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)

9. Final Service

The first thing he did once he knew that he was conscious was to drink, eat, devour and consume. Not physical sustenance but mana, draining from the atmosphere with his gaping mouth, widened eyes, open hands and the light-eating robes he wore, passing the energy it collected to his core. He greedily inhaled them all.

Unlike all living things, Priests of the Serpent cannot regenerate their mana. Without a sustainable amount, they would fall victim to lethargy that could last a lifetime and eventually death. Their physical structure greatly differs from the norm despite the fact that they're human, especially when their bodies were continually operated or experimented on by their own hands. It stands to the reason why they know how to siphon mana at an early age. Babes would be fed mana by their parents, and when they come of age, they will be taught to siphon mana on their own, and eventually it becomes as routinely as a daily meal.

And now, he's starved to the point of mania. His excursion last night drained more than most of his energy, adding that with the curses on his person that ate more than most of it, and including the fact that he used up nearly all of it to keep his blood from seeping out of his gaping throat, he's nothing short of a thirsty man in the desert thrown into a pool of cold spring water. Except the amount of water in the pool was below half, signifying that he's in someplace confined like a house instead of the open. Nevertheless, he swam, bathed, and drank in it.

When he drained it to the brim and began refilling itself, he was left breathing heavily as his rationality and cognitive abilities returned to him. Opening his eyes, the sanity in them clear and bright, he found a wooden ceiling, not like the decorated cement of the quarters he left behind.

Well, that's new. "….." He remarked, and held back the feeling of loss the sooner he didn't hear a single octave come out of him.

He didn't want to believe it, he refused to acknowledge it, but it was actually true. There was no way of denying it.

He can perfectly remember his throat being ripped out. Though it had likely healed, given that he could still breathe, but his voice….

Fighting back his tears and the shock of its loss, his abilities of Emotion Suppression used to a heavy extent that it could drain his mental energy, he raised his skeleton hand up, the ivory free of dirt and grime from the soil in his greaves, pristine as the day he found it attached to his hand.

Then 2 metal hands, dark steel fingers ending in claws held his own tenderly. Even with his physical senses on that hand gone, the warmth never fails to be passed on to him. He brought the studded knuckles to his forehead, seeking comfort from the contact alone.

Mother. "..." He whispered, almost pitifully. A second left hand is placed on his head, stroking his white locks consolingly. Turning his eyes to the side, he saw her frame seated to a chair beside the bed. The battles from last night was still evident on her form, witchbeast blood stained the bones and steel as well as teeth marks.

You really do not break so easily…..like me….how am I still alive?

The question leaned more to the 'why' than 'how'.

He noticed a strange shift in the rhythm of Mother's headpats. Before he could question it, Mother had her second right hand gesturing to a pillar close to the foot of the bed. His brow raised slightly at the sight of the dear girl Emilia seated on a chair, recognizable white hair and garments and all. She's fast asleep, however, leaning against the backrest and the pillar next to her to stay upright.

Raising his left hand up, the sleeves falling down to reveal his pale upper arm that wasn't protected by his grieves, there were bite scars lining certain areas as well as healed shreds. They weren't shallow wounds, last he remembered. He touched his neck and definitely felt the large ugly scar there. To have them closed overnight means…

He sighed deeply. She saved my life yet again. He was tempted to laugh at how familiar this situation felt, but the disappointment was stronger than the last time he woke up like this that he couldn't bring himself to. Despite acquiring the will to live, he still hoped he had died last night. And now that drive is slowly dwindling because of this new loss.

He sighed mournfully, fighting back his pessimism just for the sake of being level-headed. This despair can't help him in any way. It happened, so he must deal with it. For now, he must regard on what's in front of him. And what's in front of him is a sleeping half-elf, who likely exhausted herself in healing him.

He sighed. I wonder if this puts me on her debt.

"Not exactly." He wasn't surprised to hear that androgynous voice coming out of nowhere. Turning his eyes to the dear girl's nape, he found the cat's face peeking out of it. "It's more like you did the deed first and Lia paid it back as soon as she could so no debts for now."

He waited for Puck to sit on his chest before he said his greetings in his thoughts. [Hello, Puck.]

"Hey. Good morning, Emurdol." He waved his paw, "Heard that you suddenly ran off last night."

He sighed tiredly, looking into space, [I didn't have a choice.] He took Puck in his left hand and tried to sit up, defying the painful aches that erupted on his body, especially around his arms. Mother quickly assisted him, pushing him upright so he can shift backwards against the wall. [My presence is bound to cause discord, and Rem is certain to cause it.]

"Huh. I thought you saw the attack coming and went out to stop it without warning anybody."

He shook his head, silver swishing in waves. [Just a damn coincidence. I had to do it. The worst possible outcome would have caused an uproar and damaged Emilia's name even further.]

"Then that makes me thankful once again." He felt Puck's paws pat his hand twice. "Hate to sound insensitive but that apparently made you lose something like last time, didn't it?"

His reaction was immediate as this fay decided to mention it out of fucking nowhere. He slammed the back of his head against the wall, and it was hard enough to create a crack on the single plank of wood that comprised the wall. And then he slammed it again the second time. A third. Fourth. Each one getting stronger than the last, the wood beginning to shatter and break. And when the wood had snapped in two, deadly protrusions sticking out of each half, Mother's 4 hands caught his head before he did anymore self-harm, forcing him away from the wall and pushing his face towards the sheets until he gave up, realizing that he could not possibly beat his own creation in a physical contest.

The stiff silence of the room contained the small sniffles and the hitch of his breath, muffled by the coverings that was slowly gaining a shade of red, his tears of blood dampening it.

First it was a hand. Now he lost a voice. Both incidents, it had something to do with Emilia. The things he's done for her somehow ended up coming with a price, and yesterday's no different.

"I'm sorry, Emurdol, but I don't want you blaming Emilia for any of these losses." Puck was genuinely sympathetic as he healed the back of his bleeding head, but he had a resolute undertone in his words. "She already felt a lot of guilt when you were sliced open in that loot house, now she's feeling a lot worse after hearing from Betty that you lost your vocal chords dealing with this incident, which saved her name. I don't want you rubbing any salt in her wounds."

[I DON'T BLAME HER FOR ANYTHING, PUCK!] He could have screamed that, loud enough that the entire village could have heard him from here and everyone would know his point, but nothing came out of his mouth. Just a choked breath that barely even conveyed his thoughts verbally, and the despair struck even harder on his heart. His tears ran endlessly on the sheets, and his sobs were very audible despite being muffled. Mother rubbed his back, caressed his head, held the hand that crumpled the sheets—every form of comfort she had done to him all these years she did again, and he barely felt her efforts through the pain. [IT WAS GOING SO WELL! IT WAS EFFECTIVELY HANDLED! I EVEN SAVED EVERY CHILD...but that maid…that maid….! She made me come back…..why did she follow…..!? Why can't she trust me…..!?]

Mother forced him to sit up and a pillow is suddenly pushed against his face, not to smother him but to give him the suitable substitute of a soft shoulder that he could cry on, which he accepted without question, pressing it even further to himself while steel arms wrapped themselves around his head, giving the illusion that she was still alive, breathing and full of warmth that she could secure him in from his demons. She was no being of flesh and blood, however, capable of such warm consolations. Even if she was full of love for him, her frame is designed solely for conflict of the harshest sort. It cannot exert the comforts that a Mother only could offer to the fullest extent.

Puck grimaced at how the Dead would even do as much as they can for their loved ones despite their incomplete forms. He floated near Emurdol's head, patting his scalp with his tiny paws. For someone who had sacrificed so much for his daughter, he deserved more than this but it was all he could offer.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"The people were very grateful for what you did, Emurdol. They're still arguing among themselves right now for failing to notice a broken barrier when it's their job to watch over it but just you wait, they'll come over with a basket full of fruits as thanks."

He gave no response.

"When you get it, let's share 'em with Lia. You know that my daughter a needs little more nutrients in her system. She's working a little too hard in her studies, should take a break once in a while. If you get some vegetables, let's make sure she eats her pepples. She's too picky. We'll force-feed her if we have to. Can't do it when I'm this small and cute but I think you'll do it right."

He still remained silent, facing away from the spirit and facing the wall adjacent to the side of the bed.

"I also heard from them that you ate the kids' curses yourself. I don't know how you did that but that's brave of ya! Who would eat a curse, anyway? It's not like you have the Divine Blessing for that, do ya?"

He stopped crying, his sniffles has stopped and his shoulders no longer hitched an hour or so ago, but he's been unresponsive since then. He was as still as a corpse, he even looked like one with his deathly pallor and cold skin. The fires of life that still flickered in his soul was all that Puck needed to know that he is still there.

And it is slowly being eaten away.

"Those curses you ate…." Puck paused, not liking the implications that came with what he felt inside Emurdol's body. "….they're still in you, aren't they?"

He heard the slightest sound of bone rustling against the sheets. He was clenching his right hand. There was the sensation of bitterness and pain that the spirit felt ripple across the man's mind before it suddenly disappeared. An unnatural phenomena.

Puck pursed his lips, "….do you think you can get rid of them?"

There was only silence. He expected the man to be silent, but an impersonal reply came, anyway, [….yes.]

The spirit's eyes went wide for the sudden response when he had been trying to get one out of him for a whole hour, attempting to get his mind away from his loss. Even with this, Puck's mood wasn't rising, "Why won't you?"

And then Resignation began filling in the hollow of Emurdol's mind that the spirit has been feeling since then, an emotionless and empty void that nearly resembled the thoughts of those were not alive.

Even if he wasn't given a response, Puck already figured out what this sudden surge of emotion meant. "You want to die, don't you?"

The sensation of finality was still there. It didn't disappear like the other emotions before, it remained in place like a nail buried into wood. Many other emotions were there; despair, regret, hatred, anger, but they were all overshadowed. The submission of the inevitable was stronger than anything.

