to live—or put simply, perform another meaningful thing to do in the Realm of the Living before he goes home. And what he vowed just now will fit that job. Going through another hell just like before…if it means the dear girl will no longer have to suffer just like he did, then he will glad with just that. This Emilia is precious.

Even if he dies in the process.

And as the girl noticed that he was finished, she lowered her head, her expressions unseen. Looking closely and listening carefully, he could see her shoulders twitching and the slightest sniffles. The drops of liquid that fell on her knees was a clear indication of how much his words meant.

His eyes widened at the sensation of a fleecy sensation brushing across his cheek. Turning his eyes to the grey thing on his left, he found Puck hugging his face with his little frame. Opening one blue eye, the fay's words reached him in his head, [You meant everything, didn't you?]

He nodded slowly, [Priests of the Serpent never lie. Even if my 5 days have passed and I leave this mansion, I will do whatever I must in the background to make sure Emilia is free from the things she suffers, directly or indirectly. I knows what it means to suffer like that, and I can't stand it when she goes through what I have.]

[If you're gonna do that, why not become a vassal or retainer to Lia? You'd have a lot more ground to cover that way and the things you'll do will have a lot more impact. You still haven't taken a reward from her or Roswaal, right?]

Which means by taking advantage of the promised reward, he'll easily be a supporter of the candidate to the throne without going through the complicated process of earning any credibility or loyalty to earn such a rank. If he were to be honest…

[Tempting…give me time.] If his powers and methods done to support Emilia does not give her a bad reputation, he would be very surprised.

[I'll be waiting.] With a small lick to his cheek, Puck drew away and floated back to the dear girl's shoulder, rubbing his little paw against her head consolingly.

"S-Ser Emurdol…." She called in a teary voice.

"Yes?"

"Why….why would you promise such a thing for me…?" She choked out, wiping her face with her sleeves. Even so, the tears wouldn't stop from there. "I h-haven't even done a single thing for you…yet you would go so far….why? First, you saved my life…and now this? How could I deserve such….kindness from you? Be-because of what people think of half-elves, of me, you might suffer for it….you might suffer even more because of me. I don't want that to happen to anyone because of me…Just…why?"

….now that's a difficult question.

He looked away and thought of it carefully. He had never told her what living and dying meant to a Necromagus. He doesn't want her to know of his dismay of living. But then again, he had abandoned his desire for death at the moment. All his hatred and bitterness hidden in his subconsciousness has long since disappeared.

….then again, what reason does he have to hide it now? He did vow to help turn her life around. He's basically investing all of his efforts towards her. He's making her the cornerstone for his continued will to live. She has to know.

"If you want my full honesty." He took a deep breath before sighing it out, preparing for how she'll react to this. "When my gut was split open in that loot house, Emilia, I was never expecting myself to be saved or even alive the next day."

"What?"

Pursing his lips, he continued, "Before I fell into shock, I activated a spell on myself that would hasten the rot on my body and shut down my essential organs."

Emilia's eyes were wide as she absorbed the information carefully. "But why? Reinhardt and I were still capable of saving you."

"I wasn't expecting to be saved by either of you, I wanted to die that day. I wanted my life to end." He told without emotion, and there came the gasp he expected from her. He continued to speak. "I wasn't afraid to pass on, and I never had. But you and Ser Reinhardt didn't allow me that."

"But why?" She asked, concerned, "Why would you want to die? Won't your family and friends at your hometown be sad?"

"No one would care, Emilia." He coldly told, his eyes flashing a dim green light and Mother's embrace tightened even more. He shook his head mournfully, realizing the immense truth behind his own words, "No one will."

No one would actually care. If this had been Pandemonium, he wouldn't have callously said that. He had friends, true companions he had gathered during his quest to cull the lands of the Supreme Sins. He knows they will grieve if he falls. He sincerely would not want that. Even he would Go Home only if he saw Lady Sabarra's beautiful face one last time and she did not stop him from doing so just like she had to others who have done it.

But this was not Pandemonium, this was a world that he did not know existed, that did not know he existed. No one knows him. He didn't know anyone in turn. How could anyone miss an alien whose culture and belief about death is barely even known by anyone?

"After what happened, I'm now dead in the eyes of the Order."

He could mean his sudden arrival to this world, where he is suddenly missing in Pandemonium and automatically declared deceased when the Order cannot even find the last trace of his existence right after he left the village to return and report his feats but never arrived.

There was, however, another context behind it, and his two listeners will never know both.

They will simply assume that because he nearly died due to having his guts spilling out, he's now declared dead in his Organization's perspective if they had been watching that incident from somewhere unseen.

"Dying is not something I fear, neither do those of my kin." He told monotonously, still as a corpse with only his mouth moving minimally, "The Afterlife is the one place we looked forward into going, the one place where no one hates us or rejects us, the one place that peacefully brings all things together as one, as equals. Mother and I could have went there together just like we've always wanted, we could have finally taken our rest, but you denied me my peace, Emilia. We're still here. The reason why I wept and despaired that night, now you know."

He hasn't answered her question yet, he's only dragging it on, but with purpose. He was expecting a certain response out of her, and from how he had assessed her personality, he knows exactly what she's going to respond with.

"Well….I would care if you died, Ser Emurdol."

His point, exactly.

He clicked his tongue, displeasured, "You don't know that. You and I were barely acquainted properly when we first met. You were a pawn for my amusement, and I tried to kill you. How could you possibly care for me?"

"You saved my life."

"That's not reason enough, Emilia." He firmly retorted, "Anyone with decent enough strength could save a life, and it would be fair to save the one who saved you in turn. Reinhardt could have done everything himself if he had been careful. I have not warranted such sincerity from you that day prior."

"No, I do care!"

His eyes instantly went wide for her outburst, but it was quickly tamed down into a reserved look. He turned to her, facing her firm features. "Then why? Why would you care if I had died that day, the day before I had let your kind words give myself the strength to live again and had sworn to never squander your trust as I have given myself the heart to call you my friend?"

She winced when the question was too elaborate for her, and she looked down, biting her lip as she pondered the answer carefully. Puck merely floated and crossed his arms, looking over the proceedings quietly and making no move to support her case, likely because this is challenge is entirely for her.

"It's because…."

His silver brow quirked upwards in question, wondering if this answer would satisfy him better than her recent responses.

"….it's because you were kind."

….now, how is that a good answer?

Seemingly have read his thoughts from the doubtful expression on his face, Emilia elaborated further, pulling her side-locks and showing her elven ear. "I look just like the Witch of Envy, don't I?"

He nodded, telling her to go on.

"And you will not treat me any differently than anyone else you've met, yes?"

He nodded again.

