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)

20. The Abiding Crown

"Alright, Emilyyy. Open your eeeeyes!"

She did and Emilia looked down on the surprise she was told have been waiting for her ever since Meili led her to the most beautiful field of flowers the Earlham Village children have been keeping secret.

"An ornament of flowers?"

"Pffft!" Meili blew a raspberry, "Noooo! It's a crown of flowers! I worked all night making it as pretty as possible, and did you know? It will never wiiiilt, all thanks to Papa's magic."

"Did you pull an all-nighter again? That isn't healthy, you know? You'll never grow as tall as your daddy if you don't get enough sleep."

Meili sighed heavily, far heavily than what an ordinary child was capable of, and she gripped, "Yes, I didn't. But I told you, I can stay up for four days! My heights not gonna get affected by it but that's not the point!" She stepped up to the half-elf, gathered her composure, and continued, "Consider this a bit of a reheeeeaaarsal. You are going to be the Ruler, nooo? So while you're still a candidate, you'll be wearing this for the time beeeiiiing. And the honor will solely be mine to give it to you. But someday, when you do becoming Ruler, it will definitely be Papa who will put the real crown on your head. And when you do, you can give it back to me."

The gesture struck Emilia cleanly in the heart, and the lively sensation rolled across it pleasantly. It made her warm, terribly so, and it formed a natural smile on her face without meaning to.

Her hands clutching each other in front of her chest, her response was so soft, and it was pleasant to the ears thanks to her bell-like voice, "Thank you, Meili."

The wyrmm smiled back at her, unspeakable fondness emanating from it, accompanied by an air of maturity that didn't match her age, "Kneel."

Full of the smile that was as flowery as the environment around her, Emilia knelt down to both knees and bowed her head. With a solemn air, the Abiding Crown is gently and delicately placed upon on her head.

With a loud cheer, Meili proclaimed the name of the Future King of Lugnica, "Hail Emilia and praise!" And she clapped nonstop.

The simplest of gifts is given to her and the half-elf felt immeasurable joy.

From this day forth, Emilia took it upon herself to treasure the gift forever until the day she sits upon the Throne.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Whistles, wailing, howling, and groaning. No noble nor knight made a single sound under the cacophony of terrors that resonated nonstop in the darkening chambers, quickly knowing that their own voice would be lost amongst those of the unresting Dead that have breached the plane of the Living.

But above all else, many are about to crumble under the white glare of the Pale Horror that hovered over the ground, it's influence forcing them to fall on their knees and quake; its white hair floating from its scalp as if it was trying to escape and knife-shaped ears framing its anger and amplifying the frightening image it gave with its loosely-hanging jaw, its long, morbidly thin arms reaching the floors with its wicked four-fingered claws, and everything else below its bony chest ended in a Shroud of all-encompassing black.

Its slouched back seemed to be on fire, colored swamp green by the tremendous amount of mana it exhumed, equaling the might Roswaal's readied spell had. Within those flames were the faces of the departed, filling the noise with their miserable wailing and crying, a frequency so haunting the nobles quivered from it. A phenomena made possible by the imperceptible tear of Reality behind him, a passage to the Afterlife.

The Knights stood back safely, their swords aimed at the Horror and the Demon of Gluttony that overlooked the whole spectacle with an unchanging look of pure tedium. The nobles went back as far as the walls, doing their best to not be caught by its fury. The Council of Elders remained in their seats, stiff and looking at everything with wide eyes. The candidates were at certain levels of alarmed, from intrigued to outright terrified.

Roswaal, however, remained where he is, in the center of the red carpet, holding the second Sun in his hand, fighting back against the encroaching darkness and the fear worming into his head while aiming a cold yellow eye in the Terror's direction.

"If the world were to burn, I must at least return a thousandfold of your fury back at you." The Clown reared back his fist, "Behold! The greatest might of fire mana—Al Goa!"

With a pitch of his hand, the fireball flew straight at Emurdol, the heat nearing to incinerate the apparition straight into the Afterlife behind it.

With a shrill and deafening scream, it charged the noble as soon as the spell flew, digging its claws into the floors and dragging itself forward at terrifying speeds towards the careening ball of fire, its smoky lower half trailing after it. Following after it were the very same Wraiths that tore Greed itself to pieces, disembodied and emaciated heads glowing a blinding white escaping out of the Tear, white tendrils trailing after them like hair, screaming an ear-piercing cry as they went to punish the noble.

Everyone held their breaths before the collision was made, and when one Wraith would eat the fire spell while the rest would fly straight for Roswaal's form to wring it to pieces, the last thing the Terror saw was a blur of white heading straight for the middle between the two opposing forces.

And the impact happened, the fire ball snuffed out under a white light coating the Horror's form as it suddenly held itself in place, the momentum it created from its wild charge seeming to disappear, and it ignored the light covering its lanky form that killed the spell and turned it into white steam, instead pointing a scathing white glare at Roswaal.

As the onlookers gaped, a bell-like voice spoke in a very frigid voice, something the consciousness inside the Terror has never heard before.

"This must stop. I will abide any violence and outrage no longer in my presence. If you wish to continue….."

Then came an androgynous voice that followed after, the icy quality behind it matching the chill that was spreading throughout the chamber, similar but opposite to the heat wrought by Roswaal's magic, manifesting Puck's tranquil wrath.

"….then I am prepared to wield my power as my beloved daughter's demands." The tiny cat crossed his arms, snorting at everything that noticed his appearance, especially the Knights that now turned their blades to him. "You lowly humans are saying quite some things in front of her."

The whistling and moaning in the air continued, the darkness stilling from its devouring onslaught, but Puck's threat overpowered the chambers into silence, made more palpable by the cold that turned everyone's breath into a mist.

The head of the Council of Elders carried a mountain-like composure, and his murmur pierced through the stiff air like a thunderbolt, "The Apocalypse Beast of Eternal Frost."

Puck's ears flicked as he turned to the old man, "Ah, I remember. People did call me that a lot. Seems you're very informed for a young'n."

Miklotov's response contrasted the stiff atmosphere, "To be treated like a youngster at my age is something to treasure deeply for the rest of my life."

Puck flicked his long tail at him, "Call me whatever you like. If you want to have details about me, ask him."

The head turned to Roswaal, "Then I shall. Lord Roswaal?"

With a noble flourish, Roswaal solemnly lowered his head and motioned to Emilia and the Apocalypse Beast with one hand, "As you have guessed, Lord Miklotov, this is a supernatural being, one of the Great Spirits of yore, known to our forefathers as the Apocalypse Beast of the Eternal Frost. And currently, Lady Emilia's contracted spirit."

The bald and stocky Elder fixed Puck with a wide-eyed stare, his voice hoarse from the shock of what he heard, "I….it can't be….! One of the Four Great Spirits…in someone's service….and that of a half-demon at that!"

The momentarily-ignored Pale Horror behind the Apocalypse Beast and Emilia roared, its red mouth with a loosely-hanging jaw widening even further, pitching his entire body forward as it bellowed a horrifying and tortured scream at the insolent Elder, making the latter recoil from the sight and sound of it. The Wraiths that were held back from mutilating every living being in the room except the Terror strained against the green smoky cages that kept them immobile. Gluttony had the lives of many people under her hands by holding their leashes.

Puck never so much as twitched from the roaring that was directly right behind him, at eye level with the Horror as he floated, his arms kept crossed on his furry chest as he addressed Bordeaux, "You included, young'n. All of you ought to be thankful. This place isn't turning into the biggest glacier the Capital has ever seen because my cute, beloved daughter pleaded to me, so I will behave. If she wasn't stopping me….you'd all be icicles by now."

The way the threat was so casually delivered made it even frostier and easier to believe, causing an even colder chill to run down the people's spine.

"And you should all be thanking me too, because I'm the only one who can stop this little puppy from massacring all of you to bloody pieces for making a mouth at someone it respected. That means double the thanks to my Lia because she didn't want it to." Puck turned to the Horror, eye to eye with its gaze that had no pupil, floating up to its forehead and patting its forehead like a pet, "That's a good boy. Don't worry, they stopped with the naughty words."

By doing such a thing to a grotesque being that everyone in the room has never seen in their entire lives, Puck had made himself even more of a powerful threat if even he can hold the Horror back.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Someone was laughing.

Miklotov was slapping his knees, losing control from his out-of-place mirth. It completely threw off everyone around him, especially in the dreaded atmosphere. "Hoho! Even my heart skipped a beat!" His laughter still boiling, he addressed Puck, "Allow me to call this a most amusing presentation."

Instantly, Puck dropped his cold expression and shrugged his shoulders helplessly, turning to Roswaal. "Aw, we're busted. I told ya, Roswaal. Overdoing it wasn't a good idea in the first place."

The chill and tension of the room was gone, the whistling and moaning of the Dead as well as the darkness abruptly disappearing to imagination too, bringing back the original lighting of the interior. Amidst all the bewilderment of this development, Roswaal groaned and slapped his own forehead, "Oh myyyy! And I thought it was actually convincing, especially with Ser Emuuuurdol's fantastic adlibbing…..it's so dispiiiriting, it truly is."

"W-wait! What the hell are you talking about!?"

The Pale Horror's elongated jaw suddenly adjusted, morphing into a perfectly proportional mouth that fit its ugly and terrifying visage. For the slightest of moments, there was the look of complete defeat in its features as it stopped floating and instead rested its four-fingered hands to the floor, supporting its own weight.

At the side, Gluttony shook her head in disappointment and took a delicate pull of her pipe, hoping for the green vapors to actually relax her Flesh Golem body and ease her nonexistent mind. It didn't.

Whatever joke it was that Miklotov realized, only the latter, Puck, Roswaal, the blood-haired woman and the Horror were in it. The Lord turned to the bewildered Bordeaux and said, "Simply put, Lord Bordeaux, this exchange was actually the speech from Lady Emilia's Camp. I understand that the format differs quite a lot compared to the other candidates but…..the point is already clear, no?"

It was all an act, to show that Emilia has considerable amounts of power in her hands, especially when an Apocalypse Beast is under her command. That was the point of it all, and everyone realizes that, including Bordeaux.

The latter carried the strongest sense of being had among all of them. "That was acting….acting!? Everything was a farce, from start to finish!? Damn you, Roswaal! What do you think this place is!?"

"I apologize, Lord Bordeaux." Roswaal bowed, keeping his eyes trained on the Wise Man, "However, what the Great Spirit said still holds true. If it were not for Lady Emilia's mercy and goodwill, we wouldn't be able to talk like this."

Bordeaux met his gaze with a strong glare, "Are you threatening me, Roswaal? Are you blackmailing me, a member of the Council of Elders….!?"

"Yes." To the man's shock, Emilia answered the question, "I am threatening you. I would like to address the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elior, the Land of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit of Fire. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me…."

She paused, surveying the faces of the Wise Men.

"….the Witch of Frost, born in the Frozen Forest."

Silence came, everybody's mouths clamping shut at the mention of that one term this Kingdom was highly allusive to.

Miklotov spoke, presenting his iron-strong nerves once again, "You displayed your power, and now you state your demands. Truly befitting the ways of a Witch. Then what does the Witch of Frost seek in threatening us so?"

"I have but a single demand." Emilia put a hand to her chest, resolve and strength coating her amethyst eyes, "I want a fair election."

"…Fair?"

"I understand that I am regarded with prejudice both for being a half-elf and a witch. But even so, I strongly refuse to let such a thing rob me of all possibilities."

"And so you desire to be treated fairly as a candidate for the Royal Selection?"

"Fairness is an exceedingly valuable thing to me. That is the only thing I demand of you: to be treated impartially and justly. In turn, I shall do nothing unjust, such as use my contracted Spirit as a sword and shield with which to usurp the Royal Throne."

Such demands expressed a show of humility and honor. With such power in her hands that could allow her to do something like that with little amount of trouble and yet she decides to do things in a way that actually hampered her, no one could miss the meaning behind it.

"Compared to the other candidates, I am inexperienced and lacking in too many areas. There are a mountain of things I do not know and must study. Even so, I believe my effort to reach my goal is no less than the other."

Gluttony marveled at her oration, her lips slightly curling into a smile at her show of spine and might. All the resolve she gathered for this moment, finally given the chance to be shown and ingrain it to everybody's heads. Inside the vessel, Viandegroc applauded nonstop.

"I do not know if my efforts are worthy of the throne. But my desire to make my efforts equal to the task is genuine. I believe these feelings are not unequal to that of the other candidates. Therefore, please look at me with neutral eyes. Look at me as Emilia of no family name. See not the Witch of Frost nor the silver-haired half-elf, look at me."

The chamber fell into silence at the end of her speech that almost sounded like a solemn plea, echoing in the entire chambers. They waited for the Wise Men. They waited for the stubborn Elder, Bordeaux. The Horror highly expected his response to be satisfactory.

