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)

22. Peace

"That's it?"

Not answering the asked question, Viandegroc proceeded to baffle every surgeon in the room by not washing his bare hands, having recently touched the innards and organs of his Brother, and donned his kitty mask.

Felix was outraged, "V-Viandegroc! What the hell are you doing!? Wash your hands first, for pete's sake! And change out of those robes!"

"Afraid that I will infect myself or others, Felix?" Monotonously and robotically, disregarding the Healer's views of professionalism and etiquette, Viandegroc replied to his outburst as if this was a normal conversation without a heated atmosphere. "Worry not, I do not intend to meet anyone today. And do not forget, I am not bound by the risk of death."

While he talked, he was near the door and already opened it, intending to leave and not start a confrontation. Felix was too distracted listening under the cloud of his indignance to notice.

"H-hey! Get back here!" Without a second wasted, Felix had bolted towards the closing door, Viandegroc's robes disappearing from sight. By the time the demihuman had nearly ripped it open and was about to grab the Flesh Golem by the neck, his hand only caught the air.

The Undead boy disappeared from the hallway.

Looking to the other end of the hallway, there was not a nonliving being on sight. There was an open window alongside another one beside it. Even if he was to run over there and look for him, it would already be too late. He's already gone.

Felix growled, crushing the doorknob, and he suddenly remembered that his hands are still wearing surgical gloves that have touched a man's insides, further stoking the fires of his irritation and making the frequency of his growls become guttural that he even surprised himself.

As he closed the door, the resounding slam was like a gunshot, causing the assisting surgeons to yelp in surprise.

Felix relaxed, trying to calm down. As he removed his gloves and threw them to the trash bin, he put his cap down and rubbed his face. He sighed. "Dear Feli is far too used to the field, meow…"

This room is enchanted to stimulate a sterilized environment, and it will sterilize anyone who enters and leaves, which means even if one never washes their hands or change out of their robes, they would still get out of the room as clean as spring water. The reason why anyone bothered with Personnel Protective Equipment is so no one gets complacent, especially when on the field. Those with considerable skill in Healing Magic can get away with not wearing PPE, like Felix himself.

But still, it pisses him off that some so-called surgeon of the Deep Underground like that Dead Man would just walk away without any sort of regard for proper procedure as if it were beneath him.

If his surgeries were successful and without complications, I'd be very surprised.

He stepped forward and clapped his hands twice, addressing his team, "Okay, guys, thank mew for the help. Let's secure our patient and put him to his room. If what he said is to be believed, we don't need to watch over him. He'll just recover on his own. But I'll have his ladylove watch over him just in case, meow."

Then Felix began smirking deviously.

Emurdol's nerve receptors had been compromised by the Rot, the demihuman later discovered. While his sense of touch is functional, his erogenous regions were practically nonexistent. He couldn't even get an erection. If he's capable of satisfying his ladylove, it's amazing how he managed to do so without feeling arousal on his part.

Now that he's healed back to his healthiest state, with his involuntary erectile dysfunction remedied, his erogenous regions restored and his throat now capable of speech, Felix is going to wonder if Emurdol's room had been magically soundproofed to maintain the privacy of an incoming event.

An impish giggle echoed in the room, "I wonder if something saucy is gonna happen, meow~!"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Raeburn did not leave the festivities yesterday with a smile like the rest. The Souls have been warning him of shady individuals that were haunting his company when the commotion happened, specifically the little girl. Whoever the sweet little Meili is, she did not have a clean upbringing when she was adopted by the Necromagus. There had to be a good reason why she alone was targeted, and it is not because she was under the love and protection of a dangerous mage.

The better question is who the assailants were, and it unsettled him more than he thought it would.

Those shady individuals had the same face, the same eyes, the same body structure, the same clothes, the same aura, the same memories—the Souls were telling him the exact same information from different locations.

Witch Hunters. Killers of Corrupt Mages and Necromancers.

That was the name that came to his mind. Their arts were built on deception, cunning, and elusiveness. They fought in the shadows, they don't leave behind witnesses, and they never leave behind their tracks. It was once rumored that a Witch Hunter can effectively create a carbon-copy of themselves solely to leave no chance of anyone getting any answers from them, and it is later confirmed by the journal of an assassinated Land Owner that somehow survived the fires of his mansion to cover his demise.

But it wouldn't make sense for them to be here. They aren't that desperate to hunt down a 'target' all the way to a different world. Besides, why should they hunt down the person who eradicated the Supreme Sins and freed the world from going back to its primordial state through them? Shouldn't they be thankful? Raeburn never had any sort of trust nor respect for them but if they are still ungrateful, now that is just too far. They will be as bigoted as the Cardinal, the Supreme Sin of Wrath, fully underserving of any sympathy.

If his 5 years in this world had any yield, there is another suspect to match this cloned assailant.

A Shinobi, a secret assassin force in Kararagi. A counterpart to Pandemonium's Witch Hunters.