"Then that's why." There was the ghost of a smile on her lips, "You treated me like an equal instead of someone to be feared like the Witch. Even if you had known the Witch before we met, you would still treat me the same. You brought your tomfoolery on me too and not just on Felt alone, didn't you? Not only that, but you had fought to defend me, Felt and her Grandfather without a thought, even at the risk of your own life. How could I not care about that? If the person who treated me like an equal and defended me were to suddenly die before I could properly thank him, I would never forgive myself for making him go through that ordeal for my sakes when I could have done something and likely failed doing it. I wasn't strong enough on my own to defeat that horrible woman. No stranger aside from the Royal Knights would go that far for me, a silver-haired half-elf who looks like the dreaded Witch of Envy."

….he cannot deny that. Even if he knew about the Witch of Envy before, he wouldn't act any different around her than he usually did. It shows in his attitude towards powerful and haughty archmages who are clearly powerful than him. He did defend the three without any thought about why. He simply did, because a murderer was going to slaughter the three of them. He also didn't consider that he could possibly die that day. He wasn't fully resigned to the prospect of it, even if he wasn't fighting at full-strength that day, until his gut was sliced open. He still planned to return to the Underground City once he was through there.

The latter half of her reasoning made him unable to challenge her thoughts anymore. He lost this fight.

"And now….now that you've became my friend, someone who I've thought I would never be able to have for my appearance, I would definitely care and cry if you died."

…...

…...

…...

It seems he truly made the right decision to live for her.

Looking away and facing straightforward, he asked, "You asked me why I would go so far for you, yes?" She saw her nod in the corner of his vision. "It is so I can find the meaningfulness of my existence."

This was the iconic part of being a Priest of the Serpent, the part of them that makes them human.

"Each Priest of the Serpent always seek the significance of their own worth as a mortal, and I am no different. We have manipulated the powers of death to take, it is only right and proper that we give back. We pay our due through the things we pledge to the world that hated us, even if it hurts." He turned to her, "If I can make a difference in your life, even if it does not elevate the prejudice you suffer from, even if it does the slightest amount of good to you, then I am satisfied. If you deny me the chance to die, then you should give me the reason to live. And I chose you to be that reason. Will you allow me that, Emilia?"

He doesn't actually need her permission, but for the sake of this naïve little girl he called a friend and basically the cornerstone of his existence, he'll bother with the courtesies.

She was silent, but that smile on her lips was all the answer he needed. There's no way it could escape his eyes, even if he was outside were the sun would blind him. When she opened her eyes, red and soaked with years, she barely let it out without cracking, "Y-yes. I shall. Thank you, S—no. Emurdol."

So she dropped the formalities as a sign of that bond between us, hm?

He smiled back and pulled her close for a warm embrace, which she happily returned. Staying that way for almost a whole minute, he leaned back against Mother's chest, receiving praising shoulder pats and head ruffles. "You make me happy, Dear Girl." Not that he plans to stop with the 'tomfooleries', however. He didn't show any mercy to the people who treated him like the human he is, he has no intention to stop now.

With that handled, he should settle to the next issue.

Pulling his right sleeve back above the elbow, he formed an open palm facing forward before his left hand disassembled the prosthetic off his forearm and—

SMACK!

"Lord Mathers, if you even dare walk away after eavesdropping on us since the start, I swear to the Dragon that I will render your daily life so miserable to the point that not even suicide is a solace to you!"

As if he could mistake the smell of cosmetics combined with the potent mana signature that only archmages uniquely had coming from the door for somebody else. As soon as his prosthetic was thrown out the door, he manipulated its flight path and had it veer to the right, at the perfect angle where it will potentially slap the bastard in the face.

"Aaaah! I've been exposed!" Looks like he wasn't slapped, given that the inflexion and the drawl wasn't any different from usual. The dandy enters the guest quarters, cosmetics and extravagant attire and all, smiling cheerily while his left palm faced forward at the level of his face as if he was about to recite a vow….with the prosthetic stuck to it like a high-five. "Seeeeer Emurdol, I am familiar with the friendly greetings of commoners called a 'high-five' but I remember it being done at arm's-length and above the level of the face instead of 6 feet away and without detaching aaaaany hands."

He held his glare, chagrinned at the fact that he didn't land a hit. "I admire your reflexes, at least." The damn clown deserved more credit than that. Compared to those who had done the same crime, barely anybody saw the attack coming. In some cases, the hand literally goes through their faces, brain matter, blood and bone expunged due to the amount of force put in the blow.

"Roswaal!?" Looks like the dear girl didn't expect him to be there. The color of vermillion proceeded to fill her entire face of pale skin, the shock on her face born from his sudden action of throwing his skeleton hand at the door slowly crumbling into a flustered look. "Yo-you were there the whole time!?"

"Well, yeees!" Without shame, the dandy admits it with a smile. "It was such a heartfelt exchange between two youths that I couldn't waste the chance to seeeee the proceedings! Ah! Youth is so woooooonderful, isn't it?"

"Uuuuuh…this is so embarrassing….!" And the dear girl weeps away, covering her face with both hands and looking away to hide her shame. Puck's doing his best in consoling her, patting her cheek with his tiny paw.

Admittedly, he found the sight entertaining in of itself.

"Heeeere you go, Ser Emurdol." Kneeling, Lord Mathers held out the prosthetic hand to him.

Stiffly nodding his thanks but still maintaining his glare, he took it and placed it back to his forearm, the bones opening and rearranging not unlike Mother's chest when she secures herself to him. After a few seconds, the skeleton hand abruptly clicked as it became mobile, beginning to follow the movements of his phantom hand that's been opening and closing its fingers.

He really doesn't know how that actually works when he didn't even augment his mana towards it but like he said before, he won't question it.

"Now." He turned to the dandy once more, pulling the sleeve of his robe down to the level of his prosthetic, "Explain why you're here. I'm well-aware you're here for a reason besides snooping in the exchange."

"You presumed right." Lord Mathers walked towards the improvised study desk loaded with jars and vials. Giving the table contents a small glance, he took 2 chairs in hand and brought them over, one for himself and one for Emurdol. "I carry a concern from one of my dear servants, you seeeee. Rem, specifically."

Tch. That fucking maid again? Among everybody, she's the only one going wild with her suspicions.

Securing himself back to Mother before standing up, he lifted up the chair given and placed it to the dear girl's distance. In a certain point of view, he's already seated. It simply looks like he's standing. "Let us hear it." He prompted, crossing his arms over his skeletal chest. Mother's arms went back to their iconic positions, one pair elegantly crossed behind his back and the other hanging loosely, fingers interlocked behind his waist.