Finally, he sighed, "My view shall not change. It is unmistakable that your appearance, reminiscent of the Witch of Envy, will have ill effects upon the populace. It would place the Royal Selection in a precarious state."

The Pale Horror growled, blood beginning to leak out of its teeth-covered jaw. Gluttony seethed out the vapors in-between her upper teeth and lower lip. And Emilia's eyes became shadowed.

However, Bordeaux wasn't finished, "However, sentiment is an area where none may intrude. Furthermore, it is something no one can do anything about, no matter what he may think."

Then, he knelt right then and there, all of his respect laid bare for Emilia to see in all of its glory that she was greatly taken aback by it.

"Even so, I deeply apologize for my rudeness, Lady Emilia. You could freeze me where I stand if I do not submit to your will, or even set loose that monstrosity upon my flesh. Yet, you have not, asking only for fair treatment. This is an act worthy of respect."

At this moment, Bordeaux finally befitted his position as a Wise Man of the Council. His face was gentle and intellectual, showing no more of that bigoted look he had on her moments ago, truly reflecting wisdom one should have in his advanced years. His words brought such immeasurable joy on Emilia's face, turning her lips into a pleasant and flowery smile.

Such a sight is powerful enough to take away Bordeaux's breath and bring a blush to his face.

The head hummed, pleased at the development, "Though that was a rather stormy digression, enough has been said, I believe. Lady Emilia, Margrave Roswaal, do you have anything left to add?"

"No."

"I have not spoken suffiiiiiiciently. What to dooo, what to dooooo…"

Miklotov wasn't going to indulge the clown, "Thank you very much." He stepped up to Roswaal to give the Lord a pat on the back before returning to his chair.

"Alright." Puck turned to the Horror, "Show's over, Emurdol. Take off your costume."

"When you uttered in my head 'Play Along'," Roswaal briefly imitated that grisly dialogue the eldritch voice always had, coming out as a raspy emulation that would have been laughable, "I was soooo shocked that my foot moved on its own when you suddenly attacked me! Thank goodness you could recooooover from that. It was so appalling, I aaaaalmost broke character."

"I actually thought you were gonna change into that monster again, Emurdol, but I see what you've done." Puck moved to touch the Horror's forehead again, and his paw phased through the white flesh, "You're just an illusion. Changing would'a made it all worse."

"Indeeeed." Dramatically, Roswaal mimed a faint as he put the back of his hand to his forehead, "Causing the End of the World in this very Castle would have majoooor consequences, especially to our Lady Emilia. Words cannot describe how glaaaaaad I am that you noticed what's going on, Ser Eeeeeemurdol."

Gone was the pale horror, and instead, what was visible to the naked eye was a representation of its form in the same black smoke that made up its lower half, and what should have been its arms were actually a large pair of black skeletal hands.

Very few people ever managed to catch on to the trick. There was no Horror to begin with. It was just an illusion, including the noises and the darkness.

Slowly, the smoke receded inwards, as if the source that was seeping them out is now drawing them back in, deemed to be no longer needed. As the shrouds thinned, the actor behind the masquerade is left bare to every eye and they widened in surprise.

The Death Mage, Emurdol's upper body, was hunched over, his head covered by both his arms, having been the one that made up the Pale Horror's head and neck the whole time before he straightened his posture. His lower half below the waist sported a gigantic human ribcage of black bone, the massive pair of skeletal hands connected to its large shoulders and supported its heavy frame from the ground. Down the spine, there was no pelvis. Instead, it's a long tail that had once been a smoky trail that followed after it.

With his arms spread, his hands glowing in green necromantic energy, his torso-like lower half deconstructed, joints disconnecting and melting, the spine-tail shortening into a third leg. The massive skeletal arms steadily deconstructed at an even pace, making sure Emurdol doesn't topple over, morphing back into the pair of stilts that made up his legs. The ribcage seeming to have disappeared in the ivory depths, sinking into the new pair of legs at equal proportions, the tail having merged into them as well, the image slowly became more and more humane.

In time, Emurdol was now back to normal, stood straight before Emilia, Puck and Roswaal. Save for the red on his scarred neck, he looked just like the way he did before everything was thrown into chaos.

And he suddenly curled over, coughing into his gauntlet palm, splattering the black metal with his blood. "Tsk." He clicked his tongue distastefully.

"Emurdol!" Emilia quickly ran over to him, holding his shoulders.

"That's what happens when you take it tooooo seriously…" A honeysweet remark graced everyone's ears, drawing attention to the most beautiful woman in the room that rivaled Priscilla as she took a pull from her pipe with one hand, tucked her mask under her right arm with the other and presented a little vial of red liquid in her delicate hand, as if it was already there. "You are quite the drama king….."

With a kiss to the elixir of healing, Sally blew green vapors into the container and it was carried by the products of her pipe towards Emilia's reaching hand, akin to a flying kiss.

Quickly taking it in hand, Emilia popped off the cork and held Emurdol's chin, gently raising it up. "Here, drink up."

Gauntleted hands reached up to hold her wrist before gently taking the vial from her hand. He straightened his posture and tilted his head back as he downed its contents, and all watched his neck lose its red tinge, the damaged skin mending itself as if time was rewinding backwards.

With a relieved sigh, the vial suddenly disappeared from his hand and he bowed gratefully to Emilia in a very knightly way, a hand to his chest and the other horizontally placed against his back.

Righting himself, he held out his right hand to the still-caged Wraiths in the air and made a crushing gesture. With a flick of Sally's pipe, the green enclosures disappeared and they suddenly were shoved back into the Afterlife in unison to the downward swing of Emurdol's arm, disappearing to thin air and leaving behind a grudging howl in their departure.

Finished, he connected his right hand to his left behind his back and crossed arms, turning on the point of his left stilt and walked back to the reorganized line of knights.

Just as Emilia was about to do the same, walking to the line of candidates while Roswaal moved to return to the nobles, Miklotov's voice called out, "By the way, what is that man's position to your faction, Lady Emilia?"

The Necromagus and the half-elf froze in their steps, turning to face the head with surprise.

Idly, Sally let out thin trails of green from her lips, knowing what's about to happen.

Tension made its way to Emilia's face, "Ah….err, this is my….um….."

A hand laid itself on her hand, making her turn to see Roswaal's face smiling at her, "Allooooow me."

Nodding to her, he stood before the dais and bowed to them in courtesy. He turned to her Emurdol and beckoned him over, "Kindly introduce yourself to the Council of Wise Men, Vassal-in-waiting of Lady Emilia."

The first response was to scowl and purse his lips. But after a couple of seconds, he schooled his expression, turning his face into an expressionless mask and he wordlessly stepped forward and eventually reached Roswaal's side. Sally followed after him, but only staying in the same distance as Emilia, at arms-reach distance beside the latter. With polished motion, Emurdol clapped the rhythm of greetings before bowing.

With every mind present, the eldritch voice resonated in their heads with a very formal tone that neither Emilia nor Roswaal recognized.

"I extend my Salutations to the members of the Council of Elders, to the Royal Knights of the Kingdom, and to the nobles gathered. My name is Emurdol Viandegroc, supporter of the Lady Emilia and a defender of her honor."

"And I am Selena Samara Netheridge, former Marchioness of the long gone Netheridge Domain." Gluttony's voice was also completely different than usual, speaking in the remarkable frequency that she was once capable of in her Living life back in Pandemonium, speaking to the other Lords and Ladies in a grace that was unexpected of her very young age. "Regard my presence as irrelevant for I shall act as his speaker."

And she bowed, speaking in unison with the eldritch voice.

"It is my privilege to meet you."
"It is my pleasure to meet you."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Hmmm…." Miklotov leveled with the Necromagus alongside the other Wise Men and the nobles, stroking his beard in contemplation, "….thanks to the aggressive display you've made earlier, I admit I'm a little surprised to see you act the way you are now."

"It is an honor." Sally replied to him, the lip of her pipe nowhere close to her own.

There was a pause, acknowledging that the Death Mage isn't replying and the woman's proclaimed role is actively played, "If I may ask, with your skin tone, could you possibly hail from the Kingdom of Gusteko?"

Emurdol shook his head, with Sally following up a verbal response, "He does not. His loyalty lies only to himself and his kin, and that includes Lady Emilia."

"Kin, you say?"

"Kindly do not misunderstand that as if they are related. He is part of Lady Emilia's faction, and any faction that earns loyalty from him is something of a privilege that must be treasured, for none can easily have it."

Then Roswaal added, "And it is by very unlikely circumstances that led to his meeting with her and granting him a place in the Emilia Camp."

In the background, Sally placed a hand on the tense Emilia's shoulders, giving her an assuring nod, giving her the message that everything will be alright.

"Very well….may I have a brief summation regarding his origins, Lord Roswaal?"

"I shall." With a bow, the Lord gestured to the Death Mage with a hand, "Though I was only given snippets of it, I have understood much that Ser Emurdol and his kind are of a different breed compared to normal humans, equal to that with a demihuman, even though he is human."

"Interesting, could that explain why he was able to survive such a fatal injury earlier?"

"Indeed." Roswaal nodded, "His people originate from a species of humans that have lived deep within the ground for an entire millennia. Their culture and language is completely different to that of ours, drastically so that it would be considered outright alien in our eyes. Such conditions rendered their flesh and hair as white as the deceased and their vision more adapted to the darkness than any animal. Not only that, but his body is completely different to that of a regular human, where his organs are fundamentally different in structure and shape. If one is ever to face him or one of his kind in combat, it would take more than an army to prove a match."

Miklotov appraised the information given, "It is strange. Even in the Castle's libraries, there is no such records of his kind ever written before, even among the tomes that date back to before the Covenant was formed."

"Then it is our privilege to be graced with his presence, for he finally decided to let their existence be known to us." Roswaal mentioned.

"Then, how did you and Lady Emilia come into contact with him?"

Sally gave the tense Emilia's shoulder a squeeze.

"A month ago, the assassin, the Bowel Hunter, had made an attempt on Lady Emilia's life." Shocked murmurs began among the nobles, less to the fact that such an attempt was done to a half-elf but more to the fact that the presence of one of the worst killers just happened to be inside the Kingdom. Fewer were aware of the fact that more than a few guards have been murdered during the same day. "Fortunately, Ser Emurdol have moved into her defense without a second thought. Though the Sword Saint may have been the one to end the spectacle, it was by this man's actions that things have not been led to the worse."

"He was fatally injured in the aftermath. His abdomen was severely damaged and his right hand was driven to the point of no return." Emilia added, holding her fist in front of her chest, "I have been indebted to him since then."

"So, because of such circumstances, you employed him to your faction as a form of gratitude?"

"Actually….." Roswaal raised up a finger, wearing a cryptic smile, "…things didn't take such an idealistic turn."

He turned to Emurdol, giving him the stage. The latter nodded, and Sally began to speak again, "He is supposed to claim his reward and then leave after 5 days under the care of the Mathers Mansion. However, there came an incident that befell the Mathers Domain. A spy had allowed a pack of witchbeasts to breach into one of the nearby villages and endangered six children. If it were not for his timely intervention, those poor souls would have lost their lives and left their parents grieving."

Roswaal delicately placed a hand to his own neck, "The price Ser Emurdol paid for such great service to my domain is the loss of his speech. The witchbeasts ripped it off his neck when he was cornered and outside his guard." He turned around, facing the Sword Saint specifically, ignoring the growing murmurs amongst the crowd, "Ser Reinhardt, a month ago, do you remember of certain a day when the mana of the world had suddenly diverted its pathways to my lands before they suddenly returned to where they belonged, preventing multiple catastrophes from happening all over?"

Recognition lit up in Reinhardt's eyes, so did everyone in the chambers, from knight to noble, immense shock clouding everyone's features, and the Knight nodded, composed, "I have. I was about to make my way over to the domains to see what was going on but you sent me a letter saying that the matter has been dealt with."

"A minor earthquake occurred in the Capital during the time." Miklotov mentioned, "It drove most of the populace into a bit of a frenzy, causing much concern and question amongst the people with many rumors rising up from it. It is dubbed as the 'Great Influx' by all, especially from the other Nations." He turned to Emurdol, "If I were to assume, could it be because of Ser Emurdol as well?"

Steeling himself, Roswaal nodded. The murmurs were even louder amongst the nobles, causing opinions like a plot planned by the half-demon to destroy the world and other unsavory assumptions.

Emilia could hear them all very well, she wanted to correct them all but Sally prevented her from doing so, squeezing her shoulder with a lot more pressure than necessary and shook her head. "Trust him as he had trusted you."

Emilia bit her lip in worry.