"You're giving up?" Puck asked, frowning. "After what you said in that morning yesterday, you're just going to go back on your word like that?"

"I am not going back on my word, Fay."

He was stiff at the sudden arrival of that monstrous voice. A disgusting but visceral sound, and it sent a chill down his spine that even Puck couldn't resist. The emotion of finality lingered on, unfeeling to everything else but the prospect of death, passively awaiting it without question.

It reflected on what he had said about the desire for death his kin were known for.

"I have had enough of it all. There's nothing but pain."

He intends to uphold his word, but does not wish to live? It could have been a paradox, especially with the limited time he has left, but considering the kind of magician Emurdol was, including the fact that he was capable of many reality-breaking wonders, a conclusion couldn't escape Puck's mind, "Do you intend to become like your Mother?"

He could only wonder how he's going to do that, and how would Emilia react.

"Much more." He answered, "An entity of emotion, with enough awareness to remember his promise. An apparition of duty, with the vestiges of my will and self in his person."

"Like a Hollow, I take it? Or rather, it sounds like you're turning yourself into a contracted spirit." He inferred.

"Like a Wraith." He corrected firmly, "If my body does not last, then Mother shall too. Her Soul is coming with me, along with everybody else."

Puck eyed the wand holstered to Mother's spinal belt. It has been flashing green in and out since his subtle declaration to die. Strong emotions emanated from it like smoke. So much anger. So much hatred. So much despair.

He turned back to Emurdol. "Do you realize how much your decision will affect Lia? Even if you will come back, how much guilt and sadness do you think will be put on her?"

His emotions weren't swayed. The Resignation was still there. He didn't care about Emilia. He didn't care about himself. He didn't care about anything anymore. His apathy reached insurmountable limits, "Everything you say…all for her, isn't it?"

"Let me make this straight for you, Emurdol. I don't care about you. I don't care about anyone else. I don't even care about myself." The words passed by easily on his feline lips, "All I ever care about is her and her alone. If keeping you alive makes her smile, then I will keep you alive."

"Just what can you do to stop me? What can you possibly do to stop me from ending my own life before you could do anything?"

His tone implied that he wasn't expecting any sort of answer, and Puck knows why.

Because he already won.

How do you stop a man from committing suicide if his emotions have already vanished, making him incapable of being swayed by anything? Threatening people had been a tactic Puck used extensively, but such a thing won't work on Emurdol. He is a man seeking death, not fearing it. Nothing could be used as leverage against him either. If the spirit even tried anything, the man would immediately end his own life in a snap. He only assumed that but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Just how badly pushed to despair was he?

"If you die…." This was the last and only resort Puck had. He had no other options, "…your friend, Lia, will cry, just like what she said last morning."

Resignation.

….

…...

…...

Resignation.

"Today is the fifth day. The day that I will depart. As soon as Emilia wakes up, I will give her my farewells and pass on in the wilderness along with Mother. Her tears won't come that way."

Give her a reason to think that he merely departed to someplace else instead of having died and Emilia's state of mind won't be burdened by the guilt and depression Puck had told of.

It frustrated Puck that he had a point. Even if it was false hope, even if it was based on a lie, it was better that way. His only priority is Emilia and Emilia alone. If he cannot stop Emurdol, then he will do his very best to hide the truth from her the best he could.

"You win, Emurdol."

After hearing him concede defeat, the man shifted slightly before he returned to emulating an unmoving corpse. Puck was never aware of the bloody tears that had been running down Emurdol's eyes since the discussion of his death.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

It was 20 minutes later or so when he heard the door open. The mana signature gave away who it was, and he was quite surprised for that person to come by. As far as he knew, he barely conversed with her since the first day.

"Hey, Betty."

"Bubby….is he awake, I wonder?"

"He is. What are you here for?"

He listened to little footsteps approach the bedside before continuing, "To tell him his predicament, if he's not aware of it himself, I suppose."

He huffed in amusement. Too late.

"He's aware. He's just not bothered about it."

"What?" Now there's the bewilderment mixed with shock that he expected once revealing his desire for death. "Is he not afraid of death, I wonder?"

A croaky sigh escaped out of him as a failed verbalization of "Ha!". In the same moment, an illusion enshrouded both Puck and Beatrice, taking them to a minor dimension where the Souls of the Dead thrived and congregated. And in that little world, an eldritch voice spoke a reply in behalf of a voiceless Priest.

"Only idiots fear death. I don't."

Beatrice was surprised for the sudden noises in her head but she was levelheaded enough to notice what's he's doing and reply accordingly, "After all the effort this silly girl did to heal you, you're just going to waste all that, I wonder?"

"What I can only give her is the appreciation for the effort she's done to a friend. But it changes nothing, Little Spirit." He blatantly exposed what she truly is, the identity learnt from his talk with the Dead, a large amount of emphasis put in the term as he shifted around until he faced her with a derisive glare and a sharp sneer. "I want to die, and I gladly will. If you dare try to dispel these curses, I will retaliate."

Confusion and disbelief clouded the little girl's adorable features, creases forming in-between her eyes and wrinkling her wide forehead. "Even if I was going to, it's impossible at this point."

He raised an eyebrow, confused as to what she meant. "Impossible?"

"It would be simple to dispel a single curse that wasn't activated. But your body contained more than one thanks to the witchbeats that bit you in the forest and lived, making it far too complex for me to remove. It's as similar as a bundle of strings, too jumbled for me to unknot. Not only that, one among them is already activated, I suppose."

He would have hummed in interest, but lacking a working voice box, he could only express that in a nod. Eyes shining condescendingly as he stared deeply into her butterfly irises, he asked her, "You cannot dispel the curses?"

Without emotion, she answered him, "I told you, it's impossible."

His lips maintained the firm line since the start of the conversation but the smug look in his eyes could not be unnoticed. Mother sat him up once again before he began a demonstration. "Count with me, Little Spirit." With a skeleton hand, 3 fingers held up, he placed them at the center of his chest and a black mist from his body was pulled out like a parasite, morphing into a tiny ball in his fingertips.

"One."

Placing the black ball atop his left hand's index finger, his skeleton hand plucked out another unactivated curse from his right kidney and morphed it into a ball. He placed it to the middle finger of the left hand.

"Two."

Reaching for his left shoulder, he nicked out two balls from there, held in the gaps of his index, middle and ring finger, all while his face expressed a superior look and the eldritch voice continued counting in a smug tone.

"Three. Four."

Reaching for his left wrist, he plucked the fifth and placed it on his thumb, leaving all fingers with a black ball atop the tips.

"Five. And lastly…"

The last curse, which had been activated, the one he had taken from the Damn Maid, he used all 5 fingers to extract it out of his belly. It was a dense cloud of pure black, its influence all over his body gathering to his grasp by force. After a few seconds, he morphed the bulging cloud in his bony hand into a ball that could fit an entire palm.

His job done, he shot her with the most delightful shit-eating grin he ever made since this morning. "With just a clench of my left hand and I transfer this activated curse to a living tree as a patsy, I will be cleansed of all curses and be guaranteed to live. I'm quite surprised that a being of your caliber could not do the same."

He reveled in the gobsmacked face Beatrice wore, her large eyes wide at his feat that she was incapable of doing. She had a rather abundant pool of mana, greater than even him, and a really defined circulation, great enough to match senior magi that could last longer against him in a fight, but she could not achieve something like this? His world's archmages could do it, even newly-ordained Priests of the Serpent fresh out of the Underground. He was tempted to laugh at the fact that he was the superior one here.

"But it still changes nothing."

Wordlessly, he popped all the black orbs in his left hand into his mouth and his right hand let go of its grip on the activated curse, congregating back to his body like a pulled rubber band, continuing to where it left off and devouring his residual mana.

Nausea and queasiness overtook him as soon as the revolting flavor attacked his tongue and upset his stomach. He quickly clamped his mouth with his left hand while his right crumpled his stomach, fighting the urge to heave out his stomach acids once again. His eyes shut tightly and tearing red, his brow creased in pain, he slowly recovered to a stable state, removing his hand from his mouth while he stared down Beatrice with a derisive glare once again, his smirk emanating coldness.

"I intend to leave this Realm, and that's final. If you got nothing else to say, then we're done here, Little Spirit."

There was disgust in the little spirit's eyes, and Puck looked at all the proceedings with a hardened gaze. After a moment, Beatrice looked down and said in a soft mumble, "If that is your wish, then that blue-haired maid's efforts are going to be wasted, I suppose."

….

…..…..

…..…..…..

'Going to'?

There was something in that sentence that did not sit right with him. "What did you say?"

Beatrice met his hardened stare with her own composed gaze, "If the witchbeasts who inflicted these curses were to die, the curse itself, even if activated, will be dispelled. If the Maid, who is so overwhelmed by guilt and the desire to repent for her actions, were to know that….what do you think would she do?"

He stared.

Staring with a wide gaze.

Then ever so slowly, his green eyes slowly lit up, from a small spark into a full glow of an emerald bonfire. The mana in the air slowly became tainted by his presence, making both Beatrice and Puck feel revolted by its occurrence, as if splattered with mud. His body tensed, progressing to tremble, shaking under the fury brewing inside his heart.

His resignation was forced aside, and fiery emotions overtook him once again, the gates opened to set them loose on his person. One emotion overpowered all, and it was hatred.

Turning his eyes to the person, the only one who would never keep her eyes away from his potential murderers, he addressed Mother with a simple conclusion.

"You didn't stop her." His voiceless inquiry wasn't a question, and it wasn't out of concern for the damn maid either, it was out of the notion to make sure she lives long enough for him to punish her. And Mother of all people let her go, denying him that right.

He felt a 'no'.

Of course it was a 'no'. She knew that the maid could never hope to clear out the entire forest on her own. She would only die in the process, he saw what it would only lead to the recent night. That must've been the reason why Mother let her live: so she could face a death deserving of her actions that led to his current state.