"Nooooow then…." Tugging his lock of dark-blue hair to the side, he began, "….just today, at the start of the morning, Ram happened to find Rem passed out on the bottom of the stairs of the first floor, strangling herself."

There was no drawl, and dullness began to shade the lord's mismatched eyes.

He frowned, genuinely surprised at what that maid was doing to herself, "Why?"

"In Rem's explanation, she was having night terrors, seeing the mansion and the village of Earlham yonder engulfed in flames with every living being, including myself and Beatrice being violated in ways unimaginable."

That drew a gasp from the dear girl, who seemed to have set aside her flustered state and paid close attention to what was said while she had taken a seat on the spare chair.

"And interestingly…" Lord Mathers shot him a pointed look, "…she found you in the center of it. Before she was forced awake, you were strangling the life out of her, Ser Emurdol."

Tch. He scoffed at what the lord was getting at. "I'm not sure if you're aware, Lord Mathers, but she doesn't trust me. If anything, that paranoia of hers is just the leading cause of these nightmares."

This is going to be one of those situations again. By the Dragon, he's going to be very tired at the end of this.

"I woooould think so…but her weapon is somehow scattered in the middle of the hallway, and the floors are broken." He felt the change in the atmosphere, "It is as if…she was attacking something….or possibly, someone. Tell me, Ser Emurdol: where have you been last night?"

"So you're going to blame me for something that I didn't even know have happened? Is that what you're insinuating?" He's not holding back his cold tone this time. He's going to freely express his full displeasure at this situation. He's suffered this more than once and he'll act accordingly to the pattern. No matter how many times this happens, the displeasure never changes. "If you weren't paying attention yesterday, then allow me to inform you that I've been in that fucking gazebo for more than 8 hours. What have I been doing there? Speaking with the Spirits of Nature and the Souls of the Dead. In case your fucking brain is starting to rot and forgetting what I said before, I told you before on the dining table that I would gain information, knowledge and learn more of the Kingdom of Lugunica during my 5 days of stay here. That's what I've been doing that whole fucking time! And you know what I've found out? Both your Maids were demons!"

He was well-aware that his voice is getting raised, turning into a growl, but does he care? Among all the things he hated the most, it is that he's blamed for something he didn't even do. And this is one of them.

Mother knows that for a fact very intimately.

"You know what I would have done if I had found that out without hearing it from the Dead? I would have killed them!" He could feel his eyes glowing like a bonfire and his hair was beginning to float. The emotion forcing out these words were reverting him into the same terrifying entity that every hellspawn he's killed knew. "But I inquired further. And I discovered that this country's demons are no different than a human, but only bearing a horn that amplifies their combat power. Not only that, but I learned that those animal-men I saw in the capital were civilized beings, capable of rationality, intelligence and freewill, just like a human. They deserve to live."

He glared hard at the lord's mismatched eyes, the necromantic energies rolling all over his form and tainting the mana in the air. "Beings like that, demi-humans you call them as well as those demons….they are not civilized from the 'Continent' I came from. They are nothing but monsters, seeking only to cause destruction and harm to all that is good. They…..were an enemy of mankind, so we kill them on sight without mercy. You do not understand how fucking difficult it is to be labeled the same way as them….! Not only have I killed so many monsters that I could no longer count them but I even killed people as well…..People who thought the Order of the Serpent are no different than the monsters we've hunted alongside them! I have to look over my back every time!" He looked away, gritting his teeth at the information he's recalling. "This….Continent of Four Nations….you had your own enemies….a true enemy of all living beings….Witchbeasts….offspring of the Witch Satella….! White whale….Great Hare…Black Serpent…..! This mansion is even situated close to a fucking breeding ground of those creatures…! If that fucking maid is having nightmares, why don't you consider that those fucking mutts are the cause of it instead of ME!?"

"Emurdol." A hand gently placed itself on his back, and another held his clenched skeleton hand. "Calm down. Calm down. No one's suspecting you of anything. Roswaal didn't mean any harm, he's just looking for answers. And I can see very well that you are not to blame for what happened to Rem. Don't you think so as well, Roswaal?"

"Yes, Lady Emilia. It is plain as day that Ser Emurdol is iiiiiinnocent. I sincerely apologize for haaaaving unintentionally brought your past traumas to mind."

The fire still burned within him, but Emilia's grasp and gentle words was like a stream of water, dousing his anger very slowly. He felt his stiffness leave him, his breathing steadying and the glow in his eyes slowly dimming. With a guttural sigh, kneading his forehead, he gently brushed off Emilia's hand off his own but not without a nod of thanks. Turning to the clown, he asked harshly, "What the hell is that Maid even doing last night? How could she have ended up at the bottom of the fucking stairs?"

"Given from what she has told meeee…." Lord Mathers held his chin, "She was making her regular rounds and she has suspected you of doing something unfriendly when you entered the hallways with shambling steps in the dead of night…."

His scowl deepened. What the hell is this clown going at? Since when did he even come close to the fucking hallway in the middle of the night anyway?

"….buuut she's come to the realization that it was all just a dream." He told in a joking tone, utterly killing the suspense in the air. "She apparently hid at the stairs, waited for you to come inside and see if you're about to cause trouble, ooonly to exhaust herself, likely from her duties that she passed out in the process. My goodness, Rem should learn her leeeesson."

That fucking maid. By the Dragon, he is going to give that fucking girl a piece of his mind the sooner his patience runs out. Can't she realize that she's all alone in her suspicions? She's going to fucking die if she doesn't stop it.

"Worry not. Ram's lecturing her as we speeeaak." The dandy informed with a smile, noting the dangerous look on Emurdol's face, "Rest assured that you will not get anymore trooooouble from her again, Ser Emurdol."

Does this clown honestly think that's going to make him feel any better?

Emotions run deep for Necromagi, especially when they decide to let their feelings be made bare instead of keeping them hidden under the influence of Emotion Suppression.

"Get out. Both of you."

"Hm?"

"Eh?"

He's still scowling and the frustration is still burning in him. Thanks to what Roswaal's telling him, he is no longer in the brightest moods now. The news of continued distrust from the maid and the fact that the trend of Necromagi receiving no respect is following after him like the plague despite entering this world where his magics are almost unheard of, he cannot maintain that composure anymore. Giving both of them a harsh glance, including Puck, he told them in the coldest tone he could muster, "I would like all of you here to please leave. I'm absolutely stressed. My headache is coming back. And I'm beyond displeased. I cannot suffer another second with another living being nearby me so move it!"

"I shall. My deepest apologies for troooooubling you." Lord Mathers needed not be told twice, quickly vacating the room and disappearing into the hallway.

"Um," All that remains is the dear girl, who's still concerned for him. "Will you be alright?"