"Due to awful circumstances that led to a falling out between my staff and Ser Emurdol, it devolved into a spat that demanded my attention." More than most of the people in the chambers knew that he was downplaying what actually happened that day. If it was enough to literally shake the Kingdom from his domain and even drain the world's mana, it must have been something to be seen in order to be believed, "It is uncertain how long the argument has lasted but things have thankfully settled themselves in a matter of minutes. After time for as long as two weeks, Ser Emurdol and the Emilia Camp have finally come to an agreement, which led to the wholesome relationship between him and Lady Emilia."

Emilia was now very conflicted inside, as the memories she regained could perfectly recall that horrible day, where the world was falling apart and the entire Mathers domain was being ravaged by calamities she has never seen in her life. She wanted answers, especially from Emurdol himself.

The head hummed once more, "Hmmm. I see. This has been very informative, thank you, Lord Roswaal."

"Happy to please." The Lord bowed in respect.

"Now, Ser Emurdol." Miklotov turned to Emurdol, looking at him directly in the eye, the sharp quality of his gaze making the Death Mage stiffen, "I have a question for you. Would you kindly answer it?"

Emurdol was still, immobile as a statue that no one could see him breathe or even blink.

After a dozen seconds, he nodded. Not all were able to see it, due to how very little motion was found in it.

"Very well. I have been a witness to your power, as had been everyone in this very chambers, and attesting to Roswaal's claims, you carry such immeasurable power that could break the world asunder. Do you deny them?"

Instantly, Emurdol shook his head, submitting to his fate as having that information about him known, practically handicapping him for the future. "He does not deny. Had Emilia's speech not been an act, he would have enacted the Great Influx just to get back at the ones who would tarnish Lady Emilia's honor, regardless of the presence of the Apocalypse Beast, the Court Magician of Lugnica, or even the Sword Saint."

This time, Sally did nothing to comfort Emilia's risen distress, as she would not approve of such a thing done for her sakes. The growing worry and concern amongst the nobles didn't help either.

"Understood. And now here is my final question; with such power, how far will you go to ensure that Lady Emilia shall succeed the throne? As a vassal-in-waiting, what resolve do you have to carry on such a task to someone you have only met for only a month?"

Silence. Complete silence. The entire chambers awaited his response, from knight to noble. He turned around, to face Emilia, his supposed 'master'. She looked at him very intently, giving him the sign that she truly wishes to know just how far someone like him would go for her.

The questions that have been hanging around his head ever since the Ceremony began came again, try as he did to not think about them:

Why?

Why should he devote all of his power to the half-elf?

Beyond the reason of being friends, why must he go so far for her?

Does the Royal Selection actually concerned him or his daughter in any way?

"As a friend, this Priest will find ways to take away all your sufferings and keep it for himself."

Emurdol's green eyes glowed, remembering the day he had grown the heart to live again, the day he was given the choice to hold off his peace with the Dragon.

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

Then, resolution.

He turned to face the head once again, and this time, he did not wait for Sally to speak for him. His mouth mimed his words, and the eldritch voice matched the beat in unison.

"Even for a month, that is enough time for my kind to know certain things about the people they recognize as a friend. In my time spent living under the same roof as this half-elf, I have learned many things, big or small about her."

He isn't so dense as to not notice his own feelings for her. It isn't related to his Link to Meili in any way, where the child's fondness for Emilia is passing on to him. His feelings are pretty unique, and they hold a certain view over Emilia.

"She is a child. She speaks the truth when she says she knows very little and still has much to learn. She is incapable of matching the same wavelength as people her age; her whims and aims are so childish; naïve too. Her mental strength is completely laughable, she would fall if nothing to hold on to is right beside her."

She is nothing but a child to him. A child that he looked down on but completely held hope for. It is completely different to how he sees his daughter. While he is completely certain of Meili to succeed anything she sets her eyes on and he will always be optimistic for her, Emilia is different. Her entire being compels him to think like an Above-Worlder around her. He doubted, and he can't stand to see her fall.

He turned around to see the look on Emilia's face. She had the look on her face as if her hopes had been completely dampened, the crestfallen visage about to fall into tears. Sally did nothing to console her, standing perfectly still like a statue.

"Someone like her has no business taking part in something as harrowing as a race for the Seat of Power. By stepping into this competition, she is doing nothing but walking into the trap that shall make her the ultimate pariah of the Kingdom. An act of stupidity itself, truly befitting of a child who knows nothing."

Emilia's face shadowed, but the tears that ran down to her cheeks cannot be hidden as she bowed down, the drooping angle of the flower petals on her crown reflecting her mental state, unable to bear anymore of his words.

However, he wasn't done. He's only pointing out the initial parts of it, and he's very eager to follow up.

"In fact, she would fit in better in a garden, maintaining flowers or playing with animals that come to her hand. Maybe she would be better off frolicking with little children, taking part in their silly little games and indulge in the little things that make life truly matter."

Shock came upon the half-elf at his diversion as she slowly raised her glistening orbs of amethyst back to him, so did the rest of the nobles. At the side, Roswaal smirked deviously and proudly.

"Or, she could be courted by a man who cares the least about her lineage and more about her kind heart. Whether he be human or demihuman, half-blooded or not, he will love this girl for who she is and give her the happiness she never thought existed, the kind that only a family can have. The joy my people sought for."

He found that happiness himself, in Meili, in his love for Rem, in the daily life he had in the Mansion with everyone else. It was the essence of Family.

"In time, they would wed and rear beautiful children. As time goes on, as long as her elven lineage could allow, she will grow the heart to create a future for the Kingdom where everyone will be treated equally, regardless of race, culture and origin. Her little family might create a settlement somewhere, a place for mistreated demihumans to take refuge in. They will be given the equality she cherishes most, and they will feel at home in her presence. In time, her residents will share her goal of equality and devote all of their body and soul into making it happen, to spread that feeling of impartialness she desires most."

If such a thing have happened, he will have no words for how noble such a mistreated existence like her could ever make in spite of what's about to happen because of it. This Kingdom does not have a good opinion towards demihumans, especially because of the Demihuman War 40 years ago.

That future will become a treasure, a wealth that only those close to their soul could truly see its true value. He will be drawn to that value, craving for it, desiring to have it before anyone else could. If he cannot restrain himself, then he can do one thing for that wealth:

"And I will devote all of my being to protect it, with all of my flesh and with all of my Soul. I will sire her young as my godchildren. All of her subjects shall be put under my protection. All she considered allies shall become allies of my kin. They will bear the privileges that many men have craved ever since discovering the benefits my powers can give."

Without a hint of a lie or hesitation, he truly meant what he said. He will truly devote his life to something as grand as that. It had meaning—it creates meaning, and he can even say that Priests of the Serpent will be compelled to do the same, as such a settlement purely reflects what the Underground City and its inhabitants are. Mistreated and misunderstood because of social stigmas, created by the dictations of Idiots that made up the whole of humankind.

Then Emurdol's tone that had been rising in intensity and emotion had suddenly become soft, as if he was acknowledging something unfortunate as a missed opportunity. The might glow of his green orbs dulled alongside it.

"But Emilia did not choose that path, where things could have been easy. Instead, she chose to take the path of thorns, gnashing teeth and cursed words."

Emilia's mien slowly rebuilt its resolution upon the end of his sentence. There was a message in Emurdol's eyes as he looked at her, and she understood them very well despite hearing nothing inside her head.

Are you willing to go through with this? Are you willing to throw away that future, for the sake of your own goals?

She nodded, without hesitation and doubt. Her choice is made, and nothing else can sway her anymore.

He returned that nod very subtly, acknowledging her decision.

"If that is her choice, then I will follow after her footsteps to see where this road will take her."

He sharply turned to face the Wise Men once more, his eyes glowing in a steady light as he gestured a hand to Emilia, speaking in the most driven of tones, leaving his intentions bare for all to know and see.

If this silver-haired half-elf is willing to strive for something grand as the Seat of Power, then I must see it through. If she is so willing to face the brunt of the harm and hate she will suffer due to her lineage as the spitting image of the Witch of Envy solely for the sake of her ambitions….then I will devote all of my might to see what it bores fruit to. Woe betide the scum who would stand in the way, for I will not stand for it."

With a single clap of his armored hands before his face, his form exhumed power, momentarily tainting the air before sucking it back in. The brief display of prowess blew back his cloak, exposing the bones on his person that made the indications of his lineage. With pride in his voice and the dignity of a Death Mage in his person, he introduced himself once again.

"My name is Emurdol Viandegroc. I am a Priest of the Serpent, a Necromagus of the Order of the Serpent, and my kind has been subjected to the same prejudice she suffers from. But such views have vanished long ago, and I aim to help her bring along the same change, to end the bigotry that made her kind and others of the same circumstances suffer so, so I can be proud of the life I live and pass on in peace to the Afterlife."

The atmosphere in the chambers were a mix now. Some were taken in, some were in disagreement, and some were indifferent, but Emurdol made the choice to make himself known to the Kingdom. It would not be any different otherwise, as being connected to Emilia means being exposed to the public as much as she was. Considering how the Order of the Serpent doesn't even exist here, there is no worry about anyone having him cornered by using his lineage and from having to explain why he of such a profession is being too involved in something like this.

The head hummed, stroking his beard. "Hmmm. Thank you for your answer, Ser Emurdol. Will that be all?"

Straightening his posture and crossing his arms behind his back, he nodded. Turning around, he stepped down from the dais and walked to the line of knights, with Sally following close behind, putting on her mask and hiding the pipe in her robes, the long bloody hair trailing on the floors.

Before he lost her in his peripheral vision, without turning his head, Emurdol met eye contact with Emilia's purple orbs, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

At Emurdol's request before he was back to the line, the Knight Captain allowed him to leave the chambers.

The reason to depart from the chambers is simple: he needed to be at some place where he can relax his nerves after making such a grandiose performance in front of many people. He has never done anything like that in his life, and it overwhelmed him more than the presence of Greed when he legitimately pissed him off to the point where he literally destroyed the Castle they were fighting in. It's especially amazing that he managed to make everything look like he could hold himself amidst all that pressure like a proper showman.

By the Dragon, I am never going to do that again….!

The guardsman that was escorting him noticed the dour look on his face and asked about it, "Did something happen, Ser?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he mimed the words. "I am simply unable to bear the stiff atmosphere in that room. I wish to be some place where I can relax."

The guardsman flinched at the quality of his voice, oblivious to where it was actually coming from, but he quickly regained his composure and replied, "I understand. They are deciding the future of the Kingdom, after all. I myself would quiver just for being present there."

"What is that?" The eldritch voice suddenly took a grim tone as Emurdol looked at the end of the corridor, where a ruckus seemed to be happening.

Just before the guardsman turned to look as well, another guardsman popped in, body language in a frantic hurry. "Pardon, open the way! We've captured an intruder while another has eluded us! We need orders from the captain!"

Concern overpowered Emurdol's consciousness, his Link sending him unsettling implications.

"Wait! They're still in the middle of a conference! Hold the intruder in the barracks until furth—"

"The circumstances do not allow us that! Not while the other is still somewhere!"

Emurdol suddenly stepped in front of the shouting guardsman, causing the latter to take a sudden step back as his towering height and intense green gaze that burned a hole in his skull, asking in a very grotesque tone, "Have you seen what the intruder looks like? Answer me this instant!"

The man barely managed to reply at the intensity of his demand, "I only caught a glimpse, but the intruder was small like a child, and wearing black garbs. I think there was silver hair as well—

"That intruder's MINE!"

And by that shout, Emurdol's entire body became a formless cloud of pure black and blew into the long corridor, slipping past the guardsman in front of him and passing through Rom's large body as he was pulled forward by four shocked soldiers before the Shroud escaped to the nearest opening that led outside.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As he figured, it actually was Meili who broke into the Castle.

He found her hiding in one of the buildings, highly inconspicuous thanks to the Shroud around her person that allowed her to blend in perfectly in the shadows. Being a former assassin, she had her own skill of stealth to add up to it, and it did well to elude the many guards that were searching all over for her.

The guards were baffled when Emurdol easily picked her up from the shadow of a tall potted plant, especially when they have passed by her more than a couple times already. When they moved to take her off his hands and leave the situation to the Captain's orders, the Necromagus simply told them that the intruder is under his custody and report this development to the Knight Captain instead. Once he demanded it, he left them without another word, hugging his charge very closely and protectively to his chest.

Not a single word was exchanged between Father and Daughter. Each other's presence is what mattered more. What led to their own circumstances is the last thing they want to discuss.

It took time before he finally reached the waiting room he was supposed to be escorted to. It remarkably looked modest compared to the castle corridors, little amount of golden adornments and even the smell of plants were quite prominent thanks to the garden pots present. A nice place to relax. Emurdol approves of it.

Taking the biggest sofa, Meili curled into a ball on his lap and hugged his left hand to her chest, the gauntlet removed to allow her numb right hand to feel every bit of his flesh, practically crushing it.