If his Old World memories have some sort of knowledge to give in regards to that name, they had another name: Ninja.

Spies. Infiltrators. Assassins.

He clenched his fist inside his pocket.

Contract killers.

The Souls affirmed his enumeration, sending him similar concepts to his consciousness. Only one among them was a victim of the Shinobi, saying that they never saw their death coming until it was too late, and the culprit was never known.

It holds up to the fame the Witch Hunters had: never noticed until it happened, and the blame goes somewhere else.

He bent his knees, his rear nearing the ground, and after stiffening his legs, he jumped 10 meters up to the air, and with one hand, he softly gripped the roof's edge without a sound.

The Souls are warning him of the assailant posted at the opposite end of the roof, perched like a cat and staring at the Karsten building. Not just this one, even the other clones were doing the same ever since the end of the festivities, lasting from yesterday afternoon till now without rest.

Raeburn spent a lot of time investigating the others, having not slept the entire night as well, devoting his energy to finding out what's going on. So far, only negative things were realized. These clones need to die, a heavy majority of the Souls have been telling him. He can fully agree on that. As much as he prioritized the pacifistic approach, there will always be exceptions. There's always a time for peace and a time for war, the Good Book said.

As he slowly got both his feet on the flat surface of the roof without the slightest sound, there was surprisingly no shifty individual to be seen, especially when the Souls told him the assailant was wearing jet-black clothing. In the middle of a bright day too.

Raeburn frowned, readying his index and middle finger.

Invisibility isn't uncommon. If it isn't in Pandemonium, it is safer to assume it isn't in this world as well. The Souls are still insisting the assailant is right in front of him, unaware of his presence, and wide open for a sneak attack.

Without warning, his body propelled itself to the edge of the roof, his two fingers piercing through the air like a large needle—

—and he felt flesh being separated, through the spine and into the heart, feeling it beat once.

He was about to rip the punctured organ out, but he was graced with the sight of a dark-clothed and lean figure appearing out of thin-air, his hand buried in the person's back before they disappeared in a puff of grey smoke. No blood was present on his fingers, evidence of a recent act of violence nonexistent.

With this sudden occurrence, he quickly disappeared from the scene, quickly falling back down to the ground floor, landing without the slightest bend of his knees and bolted to the location of the next clone, now ready for the second phase of his plan.

If the other clones as well as the original could sense the death of one, their response would be to escape in virtue of being compromised. If all but one decided to dissipate and hide the evidence of their presence, even better. That makes hunting the original easy.

If they don't run away or disappear and instead neutralize the witness/pursuer, the Souls can easily pick out which one is the original. They always act differently from the rest, no matter how clever they are, even if they created a decoy and joined the crowd of cannon fodder.

Raeburn would know, he did have the honor of killing somebody with similar abilities from his time in the Arena. He wasn't a Shinobi, but his skills were surely founded by them.

Behind.

With quick footwork, he whirled, utilizing the momentum from his sprint, and he caught the thrown spear that would have skewered him in the back just below the blade. His feet slid across the ground for a few meters before coming to a stop.

He looked at the point of the blade, inches away from his heart, and noticed a black smidge on the tip. "Poison." He muttered. He looked up to the possible area it came from and he found no one there.

The Souls told him otherwise. A clone was there in plain sight but invisible, motionless as a statue, hanging by their dominant hand from the edge of a building's roof, and just by seeing him, the others now know the face of a witness.

In other words, that throw wasn't meant to kill him. It was to expose his face to the enemy's direct line of sight, especially when their offhand is used to throw. Now he became a loose-end, a new primary target, their unknown agenda regarding Meili delayed.

Good.

That'll buy little Meili some time. He and Zakurah had planned for this as well. The Holy Knight was invited inside the Karsten House to play with the little Necromagus, under the Lady Crusch's permission. Something to take advantage of. Aside from swinging a waster and trading blows with the child, she will be secretly playing the role of a bodyguard as well, to provide protection alongside the Lady Maid, the Grandmother and the Father. The Mansion guards and seasoned warriors inside will add to it as well.

Meili has to know what's going on, especially the Hero. If they can speak to Souls as their fame says they can, they should know that they were being watched. He'll trust them to keep an eye out as well. That will make things easy on his end.

If Raeburn doesn't come to the Mansion Gates before 2 Dark Time, Zakurah will know that something is wrong and must remain vigilant.

Sliding his grip on the spear to the middle, he threw it straight to the location of the assailant. Without even the attempt to the dodge, the skewered dark-clothed clone was revealed before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Behind.

Ahead.

Left.

Right.

Above.

Nearby.

Next to you.

As quick as sound, he spun 45 degrees and the assailant standing literally beside him was rendered flat, the entire skeleton crushed under the weight of his club that he drew out of his back. No bloody aftermath was left to be seen, only a cloud of grey smoke and a spiderweb crack on the ground.

They are coming.

Quickly.

Incoming.