"GET OUT!" He roared, and it was enough to make her jump before she ran out the door, slamming it close behind her in her haste.

A few seconds pass, slowly acknowledging that he was truly alone, with nothing that has a heartbeat nearby, especially from the door, he took a deep breath and let it out, clawing his head all the way, "AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgghhhhhh!‼!" The powerful magnitude was enough to shake his improvised study and the jars atop it, a testament of his time in the Northlands.

Walking to the bed, with Mother's light footsteps dissonant to his current mood, he practically threw himself on the soft mattress as soon as the ribcage opened up and released him. His face mashed into the sheets, he continued to scream and he did not stop for a whole hour.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"What are you doing, Ser?"

Turning to the girl who just spoke, even if he knew it was the Fair Maid, he turned back to his work. "Making tea for Her Ladyship." He's only just beginning to stir the contents of the cup.

She looked at the kettle, coffee jar and cream placed on the counter in front of him. "Ram's surprised you know how to make tea. The simple presumption would be that you can make fine juice out of someone's blood."

He harrumphed, "Even if I drink shit-jars and eat organs for purposes of necessity, I am not that eager to commit cannibalism unless it had the benefit of empowering my person. And blood is more often than not a poor extract of empowering properties." He had thought otherwise before and was shocked that embalming liquid actually does the job instead.

The Fair Maid leaned forward, peering at the cup. "You did not put anything suspicious in it, did you?"

"If I had, it would be the tasteless extracts of Murky Baboon blood that would improve her stamina." He was not being sarcastic. He actually meant that and would have done so if he still had those extracts. "But since I no longer have any in stock, it will just be simple tea of fine quality."

"Before you take it to her, let Ram be a judge to your work." Picking up a spare teaspoon from the cupboards, she scooped a small amount before taking it to her lips. Rolling her tongue inside her mouth for a few seconds, she faced him, "On a scale of 1 to 100, you earn 89. Good work, at least."

She said that in such a tone implying that she could reach 100 every time. Somehow it's amusing instead of annoying. "Then I will have this delivered to her." Mother placing the cup on a saucer before placing both on a tray, he began to walk towards the door out of the kitchen in fluid steps, making sure he doesn't spill his cargo.

"Once you do, return here. Ram would have a word with you."

He already knows what the topic will be. Why is the Living World so bloody predictable? No wonder leaving it is a damn solace these days.

A long walk and several flights of stairs, he reached Emilia's room, he knocked.

"Enter." She allowed.

Twisting the knob, he entered with a small smirk as he looked at her hard at work with her studies, "You're working hard."

"Ah, Emurdol." She looked at the tray in his hands before turning back to him, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Maybe." Taking the saucer in his left hand, he steadily placed it on her desk. "Consider that an apology for my outburst." Though it was more of a professional courtesy than an apology. Earning the good side of people whose trust must be had is still a lingering habit, even though he doesn't have to with this girl.

"Oh no, no. It was understandable." She hastily waved it off before she took the cup in her hands, blowing into it before taking a sip. "It's good. Thank you."

"Hm." He nodded. "I'll be leaving now."

"Wait for a second, Emurdol."

He turned to look over his shoulder, "Yes?"

Her lavender eyes carried a soft light, "Are you sure you're okay now?"

Thinning his lips at the show of genuine concern, he turned back towards the door. "Maybe." He answered cryptically. He's still not in the brightest moods but he's giddy enough to tease.

"Come on! Can't you be a little more specific!?"

He closed the door on her, pretending not to hear.

Now to return to the kitchen as Ram intends to have an audience with him, and, against his better judgment, he's going along with it. He already knows how it's going to proceed, from start to finish. He might as well be rehearsing lines at that point. But still, leaving it alone will just make complications and that's not a good thing for him.

Fucking predictable Living World that I have to fucking indulge.

He's so tired. He sighed, shaking his head. Upon entering the kitchen after a long walk, Ram only stood there with arms crossed.

Lightly slamming the tray down on the counter, making a loud thud in the silent kitchen, he leaned back against it, Mother's 4 hands gripping the edges and supporting his back while he faced the elder sister, crossing his arms. "Let's hear it."

"Not a lot of decorum in your name, do you, slamming trays on counters?"

"Get to the fucking point, Maid." He demanded, barely changing the tone of his voice. Beating around the bush, that was a first in this sort of thing. "I know this is about Rem."

She only blinked, barely looking away at his eyes sharply, "Then kindly tell me what you think happened to Rem when I found her on the bottom of the stairs strangling her own neck."

Now that was a far more rational response than he expected.

"And if I have nothing to give?"

"Then Ram will simply prod you until you cave."

He scoffed, half in amusement and half in mockery. "What makes you think it was me?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Ram never said that it was you."

He rolled his eyes, "Forgive me for assuming the most common assumption people like you make when incidents like this happen and someone like me is in the nearest convenient vicinity, now fess up. What makes you think it was me?"

She was silent, quietly assessing him with her eyes before she responded, "No one else in this mansion has the nerve nor willingness to pull a prank of that degree on Rem. Even the cute and perfect Ram would be hard-pressed to find somebody who ended up strangling themselves in their sleep once in their life." Now that is a fair point, "Things have been very stable until you came."

"More like your sister doesn't know how to calm down. If she carries that behavior of hers around whenever guests come here, I'm surprised she's still employed." It wasn't that uncommon for noble houses to evict such types. They cause a bad image to their precious reputation.

"Our usual guests do not wear bones and cause unease in the evenings."

"And this guest, who would use your body as a weapon once your dead, barely caused any harm, Maid. I don't want any quarrel with anyone in this mansion. I have been civil within reason."

"Then kindly explain why was her weapon left lying in the middle of the hallway with a section of the floors shattered? It can't possibly be left there without a good reason now, is it?"

"I don't know."

Ram's composed mien finally cracked. Her eyes went wide, utterly baffled at his response. "You don't know?"

"I don't know." He made sure he sounded very firm, "If she had attacked me, she would not be in perfect shape. I told you before. I do not show mercy to those who attack me without reason. And how could I come any closer to the hallway when I have been outside the whole night?"

"What have you been doing there?"

"Talking to Dead men, women and children, acquiring knowledge and information just as I had said before." With nonchalance and without shame, he told her. His every expression had remained consistent since the start, from his body language to his tone, it never broke from an even cadence. "If you want the answer to why your sister is there at the bottom of the stairs strangling herself, you cannot get anything from me because I have no answer. Lord Mathers and I have already spoken about this incident and he tells me that Rem should learn. Accept me or tolerate me, I don't care which. If she does not stop it, then there will be a problem."