His other hand supported her head that leaned against the right side of his armored chest, the bones surrounding it removed for the moment, softly stroking her locks with his skeletal digits while kissing her forehead from time to time. As he did, he fed her mana, giving ease to her distressed mental state.

He could only imagine just what had happened when she felt his neck twist through the Link. In fact, he already knows what happened even if they haven't spoken to each other about it, but he's refusing to acknowledge it, so he forced them from ever entering his awareness. The ugly sensation in his heart made his eyes glow disdainfully, at himself and at the bastards in the chambers.

Some time later, Reinhardt and Felix entered the waiting room, first turning their eyes to Emurdol that sat at the very left side of the couch, then to the little one that was curled up in his lap, wearing the most content look on her face, the white of her eyes slightly showing through the small crack in-between her eyelids.

"Ooh, look at her~! Ain't that the cutest thing I've ever seen~!?"

Emurdol was glad he put a deafening curse on his daughter before she heard any of that. She would not appreciate being disturbed from her indulgence in his delicious mana. Meili would suck out more than half of Felix's mana in retaliation. She had done such a thing to Rem once and it left the two asleep in bed for a long time.

"What brought you two here?" Even as he asked that, Emurdol remained static in his place, his lips still on Meili's forehead while his skeleton hand made little scratches on her head.

"Well, interesting developments have occurred while you were gone, Emurdol." Reinhardt replied, wearing a rather proud smile. "Felt has changed her mind regarding her unwillingness to fight for the throne."

Emurdol only took half a second to figure out how that came to be, "Did she regain her authority as a candidate to save the Giant from execution?"

He did not forget that he saw Rom being dragged to the chambers before he blew out of the corridors to look for Meili. Viandegroc had asked for Cadmon the fruit vendor to tell Rom that he and Emurdol will look for Felt in the Castle before they waited for Meili and Rem to reach him in the bazaar. If Rom was to hear it, it was reason enough to break inside.

In other words, Viandegroc might have indirectly sent Rom to his death if he had been executed right then and there if it weren't for Felt.

Even if that was the case, Viandegroc or Sally would take him into custody before any harm was done to the old man. Emurdol wouldn't stand for it, after all. He would have done the same for his beloved child, through hundreds of guards and well-protected walls just to save her.

"Correct. Flawless deduction, Ser Emurdol." The Sword Saint praised with an impressed nod. A genuine praise coming from the most powerful human in existence the Necromagus has ever met. It was unsettling. "The old man's plea to Lady Felt to save him was quite…disgraceful to her, and she did not appreciate it. It gave her the strength to berate him, to say that meekness and submission is not the rightful way to live, even for people of the slums like him and her."

A smile made its way to Emurdol's face. So the little one actually had spine. The Dear Girl's going to have an interesting competition with her.

Reinhardt continued, "Such words earned the approval of many, even Lady Crusch. But it seems as though that was what the old man intended with his words, shamefully begging for his life in order to give Lady Felt the heart to rise up and strive for the Seat of Power."

"Not only that…" Felix followed up, holding up a finger, "…she even said that she's gonna wreck the entire Kingdom from the ground up and built it into something a little more….what do you say here…..uh, little more easy, meow?"

Emurdol could only huff. He can figure out how that girl thinks, for it partially reflected his own contempt for social hierarchies and unfair structures created by Idiots that impede the meaningful development of humanity.

Feudalism—division according to social class is a slight to the eyes and cruel. It may have been a good idea at first, but that was a long time ago. Things have changed. People at the top do not care for those below them. There may be benevolent nobles who do but their existence is rare, and Felt is under the mindset that none are around. That's why she's going to destroy the Kingdom, for the sake of getting rid of this toxic system.

Yet another person for Emurdol to root for besides the Crusch woman.

"Now, with Lady Felt's willing and official participations, the Royal Selection can finally begin in its earnest."

"You're gonna be like the stand-in for a knight to Lady Emilia, right, Emewdul?" Felix asked, a cat-like smile crossing his lips. "Good luck to the both of us, eh?"

Solemnly, Emurdol nodded to that. Being vassals to different candidates, they are going to be enemies starting tomorrow. He wondered if it's going to involve warfare at some point, because having the Sword Saint of all people, vassal to a former thief of all things, as an opponent does not prove to be an exciting prospect.

He sighed, opting to banish such ruminations away for the time being and instead turn his attention to the darling thing in his arms. His skeleton hand moved a side-lock that was going to fall on Meili's face away.

Reinhardt eyed the heartwarming display fondly, asking, "May I know who this little one is? Is she your daughter?"

"My pride and joy." And he shows his sentiment by kissing her forehead once again and moving his left hand on her chest to the side of her face, the other going from her head to her waist, embracing her tightly and dearly. The amount of mana he passed on to her at the same time made the contact far more stimulating. Meili let out a hollow but blissful sigh from her little lips in the process, returning his affection by hugging his left forearm very tightly, trying in vain to make it as stimulating as possible without any assistance with her magic.

"She's so precious…." Felix cooed, knelt on the floor and resting his elbow on the seat of the couch next to Emurdol's thigh, his cheek supported by his fist as he gazed at the child's adorable face. Then she noticed the multiple red lines on her little neck, indications of self-harm "…are meowse things on her neck decorations or is she actually hurt?"

Just as he asked and was about to near a glowing finger towards the injuries, the lacerations began closing before his magic did anything, rewinding to a point where they aren't shredded by her fingernails, leaving behind pristine white skin with a hue that could only belong to dead people.

"Huh." The healer lifted an interested eyebrow at the phenomena, "That looked completely different compared to healing magic. Was that mew?"

Emurdol nodded, "A form of regeneration magic unique to my kin. It may be inferior to healing magic in terms of effectiveness but its utility is very special."

"Not enough to fix your condition, I take it, meow?"

Being the first one to notice it among all the outsiders, and being a healer at that, of course he would bring it up again sooner or later. "Without the right person to help me, I cannot do anything about the Rot."

"Well, now's your lucky day, Emewdul!" She held out a glowing finger again, and this time, it's aimed at Emurdol. "Because your dear Feli is gonna be your partner in making your body feel good again~"

A flash of irritation crossed the Necromagus' mind before it was forcefully banished by his will of iron.

And he suddenly felt his body becoming light, refreshed, the stress his body accumulated from his faux-attack and bold speech in the chambers as well as the use of Void Walk to find Meili seeming to no longer exist, as if he was recently awakened from the greatest sleep he ever had in his life.

And it all happened because of Felix's magic gathering to a single point of his index finger.

This time, instead of turning his eyes, Emurdol turned his head to meet the demihuman's amber orbs, "I remember now. You are dubbed as the greatest Healer of the Kingdom." He turned to Reinhardt, "How far does such a claim go?"

Without much pause or delay, the Sword Saint answered him with all of the facts he knows, "If I were to estimate Felis' affinity of water magic on the scale of 1 to 10, with 10 nearing the level of a god, he would be at that level. No one on the continent is his equal. It stands for a certain reason why he bears the tile of 'Blue', standing at the pinnacle of those who share his magical affinity despite his young age."

All said without the slightest hint of being modest. Emurdol digested his words carefully.

"Meow, the title came from all of Feli's fans."

Healing powers nearing that of a god's capability….such a thing would be truly phenomenal. The life-saving potential it carries…..

…this man meets the required standards he have in order to heal his neck and get rid of the decay in his body.

And the dear girl actually called for this person behind his back? The thought of it is driving him to be a lot more obligated to the half-elf, including a kiss on the forehead. "Has Emilia truly organized for your service?" Just for the sake of confirmation.

"Yep!" He stood up from his kneeling spot and took a seat beside Emurdol, careful not to make the couch bounce so the child wouldn't be disturbed. "Lucky you, having a girl that cares lots for your wellbeing. Looks like all that self-harm mew did in the chambers isn't without reward."

"Your words changed the people's perception in the chambers towards Lady Emilia, Emurdol." Once again, there was genuine pride in Reinhardt's sky blue eyes, looking at the Necromagus with the most sincere emotion of admiration, "You showed them that Lady Emilia is truly not an existence the world has to fear. Your oration humanized her existence. If that doesn't make you a great vassal, then even I would dare say the world is truly mad to not think so."

It's even more unsettling to hear such words like that to come out of his mouth and have it aimed in Emurdol's direction. "Coming from you, that is an honor."

Felix noticed the child on the Death Mage's lap making a slight smile rising on her little lips. He could feel pride emanating from it.

"Who would've thought that insulting your own Meowster would end up doing some good, eh?" He commented playfully, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is that some kinda specialty of yours, Emewdul?"

"Maybe." He's a lot more talented in taking people's lives than damaging their pride. As someone who hates a majority of humanity more than he would praise them, scathing words are part of the package.

"Reeaaally?" Felix tilted his head, then turned her eyes to the little one, "Is your kiddie good at them too? Or are you the type of daddy that liked his daughter pure and innocent?" He moved to pat her little white feet resting on Emurdol's bony thigh—

More than a bottle's worth of the healer's mana was sucked out of him upon contact.

He drew his hand back as if he just touched hot water, slightly alarmed, "Okay, what was that? It felt like my mana just got sucked out."

Reinhardt turned a questioning eye towards him, "Sucked your mana? You mean Mana Drain? I thought such an ability was something very rare that even the Lord Margrave Mathers couldn't do."

Emurdol was a bit off-put by the lack of disbelief in his tone, as if it wasn't a surprise for him to have it. How much of a great individual does Reinhardt see him? Surely, there is a limit to it. "She's currently deprived of her mana, so I'm having her to feed off of me. At your own risk, you are welcome to give her some of yours."

"Your dear Feli will pass." Felix raised up his hand. "How about you? Are you gonna be okay with her feeding off of you?"

"I have enough." In the greatest of conditions, he would be able to last an entire month fighting, even with the decay in his body. Fighting Pride didn't last as long as a whole five days like Greed did. It took nearly two weeks. Countless Souls despised William's existence to the very core, and being the medium of their rage, it gave him the very edge to end the so-called 'Immortal's' life in that forever battle.

"Then I shall do so, if you will allow me, Emurdol." Reinhardt didn't hesitate, reaching a hand towards Meili's head and rested it gently there. With the rate Meili was going and with her level of skill, 10 seconds is enough to drain an adult to the brink of death. Emurdol watched the Sword Saint's posture, watching for any sign of weakness.

He didn't shift the slightest, holding out for more than a whole minute.

And he can see why. The mana in the air is being siphoned, through him, and into his daughter's core.

Sucking out all of the mana in the air—he remembered the Knight doing the same during his first day on this world, where he released a devastating strike that demolished the Loot House.

It brought a thought where if a fighter who relies on mana were to battle with Reinhardt as an ally, their performance would be impeded for the Knight will take all of it without meaning to.

After five minutes, the Knight retracted his hand and straightened his posture, not even the slightest sway evident in his form, "That should be satisfactory. I hope she doesn't mind."

"She appreciates it." However, Meili didn't open her eyes yet. She still remained in his lap, curled up like a baby and reveling in the warmth.

"If I may ask, has she been here the whole time waiting for you, Emurdol?" Reinhardt asked gently, crossing his arms in a rather polished motion.

"Not actually. She wasn't supposed to be here at all." Emurdol put his lips on her white locks, nipping on the silky strands, "She was left under her favorite maid's care, far away from the Castle. When my neck was twisted, she felt it as if she had suffered the same thing. A form of synesthesia my kind shared with their flesh and blood. Out of concern and panic, she ran all the way here and broken through."

"Huh. So that explains the noise going on outside earlier." Felix thumbed the window behind him, showing the courtyard where it used to have so many guards searching for a hidden intruder, "Was making her feel that suffering worth going through that performance in the chambers?"

Felix's playful tone sounded hollow.

"This is our curse, our sufferings will always be shared. Questioning it would be pointless and a waste of breath." Though the response appeared to be apathetic and cruel, it doesn't mean Emurdol didn't feel guilty. The Contract states only he will be the source of her suffering, but that doesn't mean he will pursue it actively, "However, it doesn't mean I cannot grieve for it. No father would let his child go through suffering that she did not expect nor withstand."

A series of emotions crossed Felix's eyes, unreadable but Emurdol was able to figure out that whatever kind of life the healer had as a childhood, it did not happen in an idealistic light. Considering that he's the only demihuman among the Royal Knights, his lineage might not have been well-received at some point, especially from his parents. "Yes. They shouldn't."

There's the hint.

At this moment, Emurdol damned every cur who would do harm to their own young.

The door of the waiting room opened and entered Sally, her long bloody hair trailing on the floors behind her as she glided towards the Death Mage. Giving the two Knights present not the slightest heed, she stood before Emurdol and leaned downwards, giving a little kiss to Meili's nose before whispering to his ear.

"The Mace Man is in this world too."

…..

...