Even though it might make sense of Mother to do such a thing, but at the same time it was almost….uncharacteristic of her. She never lets the chance to take the lives of his enemies go. Even if his would-be murderers were to repent for their actions and he were to acknowledge them, she will not care. She would still annihilate them, no matter how genuinely regretful they are unless he firmly grounds the order that she must not kill them.

She has no sense of honor, merely an entity driven purely by emotions and desires, befitting a soul that has no body nor mind to accommodate rationality and self-control. All her desires revolve entirely around keeping him happy and safe.

She was no different to Puck, who prioritized Emilia's wellbeing above even his own.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to compose himself with a shuddering deep breath.

At the exhale, he was not calm at all. His Emotion Suppression failed. Even if his exterior expressed a quiet displeasure, a conflagration was erupting inside him that threatened to break out of his body and burn everything around him. By sheer force of will did he control himself from lashing out with his worst spells and eradicating the village.

Without the need of a prompt, Mother took him under the arms and secured him into her chest, his stumps placed neatly in the slots of her legs. The aches still present but the pain gradually bearable, he stretched his body to elicit a few cracks before he donned his equipment resting on the small table, throwing the chest plate to the Void.

"What do you plan to do, I wonder?" Beatrice asked.

Locking his right gauntlet into his skeletal hand, the soil inside arranged neatly to create the illusion of having a complete hand made out of flesh inside, the eldritch voice answered with a cold fury lacing its tone, "I am heading back into the forest, track down that Damn Maid, drag her by the hair back to this place….and kill her myself."

Finished with both gauntlets and drinking a whole healing elixir from the Void to take away the last of his body pains, Mother also finished donning the straps of the holsters containing the krises to his back. Brushing his hand across the wand hanging from his spinal belt, he opened the Void again and Mother's front right arms swiped the sickles out of thin-air before his left hand conjured the bone knife in his grasp.

"Even if you were to accomplish that, the elder sister would not simply let that happen. What do you intend to do once she confronts you?"

He regarded her with a bored gaze, as if she had asked him a very stupid question. What he's going to do once the Fair Maid confronts him? It's simple, "Make her watch."

And then he walked out of the cottage, nearly slamming the door behind him but refrained from doing so lest he woke the dear girl up. If she had and happened to know about what he's doing, she'll follow after him without a doubt. That's the kind of character she is.

In the off chance that she might wake up later and find out what he's doing….

Mother created an elongated spinal column with a small skull from the soil and it leapt to the top of the doorframe like a nimble snake, disguised as a morbid ornament. Its purpose would be to ensnare the dear girl once she tries to run after him. Since it is by Mother's design, she would have no hope in breaking it. With her mana drained, she cannot cast ice magic to break away either. He's confident that Puck won't release her as well, even if she orders him to. Keeping her safe is his priority, and where he's going is not safe.

He's not referring to the witchbeasts inhabiting it, he's referring to himself.

Because he will kill her completely by accident.

Priests of the Serpent work alone, and with good reason. Their spells are well-known to cause collateral damage, indiscriminate in regards to targets, affecting both friend and foe, physically and mentally, and they will not care if one was to die. Having a Necromagus as an ally had its risks, everyone should know that, and they will not take responsibility for the lives of the ones stupid enough to take them.

Even if he had his moments of collaborating with other fighters more than once before, controlling himself for the sake of a necessary camaraderie that will only last temporarily, he's not in the mood to hold back for anybody's sake. He's going to rid that forest of everything that moves, from animals to witchbeasts, and until he finds that Damn Maid, he'll leave a long trail of death and decay.

And by the time he finds her….

The ground quaked as 6 spots on the soil in front of him churned, sounds of grinding soil filling the morning air. After several seconds, with the civilians in the village center running over to see the commotion, including the Fair Maid, the golems pulled themselves out with great effort that left the onlookers in a mix of awe and fear for the arrival of hulking earthen monstrosities.

The one on the furthest right lead the charge, pounding its rocky fists to the ground mightily that made the villagers clear out of the way as it lumbered back to the forest on all fours. Leaving behind the large potholes where they came from, he followed after them by slipping into the gaps of the broken line they formed.

"Ser. What is this?" The Fair Maid was quick to question what he was doing, pacing after him while staying a safe distance from the flailing constructs. "What are you doing? What is going on?"

It took merely eye-contact for her to be shoved in the same realm and for the eldritch voice to speak for him, "A Purge." He left her with just that before his creations morphed into balls, leaving ruts on the dusty path as they rolled forward and Mother's speed increasing as she sprinted to the front of the charge.

What's left of them is a dust cloud that trailed on to the witchbeast forest.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Once again, he was glad for his subconscious habit of leaving a tracking curse on every single person he touches. The fact that a Curse of Finding is actually easy to evade anybody's awareness also helps, a metaphorical stain on a person's mana core they either notice or are oblivious to. No matter how big the stain would be, whether a tiny speck or a large blemish, it never fails its job in leaving a trail for him to follow. It explains why a being like Puck never noticed it when he touched the fay. It was a very insignificant curse.

And that insignificant curse helped make things easy.

But as he knew, Life never makes things easy.

Right now, there was a certain somebody following after the rut his 6 curled-up golems left behind them as they trailed after their sprinting master. The Spirits have been warning him of the same presence and he ignored it for a while. Only at a point of distance did he realize that the person following after him isn't having the mind to give up despite running for so long.

Holding his hand up, the constructs slammed their fists to the ground upon uncurling themselves and slid to a stop, toppling a few trees who were in the way. Behind them, there was a long line of broken trees and mangled plant life, trampled by mobile boulders. It might as well be an impromptu road.

The Nature Spirits won't be happy with him for this, not that he cares.

Exhaling a sigh, he turned around and saw the petite form catch up to him from the artificial path, sliding to a stop and slightly heaving in breath past the cloud of dust.

"Why?" It didn't surprise him that it was the Fair Maid. He could only wonder what she's going to do now that they aren't far from each other, a potential distance for physical conflict to erupt between them. "What's the point of you being here?"

After gaining a decent amount of oxygen, she replied, "What else? After hearing from Lady Beatrice what Rem is going to do as well what you're going to do, there's no possibility that Ram will simply let it be."

"Now that you're in front of me…." Taking a deep inhale, both in oxygen and tainted mana around him, he narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his bone knife. Mother tightened her grip on her 4 weapons, the legs primed for a dash. His 6 golems rose to stand on their little legs, their large frames and obvious strength further emphasized by their squared stances. All entities were ready for a confrontation. "…what will you do?"

Meeting his glare, the Fair Maid stood her ground despite being outnumbered. He didn't see the slightest hesitation in her eyes. She was resolute, willing to face impossible odds to achieve her objective.

Internally, he was impressed. "Unfortunately, I will not give you the satisfaction. Ram's reason to be here is to retrieve her little sister, and once she does, she will shield her from your bones and your blades and your constructs. Therefore, Ram's business is not with you yet, so step aside." And she boldly waved off the golem near her with a flippant hand, skirting around the others in her way, sparing not even a glance to him nor Mother's blades as she walked past him and headed off into a random direction.

His gaze planted on her all the way, he shared a glance to a nearby golem for such audacity towards a Priest of the Serpent before following after her in a matching pace with the golems trudging after him. Mother kept her guard up, holding the weapons at the ready in case of treachery.

His civil attitude at the moment was enforced because of Emotion Suppression. His anger was barred from entering his consciousness, including his despair. The desire for death was still within him, but he didn't yearn for it. He's merely patient. Such fiery emotions would have clouded his judgment, and he can't have that when this task demanded his full composure.

"I wonder how you will find her."

"Did you have a way to find her?" She looked at him over his shoulder, a haughty look in her eyes.

He gave her a sardonic smile, coldly staring her down due to the height advantage. "Naturally.And unlike you, I'm not alone."

Instead of retorting like always, she instead said nothing and faced forward once again. "I have the Divine Blessing of Clairvoyance. It allows me to see through the eyes of insects and animals under my wavelength."

He heard about Divine Blessings from the Spirits. Apparently, it's an innate supernatural ability that could only be had by 1 person from a crowd of 100. It could be anything from knowing the quality of materials by a glance to the power to destroy simply by touch. This world's structure of extraordinary things sure has the most peculiar design.

To hear that the Fair Maid happened to be one of the unique among the 100, it was quite a revelation for him. Her Divine Blessing's quite the interesting quirk, he'd wonder how that would look like personally.

"Where are your weapons?"

"There wasn't time to take Ram's wand from the mansion. But do not worry, a little bit of wind magic will do the job." With flourish by swinging both hands to the side, a small gust explodes out of her form, kicking up dust and blowing his hair back.

He's surprised that Mother wasn't agitated from the harmless display of power. She's particularly wary against those who would be his enemy later and she isn't the most inclined to let others have the first move most times.

He leaned close to Ram's left ear despite his broken throat, "Keep your distance when you sprout that horn of yours." Advising that and acknowledging that she won't be a burden, he quickened his pace and went ahead, expecting her to follow after him. It's an easy assumption, his body language clearly indicated that he could find the little sister faster than her.

"If you expect me to fight exactly like Rem in her demon form, I cannot."

He slid to a stop, turning an inquisitive eye towards her.

"Unlike Rem, Ram has no horn."

Without thinking, he summoned a snake fang and shot it off to the left. The sound of bone piercing flesh and a hiding witchbeast is dead from a penetrated brain through the eye. He gathered its bones, exploding out of its body, morphing into a spear in midair and impaling another in the heart as a second one charged him. When a third arrived ahead, he dashed towards its sprinting form and choke-slammed the hellhound to the ground, draining mana from its struggling form before snapping the neck.

With his right hand raised in the air and his wand on his belt glowing green, the 2 unused corpses exploded to bring a pair of prowlers to unlife, ivory frames stained blood and organs hanging from them.