He doesn't make empty threats, and he never had, not even to his friends. This is now the final strike for that maid. One more crime from her, and she's done for.

Ram sighed, running her fingers through her pink fringes. "Ram is now satisfied. That was merely to test you. Your innocence was already clear, Ram just wanted to make sure."

Huh. Now that's a surprise. This turned out differently compared to what he expected. He figured this audience would end up in a fight, but no. It didn't. "For her sakes, please keep your sister in a leash."

No one has to die tonight. He told, more to himself.

As he left the counter he leant on, he was unaware of the hand indentions Mother's grip had made before her arms returned to their iconic positions; one pair crossed behind his back and the other clasping fingers behind his waist. Walking over to the fridge powered by water mana crystals, he took out three eggs.

"Oh Fair Maid, you wouldn't mind if you sacrifice 3 eggs for me, yes?"

She looked at the objects in question in his hand, then turned back to him, "Do you plan to make Lady Emilia's breakfast as well? Serving her a dish of three eggs is a bit excessive."

He rolled his eyes again but chuckled anyway, "No. I intend to learn how to control the grip strength of this hand." He gestured to his skeleton hand, curling his fingers before flexing them at the level of his chest, deliberately making clicking noises with the joints. "The sooner I adapt to it, the better."

She stared at him for a few moments, then nodded. "Very well. You may have them. We have more to spare, anyway."

"Good." Then he pulled out an apple out with the skeleton hand, not knowing the amount of grip strength exerted accidently punctured the flesh with ivory fingertips and making juices leak out as he closed the fridge door with his hip. "May I have this?"

She blinked. "For what?"

He simply shrugged, "I'm just hungry."

Leaving it with just that, he left the kitchen and walked along the hallway, playfully rolling the three eggs in his left hand with skillful dexterity while taking generous bites out of the apple. At a certain distance where he was at the turn of the corner, he stopped walking for a moment and called out behind him, "Dear Maid, if you stare at me so intensely like that, you might bore a hole in me."

He doesn't need to look at the widened blue eyes who actually thought she was being inconspicuous when she was following behind at a fair distance away from him. Only the Order of Witch Hunters had the ability to escape the multidirectional sensory awareness of Necromagi. No demon has ever snuck up on him before, and someone like her is not going to be the exception.

Now to be someplace private within the yards of the mansion. Maybe at the exterior walls of the building with a lot of cool shade. He could have picked his room but he felt confined in there for once so he feels inclined to the outdoors for the moment.

And while he walked for a certain distance, maybe halfway to his destination now that he's out the door, he's now inclined to mention the presence that's been matching his pace in footsteps behind him just so she wouldn't be noticed. "Must you follow me, Dear Maid?"

He heard the tiniest squeak of surprise for being found out again. "No, Ser. You and Rem are simply heading to the same direction."

He nearly heard a stutter from the start there. This fucking maid's really tempting him to bait her into action, isn't she? Hasn't she learned? Didn't she get a lecture from Ram like what Roswaal has said? This bitch is stubborn.

Well…if he remembers right, he hasn't played that kind of game in a while. Why not indulge in it for a while? He is in a good mood for the moment. He'll see how long can she restrain herself before night time arrives.

So he continued walking, deliberately trying to alter his pace from quick to slow without giving it away, just to see if the maid's actually following him. And to his lack of surprise, she is. She's actually having him in her close watch. He couldn't help himself for this, "Dear Maid, stare at me like that for too long, you might trip."

He still felt her stiffness in the air for being found out the 3rd time. She honestly thinks she's being inconspicuous, huh? Pathetic Maid.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After 1 apple reduced to its core and 3 cracked eggs, he has acquired likely 79% of control with his hand thanks to Mother's assistance in the process. The amount of control depends entirely on the durability of the bones as well. So he set a default that his hand is three times sturdier than ordinary bones, like mahogany branches. In comparison, he might be able to hold the dear girl's hand without breaking it. But he shouldn't be too hasty in that regard. He needs to be fully adept to it before he can rest easy and stroke her head without breaking her skull.

The next order of business after that, he had requested the Fair Maid to judge his writing ability. As he is basically illiterate and has recently learned this country's written language last night, he wanted to have a native's judgment. He would write three poems for I-script, Ro-script and Ha-script respectively, containing 6 stanzas that would contain every possible unique syllable and symbol. By the time he's finished, he'll call for her.

He didn't actually anticipate that he couldn't write with his right skeleton hand anymore. Not only that, he snapped the quill in half just by trying to write the first syllable. So he left it to Mother to write for him, having more proficiency in writing without any physical sensory nerves than him. Next time, he'll improve his writing ability.

In the span of an hour with Mother's flowery handwriting filling the blank sheet, choice of words and symbols dictated by him, all 3 poems were finished. If he was to lack his humility, he will admit that they're impressive. Then again, poetry isn't the Order of the Serpent's strong suit. He's not trying to impress anyone, this is purely for the sake of his literacy.

When the Fair Maid was called to his room and read his works, she gave him a very thorough feedback, "Your first poem would definitely swoon your childhood crush if you were still young. Your second poem would definitely earn the hand of a long since passed maiden. And your third poem would likely send the entire kingdom into chaos for how atrociously you structured it."

He couldn't hold back his raucous laughter after hearing it. It was a firm reminder why he LOVED the Fair Maid. She was so honest and had the bluntest tongue that rivaled a Priest of the Serpent's—he couldn't help but find it very endearing and refreshing.

Basically put, his first poem, the I-script poem, which was a translation of a childish poem taught to Above-World little ones, earned a perfect score. His second poem of Ro-script, which translated the truth of death and acceptance that all Priests of the Serpent follow, was also perfect. His Ha-script is the only that's actually fucked, nothing more than the History of the Serpent that gave birth to the Order. With helpful criticism regarding structure, grammar and sequence, she was able to help him recreate the poem in proper form.

Just like that, he was no longer illiterate in this country.

Giving her thanks and incinerating his works of art into ashes in his skeletal hand by suddenly combusting them, he set out to do his next order of business despite the daylight hours when he should be resting.

And that is to bait the Dear Maid into action. He's not blind enough to not notice her presence standing outside the door ever since the Fair Maid entered his quarters. He would do whatever kind of activity that existed; go out of his way to chat with anyone he sees, explore the layout of the building despite learning it from the Spirits, or simply walk around the mansion premises to find good soil. Good soil means a potential area to create strong mud golems, or to fill his right gauntlets now that he doesn't have a flesh right hand.

No matter what he did or where he is, he would always sense the Dear Maid nearby, watching him while she does a chore that he knows was already finished hours ago, or she would linger too long doing the same chore in the same place just so he could be within her sight.