They are now converging on his location. Wrenching the club off the shattered ground and holding it horizontally with both hands, Raeburn asked for any progress report. Are any of the clones acting differently?

None.

All coming.

Everywhere coming.

Spears.

To silence.

Above.

Without a second wasted, he ejected from the ground straight up and swung his club in a whirling 360, shattering three ribcages through the shaft of 3 spears attempting to block his attack.

This time, these clones were visible to the naked eye, and he was able to notice the small detail of red irises in their sockets before they dissipated.

Spears.

Spears.

Spears.

Spears.

Spears.

Still in the air where he cannot move in any direction except fall, the assailants took the initiative in throwing their spears in his general direction, leaving him no room to dodge.

Not as if Raeburn didn't see any of this coming. The first Shinobi-like opponent he fought did the exact same thing with kunais and he nearly died to it.

The momentum still brewing from his swing, the cylindrical length of his club detached from the flanged mace and rocketed to the ground, still connected by a chain and his body escaped the fate of being a pincushion as his form was pulled along.

Letting go of his weapon, he flipped his form upright before his feet met the ground, and he caught the spear that was going for his back before yanking it close, pulling the holder straight to a head-butt. The assailant stumbled backwards, and that gave Raeburn enough time to rear back the relinquished spear and throw it straight through the throat.

Two.

Kick.

Left.

He brought up his arm to block the unified kicks and his unbalanced form made him stumble instead of taking it like a brick wall. But he quickly kicked the building behind him, bringing him back his footing and evaded the 2 spears that would have ran through his head and chest.

He dived for his club on the floor, grabbing the shaft and quickly slammed the two clones into the wall, the chained end granting him further reach. Retracting the cylindrical end, he jumped upwards again and kicked off the wall, his form ejecting diagonally upwards and swung his club to the direction of a cluster of 5 clones stood horizontally on the far wall as if gravity worked differently for them.

From his one swing, one of the metias embedded to the club activated upon his will. With 5 targets in sight, the offensive manifestation of this rare element took shape, in the form of purple-colored shards.

Minya.

The art of dark magic, a rare affinity alongside light magic in this world, merged into an instrument that gives those with no gift to magic a chance to experience it.

With a purpose, they darted towards the clones, promising to deliver their existence to a crystalized end.

And to his bafflement…

….they dived towards the bullets.

Away.

Away.

Away.

Without question, he threw the cylinder end of his club towards the ground, away from the 5 targets before retracting himself towards it. His feet slid across the ground upon landing and prepared for the worst, eyeing the same clones that survived the attack as they landed to the ground, without a trace of damage or even a hint of any body part being crystallized purple.

Same posture. Same stance. Same eyes. Same height. Same weapons. Same vibe.

But bearing a completely different presence compared to the dozens of copies behind them.

Caution.

Careful.

Be cautious.

Stronger now.

The spell attack made them stronger. The most plausible conclusion for him to make.

"EeegghhyyYAH!" With a whirling spin, he threw the club straight to the face of one enhanced clone.

All eyes turned to the thrown weapon, and he smirked. They may have the same bodies, but that includes the mind. Not one is sharper than the other.

He didn't expect his attack to land a hit, as they expectedly leaned away from it without moving from the spot, but it did draw their attention, away from his sudden followed-up strike: an elbow straight to the jaw.

The clone didn't disappear, but he surely felt the bones crack, including a dislocation of the jawbone. He quickly met the obvious feedback for his efforts: kicks on both his sides as well as a dropkick straight to the face.

He was blown on his back but that gave him the favor of keeping his distance. They should have killed him instead. As he rolled to his back, the dagger-like pommel of his thrown weapon suddenly pierced through the back of the jaw-broke clone's head, followed by the flying weapon swinging in a sharp 180 with the clone's head as an axle, the kanabo end of the club snapping the neck bone of another Shinobi.

While the others were distracted by the bizarre occurrence of a weapon flying on its own and killing two of the enhanced clones, Raeburn had already ran up the wall and elbowed one normal Shinobi to the wall, caving in the skull, taking their spear and throwing it to another one through the head.

Taking the spear of his new kill, he stabbed the wall, cracking the mortar, spun his body around the shaft like a gymnast to build up speed, and ejected like a rubber band towards one of the 3 surviving enhanced clones standing at ground level. The time it took for him to build up the momentum was enough for the rest of the clones to rear back their spears and hurl it at his form.

The Shinobis had good aim, as their trajectory was pinpoint-accurate despite the speed of his launch, guaranteed to hit him in mid-air, but that made it a lot easier for him to grab some out of the air and return them to sender. They are specifically aiming for vital spots, the Souls warned him. Being well-trained still has its own drawbacks when your enemy knows how to exploit it.

With 2 spears caught in his hands, he kicked a third one towards a fourth that aimed for his head, and quickly threw his stolen weapons towards the enhanced clones. One was impaled through the chest, killing them, the other was pinned to the ground by the thigh, showing no reaction except cold determination.