"This is more bearable to look at than a fallen ulgarm brought back to life." Came the Fair Maid's comment as she gave his creations a rather passing glance before nonchalantly walking past one.

This Maid's surely taking his magic well. He may have had a skeleton in his borrowed quarters, with the former having seen it more than a few times but she had explicitly seen the process straight out of a dead body instead of a pile of dust and isn't repulsed in the least.

Interesting. It may be because of the objective at hand overpowering trivial thoughts but it's still interesting.

If he's going to make a conclusion, this world's lack of awareness of the Order of the Serpent perhaps leaves them open-minded to the milder arts of necromantic magic. As far as he knew when he hears the thoughts of comrades who accept his existence as a fellow human and a friend, they never liked him 'desecrating of the dead'; raising the fresh bodies of nearby corpses or fallen allies to have their unique combat abilities utilized to the last.

Pfft. As if the Souls actually cared about their shells being used in such a way. They lose their flesh, they let go of their worldly attachments along with it. They couldn't give a damn about what a Priest of the Serpent does to it.

Such actions earned him a lot of spite but they never forget that if he hadn't done so, they would have been long dead and their bones would be added to his arsenal. His dark magic might be accepted in this world as long as he draws a line in regards to raising the bodies of comrades.

Not that the thought matters now. His final destination is home. He has no plans in suffering any further once he's done.

Reaching her side, he decided to inquire further, "Explain." He told, tapping index and middle finger to his forehead.

Ram looked at his gesture and understood quickly, "It is as it sounds. It refers to foolish Demons that lost their horns." He would have hummed in interest at the information. So their horns iconize the Demon race, huh. "It was lost in a minor skirmish, and ever since, Rem had to be relied on for everything Ram cannot do."

The Spirits have ridiculed the elder sister to be inferior in regards to housework and diligence compared to her little sister as a maidservant. So her being hornless was the reason why?

In a certain point of view, this could have caused friction between the two out of some form of jealousy for the other having something she hasn't. But given how endearingly close the sisters were, that would likely be impossible.

"Have you accepted yourself?" He wants to know. If having a horn is particularly important for her kind, losing it might be such a heavy thing to accept. It might be a stain on her pride as a Demon. Now that she lost the unique quirk of her race, does she accept herself as the way she is now?

She didn't face him as she answered, but there was a resolute tone in her voice. "Yes. It may not be so before but that was a long time ago. In the place of a horn, Ram has earned a life as well as many other things. It's a welcome exchange. However, Rem would not think the same way."

His brow nearly furrowed. He heard the slightest undertone of somberness near the end. Time to ask a heavier question, a personal one. "Do you love your sister, even if she is now better than you in every way?"

Emotion Suppression is the only reason why he's able to speak of that damn woman without snapping.

She stopped walking and she stared at him straight in the eye, eyes clear and voice full of nonchalant delivery. Not a single trace of hesitation in her words. "I do, and I always will. And now, Ram is worried about her. Even if her fighting ability surpasses mine, even if she's far more diligent than me, skillful than me, that isn't a reason to not be worried. Because Ram is her Dear Elder Sister. That will never change."

She's aware of her inferiority very well, she acknowledges that she relies on her little sister for most of her work, she's likely aware that she could get severely injured in the task of finding her because she could make a mistake in her ability to fight, but her priorities as the only reliable figure of authority in that girl's life is still clear in her mind. She's firm towards it. If her family is in danger, she'll act, no matter the downsides present.

There was no way he can maintain that stern look on his face upon hearing it.

So he placed a metal hand on her head, stroking his thumb across the pink locks.

She looked at him questioningly, frowning. "What are you doing?"

The eldritch voice now held a softer tone than before, almost affectionate. "I had a reason to like you, now I have a reason to respectyou."

Among the very few things that he liked about Above-Worlders, it is the fact that some held their family over others or even themselves, considering them to be irreplaceable and invaluable beyond any measure of material wealth. Those of the Underground City revere familial relations, always singing their praises whenever a son, daughter or sibling is brought to the world, and to see others who aren't like them having the same form of importance held on their flesh and blood is enough to earn the respect of any Priest of the Serpent.

Taking his hand back, he will now start focusing on the task at hand, earning a fine resolve to do what he's supposed to do here. "Activate Clairvoyance. If you do not see her, follow me."

"Right. For the meantime, keep Ram guarded. She is but a vulnerable maiden in a forest full of witchbeasts while alone with a man."

Ordering his constructs to surround the Maid with him outside the circle, he kept his senses sharpened for any incoming danger. Looking behind him, he found her standing in place with her eyes closed, concentration clouding her entire mien. He honestly wondered how it is like to see through the eyes of beasts and insects but the present danger of the environment overshadowed his curiosity.

The entire 2 minutes that passed was uneventful, not a single witchbeast jumping out of the foliage and charging at him. The sounds of the forest critters are all that's present besides them and his creations.

"I don't see her."

With a stomp of his foot, the golems promptly curled into balls and the prowlers dropped on all fours like a beast. Retracing the lines of the Curse of Finding planted on his quarry, he took the lead as he began sprinting towards the spectral trail.

"Follow."

The ground shook as his hulking constructs began to roll forward and gained momentum, his skeletons trailing after him with an unnatural grace unbefitting for a frame of bones. Out of consideration, he had Mother construct a quadruped monstrosity of ivory that could have passed for a table but the uneven top implied that it was meant to be rode on. And the Fair Maid took the hint immediately, hopping on to the morbid transport and it began sprinting to match his swift pace with baffling ease.

"How will you know where she is?" She asked, knelt on one knee atop her ride while a single hand held on to keep steady.

"The Souls of the Dead will guide us." He jumped over a fallen tree, the quadruped construct and the prowlers following suit while the golems simply ran it over, leaving it decimated or flattened against the soil. "And the tracking curse I planted on her will tell me where she went. In a matter of time, we'll reach her."

"Convenient. Ram will keep close watch."

With a point of his dagger forward, the prowlers pounced an incredible distance and height into the air and landed some distance ahead. His ears caught the sound of witchbeasts being felled under fang and claw. Mother's sickles and krises at the ready, he dashed several yards ahead and kneed an unsuspecting mutt in the jaw, killing it from the skull-capped knee. Without a loss of a beat, he continued to run, with the other witchbeasts now chasing after him.

"Fula!"

A feminine canto is yelled behind him and the sound of enchanted wind slicing through a leather body passes through his ear before said body is crushed under the weight of a round stone of perpetual motion. A few more blades of wind felled the chasing dogs behind him, cleanly bisected before getting crushed.

A witchbeast fell to the sickle, and its body was thrown far into the distance thanks to Mother's strong arms, followed by a thunderous pop of a corpse exploding, likely killing any living being nearby. To his left, a bone wall was created, the pack of dogs slamming into it in a loud smash. Above his head as he ran, a large bone drill is conjured before it flew forward at dangerous speeds, eradicating any tree and witchbeast in its way before it exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, a thunderous sound. The golems behind him took the lead, trampling everything in their wake. Witchbeast or plant life, they were rendered flat in the line of juggernauts in front of him, leaving a broad impromptu road behind them. The sounds of eradication was nearly deafening amidst the growls and howls of the hellhounds.

Seeing this as a moment of respite, he quickly drained whatever mana was in the air. The Spirits of Nature are starting to spite him, depriving him of the energies needed to fight for his indiscretion to their domain. He forced himself through their stubbornness anyway, consuming as much mana in the air as he can before the Spirits could take it all away from him.

When he had the right amount of energy in his core, he continued to desecrate the forest, justifying every action done as an attempt to cull the fiends living in this forest.

Bones. Corpses. Poison. Golems.

He was creating destruction using his loudest spells.

"What are you doing!? If you keep this up, every witchbeast will come running straight towards us! Ghk! The scent of beasts are getting stronger. What are you trying to do!?"

"Little Sister hunts the witchbeasts. The witchbeasts hunts us, Little Sister will follow. Make her come to us." He had to keep his words short. Conversations can't be had when his concentration is bent on continuous eradication of everything in his way.

His aim was to make noise. Chaos. He needs to cause a disturbance so powerful that every inhabitant in the forest would not ignore it. And when every inhabitant notices his presence through the destruction he's creating, every witchbeast will come, and his quarry will inevitably present herself.

The dogs' simplistic tactics of merely pouncing or biting made slaughtering them easy. And with the Fair Maid covering his rear with her wind blades, felling every witchbeast that trailed after them while riding the quadruped frame to keep up with his speed, it would take no time before the Damn Maid reveals herself.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Fucking burden!

If he had his voice, he would be screaming that in a mantra all day long, even if he was surrounded by witchbeasts and slaughtering them whenever they were in reach of Mother's blades or his bone knife. In fact, he would roar that phrase so loudly to the point that even the village would hear it despite his distance from the place.

The reason for such thoughts to cross his mind…

"To be held like this, Ram will tell Lord Roswaal on you."

He smacked his armored right hand straight to the head of the petite body he clutched to his chest. A nonverbal expression of the word 'Shut up' in the harshest voice possible, conveying his supreme displeasure for the unwanted turn of events and absolutely not in the mood for jokes.

"Your displeasure isn't going to make things better. Ram's stamina did not last as long as she expected."

Another smack. If she could just shut up right now, that would be more than helpful because he was very close to simply dropping her and leaving her to the dogs the more he listened to her damn excuses. His Emotion Suppression had lost most of its integrity and now traces of his anger returning made him more than inclined to just abandon her. She walked in without her weapons, she compensated with magic. And did she have a countermeasure when she runs out of mana? No, she did not! Now look at her, drained to the point that she couldn't even move her bloody limbs! She's actually doomed to die the sooner she walked in! She didn't prepare for the excursion, she didn't even think it through! She's actually as dumb as the fucking maid that ran off deeper into the breeding grounds!