In every opportunity he would make a mention of her lingering sight, with no hesitation.

"Dear Maid, watch where you're going. You might hit the wall."

"Dear Maid, eyes on your work. You might wipe off the artistry of that vase."

"Dear Maid, if you linger your eyes in my direction for so long like that, I might misunderstand that you're falling for me."

Interestingly, the Fair Maid was always with her. And it was easy to tell that the elder sister was reining the little sister's actions or impulses. The former would always make an excuse for the latter's actions, by saying his hair was distracting Rem. It's always about the hair. The Dear Maid would play along as well. He knows fucking well that it's all because she's suspicious of him, like always.

So he resorted to the one remark that would definitely trigger her impulses. After coming back from the forests outside the mansion borders testing his newly acquired magical affinities of fire and earth, he passed through the gates, with Ram who had accompanied him following behind and Rem awaiting at the entrance. By the Dragon, she's giving it away just by being there. Isn't she a maid? Shouldn't there be chores to do instead of standing there, expecting guests home?

At the right distance, he turned to her and said it:

"Dear Maid, if you look at me so intensely like that, it would seem as if you wanted to kill me."

There. Her eyes widened. Not because of such a presumption put on her but because he was right. Even more because it was a genuine remark, not because he wanted to get a reaction out of her. Unlike her, he's unparalleled in regards to masking his intentions. That is how you fool others; you should fool yourself, just as he fooled himself into believing the Dear Maid would lighten up after coming back chatting amiably with her sister. It's a code to never lie, but it was never mentioned that it's not allowed to lie mentally.

He's been through this many times already, having already read the pattern and she's playing along with it accordingly. Compared to her sister who deviated with it, she's malleable. The more she does, the more she's playing into his hands.

As always, the Dear Maid held herself back from acting out of hand. As always, the Fair Maid was quick to bring up an excuse for the little sister's expertly veiled glare. As always, the latter would play along. As always, he didn't believe her a damn bit.

As it was more than three hours after the passing of midday, he still has more to do. He might as well practice his handwriting, with a bone pen on a board of ivory as fragile as clay. It would be nothing more than carving names on wood but it's cost-free. He won't have to break any quills in the process.

First thing first, however.

It's about time that he's had enough.

He sighed, and a hardened demeanor enshrouded his form. Just before he entered his room, he laid his hand on the frame and held still like a statue, waiting for Rem to pass by.

And to his lack of surprise, she did walk on the same corridor he went through, hearing her set of footsteps stop right behind him. "Is something wrong, Ser?"

"Are you contemplating your life decisions by staring at the door, Ser?"

"Rem." He addressed the person he must talk to. "I demand your audience, right this instant."

"Ser?"

"Ram." He addressed the other who would likely interfere with what's to come. "I would like you to give us privacy. This is going to be very sensitive talk between me and your sister."

There was a pause, and he could feel uncertainty and trepidation in the air. But it only lasted a moment.

"Very well. Enjoy Rem's company. Do kindly treat each other kindly while Ram isn't looking. Rem, do as he says."

"Dear Sister….okay…" There came an unsure response from Rem.

His eyes were wide for the immediate compliance. He expected a confrontation because Ram is extremely aware of what he's going to do, and she's allowing it? He knows the elder sister is sharper than that. Does she not worry? Is this going to be consistent of the Fair Maid's character, deviating his every expectation?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of these questions and entered his room, the constant occupant that was the skeletal magus already taking a chair and placing it in the middle of the room while he stood before his table full of elixirs. "Close the door." He told.

After a few short seconds, he heard the sound of the door closing and being locked.

Holding a calm glare in his glowing green eyes, his hair beginning to float and the air beginning to be tainted in small doses of his influence, he spoke in nothing but sharp whispers that seemed to echo all over the room, keeping his back turned to her.

"Drop it."

"Pardon, Ser?" She asked innocently.

"You honestly think I haven't noticed?" He cannot believe the audacity of this maid. "I'm telling you to stop the charade. I've had enough of your subtle contempt and suspicion. If you have a problem with me, why don't you express them? It's not as if it's something I don't suffer most of the time in the presence of idiots who do not know me. If anything, your polite way of showing it makes me sick. Compared to your annoying attempt of a façade, your sister's honesty is something I consider comfortable."

His tone remained toneless but even, and his body language implied nothing when the tainted mana in the air around his person said otherwise.

"Your suspicion is understandable given the circumstances of this kingdom and my sudden presence but have you ever given me the benefit of the doubt? Have you ever considered that, unlike what you presume, I am not an enemy in this mansion? I did not simply return Emilia's insignia nor did I put my life on the line to defend her because I seek compensation, I've done so because I simply wished to do so. Why else would you think I haven't figured out my reward?"

He truly meant what he said but he will not mention that he wanted to die that very day. He's already going out of his way to find another reason to live, to delay his departure. It doesn't matter whether it's a curse or a blessing to do so but to live just to suffer this treatment is simply unacceptable.

Especially not after everything he's been through before he was forced into this world.

"Have I done something to warrant such a wary glance? Is there something about me you don't like? Is there something you would like to say to my face? Hm? If there is, then say it. I will not retaliate. I swear to that. I will not move from here. I will hear them out with an open mind, without the slightest twitch of every single muscle in my body. I have suffered worse, especially from the people who called for my help."

He waited for her to speak. He's completely open to her responses, passive as a rock and willing to accept them before they start reasoning with each other. He desired a civil relationship with anyone in this mansion, and discord of a sort can easily break the continued unity of this mansion. He knows that for a fact, because he was one of the leading causes of organizations falling out on themselves back in Pandemonium. They were sick scum who deserved what's coming for them but not this one.

Yet why does she not speak? Why?

…..

…...

At the passing of her granted 10 seconds, he no longer had the inclination to hear her out anymore. It's absolutely certain that this Maid will never talk to him.

It's settled, there is no longer any doubt that the inevitable will come. If she's not going to stop, then he's going to have to take it by his own hands to make sure it doesn't happen. To end this nonsense once and for all.

This is mercy.

"If you refuse to say it then this discussion is over. I will not press it any further. I'd rather be away from you than suffer another second of your disgusting glance." He turned around sharply, expressing his hostility with the nakedness of a blade and grabbing her arm as soon as he reached her, roughly leading her to the door. He ignored her non-hostile demeanor. He ignored her unreadable expressions. He ignored her trying to say something.

He lost his patience. He's done.