Reflexes honed for battle and flight for the last five years during Vollachia, his body automatically spun around in his fall to have him land feet first and he slid for a few meters away before recalling his club to his hand. The sooner he held it, he swung it towards a thrown spear in speeds that caused a small gust to erupt from the attack, breaking the projectile to splinters.

3 were coming straight for him and he took them out in 3 swings of his club, his every movement in blinding blurs and causing a large gust to erupt from him in a half-second, not even needing to rear back his weapon to build up power or to spin around and maintain the momentum.

Aside from Raeburn Cursebane, he was given the honorary title of 'Blood Stalk' back in the Gladiatorial Arena; a bamboo stick that snaps back upright in the speed of sound after bending from the fury of a wind.

His body bends at every swing of his club, to maximize the power of the blow, and he can easily swing it back the opposite direction as if it weighed like a feather nor did the momentum created from it existed.

In time after decimating more than a dozen spears, he deprived the remaining clones of their primary weapons.

Escaping.

Escaping.

Running away.

Retreating.

Fleeing.

He had counted the number of foes he had, kept track of how many he felled, and he noticed that 6 have gone missing from the remaining ones in his line of sight. The Souls say that they are scattering in all directions. One among them has got to be the original.

As he prepared to go and chase after them, preparing for the basic dark Spell of Shamak to activate from one of his Metias and hide his departure, his nose caught the scent of a pleasant aroma—

Every clone in front of him was impaled by green stakes from above, their lean forms immediately falling limp on the green protrusions before they exploded in a puff of grey smoke.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Immense dread overcame him in the blink of an eye, the presence of a giant hovering over him like a violent thundercloud, ready to smite the closest living being in sight, and he looked up, expecting to find a humungous Titan leering over him, and he only saw a silky curtain of blood red hanging over the edge of a rooftop.

Amidst the bleeding shade of red, he saw a perfect heart-shaped face, dull dark blue eyes leering at him, and a seductive smirk concealing intentions of malice.

He saw the engravings on the pipe this robed woman was holding, and he instantly knew that things are bound to go to hell.

"Gluttony….."

The Supreme Sin blew him a vaporous flying kiss, the green smoke shaping into a heart as it flew towards him before she suddenly disappeared.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Looking at the color of the time stone embedded from the backdoor of the Karsten Mansion, 2 Dark Time has already passed. Something really is wrong, Zakurah noted. But it wasn't too surprising anymore, especially when the young girl's been quite aggressive and unfocused in their little spar, as if something upsetting's been clouding her mind.

Communication with the Dead tends to be very advantageous when one bypasses the dogmatic taboo of it.

Blocking the training sickle with her waster, she locked the wooden sword in the weapon's curve and quickly pushed the child off with enough force to make her yelp upon landing, the ivory tool hanging from her waster before flinging it off.

Green eyes glowing balefully, brown fingers digging small trenches into the damaged grass, the child practically skipped the process of getting up and was already in the air in front of Zakurah's face, a black wavy knife called a kris about to dig into her eye.

Nearly tripping on herself, her training to withstand the blow instead of evading it overtaking her muscle-memory, she awkwardly leaned her head away and the knife grazed her temple, sliding across the pale flesh harmlessly like a finger to fabric, not even her golden strands were severed.

Meili's foot hit her shoulder as she flew past the Holy Knight, and the screech of pain that followed told her that it was more like the child hit a wall.

Zakurah didn't go to comfort the child cradling her dislocated foot on the ground despite the discomfort and guilt it's causing her. The last time she tried, her face was swiped across by a brown hand sporting daggers for fingers and her entire body overwhelmed by a cocoon of blades. She was only alive thanks to the enhanced fortitude of her body. Emotional exploitation isn't above a Necromagus, she had forgotten to consider since learning it in Pandemonium.

Meili snapped the foot back into place, and Zakurah winced at the sound as well as the sight of it despite her years in the service of her duty. Blood-soaked eyes turning to Zakurah, the child rose up with the injured foot gingerly stood on the toes before reshaping her brown hand into a whip and lashing it towards the Holy Knight's face.

Taking the lacerating blow without the slightest bit of pain, injury, eye-blink or flinch, Zakurah charged the child and struck a jab of her waster at Meili's forehead. The latter leaned her head aside with minimal movement and dashed past her opponent, sliding her poisonous kris across the Holy Knight's abdomen at the same time. Her fleshly whip trailing behind her, she had the entire length lined with lethal and serrated spikes before letting it graze the waist all the way.

The Holy Knight grabbed the whip's length before it got fully retract to the voluminous depths of the brown hand, the serrated spikes cracking under her grip, and she yanked Meili back, making a loud snap erupt from the child's shoulder before her small form hit the ground.

Forcing down the guilt, Zakurah flung the child upwards to the air overhead and slammed her to the ground on her back. Before Meili had the time to raise her head up, the Holy Knight already swung her waster down on her neck, the point hitting the grass, stopping the wooden length from crushing her windpipe by only an inch short while sending a gust of wind across the soil.