Can he just please leave the sisters to their deaths for their collective stupidity!?

A witchbeast pounced at him from the side.

UGH!

With an elegant spin in the air and with proper control of momentum, he had his back facing the attacking witchbeast and Mother viciously shredded the beast to pieces with her 4 weapons before his feet landed back to the ground, returning to the sprint without the loss of a beat.

Looking behind him, the pack of hellhounds are still chasing him down as Mother kept running away from them. Judging by their numbers counting to 50 or countless more, his strategy to draw aggro was a success. What went outside his calculation was that he had to handle a fucking HANDICAP!

Now everything's falling to hell!

Facing forward, he beheld the one golem continuously rolling like a force of nature in front of him, decimating everything in its path to clear a stable road for him to take. The other 5 were behind him somewhere, doing their masterwork of steamrolling every witchbeast they could find. It doesn't do the job of drawing the Damn Maid any closer but it'll lessen the number of enemies he'll have to deal with.

The problem is he doesn't know what to do next. Not while this fucking HANDICAP is burdening his arms!

The next necessary steps were hindered because of this fucking waste of an existence! Once gathering a large number of witchbeasts, he was supposed to activate a spell that will annihilate an immense number of them in a single stroke, abundant amounts of mana effectively regained from their corpses than lost in the process and creating an army at the same time. But how can he do that while there's going to be collateral damage!?

By the Dragon, this is the worst day of his fucking life! Can he die now!?

The rolling golem in front of him abruptly vanished into the ground.

As he widened his eyes at the sudden disappearance, he was too late to find out that instead of the construct sinking into the soil, it had simply fallen off.

There was a sheer drop ahead of him.

The time it took for him to realize the danger and have Mother stop running was not enough. His feet skidded off the edge and his rear end grazed the rocky surface of the slanted cliff as gravity slid his and Mother's frame against it. His mouth couldn't express any sound, but he was screaming, growling and roaring at the sudden circumstances all the same. Fortunately for him, they would only express his stress instead of panic as he had been through something like this before.

Elbows bent fully backwards, the arms holding the sickles stabbed deep into the cliff, leaving long lacerations on the rock and her heels finding a foothold as Mother attempted to slow down his descent. He felt her frame strain against the effort, but it held on tenaciously until the curled blades snagged on protruding roots, abruptly stopping his momentum. Once again, he was glad for the durability of troll bones. Any other and Mother's spine would have snapped under his weight as well as the Maid's despite her lightweight frame, sending him straight down to the ground and likely breaking his neck.

Oh, just how tempting that would be.

Practically crushing the petite girl against his chest with his tense embrace, he controlled his breathing and regained his composure. Even if he wasn't the one running or exerting extreme effort with the sickles, the struggle of his situation equally matched the weight of pressure it could have on his mental state.

Looking down, he found pieces of solidified mud and stone scattered at the bottom. It must be his golem's remains. They practically have the same constitution as glass. They can suffer any punishment as long as it's not any stronger than themselves. His golems could not possibly survive falling from terminal heights.

Looking up, he found more than a reasonable number of witchbeasts looking down on him from the edge of the cliff he fell off of, unable to chase after him anymore lest they take chances with the risk of falling to their deaths.

Going up is not an option anymore, it seems. He gave them a malignant hiss and a wolfish sneer, practically ridiculing them for failing to get him.

In synchronized movements, Mother flipped his body around so he faced the cliff face, traversing Ram's body around till she was put in a piggyback carry at the same time, her back arms holding the krises hugging the maid to his back while he held on to her thighs with a vice grip.

"Be gentle with a lady." He heard an exhausted mumble from behind, "What kind of upbringing did you come from, anyway? Didn't your parents taught you to respect women?"

Irritation flooded his mind once again, hoping for the umpteenth time that she could just shut up. He's already risking his fucking neck—AGAIN if he might add—just to make sure she lives instead of leaving her deadweight ass behind so she should have the courtesy of saying only important things instead of bullshit!

"Your bone armor's uncomfortable to rest against too…."

Failing to growl to express his annoyance, Mother pulled the sickles out of the rock and momentarily let go of the cliff to fall several meters down before stabbing them into the rock again, using his bodyweight to slide further downwards till he reached the ground.

As soon as he felt the ground from the vibrations of Mother's feet meeting the soil, he promptly released Ram's thighs before Mother literally threw her against the rising curve of the cliff to lean against. Despite her light body, it was actually relieving to no longer have a hold of her.

"You crude man…"

Now to deal with other matters.

Right in front of him, more witchbeasts as they jumped out of the tree line on his level. There just seems to be no end of these damn things. No matter where he goes in this forest, there's always one waiting for him. How long were these things reproducing before he arrived to cull their numbers?

He spat at them, baring his sharp teeth. He doesn't even want to think about how many there are. Numbers hardly mattered in a fight against a Priest of the Serpent. The only prospect present were the numerous souls he'll offer to the Dragon as a meal before it's over. This forest will serve as fine grain in the pantry.

He can deal with them. The battle's only in front of him. His back is protected by a large mountain, perfectly closed-off and a safe place to put down handicaps so they don't burden him.

But first…

He picked up Ram under the arms and threw her straight upwards to the air, only for skeletal arms to breach out of the cliff face and pull her close, keeping her secured there and outside the reach of any witchbeast.

She glowered over him, "You utterly crude man."

She should be thankful that he didn't knock her unconscious beforehand and he wouldn't have used a gentler method either.

Now in regards to the conflict; he still got mana, enough for a few spells. If he could just drain just a few pints of mana from the witchbeasts, he'll be back into prime fighting condition. Once he does, it'll be an easy return to the slaughter.

However, the 'Alpha' was there, shaped in the most unassuming form he's ever seen. A puppy, as tiny as two of his fists together, standing atop a rock formation. The same one he saw last night, sending that wave of earth down on him and the Damn Maid. It's a beast capable of casting spells, a factor to watch out for.

He needs to kill the damn thing before anything else.

To start, he shot an enlarged snake fang into the eye of a witchbeast. Its immediate death triggered the rest into a sprint, charging at him with bare teeth and claws, a cacophony of demonic howls filling the air as the slaughter signaled its beginning. His body tensed, torso leant forward in preparation with his bone knife ready and his right hand curling in and out. Mother was equally ready, sickles and krises to bear in front of him, her legs preparing for a quick dash.

One witchbeast was at the right distance. Readying to grab its throat out of the air as soon as it pounces, he—

Thud!

A body of a witchbeast fell in-between them both, he and the mutt flinching from its sudden arrival as they regarded the headless body, forgetting about their eminent battle.

Thud!

Another body fell from a few meters away, landing before 2 hellhounds as they yelped from its sudden impact.

Thud! Thud!

A howl from the left indicated a living witchbeast being smashed by a falling body of its kind, likely killing it or disabling it before a second dead body landed beside it.

CRUSH!

A hulking body of stone and mud landed on 4 unfortunate hellhounds, flattening them, creating a dust cloud and creating a flower of blood on the soil underneath it. The golem died, however, its beefy arms and large frame cracked and scattered from the impact. There was a noticeable crater on its chest as well, as if something round had smashed it.

He looked up to the edge of the cliff alongside the witchbeasts, noticing that something was decimating the hellhounds and the golems who he left behind up there to clean up the rest. Sprays of blood and rubble were falling off the edge, causing an unpleasant rain on the interrupted conflict.

There was the sensation of danger rolling off from there like a smoke cloud; something absolutely dangerous was responsible for these corpses, sending them down there as a form of wicked salutations.

And then he saw it. No. He saw her.

Like an arrow, with her ball and chain trailing behind her like a tail, she leapt off the cliff's edge, head pointed down while her horn glowed bright despite the sunny morning, and in a graceful flip she landed in a cloud of dust, her flail shattering the soil upon impact to the ground.

It was her, the maidservant uniform recognizable as the one Ram wore, but it was bloodier than yesterday, tattered than before, and she looks far more barbaric than elegant. Her weapon had remains of blood and gore, telling of the lives it took. Her fingernails…he had just noticed they had extended into wicked claws. Despite these details, the identity never escaped his mind.

Maid…!

He would have growled that name if he had his voice. As if hearing his mental call, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes lacked any sanity or reason. The horn is clouding her humanity, the demon within taking control.

He barely stopped his Emotion Suppression from breaking entirely and going out of control when he saw her face. Because of her—because of her, he can no longer speak! Because of her, he had to leave! Because of her, he lost the will to live! Because of her—

—I HAD TO LEAVE MY FRIEND BEHIND!

Without another thought, his body rocketed straight towards her, only to veer to the right when she dashed to dodge his presumed strike in the same direction, following after her pace. Just when she skidded to a stop and was about to lash out with her weapon, a skeleton hand with claws for fingers shot out of the ground and tore into her leg, leaving long and bleeding lacerations.

Seeing an opening as she grunted in pain, he sharply changed directions and shot towards her, slamming an armored fist straight to her chest, sending her rocketing backwards but did not land on her back, only sliding her feet across the ground.

Sensing multiple hostile entities behind him and coming closer, he whirled as soon as they were at touching distance, Mother's weapons bisecting the two witchbeasts behind him to pieces and pulling their bones out of their frames, shooting them out as spears to the other ones, quickly ending their lives. he quickly dashed forward before the iron ball of spikes came over his head and the ground met the full force of the blow, exploding in a cloud of rock and dust. As he passed over the corpses of the witchbeasts he killed, they exploded in a burst of viscera as bloody skeletal warriors rose out of them, wielding serrated swords, axes and maces.

Knowing their instructions, the constructs charged towards Rem. When the flail lashed out once more to take them all out in a single horizontal swoop, they jumped over the iron ball and chains as soon as it arrived and upon landing back to the ground, they unleashed a terrifying burst of speed and reached the maid in a single second, striking her one at a time. The first skeleton with an axe struck her abdomen, doubling her over. The second with the serrated sword slashed her left thigh, bringing her down to one knee. The third with the mace lashed out with its fist to her chin, throwing her head upwards to face the sky. The fourth and last with a serrated sword slapped a hard palm straight to her face, slamming the back of her head to the ground.