His skeleton hand reaching the knob, he barely pulled it off the frame before he twisted it and opened the door but not without saying this, nothing but hisses and growls through gritted teeth, "If I see you near me, if I even see you look at me, you will earn my wrath. I have had enough of your behavior. I've had enough of your suspicions. And I have enough of you. Remember this," He leaned his head close to hers, sneering. "I will not put any effort in earning your trust, nor your sister's, nor even that of the clown you call Lord. I have already earned the trust of the person standing at the top of the hierarchy of this building, therefore I don't need yours. If you cannot come to terms with my presence, then FUCK OFF!"

With a thunderous roar that shook the open door in its frame, he threw her out of his room and she roughly hit her side against the opposite wall before he practically thrown the door as he closed it, creating an ear-shattering slam that literally cracked the frame.

Stomping to the middle of the room, literally quaking the quarters with each heavy foot step, his elixirs at the table bouncing, he looked up to the ceiling and cried a guttural scream that resounded across several rooms around him.

"AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgghhhhhh!‼!"

Every single one of his windows cracked from the magnitude in the aftermath.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

After Mother placed his name and signature on the bottom of the parchment, he folded it into a small square and slotted it in the hollow compartment of his skeletal magus' skull through the eye-socket. With a point of his clawed finger, the construction obediently went to the chair and sat down.

His dark chest plate was intact but the plackart that covered the abdomen was split apart because of the assassin, therefore he cannot use it anymore. Left to only his dark clawed gauntlets, and additional bone armor to counteract his unprotected abdomen, with the light-eating robes still worn under it, he can safely assume that he is ready. His right gauntlet packed with strong dirt to fill the space of flesh and muscle his skeletal hand lacked, and his wand still strapped to his spinal belt as he brushed a claw across it, he has everything with him. With his bag of bones strapped to his back, the cloak on his person and all his experiments stashed in advance, he may now leave.

He had spoken with several Spirits and Souls in his self-confinement, employing them under temporary service to report him what was going on in the mansion, and he heard of the current happenings. The sisters had went out shopping earlier. It's very likely by the suggestion of the elder sister, just to get him and the maid away from each other. What he's done was reported to her, and had more than enough sense to understand why. Shortly after when they got home, they came across Roswaal who was about to leave for a business meeting.

He wasn't sure if this was a stroke of luck or the act of fate itself, but this was the perfect opportunity to enact the plan he has cultivated during the entire several hours he spent inside his room, packing his things into the Void. He waited till night, and now is the moment to act.

He will not allow the pattern to pass. He's saving this place.

The Maid, Rem, is a dangerous wildcard. Ram could only hold her back for so long. She alone carried the highest risk of causing a fallout in this mansion. He will not show mercy when she finally decided to take matters in her own hands and attack him. He might kill her in self-defense. Even if he would hold back, then Mother would do it instead. And if she dies, he will earn the ire of not just the elder sister but also Lord Mathers himself. Emilia will be conflicted. Whether she takes his side or not, it will strain her willingness to fight for the throne because her relationship with her patron has been strained because of the latter's servants doing things she did not like.

So, he's going out of his way to make sure all that does not happen. By leaving. If he leaves, the mansion will no longer have to suffer any tension because of his presence. If he leaves, he will not suffer another second of keeping his own well-being safe with the Maid around.

He felt uneasy for doing this. The old him would not have done this. He would have killed that Maid the sooner he realized she was a liability. Instead, he's making sure she doesn't die from his hands of all people. He's saving the people he hated….again…

….he truly has gotten soft.

Growling and shutting off all the negative emotions that's riddling him ever since he made his decision, he opened the window open, letting the night wind breeze against his face, throwing his hood back and making his silver hair fly.

For a moment, he basked in the cool and the fresh air. As he looked back at the door, he uttered the one thing that will stay true till he no longer had the fire to go on. "I will cheer you on from the shadows, Dear Girl."

With a leap from the first floor window, his feet met the stone ground with a slight bend of his knees and the impact force coursing through his body. Wearing his hood back over his head, he bolted out of his position and ran for the mansion borders.

He never looked back as soon as he jumped over the gate and ran down the road to the Village of Earlham, trusting the employed Spirits to lead him the way.

Through the road path in-between the forests, through the zigzagging roads, and over the hills. He found a large bonfire alit in the distant village that looked like it could contain 100 or more people. It was definitely Earlham village like the Spirits have directed. Not only that, other dots of fires have illuminated every part of the village, the shadows of the night held back at the borders.

The mere sight of it set him on edge.

Because it was a clear indication of a state of emergency happening. Some customs apparently didn't change, even if this was another world. If memory served him right, this domain is very close to a Witchbeast breeding ground.

If what he think is happening is happening….oh dear.

Mother felt his concern and sprinted even faster.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As soon as he arrived, the residential Spirits that belonged to long-dead villagers as well as those of Nature Spirits were panicking. The atmosphere of the village was anything but calm. He could feel apprehension in the air, there was unease. It felt like this place has lost something. The people running about were not a good sign.

A young man ran up to him.

"You there. Who are you? Sorry but the village is in a bit of a struggle right now. So you gotta—"

"You!" His commanding voice overshadowed the young man's own, shutting him up, "What is going on?"

The man was shocked at his harsh inquiry but he was wise enough to answer quickly, "A bunch of children are missing. We knew they were playing before it gets dark but…they didn't come back. That's why a bunch of people are looking for 'em."

The Spirits then began shouting messages to his head, their emotions were brimming with worry. They were pleading him to do something. The instability of this situation is a lot worse than what the young man thinks.

Forest….witchbeasts…..little pup…unknown child….…lured…..at the wall…children…cursed…..hurry...

Scrunching his face, he faced the young man, who never noticed the commotion happening in his head. "Did you check the forests past the wall?"

"Th-the forest? Why there? That's witchbeast habitat…even the children know better than to go—"

Why do these villagers live nearby somewhere like that!?

"Follow me!" He snapped and bolted to the direction of the forest. He did not wait for any compliance from the boy but he better must. The other Spirits are beckoning him to the same direction as well. Reaching the forest, with the young man's footsteps following after him, he slid to a stop. There was a clamor happening in the residing Spirits nearby.

He paused to heed them.

Barrier…..broken…..witchbeasts…..can cross through now…stone barrier….no more power…..hurry…children in danger…..bitten….hurry…..

Shaking his head, he looked directly at the bark of the tree. There was a crystal embedded into it.

"Young man." He called out to the boy behind him, slightly out of breath for failing to match his intense sprint. "What does that mean?" He pointed at the crystal.

"Huh?" The boy, tired and disheveled, looked at what he pointed, then his face instantly lapsed from exhaustion to horror. "Oh no! The barrier's broken! Oh no! The children….! If they had gone into the forest….or if one of the witchbeasts have broken through….!"

"Listen!" He set himself in full authority over the man, wanting no argument and needing only full compliance. "Gather your most able men and bring them here! The children are inside the forest! I will head in and see if I could find them!"