Tears threatening to fall out of her eyes, Zakurah practically pleaded as she held the waster threateningly, still holding the visceral appendage with her right hand, "Can we stop for now? This spar of yours is nothing but an attempt of self-destruction. By my vow, I will not abide it any longer."

Meili's dull eyes stared at her blue orbs, unreadable and peering directly into her Soul. More than a dozen seconds later, the child blinked and the light in them returned, the tears of blood beginning to worsen.

As Zakurah moved the waster away and let go of the fleshly whip, Meili sat up casually as if her landing didn't jolt her ribcage and she held her right shoulder with her free left hand before casually snapping it back into place.

Again, the Holy Knight could never get used to a child readjusting her own bones like that without even reacting to it.

"It hurts." The child told flatly, no audible strain on her voice to indicate pain.

Considering the number of falls and dislocated bones she sustained and fixed back after an entire 3 hours of endless fighting, it wasn't entirely surprising. The bruises and torn muscles were a natural outcome.

"I'll get you an elixir." Zakurah offered, heading to the chair where the child's belt pouch and vials rested. Taking out one and returning to Meili, she knelt beside her and popped off the cork before passing it to her hand. Putting down the waster, she removed her rosary out of her neck and put her hands together, reciting a prayer.

Prayers of healing, piety, mercy and gratitude, merged into a single invocation of the Seraphims' blessings, made manifest in the form of light emerging from the gaps of her interlocked fingers and influencing the healing process of Meili's battered and beaten body.

Meili only drank half the contents, letting the prayer of Healing enhance its effects, and she sighed in content, relishing in the warmth and the vanishing of the pain. Slowly rising to her feet, her right hand slowly formed back into a normal human hand, the length shortening and the spikes retracting inside. The child turned to face Zakurah and said, "Thanks for playing with me, but don't try to question why I'm hurting myself, okaaay? It's how it's usually like with Papaaaa."

She walked over to the chair, stashing the elixirs inside the pouch and placed it on her lap as she sat down, her bare toes grazing the grass as her legs swung back and forth. "I'm getting scaaaared. I don't wanna stay here anymoooore."

Zakurah can safely assume that she's aware of the Shinobi that were hunting her, as said by Raeburn. The Flesh Golem and the Four-Armed Skeleton were quite particular in their demand when they said they should accompany her until they come back before disappearing from the gates of the Mansion.

"Has our hospitality been lacking and unsatisfying to you, Lady Meili?" The old butler of the Karsten House asked politely, having been a spectator to the scuffle from start to finish.

The child shook her head, "Noooo. I like you and Lady Karsten and everybodyyyy, Mr. Wil." Eyes glowing, she began looking in certain directions, as if she was staring at multiple pairs of eyes. "The people on the streets are not friendly anymoooore. Being affiliated to Emily will make people hate meeee. Papa and I have white hair toooo." She mentioned, blankly pinching a silver strand from her scalp and sliding it down to the tip.

"Um, pardon my ignorance, but what does having white hair have to do with anything?" Zakurah asked, stood up and holding her waster while it stuck to the ground. Naturally, she received incredulous looks from the two for her inquiry. The Holy Knight ignored their exasperation and elaborated, "I hardly pay attention to current events, you see. Just so you know, I am an aimless knight."

An unfortunate thing to happen for one of her profession, sworn to protect people when not many people particularly need any protecting, especially for the lack of existing malicious entities.

There was a smidge of understanding in the child's eyes, "Well, you are a foreigner and only been here for a month so I can't blame yoouu. Simply put, the devil of this world had white hair, elven ears, and purple eeeeyes." Then the understanding in her olive green orbs morphed into a hostile and defensive fire, expecting a negative feedback as she aimed a killer glare at Zakurah. "My Emily has all three thiiiiings…..and she's fighting for the Throooone….."

The child is goading her, provoking her into saying something she wouldn't like, and that would be the prompt for her to cause violence. Her seated form is visibly stiff, coiled tightly in preparation, and the mana in the air is siphoning to her location, causing an outline around her body to blur. Her bloodlust is manifesting silently, with a horrible spell close behind, the faint sounds of the screaming dead filling her ears. The old gentleman noticed the change in demeanor and stiffened.

If the devil truly had those physical traits in Pandemonium and Zakurah was a pawn of Wrath, she would have reacted in the way Meili wanted.

With a long-suffering and docile smile, she replied, "Are you expecting me to react negatively, Little One?"

The child grinned. Her teeth have morphed into pointy and sharp sets, just like a predator, "Papa wanted to kill you before he knew your naaame. I wanna do it for him and give him your piiieeeces."

A death threat with a sugary-sweet delivery and it is still unsettling. Zakurah can never get used to anyone younger than an adolescent saying or doing such things. The Necromagus species is never seen with a child next to them, after all.