Emurdol was very still, far more immobile compared to when he conversed with the two Knights. But the light in his green eyes glowed brighter than before, exhuming the emotion of something in-between exasperation and defeat.

The uniqueness of such an emotion was enough to make Meili open her eyes and look up to her father's frozen visage, still deaf from the curse but noticing all of the implications from the Link and from what she's seeing.

With a clawing gesture close to her right ear, she snapped out of the ethereal silence and allowed herself to hear her own breathing, heartbeat and the sounds of the room before reaching up with the brown hand to grab his nose and pull it down.

While Emurdol was surprised for being forced out of his thoughts and made to look down on his daughter's darling face, Meili reported to him what she got, "It was Zakurah."

Emurdol stared for a moment, still wide-eyed, then sighed, resting his forehead on hers, more as a headrest than a form of intimacy. The information along with the man he thought was evil back in Pandemonium ending up in this world was too much to take in. Meili didn't mind being a head-support, she simply sucked on more mana.

"Our Dear Rem and the Mace Man managed to convince the guards at the gates to be let through and search for the sweetheart…." Sally added, taking her pipe to her lips and taking a deep pull. She continued, the green smoke flowing out in thin trails, "I told them that the situation has been handled and that Meili is now left in your hands. I had to apologize for making them go through all the trouble, do not make me fix your problems for you or do your brother's job…"

Meili quickly got off Emurdol's lap and ran up to her waist, hugging it. The green vapors near Gluttony's body dispersed frantically, keep the dangerous aroma away from the child. Looking down on the little one, her heart-shaped face unchanging as she looked back at the rather leering face, she leaned down and looped her free hand around the wyrmm's rear before lifting her up, at eye level with each other.

Planting a quick but passionate kiss on Sally's full lips and the child's embrace was enough to snap a grown adult's neck. The little legs wrapped around her chest would have shattered existing ribs inside as well. However, the Flesh Golem was able to sense the raw affection Meili carried, the two Souls inside able to revel in it like a waterfall bath.

Besides, Meili never saw Sally's true body in the flesh before. The trouble of coming all the way here was worth it when she felt her father's neck twist.

"Hmm." Sally took another pull from her pipe, returning the embrace of the little body clinging on to her with her left arm. Releasing the vapors and joining her other arm into the embrace, she remarked, "If it's for this little one, then it was worth the trouble…."

Emurdol smiled. If anyone in Pandemonium ever saw Gluttony act like this while she was still alive, they would ultimately be driven insane. No matter who it is, Meili has a natural gift to make even the deceased fall for her.

He rose up from the couch, taking his gauntlets that were placed on the small table and donning them one by one. "Reinhardt, if you have the time…."

"Yes?"

"Take me to some place in this Castle that no one would mind being roughed up."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Ten minutes after the accepted request, the five now made it to a place that matched Emurdol's description. The Parade Grounds. The spaciousness of it was perfect for formations, drills, and training. At the center, three people stood on tightly packed soils of sand. One stood primly with his hands at the side, another hopped up and down in preparation, and the last brewed green energy into his armored hands.

Reinhardt smiled ironically, his Royal Knight regalia undressed and leaving him in his black undershirt, "I must admit. I didn't expect you to ask this of me."

"We would like a change of pace." Emurdol answered, creating a pair of bone sickles in his hands. Small but viciously-serrated, "And Meili wants to exercise her abilities on somebody different than her family, to give her a better impression of fighting someone who fights on….professional ground."

"Papa, do you expect me to even hit Mr. Sword Saaaiint?" Meili asked, her glove removed and her brown hand alternating between a claw and a fist, the indescribable amounts of meat and bones stuffed inside shuffling into preparation.

"No." Emurdol tested the weight of the small weapons, balancing them on individual index fingers. "I would not ask you to go that far. I simply want you to perform your best, not your worst."

'Best', being that she does not show everything she would ever throw to an opponent she will face with her life on the line.

Honestly, Meili isn't sure what's considered the worst or the best. Considering their magic is extremely uncommon in this world, standards for it don't even exist yet. Not even he taught her anything about it. She's only taught to keep everything to a minimum.

She can use skeletons, however. They are the most basic art of necromancy.

"Okay, Papaaa." At her assent, Emurdol was finally done with his minute adjustments and approached her, holding out the new bone sickles by the curving end.

"One or two?"

In her training, she's capable of fighting with dual-wielding or with just one in hand. However, considering her opponent is the Sword Saint, burdening both hands would be unhelpful. It's time she has some fun with her right hand against somebody that's not her Uncle or Grandmother.

She wordlessly took the one from his left hand, testing its weight and admiring its wicked appearance, built to bleed than kill. Noting her choice, Emurdol turned the sickle in hand into a serrated scimitar and threw it to Reinhardt as if it was a big knife, aiming directly for his skull. And the Sword Saint caught it by the handle, his movements exhuming great casualness that it almost looked forgettable.

Emurdol approached the Knight, leaning his head closer even though he cannot whisper, "If it's not too much to ask, do not return an attack. Only defend or evade, and you can strike back against her minions if they exceed the number of 10. Can you manage that?"

"If you do not mind having me, then I shall do so."

His response was clever, he admitted being capable of meeting the requirements without a shred of doubt and yet came off as courteously humble. Just what is the Sword Saint and his power?

"Can I add one more demand?"

"What is it?" He didn't even question it.

"Try and have my daughter improve her performance to her best potential. Allow her to leave this mock battle stronger than before. How you do so shall be up to you."

"Ah, wanting the best and expecting only the best from her, aren't you?" Reinhardt asked.

Emurdol nodded immediately, "Any parent would do the same. If she were to surpass me one day, it will be the day I will call myself the proudest man on existence."

Reinhardt smiled a handsome admiring smile, "Your love for family astounds me, Ser Emurdol. Very well, I promise not to disappoint."

They shook hands and Emurdol walked back to the space behind Meili, crossing his arms behind his back. The former leaned her upper body forward, feet planted firmly against the ground, her left hand holding the sickle while her right began growing a spike from its palm, and her hair began to float against unseen currents.

With a rather casual stance, he held his barbed blade close and pointed to the side, arm fully extended instead of bent in preparation, "Now, shall we begin, Miss Meili?"

"When you are ready, Mr. Sword Saaaiiint." Meili's eyes glowed bright in excitement, her smile turning vicious and lined with pointy teeth.

"From the line of Sword Saints, Reinhardt van Astrea."

Extending one's name to an opponent is the notion of respect between warriors, acknowledging the other as an equal. The gesture touched Meili's heart, her smile turning bright for the briefest of moments as she returned the courtesy.

"I am Emurdol Viandegroc's cutest and most beloved daughter, soon to become the greatest Priestess of the Serpent in the world, Meili Sinnuldel."

Formalities now over with, the wyrmm instantly became a black blur as she flew straight towards the standing Sword Saint's form.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"You look rather proud there, even though Little Meili's not making any progress in hitting Reinhardt." Stood from the edge of the parade grounds, Felix asked to the proud Aunt beside him, a dozen minutes having passed after the fight began.

As someone who has known the Sword Saint, it didn't surprise him that the former was never hit once, not even a bit of dust smudging against his undershirt, but the child's performance admittedly drew shock from any spectator. For one thing, the little girl's right hand turned into a fleshly whip with a spike at the end.

The long appendage whirled and snapped against the air and sandy soil, practically reshaping the ground with every lash. The way it was so skillfully handled made it more impressive, and equally dreading to think of the consequence of being the receiving the end of its fury.

"My dear Sweetheart is enjoying herself." Sweet as honey and coated with mother-like quality that rarely ever arrived even within the Necromagus family, Sally replied to Felix with a proud tone, "Her mock fights against me and him has been nothing but practice. Being able to show off her expertise to her dear Aunt and her father is something she's been wanting to do, and I aim to drink every effort and failure she makes in this very moment….."

"Wow." Felix marveled at their close-knit bond, leaning slightly back in mock awe before he righted himself, "You're all quite the happy family, mew three are. Who's the lucky wife?"

Inwardly, Sally laughed. It was Emurdol who should be considered lucky to find someone as precious and loving as Rem.

"A sweet little maid named Rem, whose affections he and Meili have competed over endlessly….." When such competitions ensues, the Souls end up having endless amounts of entertainment. Such things was where Mother's growing fondness for the Demon girl had come from, for she loved watching her son revel in the little things. It made him more human.

"A maid? A simple maid? Really?" Felix asked in disbelief, "I thought she'd be a broody white haired person like them, meow."

"Even for his kind, love between a man and a woman Underground is rather rare." Taking from Emurdol and Viandegroc's knowledge, Gluttony replied to the healer, "Union between his kind and a human from the Above-World is a lot more common, though it takes the most understanding of individuals to even consider a long-lasting relationship with one….."

Such people who would even love a Priest or Priestess of the Serpent deserve unending praise for such a venture. It means entering a life of rejection and exile, sharing the risks and burdens of their Necromagus partner.

It isn't without reward, of course. And Rem will know them one by one. Lacking the risks that accompany it in Pandemonium, the maid is better off compared to those in Emurdol's world.

"I gotta ask…you're not…..alive, are you?" Felix hazarded, his playful tone nonexistent.

Not even turning her head and continuing to watch the fight without a single eye-blink, Sally replied, "Being the greatest healer that you are, I wonder why it took you this long to address it…"

"Just needed a bit of an opportunity to ask."

"Hmm." Sally lifted up her pipe, bringing it close to her lips but not taking an inhale from the vapors, "Now that you know, what next….?"

"From what hole did he pull you out of?" Felix's tone was emotionless, "You are supposed to be asleep."

A mouth appeared on the back of the Flesh Golem's free hand, expressing a sneer. The demihuman didn't notice it, "Apparently, when he took my life, I was not worth the damnation I deserved…."

"Damnation?"

"I raped, murdered and eaten people when I was alive, children included. Not in that order, just so you know…." Sally made herself even more grotesque by licking her lips salaciously, making no effort to hide how much of a scum she was that deserved her grisly and violent death in the cave, "Does someone like that deserve a simple death? That would be merciful, don't you think…..?"

The contempt wasn't hidden in Felix's visage, but his body language didn't change from the usual. The steel in his amber eyes was enough to make the point clear that they can never be friends. "How did Emewdol bring you back to life? Was it the Sacrament of the Immortal King?"

"Simple. By imprisoning my Soul….." Sally's body was completely still that it was completely unnatural to any normal eye. The only movement found were the lips and nothing else. The cheeks were completely frozen too. "Witchbeast flesh can actually recreate my body to the last fabric…."

Even more fiery emotions flashed across his eyes, and something else that looked back at a certain past of his. From within the vessel, Viandegroc caught the implications, especially when the demihuman's reactions are far too reserved for somebody looking at a violation of the natural laws of the world; where the dead didn't stay dead. "And Lady Emilia has him as one of her followers…."

"Hold back your self-righteousness and know that the boy only imprisons the Souls of the worst of the worst." This time, Sally stopped maintaining the glamour and released the Demon of Gluttony from her flesh. Living hair, black scleras, bulging veins, split cheeks, and a sharp set of needle-like teeth. Slit pupils of dark blue now finally turned to look Felix in the eye, no longer speaking in her seductive voice, "You would not like the things I've done to the people I've killed. You would like it even less of the things the others have done compared to me."

In just a split second, the Demon was gone, and the beautiful woman of the greatest of allure took its place, finally taking a pull from her pipe and letting out a cloud, shaping it into a grinning skull before it got blown away by the shockwave of a giant ball of hardened flesh crashing against the ground, where the Sword Saint's position formerly was.

"If it makes you feel any better, the boy is a fundamentally good man, and he became better ever since his daughter and the woman who loves him came into his life." She looked at the entrance of the parade grounds, where other Royal Knights were coming in, interested in spectating the battle the great Sword Saint was involved in. "His methods of handling scum like me are simply…..unorthodox….."

As she moved to get away from Felix's space, a few parts of the sandy ground near the battling apprentice mage and knight exploded, skeletal hands rising out and clawing at the soil, pulling out their skeletal forms from the soil, wielding weapons of sharpened and expanded bone.

The shock was shared among all of the gathering knights, and the most verbal was none other than Felix himself, "What the!?"

A cruel smile crossed Gluttony's face, even though such a motion was unneeded, telling of the things to come in this political war. "Expect more to come, dear…."

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Spectators, comprising of only the guards and Royal Knights, looked on with either a pitying look or a gaze of awe.

They individually knew that it is futile and hopeless to face the Sword Saint and expect to win or even land a hit, so they had sympathized the vexation the wyrmm was feeling for every effort that failed to make results.

Some others, however, were far more taken in by the child's power. A never-before-seen form of magic, the creation of bones and the shifting of flesh; above-average physical performance and form coming from a cute little girl; and the creation of autonomous minions that moved according to her will.