"NO!" A strained voice from the cliff face yelled out.

Emurdol clapped his hands once.

New instructions heeded, they dispersed and charged the witchbeasts that were about to take advantage of their single-minded attention on the maid and strike both parties down, barring any from getting closer, fighting to the last.

The maid's wounds were instantly healed, surprising no one as Emurdol knew it was the horn doing that. When she was about stand up to her feet, enumerable arms of ivory erupted around her and pinned her back to the ground, a gargantuan hand erupting below her feet and burying her in a pile of bones.

Emurdol quickly dashed towards her, slotting the bone dagger in his belt and reaching out with metal claws towards her, fuming with green necromantic energy. Running across the giant skeletal wrist, his grip nearing to her horn—

He instantly dashed to the right, escaping the explosion of ivory before any fragments could hit him. Despite the build of those arms, the maid still manages to overpower them with her own physical power. As she was suddenly up to her feet, more arms grew out of the ground, sharp claws at the fingertips tearing into whatever they flesh could brush against from her before a leg sporting many lacerations decimated all of them in a single sweep kick.

That action alone left her open to Emurdol's strike and she received a slashing swipe of his claws on her face, her head recoiling to the side as it acquired three gashes before a metallic fist clobbered the back of her head, sending her face to the ground. As a finality, she received a strong kick to the side that sent her rolling towards the foot of the cliff.

Eyeing the weapon she dropped on the ground and raising skeletons out of the dead bodies of witchbeasts behind him thanks to the efforts of his first batch of constructs, he dashed towards her crumpled form that shook to rise up to her feet once again, her jagged wounds and the lacerations on her face already gone. Hands fuming green once again, he aimed for her horn to grab it—

"Rem, look out!"

Alarm crossing his mind for Ram's sudden warning, he quickly jumped in an arc towards the face of the cliff and whirled before Mother's sickles buried themselves into the rock, keeping him away from any desperate attack. Better safe than sorry.

With him out of the way, Rem quickly dashed towards her fallen weapon, picking it up and lashing it towards him. Quickly jumping in an arc once more, he suddenly realized that was a big mistake. He's left open in the air, incapable of moving to any direction, and the maid had already yanked her weapon backwards, the iron ball curving towards his form.

Thinking fast and disregarding the risks, a long spinal column erupted from the ground, snaked towards his airborne form, coiled around his ankle and yanked him straight down to the ground, the flail missing by a hair's breadth. The force of the pull was too strong, and he landed gracelessly, roughly slamming his knees and Mother's front right arms to the ground to stop his face from meeting it, the soil cracking under his weight added by the speed of his drop. Even if he avoided the worst of it, the recoil of the impact rolled across his body painfully.

Rem easily broke the constrictive coil of the skeletal tentacle around her petite form and shattered it to pieces. When she reared the flail back once again to strike, she suddenly whirled in place and kicked the witchbeast that slipped past the barrier of skeletons right in its flank, the force behind it powerful enough to render the hellhound into a cloud of blood and entrails. She suddenly cartwheeled to the side, turning into multiple backhand springs when her last position suddenly erupted in a pillar of fire. This time it wasn't from him, it was from the puppy.

Two more witchbeasts slipped past the barrier and sprinted towards Emurdol. Their momentum became their downfall when they suddenly impaled themselves into a row of bone spikes that erupted from the ground and angled in their direction. He held his hand out towards their bodies, writhing and still alive, and drained their mana before they bled to death.

He cut off the siphoning short when he felt a large pack coming from his side and created even more bone spikes towards them like a sprouting flower, impaling all but one in the group of 11 snarling dogs. He grabbed the survivor by the snout, ripped off the lower jaw and drained its mana core straight to the bottom before snapping its neck. Looking up to see that the impaled witchbeasts died instantly and their mana gone before he could steal it, he quickly composed himself and charged back into the slaughter, ignoring the maid and aiming for that Alpha.

The Maid and the witchbeasts are distracted with each other. Good. He will target the Alpha while they are occupied. Bloodlust and malice shining from his eyes, he dashed forward and speared through a pack of hellhounds in the way, leaving them as bloody pieces of meat in courtesy of Mother's blades.

The beasts turned to the other threat coated in their brethren's blood, only to be eviscerated by the flail's vicious strike for turning their eyes away from the first assailant. Making distance away from the length of the chain, he dashed past multitudes of them and ended with his foot crushing a witchbeasts skull as he used it as a brake. Bestial heads turned to his new location and charged him.

Grabbing the first witchbeast by its jaw and ripping it off in a vicious pull, the following dogs were shredded apart by Mother's well-placed strikes as he kept running, dragging the jawless beast with him without letting go. He sucked up his writhing victim's entire mana core down to the bottom the entire time before snapping its neck. Feeling a surge of energy come from below, he jumped away before his last standing location exploded in a burst of dirt and earth like a geyser.

That Alpha's sneaking its spells into the fight. But he can't see that little shit anymore. It must've known it was targeted and hid from sight.

A group of 4 mutts waiting for him in his landing spot, he grinned wolfishly and life came to be below their paws. The mud golem erupted beneath them, rising broad shoulders threw them off balance and a loud crunching sound erupted from a single dog crushed inside the earthen hand gripping its body in the air. Landing on the knuckles, he exhumed a cloud of toxin out of him before landing back to the ground.

Every assailant targeting him was immediately sent convulsing a few inches close to his feet as they lost their balance upon entering the noxious cloud and suffered from the poison running through their lungs. The rest stopped short of the killing radius, finally aware of the danger it posed after an additional pile of 23 bodies. While they were still convulsing and alive, he took his time in draining their mana to himself. Numbering the bodies to maybe 31 or 34, that's more than enough energy to take in.

Feeling another surge of mana beneath his feet, he dashed backwards before a pillar of fire exhumed out of the earth. Now outside the dangerous cloud of green, the witchbeasts closed in on him quickly. Sneering with the corners of his lips rising, he charged them head on. A snake fang to the eye and into the brain, a witchbeast is dead. A surge of mana into its unmoving body, it exploded in a cloud of blood, bones and shrapnel, killing 7 more. As he whipped past their corpses with his wand on his belt glowing, unused bones exploded out of their vessels and rose up as skeletons, wielding axes, maces and swords. They wasted no time in getting into the fight, taking more lives.

He spared a glance to the other battle. The endless numbers of witchbeasts divided instead of focusing on one target, the Maid was faring well on her own. Both iron ball and chain handing out violence without mercy to any within her reach, turning any living being she saw into an eviscerated mess in a gory circle around her, staining her shredded uniform even further with crimson liquid.

She's moving too erratically compared to before, now heavily-guarded on all directions, blocking off any openings he might exploit to land an incapacitating blow on her. He needs her attention planted solely on him, he needs her vision tunneled.

To acquire that, he needs more corpses. Enough to create skeletons equally matching the numbers hording down on him or even more. He needs a whole army, in fact. So he proceeded to enact a slaughter with him as the butcher and the attacking witchbeasts as meat. No need for methodical cuts of the cleaver, just a strong swing of the blade and he can quickly proceed to the next batch.

Swing of a sickle, 1 dead. Raise skeleton. Spin with weapons spread out, 4 dead. Raise skeletons. Fling snake fang through the eye, 1 dead. Explode corpse, 8 dead. Raise skeletons. Exhume toxins, drain mana. Raise skeletons. Summon bone spears, 6 dead. Raise skeletons. Grab a witchbeast, drain mana before twisting the neck. Raise skeleton. Dash through a pack with blades spinning, 13 dead. Gather bones to create more spears, 21 dead. Raise skeletons. Exhume toxins again, drain mana. Raise skeletons.

The process was simple: kill and then raise the dead, with momentary draining of mana. His army is growing, reaching to 60 strong. Countless frames of ivory, bloody from their rise to unlife and wielding gruesome instruments of death. Some stood back from the frontlines, their hands glowing in reds, blues, whites and greens, contributing to the battle by flinging bolts of elemental magic. They fell more bodies than he can on his own, and it brought more soldiers to the battlefield, instantly turning a growing number of 83 into 145, scattering to whatever part of the area they were in to kill witchbeasts and staying away from the demon maid's attention.

All this effort wasn't without consequences. His mana is practically unlimited with the number of enemies present, but his stamina's slowly wilting. His body can last but his mind's endurance could barely hold on to the strain of continuous casting of magic, he barely even recuperated properly in that cottage after sleeping off a horrible battle last night. His attention is starting to waver from the fight, twinges of drowsiness coming forth so he stopped on this army limit.

Jumping away from the frontlines of the battle and about to land on his skeletons, they raised their weapons up horizontally and provided good footing for him to run on, quickly bringing him back towards the Maid as he ran over the heads of his legion. As she felled the last witchbeast in her vicinity, he quickly dashed with his clawed-hands stretched outwards to her horn. She moved away from his reach and he quickly jumped to another location before the incoming flail smashed his head in.

His golem, who had been on standby since rising from the soil, moved to action and curled into a ball. The iron ball instantly shattered it to a thousand pieces of stone and dust, a death quicker than he anticipated and it didn't get the chance to follow its orders. Skeletal arms rose out of the earth beneath her to constrict her arms and legs once more, only to be shattered easily with a quick lash of her leg compared to before as it seemed she had learned to counteract them easily after the first one and the chain of her weapon nearly shredded his forehead if he hadn't ducked under it as he tried to dash for her again while she was supposed to be restricted.

The ground shook, trembling as if something massive was about to arrive. Turning towards where it came from, with the maid turning to look as well, the same wave of earth and dirt was coming down on his sizable army, utterly annihilating them into an earthen grave as they were swept away in a violent torrent that reshaped the terrain of the battlefield.