"I will have to disappoint you, dear one, for I am not as shallow as the preceding Holy Knights." With conviction and will, she affirmed her stance. "Whoever this Emily may be, bearing the typical looks of the devil, I've yet to meet her in person, therefore I shall not bear any misgivings nor praise until I know her well."

To her benefit, she has been practising restraint since her anointment. She has never been presumptuous to unknown entities that have been assumed as evil or good until she confirms it for herself, with the rare occasions that she doesn't have to, like her attack on Gluttony. Supreme Sins do not deserve mercy and only God can forgive them.

If Meili carried the motivation to actually cause violence in the defense of this Emily's honor despite the common beliefs of this world, consequences be damned, that speaks enough for the kind of character the girl could have.

"Good for yoouuu. You have a braaaiiin." The malice disappeared from Meili's demeanor, bringing back the easy-going air of a child raised in a non-innocent environment as the screams fell silent. The old gentleman relaxed as well. "To be honest, I actually wanna know how it'll feel when I kill yooouu."

The Holy Knight maintained smile became a little uneasy, "You'd kill me with my guilt before I could do anything. I couldn't bring myself to harm someone like you. If anything, I'd devote my strength into bringing you back into the light so I can spare your father the grief."

Meili snorted, grinning with her teeth returning to normal. "I won't hurt you so it's okaaaay. Papa trusts you so I should toooo….." Then her mien became contemplative, a plethora of thoughts passing through her head. Her dialogue became a lot more subdued when she seemed to have reached a conclusion, looking back to Zakurah's eyes, "You are looking for an aim, riiight?"

"Pardon?"

"Why not join Emily's Camp?" A succinct offer, backed by a rather business-like aura. Suddenly, the child did not look her age anymore without any coquettish gestures. "Holy Knights protect and save people, don't they?"

A rather distinct pressure was falling on her head, as if the significance of her answer is something to be mindful of before giving it. This is nothing like a frightened child seeking protection from monsters and wicked men in Pandemonium. Zakurah noticed that. "Forgive me for my ignorance, but what does this affiliation entail? And what does it have to do with me and my duty?"

"Pardon me for asking, Miss Zakurah, but do you truly not know the current circumstances of the Kingdom?" The old butler asked politely.

The Holy Knight weakly smiled, "Those of my Order do not remain in one place for too long, you see. And the times we get deeply involved in the circumstances of Kingdoms and such is when our direct intervention is needed. As an aimless knight, I have very little reason to."

Meili smiled to the butler, "She's neeeew."

The old warrior hummed in interest, nodding, "A Knight Errant. I see."

A wandering Knight in other words? The Order's Knights can be described that way, walking the land and righting wrongs when they aren't under orders. "You can say that I am, in a certain fashion."

Meili turned back to Zakurah, beginning to explain, "This Kingdom is now deciding its next ruuuuler. There are 5 candidates competing, and me, Remi, and Papa are aligned to oooone."

"And that person is Em—sorry. Lady Emily, yes?" Zakurah concluded, acknowledging that the Hero is involved in this Kingdom's politics. Not something she would expect from a kind that don't take kindly to such complicated societal matters like this. Don't they condemn it?

"Emily's just a nicknaaame. Her actual name is Emiliia, and she's got the shitty end of the beating stiiick." Zakurah flinched when she heard that swear suddenly come out of a child's mouth, "She looked just like the deviiiil, and everybody is still traumatized of what the Jealous Witch did to the world 400 years ago so they hate Emily because they look aliiiike." Meili released a tired sigh, "Even though she's such a kind and sweet girl, everybody's too scared to understaaand. Her chances aren't too briiight as a candidate."

So this 'Jealous Witch' is this world's version of Satan. Zakurah may not know much but even she heard tidbits of this world's history from passing conversations or common phrases as well as a bit of inquiry from Raeburn. Apparently, this world was nearly devoured four centuries ago, and the intervention of 3 heroic figures were iconic in preventing it.

With Meili's explanation, she can assume that this Witch was the source of that eradication. If it was so catastrophic that the trauma still hangs over the current generations' heads, one could only wonder what this Lady Emilia is going through for something she isn't responsible for in the first place.

The suffering and injustice that entails…..

She can see why the child is offering for a place in the beleaguered candidate's faction, "I see what you are doing, Little One. You wish me to defend the Lady Emilia's honor and profess her innocence to the public as much as I can?"

To her surprise, Meili shook her head. "Papa and I can do that ourseeeelves. Emily will grow strong in tiiime."

"Then…then what is my role to play if I ever agree to your offer?"

Olive green eyes flashed once, the brown hand clenching so tightly that the barbed bones inside protruded out of the flesh, "Bad people are coming to kill Emilyyyy. Someone like you can bolster our defenceeees."

Zakurah's lips tightened to a line, and her voice became low, "Lynch mobs? Bigots? Are misguided men and women gathering together to kill a poor and misunderstood woman?"