By her appearance and her powers alone, they can already tell that she was related to the man that turned the chambers into a zone of horrors, the latter which walked on the sandy soil with multiple spider legs made of black bone. They marveled over the sort of allies and companions the half-elf candidate have in her league.

Blocking an axe, a sword, and a halberd at the same time, Reinhardt didn't budge the slightest from the combined effort of three skeletons and quickly swatted the ivory weapons off before dashing backwards, evading the spiraling bone drill that was about to nail him from above.

In his dodge, he walked into Meili's clawing distance, her brown hand sporting a giant claw about to impale him in the back. The Sword Saint cleanly jumped over it, somersaulted over her form and landed right behind her in the same momentum as his dash.

With a sharp twist, Meili swatted her giant claw to his direction, the 2 foot long talons flinging off her grasp and darting towards Reinhardt's tall form. The projectiles suddenly veered away from him for no reason, and the latter jumped a few meters upwards, escaping impalement from a bone spike that came out of the ground beneath him before he stood on the point with one foot.

Frustrated, Meili stomped the floor, deforming the sandy soil and the 4 skeletons behind her ran like madmen towards the Sword Saint, leaping towards Reinhardt with silent roars and weapons reared back.

They suddenly exploded before their weapons even met him, including the spike Reinhardt stood on, shrapnel and fragments flying at dangerous speeds, guaranteed to brutalize an entire body to pieces.

Except, there was no body to be found. Not even the slightest trace or scent of blood.

Reinhardt was simply there, stood at a few meters away from the blast zone, as if he was never where he should be seconds ago. No trace of damage on his form, his undershirt showing no visible shred, cut or even dirt.

This time, Meili stopped being composed. Her frustration reached its peak and her sneer became feral, colored by her rage. With blurring speeds as she dashed towards him, she swung her sickle at Reinhardt's face, only for it to be parried aside. Her clawed right hand swung for his knees, and the Knight smoothly back-stepped. Dozens of low strikes followed, courtesy of the height difference between the two, each swing flying in speeds that would escape the eye, and not a single one came close to even touching the Sword Saint.

"GGRRRRRRR!‼" The wyrmm's growl was shrill and vicious, and she threw the sickle straight at Reinhardt's face despite their close proximity, and it exploded. But not in his mug, for he caught the weapon and threw it away before he received the punishment, suffering nothing.

Another shrill growl and her little form suddenly exhumed noxious gas from her pores, then suddenly turned herself into inky-black Shrouds. Both clouds assaulted the Knight's form, smothering his face and a black wavy knife suddenly materializing towards his eye.

Reinhardt showed no discomfort nor pain from breathing in the toxins that would have killed a Guiltylowe instantly, and he swatted the kris aside as if he saw it coming. Fleshy appendages suddenly appeared from the cloud, each ending in wicked spikes, and he smoothly redirected or evaded every jab or swipe that came.

And he suddenly jumped to the air, escaping the worst as the entire parade grounds became littered with countless spikes of ivory that jutted out of the ground in an instant, turning the area into a bone graveyard that left every spectator gaping in shock, save Meili's family.

The wyrmm materialized on the hazardous soil, balanced on a diagonally-pointing spike and looking up to a descending Sword Saint, watching with a baleful green glare as he landed like a feather atop a single spike.

Her breaking point reached, Meili screamed. But her sanity is still intact, as instead of causing every spike in the vicinity to explode and potentially injure the spectators, she turned her arm into a visceral ball covered in spikes, extending from her wrist and swung it downwards to Reinhardt's form, not unlike Rem's flail.

The Knight dodged the strike by jumping away, his former position on the spikes crumbling into pieces, and the fragments suddenly flew to Reinhardt's direction the sooner they were in the air.

Once again, the projectiles veered away from Reinhardt as if they actively don't want to.

Meili didn't relent, swinging her flail of visceral make in dangerous angles and breaking every piece of ivory around her, and every shard of shattered bone never got subjected to conventional laws of gravity, not a single one hitting the ground. Instead, they flew straight towards Reinhardt like a horizontal rain of shrapnel death.

And the Knight simply stood there, untouched and avoided like a plague, the sharp fragments peppering the ground behind him and turning the sandy soil into a patch of sharp rocks.

Her hair afloat and swaying from unseen strong waves, eyes blazing with the green fires of her wrath that they nearly blotted out her face with their near-blinding illumination, she turned her brown hand back to normal before pulling out the rattling wand from her belt and gestured with her free left hand, pulling something from the ground.

The intact pillars of spikes scattered from the far areas of the parade grounds flew, breaking off from the stem and gathering to a single point in front of her, forming a symmetrical mass that nearly resembled a hulking humanoid.

And the assumed shape quickly became complete, comprised of every piece of bone that had ever existed in the area, from the biggest block to the smallest chip, and it was artfully and skillfully meshed together, with a few adjustments of melted bone and reformation, creating the first ever Golem Meili has ever made not more than a few days ago.

And she called her first creation Handy Handsome Harry. A Bone Golem with four arms and a bulky upper body, fully capable of reshaping itself the same way a Flesh Golem would.

The spectating Knights and guards gaped at the towering construct, standing as high as twelve feet tall, its comically-small skull without a jaw for a head fixed to the center of its mountainous shoulders, and its giant right hand reared back—its comparatively small left suddenly shot out a long pike as long as its forearm from its palm, flying straight towards Reinhardt.

When the Knight simply leaned his head sideways to dodge, the right hand finally swung downwards on his form, the joint at the shoulder making an audible crack. The impact was so great it shook the ground and created a practical sandstorm that blew out in all directions, forcing the spectators to look away and shield their eyes.

The clawed hand and forearm completely broken, big in size but matching the same brittleness as the parts that comprised it, Meili made the broken pieces float from the sand, reshaping into pointy spears and they darted towards the Knight that stood beside her, hidden in the cloud of dust. Just as they expectedly diverted from their intended target, a giant bone blade pierced through the veil of dirt from the side and nearly impaled Reinhardt in the chest, his form curling backwards as he jumped away from it, the point of the ivory nearly touching the fabric of his undershirt.

Transferring her wand to her left hand, she threw her brown one upwards, morphing into a fleshy whip once again, and lashed it side to side to Reinhardt's direction, kicking up even more dust, hoping to hit the Sword Saint's body and feel the vibrations of the impact against his flesh roll all the way to her shoulder. No such luck.

Handy Handsome Harry barreled forward, shaking the ground with its uneven gait, leaving behind more of its broken overexerted parts, and swinging the giant sword that protruded from the third arm on its back, spinning its bulky form around before it disappeared into the cloud of dust.

She shot the spiky end of her whip straight to Reinhardt's form through the veil of dust, and she felt only the soil being pierced from the vibration. As the dust around her cleared, she let herself fly forward, pulled towards her anchor point and she retracted the length back to herself before turning herself into a Shroud again. Her formless self dispersing upon hitting the ground, she streaked across the soil and a giant fleshless hand ending in claws solidified from the darkness, reaching for the Sword Saint's back while he was dodging the strikes from the progressively shrinking Golem.

As if she had already been seen through, Reinhardt dashed sideways, escaping being cornered, and the hand grew another arm from the forearm, extending and reaching for the Knight's face. Evading her grasp again, the Shroud streaked to the air above him like a low-hanging black cloud, the visceral appendages sinking back inside, and even more shot out beneath it. Scythes, pikes, blades, claws, barbed feelers—every manner of murder in fleshly form struck for the Knight's blood, aiming to shed it out of his body.

Bones joined the onslaught, taking similar designs of harm and murder, more rigid than flesh but no less dreading in the potential injuries. They swiped, jabbed, sliced, impaled, grabbed, scratched, crushed; they worked like a well-oiled machine, never bumping into one another and each one executing a strike seamlessly through the flurry. Flesh and bone, common implements for every Priest or Priestess of the Serpent, working as one under a wyrmm's command, a lesser class of the profession.

And not a single one landed a single touch. With only a curving serrated sword made out of bone in his hand, Reinhardt blocked, parried, redirected, evaded, and predicted every single attack. Despite the pace the Shroud was going that would have overwhelmed even a veteran soldier, he was able to catch up to it without any sort of effort or trouble. His clothing, his hair, and even his face, they never suffered any change. No crease, no damage, and no smudge of dust whatsoever.

And when Meili's body could no longer withstand the strain of maintaining her ethereal form after a whole minute, the appendages of ivory and viscera slinked back into the Shroud and she became material again, her pale form dressed in jet black parallel to the ground before being subjected to gravity.

Reinhardt stuck his bone sword to the ground and casually leapt up, catching her form in his arms before landing like a feather to the sandy soil as the child looked like she was about to pass out, eyes droopy and almost unable to move another part of her body, including her head.

"Shall we stop this play-fight for now, Miss Meili?" He kindly and politely asked, knelt on one knee to the ground and ready to set her down to her feet if she wishes.

Her green eyes glowing dully turned to his oceanic orbs of blue, and the crack between her eyelids slowly widened, the impression changing from droopy to fully awake, and the fire in her pupils lit up.

A guttural voice answered his question.

"NO!"

Without him expecting to happen due to it not being considered an attack by the child, more than half of his mana was sucked out in one pull. It wasn't enough to stagger the knight but it was clear that the fight isn't over. Meili opened her mouth wide, showing him the inside of it, presenting a red pit lined with pure white teeth.

And a giant snake fang shot out of her gullet, shredding through the small opening and sending blood flying, straight to Reinhardt's left eye.

The Knight smoothly leaned back, the darting bone inches away from his skin, and dashed away from her before any of the droplets and spurts of her life blood touched him, leaving her form in the air for a split second before it was subjected to gravity.

Her spine hit the ground, and her being dispersed into a dark cloud once more as soon as contact was met before materializing back in an instant. Then her form exploded with necromantic power, far more larger than what she had exhumed earlier, coating her body with an immolating aura of green, and she screamed, a shrill but grisly howl piercing into any ear that listened and forced the spectators to cover their ears or cry out in pain.

Eyes blazing, hair flying wildly against the intensity of her growing might, the fabric of Reality split open right in front of her, and a Wraith screamed out as it escaped the Spirit Realm, straining against the manacles Meili had on it as it tried to charge towards the Sword Saint in its sights. Her face began suffering red lines, cuts and lacerations suddenly appearing on her arms under her sleeves and her bare legs, and they bled. The Wraith is rebelling against her hold, and every lick of pain each injury it gave her was so agonizing it amplified the magnitude of her roars.

Closing her blood-soaked mouth, but her shrieks continuing to ensue behind her gritting sharp teeth, red liquid spilling and flying from her lips, she loosened her grip on the manacles and—

Both her wrists were smacked downwards by a metallic arm and claw, and her hold was lost as well as her screams, the Wraith bolting towards the Sword Saint as if it had an indescribable grudge against his very life, screaming a horrific howl as its skull-like form gaped its mouth, preparing to rip his body to pieces.

And another set of restraints caught its being before it ever touched the Knight, a cage of green vapors, and it only had a moment to gawk before it was shoved back to the Spirit Realm, once again denied a chance to discharge vengeance.

The parade grounds were silent.

No Knight nor guard made a noise as the screaming and roaring disappeared from the air, taking a moment to acknowledge the change and slowly lower their hands from their ears. They took in the sights once again: the sandy soil was deformed and displaced, littered with pieces of discarded and shattered pieces of bones, the sidelines were coated in a fine layer of dirt, the blood-haired woman and the Pale Man was suddenly beside the little mage, and the Sword Saint's composure was finally broken, even if slightly.

Reinhardt van Astrea was stunned by what nearly came at him.

And the silence was finally broken, when Emurdol jabbed a clawed finger of steel towards Meili's forehead, hard enough to push her flat on her rear to the ground and she grunted in pain, causing her open wounds to send spikes of pain on her mind.

"You let your anger get the best of you…" With a firm and unmerciful tone lacing the eldritch voice inside her head, she was receiving her just desserts, "….and you did something you weren't trained for. What were you thinking? Hm?"

Her legs sported many bleeding lacerations and cuts, their pattern bringing no indication as to what physical object could have caused it. The same could be said to her arms inside her sleeves and her face, dripping blood on the colorless fabric of her clothes and on the sandy soil. The results of her recklessness were written all over her body.

"I only told you to bring out your best. Why the hell did you become inclined to recklessness? Turning the parade grounds into a graveyard of bone spikes, straining your body with Void Walk, releasing a Wraith and letting yourself get cut up—just why did you do that? Why were you pushing yourself? This was merely an exercise, and you lost your composure. What did you think you were doing? This wasn't a competition, Meili! No one was supposed to win or lose!"

Meili was silent, still as a stone, her head hanging low, her chin about to touch her chest, her silver hair spilling over her face and touching her lap, hiding her face from him.