"But how do you know—"

"Just do it!" He snapped, his eyes flaring green and his hair flying. His hood had been flown off minutes ago, and that made his features even more visible despite the limited light of the moon thanks to the trees. "The more time you waste, the more likely the children might be eaten! Now go!"

"O-okay!" So he ran back as fast as he can, calling out the names of the ones who can do the job.

Facing the forest, hearing the requests of the Spirits and Souls to hurry up and save them, he shut them all out and considered the circumstances as well as his motives.

This incident cannot be ignored. It can't be. Because of the moronic structure the Above-World has made in their stupid hierarchy, this is potentially a danger not just to the village but also to the mansion itself, specifically Emilia.

If the children were to die, custom—or otherwise, logic—dictates that the ones held liable is the master of the domain. It will mar the reputation of Lord Mathers. He could care less about that damn clown's reputation but what he's concerned about is the dear girl herself.

Being a close resemblance to the devil, Emilia will inevitably suffer the full brunt of the blame despite her innocence. Despite the passing of the Witch of Envy, the world still feared the Witch and her influence is still visible in the world, especially the existence of witchbeasts.

If he can prevent that from happening, then he shall. Whether it's a favor to return due to her giving him the reason to continue living, or to credit this as his first feat of protecting Emilia's name just like he vowed to do, he will do what he can to bring the children back. This is for her.

Judging from the Spirits, they didn't mention anything about any witchbeast breaking through and hiding somewhere in the village. That leaves out one concern. All the concerns lie beyond, and he must address them.

Necromantic energy rolling off his form, the mana in the air is quickly tainted. When the amount was right, he drained all the tainted mana into himself and processed multiple chunks of it into potent mana that he could use. Life force gathered around him, and they congregated to the soil. By his command and with a slight exertion of will, he called the Earth to assist in this ordeal.

"HA!"

In 4 places of the soil nearby him, bulky hands of mud and dirt exploded out of the ground and pulled their bodies out. Golems of stone and mud, perfect for the task against beasts of the devil. The ground shaking in their birth, each one slammed their rocky fists together to indicate their readiness to serve. As the remaining 2 were just about to complete their exit from below, he transferred an ample amount of mana to Mother. With the given energy, she summoned a set of bones out of the ground in front of him. He added a few teeth bones to the pile made from his bag of bone dust, just so there could be a foundation for the soul. Instead of using his power over Life to make them rise, he will instead employ those who were willing to stand up to his cause.

Specifically, the Souls of long passed villagers.

Selecting those with the fiercest emotions from the numberless roster, he waved his glowing hands over the bones and transferred their Souls to the frames below his feet. By their own will instead of his own, they formed themselves into perfect skeletons, built like stone and as fast as Mother could run, wielding swords and axes of bone and ivory. This tiny army greatly differ from the ones with artificial souls, the voids in their sockets carrying a pale blue light that glowed just like his own orbs of green. The literal representation of the metaphor: Windows to the Soul.

With an entourage of 6 skeletons and 4 golems, no witchbeast will ever get to touch him.

As he took the first step towards the objective, his mental state suddenly changed gears, resolve lapsing into immense hatred.

As a result, the mud golem next to him whirled in speeds that defied its hulking size and caught a large iron ball of spikes from hitting its frame with its rocky hand, sending pieces of rocks and stone flying from the impact but holding the weapon of death firmly.

His eyes burned brighter than before, a green glow shining on the flesh near his sockets, and the air became tainted once again. With a guttural voice that would have made him no different than the demons he's killed before, he asked, "You do not quit, do you, Maid?"

Turning around in snapping speeds, he saw the damnable women herself standing there, the other end of the flail that was the grip in her right hand. "The young man told me that you planned to save the children. Is that true?"

She asks that even as she had just thrown her weapon at one of his creations, "And why should I answer to you?"

"It's too good to be true." She said, her voice stone cold and professional. Despite the situation she was in, she perfectly maintained her persona as a maid. In a different mood, he might have complimented her. But as of now, he feels nothing but disdain towards her. "With Lord Roswaal absent and suddenly this happening, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say you plan to do something heinous. This could be a ploy to attack the mansion. With your abilities to create minions, it only adds to my theory. Do you plead guilty or do you plead innocent?"

Even though she's suspicious of him and never even trusted him since the start, she had the fucking nerve to take the position of judge…..!

"I will not plead, you damn bitch!"

In response, she yanked the iron ball out of the golem's tight grip, destroying its hand in the process. She reared it back for another attack and as the flail was flying straight towards him, a flying boulder shaped like a fist collided against it in midair and sending it down to the soil, thrown by the golem from the furthest right, missing a left hand.

"If you were innocent, then for what reason would you do this? Why would you go so far for a village you don't even know existed? Why would you go so far for children you never even met? Even if you had answers for them, how can Rem trust you?"

Her tone was different this time. She truly wanted to know the answer, she wanted to know why. His answer is simple. He had no reason to do any of this in the first place. The village didn't matter to him. The children didn't matter to him. Their lives held little relevance to him. It would be simple to just tell her all this.

But she said something she shouldn't have, especially when her behavior against him for the last three days have been nothing but dubious. She only stoked the fires of his anger even further, and it was nearly becoming a conflagration.

"Like I said…" His words were barely comprehensible amidst the demonic growl, and one of his skeletons suddenly dropped its bone axe. "….I don't. Need! Your! TRUST!"

Before she could even blink, the unarmed skeleton suddenly went flying towards her and its skeletal fist landed solidly against her forehead, hard enough to break its own stone-hard hand to pieces, powerful enough to send her head lolling backwards and almost to an unconscious state as she fell on her back.

In the midst of her disorientation, a massive hand of stone held her entire frame down, pinning her against the soil with only her head and legs visible. Her arms couldn't move, she couldn't raise her body up—she could not break free from the grip. When a second golem quickly placed a hand atop the one already on her, adding more heavyweight, she was quickly rendered powerless, unable to do anything.

…Not.

The horn sprouted out of her forehead, the demon in her blood responding to the precariousness of her situation, and suddenly, she had shattered the rocky hands pinning her down as she spread her arms to the side and crushed them with her petite hands alone. Rolling to the side to evade a pair of fists raised up to crush her head coming from a 3rd golem, she quickly grabbed the handle of her flail and lashed out.

With just a single swing, the iron ball of the flail reduced all 3 golems to nothing but the soil they once were. Turning to where the man was, he has already departed, his 6 skeletons and 1 golem gone with him.

With her nose, she sprinted into the forest and tracked down the man who carried the Scent of the Witch. She will not have the premonition she had from her dreams come to be.