This is starting to sound a little too familiar from the things that happened in Pandemonium when Wrath still ruled the Church, and she's not liking it one bit.

Meili shook her head, "Even worse." And she said the next words like its venom that even her kind couldn't stomach, "The Witch Cult."

The Holy Knight noted the implications from the name itself, none of them good. She turned to look at the old butler, and instead of surprise, there was a firm grimace in his aged features, suggesting that the name is known and commonplaced, most likely in an infamous note.

"What is this Witch Cult?" Zakurah hazarded grimly.

"It is as the name implies, Miss Zakurah: worshippers of the Witch, leading causes of many massacres, and a constant presence to inevitably arrive whenever female half-elves are found to exist." The old gentleman answered, turning to her. "If you happen to come across such individuals, Miss Zakurah, you do not hesitate to end their lives, for they will do the same to anyone. Men, women, children—they do not discriminate. They are irredeemably evil and deserve to be put to the blade."

Curling her fingers into a fist, her righteous fury flaring up in her heart, yearning to smite the evildoers and bring peace to the unfortunate dead, Zakurah asked him, "And this is common knowledge?"

"Yes indeed." The answer was quick and immediate. "The entire world acknowledges their existence the same way. With extreme prejudice."

Then questions began forming on Zakurah's mind, causing her forehead to crease, "If that is so, then surely their presence is foreseen and this Lady Emilia has set up countermeasures against them, yes?"

"Emily has little friieeeends." Meili replied, grimacing. "She only has me and the people in our Mansiiiooon. Her benefactor could have known it as well and set up defences alreeaaady."

The child's tone didn't seem to agree to it. "Your do not seem optimistic, however." Zakurah pointed out.

"Even if Rosy did set up countermeasures, me and Papa are stiiiil worried. Taking chances is a baaaaaad thing." Meili turned to the old gentleman, "Mr. Wil, do you think Rosy can handle the Witch Cuuuult?"

"If you refer to the Court Magician, Lord Margrave Mathers, then I certainly think he can." He replied resolutely, "In fact, this generation's Roswaal is the strongest I've ever known in my lifetime so holding your confidence to him is not unfounded. On another note, being paranoid despite that is not a bad thing. In regards to the Witch Cult, we can never be too careful."

Meili returned to glaring in space, contemplating deeply as she interlocked her stiff fingers. "We wanna leave as soon as possible."

Her usual drawl at the end of her sentence is missing as well, indicating how much of a grave issue it actually is.

She turned to a specific window of the Karsten Mansion, said to have the Hero sleeping inside, recovering from a very recent surgery to repair his rotting innards and a missing voice. "But your Father still needs rest, unfortunately."

Meili pursed her lips. Pointing her olive green eyes to Zakurah's bright blue, she asked, "Soooo…are you interesteeed?"

She nearly said 'yes'. Had she been in Pandemonium and this offer to practice her duty for the sake of her Order's redemption as well as for the greater good suddenly presents itself like this, she would have literally jumped straight into the action. There's even the added bonus that she could even work alongside her idol as well, experience much more of his culture as well as his own person for the coming days. Her inner child would leap for joy.

But there are things that need to be done beforehand. She also needs more information. Despite three weeks in this world, she's still an illiterate and highly ignorant.

Not only that….

"Would Lord Emurdol agree to your recruiting me? Would the Lady Emilia condone your actions?" How much influence the Hero, much less the daughter, has is still unknown to her, especially when the little one is making offers like this.

"Papa thinks like me and me hiiiim. The things I do, he would doooo." Zakurah hummed in interest. Could it be another quirk of their species? "Papa will figure out a way to make you one of uuuus. He always dooeees."

"If that is what the Lord Necromagus' daughter says, then I shall believe it." She made sure not to mention the Hero's status as a savior of Pandemonium in the presence of others. Whoever he was then, she shall respect his wishes to be seen not as the Hero but as Emurdol Viandegroc, a father and a good man. "Give me time and I might come to a positive decision."

"Yaaaay!" Then Meili's demeanor took a full 180, from grimaced to jolly, raising her hands in the air and tipping her chair back, balancing on the back legs. "We got a Holy Kniiiiight!"

Zakurah chuckled, finding herself being infected by the child's joy, "That's under the assumption that I am accepting your offer, Little One."

With a swing of her white legs, Meili's chair is back upright, still smiling, "You will come, I just know iiiiit."

"Quite frivolous you are, Miss Meili." The old butler commented with a jesting tone. "Recruiting new additions to your faction within the territorial boundaries of a candidate rival to your own."

Meili turned an even bigger smile towards him, now more unsettling than cute in regards to the impression it leaves, "I did wooooorse~!"

If 'worse' is referring to the fact that the festivities she caused in the plaza ended up drawing the attention of the Shinobi that were hunting her to the Karsten House's doorstep, then Meili couldn't be anymore right. Being even more concerned about her own safety rather than the fact that she exposed other people to the same danger does not help.