"Do not be silent and give me an answer!" His right stilt stabbed the sandy soil, causing a small cloud to erupt from it. "What happened, Meili?"

Sally dispassionately watched from the side, eyes needlessly looking down on the girl.

"….I….I just…." Her response was cracked, weak, wet, and soaked in tears. No one would be able to hear it, even up close, but Emurdol's hearing allowed him to hear every bit of it. "….just once…..I wanted to….hit him…..I wanted to show….."

Emurdol's impassive face remain unchanged. "Show what?"

"…..that I was strong…that I could be like you…I wanted to impress you….that I was…that I was strong….good enough….I thought that if I hit the Sword Saint, the strongest warrior in this Kingdom even once, I'll show you that I'm strong just like you wanted…"

He could hear her voice losing its color, becoming clearer but losing traces of the bitter emotions that laced it, falling under the influence of Emotion Suppression in order to spare herself from the shame and humiliation.

The attempt to escape from reality itself indicated how hard she took the failure of succeeding this personal mission she took on herself.

"….I failed…failed…failed…"

He could see more red drips fall from her face, hidden behind the curtain of white locks, and he was certain they didn't come from the open cuts on her cheeks or the new wound on the forehead he gave her. She locked away her grief, protecting herself from the pain with her heartlessness, but it did nothing to hide her self-loathing.

All of her training and efforts, everything she learned and acquired by her own power—all that she had and earned under him, utilized to the limit in this exercise, to show him how much she paid attention to his lectures and so diligently practiced every bit of knowledge she had, so easily outdone and defeated by a man who never fought back and dodged or blocked every strike she threw at him. Her curses never worked. Her poisons did nothing. Her original techniques failed. And her last ditch effort only drew the ire of her father. Even if she knew she was never going to acquire a decent result, she wanted at least one hit to land on the Strongest Warrior of the Kingdom of Lugnica and she would be happy. And she never got it.

But more than anything else, she was trying to make Emurdol proud. He was always proud of her, no matter what she does, but she wanted something even more credible in her name for such feelings to be based on, and she failed.

The stern chill in his heart didn't stay for long as the implications reached his awareness, feeling only even more pride and love for his child grow. The thought behind her actions touched his heart, and her misconduct lost its relevance in the face of it.

Gently, Sally knelt down and wiped Meili's wet face with her sleeve before slotting one arm under her knees and one behind her back, lifting her up, bringing her to Emurdol as she reached forward and wrapped her little arms around his neck, burying her eyes into his bone-inlaid shoulder.

As the Flesh Golem patted the dust off her body and her vapors getting rid of the dust accumulated from her open wounds, the cuts and lacerations slowly closed under the influence of Reconstruction, her nearly-depleted mana core slowly being refilled with Emurdol's own as he held her.

"A Fang shot from the mouth...not even I would have thought of that. Clever work, An'k." A useful trick in case one is fully stripped of all arms and available stocks of bone.

There was no sign of acknowledgement to the praise he gave.

"I hate to interrupt a family moment that no one should intrude on, but I believe she dropped this." Reinhardt kindly interjected with a soft voice, holding a small black glove in his hand, "I managed to recover it as it fell from her pocket before one of her spells affected the entire area."

Sally nodded her thanks, speaking in a solemn tone that wasn't like her, "That is most kind of you, Ser Reinhardt, but it is better that you return it to the owner yourself."

Emurdol promptly turned his back on the Knight, where Meili could properly look at him if she looked up from her father's shoulder.

Reinhardt stepped up, and her soft voice became even softer as she called her name, "Miss Meili…."

She subtly raised her head up and only one eye peaked through the gaps of silver hair, a dull green orb staring back at him, blood-soaked and free of emotions.

"I believe this is yours." He held out the glove to her, free of dirt and wrinkles after giving it a single brush of his thumb, "If you would allow me, I can put it back on your hand for you."

Her response was to lightly raise her brown hand, fingertips still pointing at the ground, the rest of her arm remaining slack over her father's shoulder, but it was clear that he gained her permission, so he carefully slotted her little hand into the glove, with every bit of his movements befitting a knight and a gentleman.

She gave his fingers a little squeeze before her consciousness blacked out, lost to sleep.

Emurdol turned around, facing Reinhardt without emotion in his dull green eyes. The Knight bowed apologetically, sincere regret lacing his tone, "I am deeply sorry, Emurdol. My conduct must have provoked such action and emotion from your daughter. I have done what you have demanded, to ensure that she develops her skills throughout the entire fight, but I failed to put her feelings into consideration."

Emurdol lightly shook his head, "You have done what you are asked of, and that is all I cared about, Reinhardt." This time, he stopped with the formalities, discarding the honorific of 'Ser', "Allow her to learn from this. It's part of her growth." And he inclined his head in gratitude, "Thank you for indulging us."

"I pass my thanks as well….." Sally added, crossing her arms underneath her large bosom underneath her baggy robes while her hand held her pipe classily, giving the Knight a rather flirtatious gaze with her dark blue orbs, "The aftermath allowed us to realize how far the sweetheart went for her father…."

"Anything to help a friend." Reinhardt smiled to her, "And any friend of Emurdol's is a friend of mine as well."

Just this once, Emurdol didn't scoff at his kindness, stepping up to him and saying, "Is there somewhere that I can lay her down to sleep? It will be my very last demand."

With Reinhardt's ever-willing compliance, the four walked off to the exit, the Sword Saint's footsteps seeming to reform the warped soil they walked on back to a smooth surface without even meaning to, and the rest of the Royal Knights that had spectated everything since their arrival exited the premise as well without making too much noise, allowing the family—especially the child her peaceful silence, for they knew how embittering it is to fall to the Knight of Knights despite investing everything in your power to make a positive result.

The aftermath of this simple exercise showed them that even though it wasn't him that participated, even if slightly, it left an assurance that despite the kind of power Emurdol Viandegroc or his kin had that could annihilate an entire army as Lord Roswaal had boasted it to be, it did not make them untouchable. They were only human. They are still entities who could be defeated, especially under the Sword Saint's hand who didn't even return an attack once. And that brought great ease to the minds of those who worry over the feared half-elf candidate having such persons with her.

Whether Emurdol and Sally actually intended for this result in the first place or not was another matter entirely.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Emurdol opened his eyes once again, not fully, leaving his eyelids covering the upper half of it as he looked down on the topless child cuddling his bone covered left leg while she slept, his left hand resting atop her silver head and beginning to stroke the silky locks with his thumb.

Being the only one sitting up while asleep on one of the borrowed guest quarters of the Castle that Reinhardt had led him to, his body naturally got stiffer than he liked. He flexed his neck and felt a loud crackle emanate from it before yawning.

Then he turned to look at the person that had been sitting right beside the bed on a chair, looking like she was about to fall asleep herself until she noticed him move. He nodded to her, "Emilia. Did your meeting conclude?"

The half-elf nodded in confirmation. Her tone was a little more subdued than usual, "Yes. They told me about the fine details about how the Royal Selection will go, and when we were finished, I came to check up on you."

He looked down on his daughter, his skeleton hand still holding her left as he continued to feed her mana, even while sleeping, before turning back to the half-elf, "Did you hear about what Meili did earlier?"

"Mm." She nodded, "She and Reinhardt did a mock-battle. He said that she went too far and ended up crying in the end."

"Hmm…." He stroked Meili's hair with his left, "She simply wanted to impress me, by landing just one hit on Reinhardt. She couldn't do it and was frustrated to tears."

Emilia did a little chuckle, a smile playing across her lips as she leaned forward and reached for Meili's left hand, Emurdol's own moving away so she could do so. She interlocked fingers with the wyrmm, not minding her own mana being drained from the contact as her thumb brushed across the squishy pale flesh comfortingly.

She didn't care about why the girl was naked in her sleep. It's been established before that skin to skin contact is what made the sharing of mana rather stimulating, and having more skin exposed means sharing a more refreshing sensation and exchanging a bigger amount of energy with one's partner. That, and her black long-sleeved shirt was reeking of blood, which Viandegroc took to wash somewhere. Emilia shared a session with Meili once, and she actually enjoyed it, wanting to do it again, though Puck quickly forbade her from doing it again for some reason.

Then she parted the contact and leaned back, her mien and tone becoming grim, "Emurdol, can we talk? I have questions. Lots of them."

"Go ahead."

A troubled look shot across her eyes, hesitating to say out, and after a few seconds, she finally let it out, "Did you once….tried to destroy the world?"

….

…...

…...….

"Before you turned into that monster in the chambers, memories suddenly came rushing back to my head, as if I had forgotten them."

….

….….

"I didn't want to believe it…..but they were too real to be a dream or a fake….I still remember them as if it was merely a week ago." Amethyst eyes looked deeply into orbs of green that glowed dully. "Is really true? What Roswaal had said that you forced the mana of the world towards the mansion?"

"Yes."

She was taken aback by how nonchalant the response was. "Wh—"

"Because what happened during the Witchbeast Incident has something even more critical in hindsight." He said that he will tell her the truth soon, he didn't expect that to be now of all times, especially when she's now carrying even bigger responsibilities as the candidate to the Seat of Power. "To you, Emilia, why did you think I ran to the Earlham Village when it happened?"

She was taken aback by the hardened tone the voice in her head had become, "Be-because you found out something was wrong and so you went to deal with it?"

Pursing his lips, the creases on his forehead now becoming prominent by the growing scowl, he shook his head, "I was running away."

She gasped, her hand subconsciously reaching to her mouth. Her lips quivered, and her eyes became troubled, "Why?"

"Rem and I….." His eyes glowed balefully, "She thought I was one of the people that destroyed her village and I did not take that behavior from her well, especially when I had done everything I could to stop the suspicions that keep coming towards my kind before I even met her. I have been civil the entire time in the mansion, and she did not reciprocate my feelings. Behind her façade, she looked at me like I was an enemy."

The bones on his skeleton hand crackled, even though there was no visible movement from it.

"That was why I left. If I had stayed, she will reach her breaking point and attack me, and I will fight back. I will kill her if she had."

"And you left…." Emilia's voice was hollow, but he did not try to look at her face, "….for her sakes?"

"Yes." The bitterness in his reply was so palpable that Emilia felt it like it was her own, "Along the way, I found the Earlham Village in a state of emergency. To return your kindness, I took it upon myself to protect your name and saved the cursed children that were lost in the forest. It would have ended in a good note, where I could have saved my throat from being ripped out."

He reached up to his neck with his skeleton hand, feeling for the scars that lined it. Then he set the hand down, placing it atop Meili's own, and he continued, "But Rem followed after me. She refused to believe that I bore no ill will to the mansion and yourself. When I told her my intentions to save the children and immobilized her so she wouldn't follow me for her safety, she still didn't listen. She still refuses to trust me, so she followed after me, and got herself cornered by the witchbeasts and the skeletons I left behind to eradicate them."

A diabolical sneer formed on Emurdol's mouth, oversized teeth jutting out from his jaw and leaving him unable to close his mouth fully. "When I have saved the children and cured them of their curses, the villagers told me that Rem was still inside. So I ran in….and then…."

And he pointed at his own neck. That was all Emilia needed to know what happened next.

"It was her fault. She made me go back to save her fucking ass. And it cost me a throat for my efforts."

He formed his teeth back to normal and slacked his head back against the headrest behind him, closing his eyes as if talking about it was as exhausting as killing Envy again.

"The next day, when I found out I was cursed, I was willing to let it take my life, just so I could get away from the despair that I felt that day."

In the silent room, his above-average hearing caught the sound of her fingers curling into a fist on her lap.

"But then Beatrice told me that Rem ran back into the witchbeast forest to get rid of the witchbeasts that planted those curses on me, as penance for her sins. However, considering how many witchbeasts still remained inside the forest despite my efforts, she took it upon herself to annihilate every witchbeast there even if it kills her. And that only made me even angrier than before. So I dispelled the curses on my person and ran into the forest to get her out of there."

"You can dispel the curse even if they were activated?" She suddenly asked, her tone gone emotionless.

"Yes."

"And you are still willing to let it take your life despite that?"

Emurdol's response was colder than ever, "I wanted to die, Emilia. Rem broke my heart. And she took that away from me by throwing hers into the shit instead!"

His form betrayed nothing of his outburst, completely dissonant in visible sight. He remained immobile in his sit-up position on the bed, his daughter hugging his leg as she slept, and his face was nothing short of tranquil, contrasting the fires inside.

"Ram and I worked together to get her out of there, and at some point, Viandegroc overtook my body in order to make things quick."

He didn't realize that he just used Viandegroc's name for the very first time.

"When Rem and Ram returned to the safety of the village, he remained to finish the job. To eradicate every ulgarm that breathed in that forest. If he was ever to accomplish the job, he would lead us away from the Mathers domain as far as he could take it, to essentially run away."