Not a single one survived.

Suppressing his shock, he quickly dashed away from the maid and back to the cliff side where the Fair Maid is still stuck to the face of the cliff, who watched the entire scuffle with wide unblinking eyes and was surprised at his sudden return to her. He couldn't hold down his bitterness and frustration as he watched the battle between him and the little sister immediately devolve back to a fight between her and the witchbeasts, who charged her en masse now that the second threat is no longer nearby.

He spat on the ground. Just where the hell is that Alpha!? That damn pipsqueak is the only thing that's making things difficult! And even if he's to retreat instead, how can he bring the Damn Maid along while she's out of control!?

"You're wasting your efforts if you plan to use your fists and your magic extensively. The horn. It's her horn."

He only spared a glance to Ram before he faced the ongoing violence, noticing that while the little sister is brutally snuffing out the lives of witchbeasts, she was receiving numerous scratches and lacerations on her form, little by little. The number of assailants weren't dropping at all despite his army's efforts before they were utterly destroyed. She won't last. Her regeneration isn't fast enough for that. She absolutely cannot when her many enemies are focused solely on her instead of two people.

"That horn is the one leading her astray. Just one strike to the horn will bring her back."

Oh?

Well, he's thankful for that. If he had known that sooner, this would have ended long ago. He could have punched it out while he was in punching-distance with her. He thought he should drain the entirety of her mana by grabbing it. Didn't the Spirits tell him of this weakness? It seems he was too absorbed in battle to remember it.

But with her crowded by witchbeasts and lashing out with her menacing weapon, her every movement extremely erratic and wild compared to before, it's very likely that he'll be struck down before he could land a strike the sooner he's within her range.

"Hurry. Rem is going to be overwhelmed if you don't do something."

He growled at the pressure coming down on—

The wand on his waist flashed in bright green light.

The boney constraints that held Ram against the cliffside suddenly crumbled to dust, dropping her to the ground roughly.

…..…..

….…..…..…..

…..…..…..…..…..…..

[Sorry, brother, but let this matter be left to my hands for now.]

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ram, who could see the side of his face as she lifted her upper body up from the ground, took in the sudden change of his visage. His sneer slowly morphed into a playful smirk. The light in his eyes also altered, sparkling with a youthful energy that was completely unlike the hardened fire just seconds ago. She was thrown off by the sight. And when he turned that smile full of excitement towards her, she was suddenly looking at a different person. It was as if she was beholding a boy on his 14th turn stepping up to show off a secret talent no one ever saw.

"Ser?"

He shook his head, mouthing a word from his lips. Nope.

Turning back to the violence once again, his hands glowed a bright green as he raised them up high and abruptly pointed them forward. The cliff face exploded as 7 elongated spines broke out of 7 openings on the rock and snaked towards the slaughter with sharp four-fingered claws reaching for a living being. A matching number of witchbeasts, who were distracted by the occurrence, were caught and abducted, pulled to his space.

The maid took advantage of the hellhounds' distraction and decimated a sizable number of them in a single swing.

The struggling forms of the captured witchbeasts were instantly still as their necks were snapped one by one in quick succession by the hands of the Pale One, his physical body moving in an utterly new language that definitely did not belong to the man named Emurdol Viandegroc. It was flamboyant and exaggerated as opposed to the practical and experienced sway. Glowing green hands were held out over the bodies and the bodies of dogs morphed, shifting, melting, contorting, moving like liquid as they left most of their skeletal frames, hide and organs behind, sinew, tissue and blood gathering to a singularity in front of him.

Ram watched with wide pink eyes, taking in the disgusting occurrence without blinking or looking away. She watched the lumps of flesh slowly flesh merge together, a growing red blob on the ground contorting into shape, slowly becoming humanoid—a disproportionate design with an oversized right arm and a tiny left leg. There was no skin. A canine skull that served as a head was slowly clothed with sinews, granting it a mouth and a single eye that looked deeply at her. Slowly and slowly as it began to form numerous parts of both the human and inhuman anatomy, it began to let out a sound from the numerous openings found on its body before they closed and its horrid mouth found on the left bicep gave off a high-pitched resonance.

Croaking, groaning, grunting, wailing, and eventually it began speaking. Pure nonsense, numerous syllables mushed together without rhyme or reason. An abominable language spoken by an abominable tongue belonging to an equally abominable creature that existed as a violation of life itself.

And suddenly, coherence.

"ENVYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!‼!‼!‼!"

As the Golem screamed that guttural roar, the creator suddenly curled, upper body bending over in pain as he held his chest and coughed out blood on the soil. The skeletal frame he wore opened up at the chest, allowing him to lean properly outward while 4 metallic arms held him from falling off. After retching out gastric fluids as well as his lifeblood that seemed to have melted the soil, the demon maid and witchbeast turned face towards him as if discovering a new detestable existence and roared.

The abomination returned the courtesy, 7 mouths found on several parts of its body lined with razor sharp teeth opening wide and sending a horrifying roar that nearly overpowered the cacophony filling the air and shaking the ground, a mixture of numerous octaves and bestial bellows exerting at once.

From the bodies of 7 witchbeasts created the Flesh Golem, a lump of flesh come to life. While having the same hulking frame as mud golems, its visceral anatomy stood out the most. Disproportionate but bulky arms that hung from massive shoulders were lined with the spikes that belonged to the hellhounds' body. Four-fingered hands ended in claws measuring a dozen inches in length. A chest, while muscular, was lined with 4 mouths in a messy arrangement, one vertical, another diagonal while the rest are horizontal. The left leg belonged to the limbs of 5 witchbeasts meshed together, ending with a seven-toed foot that resembled a bear's paw. The right leg was a bulk of muscle ending with a four-toed foot, skinless and gaping as a mouth found on the thigh sneered.

As it turned towards Ram, who would have taken a long step back had she not being disabled from movement, its fleshly hand grabbed her tiny frame by the waist and moved in deceptive speeds despite its massive build as it hobbled and jumped awkwardly with its uneven anatomy.

It laughed all the way as it maintained it kept a safe distance from the battle that the Pale One jumped into.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The witchbeasts firmly had their attention on him, and it made them susceptible to the wrath of the iron ball wielded by the demon maid they now ignored. He and Mother doesn't need to fight back. He will just have to herd them. Draw the dogs towards the murderous entity holding the flail or work as bait to draw their eyes from it, utilizing the Scent of the Witch as an effective tool to the fight.

His gleeful smile never left him as he kept his arms crossed to his chest and held perfectly still. Mother's frame remained parallel to the ground, 6 metallic limbs moving in blurs as she skittered and slipped through the ranks of witchbeasts while barely evading the jaws, claws and strikes of the iron ball. The mutts were practically climbing over each other to kill him, and that made them easy to decimate in one blow for the little sister. There were moments where he was right beneath the maid herself and narrowly escaped her wrath.

All in all, he was enjoying this.

Amidst this tomfoolery that had his life at risk, there was another commotion happening. No one ever noticed it happening, his body language showing no indication of its occurrence either, and it was nothing short of heated.

[Just what the hell are you doing!? You're going to get us killed!]

[Hey, isn't that what you've been aiming for all this time!? Besides, I never knew risking your neck like this could be so fun! Wait, you got your neck ripped off. Sorry!]

Two entities were rioting, deep within the vessel that was Emurdol Viandegroc. While the maneuver of the battle was ongoing, there was shouting and screaming in a realm that was outside the Void, the Spirit Realm and the Living Realm.

[Who told you to take over my body!? Since when have I ever ALLOWED you to do so!?]

[You never had! Not even once since you imprisoned me in that wand! I already got Mama's permission so I don't need yours!]

[WHAT!?]

[You heard me! Mama allowed me to possess you and help you outta this! You're running out of options, aren't you!? Your army's annihilated, and the little bitch's getting overwhelmed as well! I'm doing this the best I can!]

[I didn't ask you to help me!]

[Well, helping people who need it without them asking is a good thing, yes!? Come on, give me some credit for going out of my way to lend my Brother a kind hand of assistance!]

[You just want to indulge in my body!]

[And that kills two demons with one bone spear! Come on, I haven't had a physical body for nearly a decade! At least spoil me this much!]

[You know the reason why I WON'T! Do not even think I forgot about what you did to me!]

[By the Dragon, you're still sour over that!? That's in the damn past, get over it! Holding onto grudges is not what the Elders taught you! Aren't you supposed to be above the pettiness of Morons!?]

[Don't you dare lecture me about what the Elders taught me! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO—]

[Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm going to do something amazing!]

[Don't you even dare shut me up, you fucking—!]

Scaling across the side of the cliff like a spider, he watched the hellhounds chasing after him unable to climb the stone wall and are immediately obliterated by the rampaging demon behind them. Throughout the entire spectral argument, the witchbeasts' numbers were lessened to a great extent, the herding tactic perfectly utilized that he could leave the little sister to fend for herself without worrying about her getting overwhelmed again thanks to the now-lesser number of enemies to kill.

Leaving her to finish off what's left of the pack, Mother brought him back to the Flesh Golem holding the Fair Maid in its fleshly hand and lifted at shoulder level. Ram's head was poking in-between the gaps of the index and the middle finger, the thumb and ring finger circling around her waist to keep her from falling while her four limbs hung limply. Not exactly the politest way for a golem of whatever design to hold a woman. He proceeded to smile at her with a tilted head, his bloodstained white locks hanging to the side.

"EnJoYiNg ThE vIeW fRoM aBoVe?" The abomination asked in his stead, 7 mouths moving and speaking in unison under multiple octaves and releasing grisly syllables.

"I underestimated the amount of things you could do that would repulse even the calm and collected Ram." She replied weakly, but the bluntness in her tone never wavered.

"HaHa!" His mouth moved in tandem to the grotesque dialogue, his body bending backwards in ecstasy as he relished the words entering his ears uttered by that feminine voice, "LiStEnInG tO yOuR vOiCe In PeRsOn Is JuSt AmAzInG! AaH! lIvInG iS sO sUpReMe, IsN't It!?"

"If you have time to listen to Ram's wonderful voice, you should be focusing on bringing Rem. I barely see any progress done."

Righting his posture, his grin widened as he held up one finger, "I hAvE tHe PlAn To Do JuSt ThAt!" He spun sharply to face the little sister once more, having killed the last of the witchbeasts attacking her and slowly turned to point a gaze full of bloodlust aimed at him. The Golem snickered, an unnerving and disgusting sound, "Do Me A fAvOr AnD bRaCe YoUrSeLf, YeS?"

"What do you plan to do?"

The Golem adjusted its stance, as if preparing to attack while maintaining its grip on Ram. The 7 mouths licked their teeth in anticipation, he licked his lips in the same impression. "TuNnEl ViSiOn."

[Wait.]

Time slowed down as the owner of Emurdol's vessel spoke up, lacking its recent vitriol and speaking in a sensible tone. The world moved with the littlest pace in the perceptions of the entities so they could speak in peace. The enthusiasm of the newcomer was gone, in its place was a grimace that could equally match the other.

[Just why? Why are you suddenly doing all this for me? What did you expect to happen when you assumed control?]

[….You see, I had to prevent Mama from taking over you instead. She sees that you're having trouble and in need of help and would have done so once your guard slipped. But I knew that if she takes over your body, she'll kill the little bitch along with everything else. I know that you don't want that so I reasoned with her until she employed me to take your place. I, of course, genuinely wanted to help you out with my ideas that don't involve knocking you out of consciousness and did as soon as I got her permission.]

[….]

[I know you got questions, and I'm very aware as you are that she's acting out of character but now is not the time. Surrender to me for a while, and I will try to get the job done for you the best I could. I'll return control to you as soon as it's over.]

[…]

[Well?]

[…Do anything out of hand and you will never see the Afterlife ever again!]

[I know, I know. I still wish to Go Home as much as you do, along with everybody. Killing the little bitch is forbidden and the big sister must be kept alive, I already understood that so don't you worry.]

[Tch…..whatever. Just commence this plan of yours, whatever it is.]

[Yes, Brother!]

Time went back to its original pace and the abomination moved into motion, screaming gleefully. "HeEeErRrRe YoU GO!"

Defying all common sense, the Flesh Golem reared the hand holding the petite body back and threw the Fair Maid like a ball towards the little sister. The Pale One looked on in spectating glee, eyeing the facial expressions of the white-horned demon closely. Bloodlust disappeared, killing intent sapping out like an afterthought to be replaced with a softer expression as she dropped her weapon, opening her bloodstained arms and receiving her thrown sister.

"GoTcHa."

Tunnel her vision with her precious flesh and blood gathering all her attention just to send her mindset temporarily outside the battlefield. That unguarded lapse was all he needed, and she never saw his attack coming.

The skeleton he created from the witchbeasts killed by the flail and buried beneath the ground suddenly breached out in springing speeds and slugged her white horn with a well-aimed skeletal fist. Head twisted to the side, immediately unconscious, brought down by a single hit to the most vital area in her demon form.

[That was the Plan? To throw the Fair Maid? Tch. Utterly stupid.]

[Hey. You would have thought up the same plan yourself if you had your composure with you.]

[Silence. Just what do you know about me?]

[A lot, actually. I said so last night, didn't I? I watched you live your life for so long to the point that I could predict how you think. That goes for the rest. They know as much as I do.]

[Haaaaah….]

He, the skeleton and the Golem took their cue to dash forward, past the collapsed forms of the sisters and began clearing out the field. The abomination hobbled towards the remaining witchbeasts in a hungry frenzy, the ivory warrior charged a lone dog with a ferocious rage, he threw himself towards a cute little puppy, the Alpha. It thought it could hide using its miniature size, but he never let it escape his sight ever since taking control of Emurdol's body and seeing it hide beneath the underbellies of the witchbeasts earlier. With his sudden arrival close to its proximity, it was too surprised at his sudden appearance and was too late to evade a kris burying itself to its small body.

The skewered puppy held aloft in his left hand to the sky, he flung its tiny corpse away to a certain distance. He was not surprised to see it curl, almost agonizingly on the ground, and suddenly enlarge in an explosive rate into a gargantuan Ulgarm, glaring at him with bright glowing red eyes. The wound he gave on its gut was quite tiny compared to its great size.

[How predictable.]

[Indeed, Brother. Just like the Hosts, deceptively-innocent humans or animals possessed by Hellspawn, suddenly turning into big ugly bastards when they're going to give their all or are close to death just like this one.]

[It does not matter what it is. Just kill it.]

[With pleasure.]

With a simple smile, he lifted a right hand at his face's level, middle finger and thumb together, the index finger pointed up. The Alpha growled like a rumbling thundercloud, shaking the earth with its reverberating song. They weren't quite far from each other. Just one light pounce from the witchbeast or 5 steps forward from himself, they would be chest to head. But the former had an advantage with the range of its barrel-like limbs, containing enough strength to bisect a man with a mere graze using its massive claws. If it simply reached forward, it would reach his head and lop it off his body.

But when a Priest of the Serpent is nearby a corpse, especially when there's a grand number of witchbeast bodies littering the entire clearing right behind him, it is clear who has the greater advantage between the two.

The sooner the Alpha lifted its paw just the slightest, his spell was already finished.

He snapped his fingers.

From every dead witchbeast, from the ones who were whole to the ones who were barely recognizable as a pile of blood, organs and gray matter, they exploded in a spectacular cloud of pure crimson behind him, only to be overshadowed by the innumerable hail of sharp ivory escaping their vessels and sailing towards the Ulgarm's massive frame with dangerous speeds.

Without mercy, the entire front of the gargantuan witchbeast was riddled with lethal bones, filling every space possible that there wasn't a trace of its hide in sight. While it stood dumbfounded at what happened to itself for just a few seconds, the unrecognizable heap slowly toppled and fell on its side, practically bleeding a lake from the thousands of openings.

Everything in a single instant.

[Pathetic.]

[Pathetic, indeed.]

The magic was costly but he still has more energy to spare, even drained the beast's mana while it was in paralyzed shock before dying. Exhausting, yes, but not enough to tire him out completely. So long as there's mana in his core, he can last for as long as his stamina could allow him.

It would be fun to grind the body in mechanical cruelty using the bones impaled to it but that would be a waste of good flesh.

Returning the kris to Mother and turning around, he beheld his Flesh Golem gathering its kills in a pile, and feasting on their boneless remains with its 7 mouths, with the skeleton dragging more bodies to the pantry like a butler, practically bathing itself with their blood as the crimson liquid seeped out of every toothy maw and ran down its fleshly body. The sound of flesh being chewed and minced was pleasing, arousing and spine-curdling all at once, even to himself.

Aside from its girth increasing, it seemed to have grown 3 extra arms without him noticing, using the consumed meat as extra mass to develop further. Each were lean rather than bulky compared to its regular pair but they were equally fleshly, skinless and lethal, muscle fibers exposed and visibly tense. One was located at the left shoulder blade, reaching over the shoulders to pick at organs and feed it to nearby mouths. The second was found at the middle of its spine, larger than the first, having 2 elbows and an absurd reach capable of touching its chest. The third was found in its left wrist, smaller-sized than the rest and functioned more as a large finger for the left hand.

[I haven't created a golem of that type for a long time.]

[Yes. Too fragile compared to Stone Golems and prone to whining if not fed its quota of bodies. But with these many witchbeasts, I doubt we'll hear any complaint from it. Besides, it's much more agile and smarter.]

[Haaah…whatever. Proceed with taking the sisters out of this damn forest. The Alpha may be dead but witchbeasts are still coming. There's no end to them at all.]

Nodding to the command, he walked over to the sisters. One was conscious and having regained enough strength to kneel, the other was completely knocked out and likely unable to come to for a few days. The Fair Maid's wary gaze never left him once he was the closest to her instead of the abomination just 6 feet away eating the boneless dead.

She spoke in a composed tone as always, but the smartly-veiled alarm in her eyes could not be hidden. Not to a Priest of the Serpent, that is. "It is clear that you are not the man named Emurdol Viandegroc. The look in your eyes says it all."

The Golem stopped feasting, paying attention to the proceedings without turning around while he gave a small smile to the Fair Maid with his sharp teeth slightly showing through and saying nothing as he crossed his arms, the 4 metallic hands following suit by crossing one pair behind his back while the other simply interlocked fingers behind his waist.

"Who are you underneath the flesh and bones? Ram wants to know."

[….]

[…..Go ahead. Greet her. It doesn't matter even if she knows.]

Grinning even wider, he clapped a strange but familiar rhythm with his clawed gauntlets before he bowed exaggeratingly, upper body leant forward, completely diagonal to the ground and arms spread to the side, head deeply bowed that it literally hung from his neck as his blood-splattered white locks overflowed to the ground.

"AlLoW mE tO eXpReSs My SaLuTaTiOnS tO yOu FoR tHe VeRy FiRsT tImE, fAiR mAiD." The abomination's mocking tone as soon as that familiar nickname was used could not be hidden as it spoke in his stead. It wasn't possible with so many octaves speaking at once.

"I aM a PrIeSt Of ThE oRdEr Of ThE sErPeNt, ThE lEfT hOrN oF tHe DrAgOn." His head slowly raised up and a horrifying smile was seen through the gaps of his bloody locks, eyes flashing green from the shadow of his brow.

"Viandegroc, and Viandegroc alone." Only one mouth and one octave finished the introduction. The voice of a youthful male barely past his 14th turn. "The pleasure is all mine, Handicap."

The Left Horn of the Dragon finally conveyed his name to the Living World.