Then he sighed, audibly and tiredly, "I threw my own Soul into the Wand, never to return. I gave Viandegroc my body and handed him the responsibility of living. But that only made him lose hope and give up on the task. If it weren't for Roswaal's timely intervention, he would have died to the witchbeast. Viandegroc and my body passed out at that point. That was when Mother ran away and sent me back to the village in a stretcher."

Then he became very, very still. He was so immobile that he nearly became a part of the furniture's of the room. But the voice in her head continued on, "Three days after my body had been comatose, Mother took vengeance and poisoned Rem in her sleep."

Emilia was silent.

"That was when Viandegroc took my body again and woke up. Ram was the first to discover the news and confronted him about it. Realizing what Mother did, essentially tarnishing my name into a wicked man because of her actions, Viandegroc despaired….and destroyed the world."

Finally, there was the long-awaited inquiry, "…Why?"

"From what he told me: he wanted to destroy all witnesses and protect my dignity. That included Roswaal, Ram, Rem, Beatrice, the Earlham Villagers, and even you. He was going to kill all of you and make everything look like a natural disaster with the calamities he brought. If he had succeeded, he would take my body away from the Mathers Domain for good."

"Tsk." Emurdol clicked his tongue, the movements of his lips and jaw barely perceptible.

"Then Puck told me that Rem was still alive. And that renewed my will to live again, just to save her. So I took back my body and repaired whatever damage I've done to the world, costing so much of my body to the point of spitting blood." His head moved, looking down on his daughter, one of the leading causes of those sufferings he went through, "When I left the mansion and never returned for two whole weeks…."

Emilia knew the story, being told about it long ago from the child in question, "That was when you found Little Meili and adopted her, taught her and raised her, right?"

He nodded, and he thought of Rem. Her smiling face, her loving gaze, her affectionate touches, their shared intimacy, of kisses and hugs and minor lovemaking behind a closed door. It was still strange to him, how someone he hated to the point of death at first became the person he would have hot feelings for.

"When I returned during the night, Rem and I finally talked, understanding that we have actually wronged one another the whole time. She believed I was an enemy, and I never properly spoken to her as a person."

His skeleton hand placed itself on his bare chest, dead-pale skin bare to the air, half-naked just like his daughter, and he felt his heart throb irregularly, bringing a foreign color and warmth to his cheeks as he thought about his beloved maid, "We have forgiven each other….and we eventually fell in love. Meili grew to love her as well, and Rem reciprocated her feelings."

Finally, he turned his head to face Emilia, and there was a soft smile that graced her face, the twinkle of warmth sparkling from her amethyst eyes. "That was wonderful, Emurdol. I'm happy that you were able to forgive each other and find love." Then her smile fell, forlorn, "But I'm admittedly upset. Such painful things were happening to you and I didn't even notice, even to this day. Why didn't you tell me?"

Admittedly, Emurdol felt guilt. He calls himself her friend, and yet he didn't say anything about what happened. Even if he didn't want to burden her, it is right for friends to help each other, and Emilia's no different in regards to what she must do for him, and he denied her the opportunity.

But he had no regrets. "Because it didn't matter, and I didn't want to destroy the dynamic of your growing relationship with Rem. It would have impeded your focus as well."

Emilia pursed her lips, unable to deny it. If she ever heard about the actual circumstances, how could she have acted in front of Rem? Would she able to maintain a civil relationship with her? Would she able to focus on her studies despite the knowledge of it? She doesn't know.

"…but ever since you came back, Rem was slowly becoming cheerful and happier, and we became even greater friends too, not just as a master and a servant. I think Ram and I are closer than before as well."

Emurdol was greatly happy for having contributed to it, for Emilia needed more friends, especially from those who lived under the same roof as her. So he said, "Telling you what happened would have ruined that. And now that you know the truth, are you still able to see Rem the same way you always had?"

"Indubitably." There was no hesitation in her response, "I mean, what's done is done. But what mattered more is that you and Rem made up in the end, and she's a lot happier now thanks to you. My relationship with Rem will not change."

She didn't think about her thoughts of the matter. She thought about others instead, disregarding her own as irrelevant for their sakes. The dear girl's common virtue is showing itself again, and he finally remembered the first incentive why he made himself more inclined to her in the first place.

"Now, what is next?" Now Emurdol demanded a change of topic, feeling a rather large mental weight now released from his back. He was glad that he finally told her everything, "With your meeting over with, what are you going to do?"

"Tomorrow, Roswaal and I will be heading back to the Mansion. You shall remain here for a while to receive medical attention. Don't worry, I arranged for the healer to meet you tomorrow. Rem will lead you to where you'll be staying for the next couple of days. You can do your other tasks while you're at it. Little Meili, and Uncle or Aunty Sally can stay with you if they liked."

"Hmph. Your Ladyship is kind." He held out a skeleton hand to her, and she took it, interlocking fingers with him, "I'll come back as soon as I can."

Emilia smiled to him and nodded, the flower petals on her crown bobbing in the motion.

Then, uncertainty. "Emurdol, I have one more question."

"Which is?"

"What you said in the chambers, where you would devote your life into protecting me, or siring my children or protecting a settlement that I might make….or the other stuff you said about me, that you think I'm better off not being in the Royal Selection and doing little things instead…." The conflict in her eyes returned, "….were those words true?"

"I never lied, not even once." Without shame and doubt, he told her, "And the thoughts I have behind every word I said in that chamber is without question. If you had truly lived the simple life and created a possible future for demihuman equality in the Kingdom little by little, I would truly devote my life to protecting it, for it is meaningful to me."

"But I didn't take that life…."

"So I will stay with you, and see what this decision will lead to. What your ambitions will be, what your goals will be, I will see the end of it."

"Emurdol…." Her voice became soft, hesitant, and when she looked at him in the eye, she said, "….my reasons to participate….is selfish. I will strive for equality of the Kingdom but I have ulterior motives behind it. If I tell you about it, you might get disappointed…."

Since knowing this girl, he had discovered that her views are pretty simple. Whatever goal she had that she herself considers 'selfish', it's highly unlikely that it's any of the unsavory sort.

Gently prying his leg from Meili's clutch, he swung his legs over to the side of the bed, the point of his stilts thudding against the floor, and he sat on the bedside, his tall height looking down on the half-elf and said, "Try me."

She looked up to him, doubtful, "Are you sure?"

He reached for her other hand and held it, having both of hers in his grasp, and he pressed on, "Tell me."

She pursed her lips again, her eyes closing tightly, but as she took a deep breath, her composure returned just enough to answer him, "Remember what I said in the chambers…where I once lived?"

"The Forest of Elior. The Land of Eternal Frost."

She nodded, and visible traces of guilt were very clear in her eyes, "The race of elves were frozen there as well, and I….."

She was the cause of it. Emurdol already knew, and Viandegroc simply verified it for him when he went to the Frozen Forest itself, to converse with whatever Souls had lingered there. The Flesh Golem didn't simply stay in one place for too long when it comes to gathering information that the Necromagus wanted.

But is the half-elf willing to admit it?

She shook her head, banishing the unpleasant memories that were coming to the surface. She can't.

If she expected disappointment from him, he is now. "I am….obligated to them, and I mean to thaw them free. But neither Puck's power nor mine could do anything. Not even Roswaal's too. But he knew something that can actually melt the ice, all he did was tell me about it."

Emurdol remained silent.

"Dragon's Blood."

"Oh?"

"The Blood of the Dragon that grants bountiful harvests upon the land and cures the deviant earth. He said it could definitely thaw the forest."

Slight concern rang across Emurdol's mind, the image of a dying dragon wilting on the ground troubling him, but his outward demeanor betrayed nothing, "And how do you mean to attain it?"

"Well, the Royalty of Lugnica get a chance to talk to the Dragon when they form the Covenant. And some drops of the Holy Dragon Volcanica's blood have been kept in the palace from back then. If I am Ruler, I want to utilize them…."

So not premeditated murder.

Emurdol hummed soundlessly, now beginning to understand the whole picture, "And that is considered selfish to you?"

"Yeah. Typical, isn't it?" The smile on her face belied anxiety, fearing what he might think of her now that her intentions are laid bare before him. Did she betray his devotion? Did she disappoint him as he expected? He could palpably see those unasked questions rolling across her amethyst eyes.

And he scoffed, damning himself for getting his hopes up in regards to her intelligence, "I was right. You are naïve, and you really are an idiot."

And he slapped the back of his skeleton hand to her forehead, a sharp sound emanating in the silence of the room.

"Ouch!"

"You wished to save the elves, and you know how to do so. The necessary means are found in the Castle's vault, and you took the approach that is available, which is to attain a position that can allow you access to it instead of attempting theft or forcing the holders to hand it over to you using Puck. And that's considered selfish?" Emurdol shook his head, holding his face with his skeleton hand while his other arm rested across his abdomen. "You really are a child."

Emilia rubbed the red spot on her forehead, pained tears flowing out from her eyes, "…Emurdol…."

He lowered his hand and placed it atop her shoulder, "Does the goal of equality and saving the Elves make you inferior compared to the other candidates? Do you see yourself lesser compared to the goals they have in mind?"

Crusch wishes to free the Kingdom from stagnation, Felt wishes to rebuild it—he personally rooted for them.

But Anastasia and Priscilla?

Nothing is worth admiring about their ends.

"No. If they had been inferior, I would not have said anything about my vow of support in that chambers. I would have doubted every effort you will ever make in the Royal Selection, because you do not deserve to carry my hopes." And he raised his hand up before smacking it back down to her shoulder, making her squeak. "I had my reasons."

And he moved his hand away, crossing his arms and gazed sharply at her, asking in a very firm tone, "Tell me, do you remember the kind of life I had?"

And her head perked up at the question, the shock crossing her features before it slowly melted into a solemn visage. She nodded.

During his first days in the mansion, he told her all about it, detail by detail. Every single person in the Mansion alongside her listened to him as he explained it .

He was a practitioner of the dark arts, hailing from an Order with ingrained ethics and a code of conduct that kept his kind from being like the corrupted maniacs that give them a bad name.

And he suffered for it all the same.

"Do you remember what I have suffered simply for existing?"

She didn't answer, for the answer was already clear.

He lived the life of being attacked for no reason, without provocation—his existence was regarded as something that must end. All of that suffering because of the social stigma that arrived from narrow-minded bastards that have no heart nor intention to understand him or his people.

He suffered just like her. Even if she had it off easy by never suffering the end of the blade, only bearing the brunt of discrimination and rejection by society, the pain is nigh-equal. She understood what he went through.

"Do you know what I have done about it?"

He ended it. The prejudice against the Order of the Serpent and those affiliated to their members, gone for good. He bled, he suffered, croaked, vomited blood, broke his bones his entire life in Pandemonium ever since he was no longer Underground. He worked to bring light to his people, and he succeeded.

Meili knows it. Rem knows it. Emilia knows it. They knew he came from the Great Waterfall, and they believe that he has done so much good for his people before he was forced to this world, and regretted nothing.

"I want you to answer me, Emilia." Solemn and formal, Emurdol stood tall from the bed and asked the candidate to the Throne, his authority as a Priest taking the stand, "Do you wish to achieve the same change I have brought for my people? Do you want your fellow half-elves to be free from the ingrained prejudice of the world? Do you want other innocent half-bloods to live easily in this Kingdom that despise them so?"

Struck rigid from the pressure of his presence, caught completely off-guard by his profession as a Priest finally brandishing its sway and power over those beneath him, and she quickly adapted to it, her fire and resolve overpowering her amethyst orbs, she stood up from her chair and answered him, her voice as clear as a bell, "I do."

Then Emurdol gently placed a skeletal fist to his chest, bowing solemnly, "Then this Priest shall swear to adhere to his words. With all of my might and with all of my spirit, they will carry on your will until the very end, where my life can finally end in Peace."

Emilia was struck by his sincerity and devotion, and her eyes threatened to draw tears. She remembered the first vow he made to her, and she fell to tears from them. And now, she was about to fall apart because of the unconditional support she was given where even his own life was on the line. To earn all of this trust, to be entrusted with all of his hopes, and to bear all of the privileges he carries with his profession….

In all of Emilia's life, only he was the one to do something like this. Him alone. If she were to be presumptuous, Meili would do the same thing as well, as she would follow her Father's decisions anywhere.

"Emurdol…." Emilia, eyes beginning to release a single bead of tear down to her cheeks, asked the one question she gave him once during his first few days in the Mansion, wanting to know if the last answer still held on today, "…why must you go so far for me?"

The Death Mage's response was immediate, leaving no more room for doubts regarding his resolve. He pulled her close, kissed her forehead, the aroma of the Abiding Crown gracing his nose, and embraced her very tightly, as if every bit of emotion he had for her could only be expressed by this much, and he's making sure she notices them.

"Because I care."