That pretty much reminded Zakurah something about the child's race. An underexposed fact from the rather extravagant ones.

She turned to face the gates, and over it, trying to see if Raeburn or the Hero's constructs could be seen from the rooftops of other Nobility buildings, fighting those elusive assassins.

They are all bat-shit insane.

While above corruption and temptation, they are most certainly not kind-hearted.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Quite the fanciful company you keep with you, Rem, much so your lover."

Rem blushed, a mix of embarrassment and pride colouring her smile. "I-is that so, Lady Crusch?"

"Aye." The Candidate said sincerely, looking at the chatting Holy Knight, apprentice Necromagus and Old Soldier, "I daresay it is my fortune to welcome such eccentric guests in my temporary household. Not one would simply say she has met a master of the dead, a rather volatile child, a walking mass of flesh, and a walking suit of armor with the head and torso of a skeleton in a single day. I feel as if I am entering a new world in their presence."

Rem internally winced at how close that sentence hit home. Yes, Emurdol and his family do hail from a society that would be outlandish to regular people, and it shows in their behavior most of the time, but the fact that he literally came from another world makes Crusch's impressions a little more authentic than it should. "Yes. Rem has that impression too, even to this day."

Day after day, a spoiled little girl and a love-struck man showering her with endless amounts of affection and love, she sometimes forgets that she's still a maid with duties to do aside from receiving their sentiment.

Crusch turned to her with a hum, "The wind of fondness flows behind those words. It seems the world you see in them differs to mine, I see. The sentiment of affection must have contributed to that."

Rem could only nod to that, a warm blush filling her cheeks and a soft fire kindling in her heart.

Taking a pause as the blonde knight took the sheet of the nearby yard table in her hands and folded it lengthwise, childish awe and risen eyebrows of interest occurred as the cloth began glowing in a white light.

And Zakurah held it like a beating stick, the malleable material becoming as solid as a rock when a piece of the grass was decimated to reveal the brown earth underneath as she casually slammed it down.

As the coat of white light disappeared, the once-sturdy material reverted back to its limp state as she spread it out in front of Meili, saying with half-hearted grandeur, "Feast your eyes, Little One. Clean as a wedding dress. It is how I kept my garbs intact." The child applaud with fervour, demanding encore.

"So that is Light Magic." Crusch observed, "Truly a marvel, opposite of the Dark Magic I've seen Emurdol Viandegroc execute in the Chambers. To strengthen and empower instead of beguiling and warp. Does he have history with this woman?"

"Well…." Rem squinted lightly, recalling the stories shared from yesterday, "….not directly, but still. If Rem recalls correctly, she happened to be the apprentice of a friend Ser Emurdol once had, who sadly died."

"So she took on her master's sword and legacy in honor of him?" Crusch inferred.

"Her master's shield, actually. Interestingly enough, she considers Ser Emurdol to be an idol of hers thanks to the stories told about him. In Ser Emurdol's home, he is considered a hero."

"Remiiiiii~!" The two women's attention were drawn to the child calling her favourite maid's name, her hand cupped beside her mouth like a megaphone. "Do not share things like thaaaaaat! Papa will be pissy if you doooo! He hates being called a herooo!"

Rem noticed that Meili is starting to get a little more foulmouthed than usual. She would have been in a reprimanding mood, if it weren't for the fact that she was currently hunted and the stress is causing her to lose a certain degree of control over herself. "Sorry, Meili! Rem will be careful next time!"

The candidate started chuckling. Rem turned a questioning gaze to her, "Lady Crusch?"

"Oh nothing. The interaction amused me. It's rather impressive that she managed to hear you from here." Then another pause, taking in the sight of another spar ensuing, but this time in the form of a melee-a-trois. As Wilhelm crossed wasters against Zakurah, Meili was the quickest to reshape into an inky-black cloud in the air and assault both with a barrage of bony spears. The old butler swatted aside a few while jumping away, the Holy Knight merely took the blows without the slightest flinch, the projectiles breaking apart upon contact with her skin and clothes.

Materializing and placing both bare feet on the ground, Meili was already at Wilhelm's face before Rem and Crusch could realize it, her brown fist about to meet his forehead. He easily swatted it aside and directed her momentum, making her form flying straight upwards instead of past him. In the same motion, he spun around Zakurah's straight jab and slammed his waster against her exposed back.

With no visible indication of her feeling the bruising hit, she stopped her forward momentum with a stomp and executed an impressive and quick double-swipe, one that would have struck his left shoulder and right armpit if he hadn't parried both and whacked her in the temple with a snap sound.

Before Wilhelm can follow up, he quickly jumped away before Meili smashed his head to the ground with her foot from above. Upon landing, she become an ink cloud again—

A cluster of spikes protruded out of the smog in all directions and nearly impaled Wilhelm as he backed away at the nick of time. Zakurah remained in place, at arm's reach with the cloud and took the full force of the attack. As always, it did nothing to leave even a bit of pain on her person, the serrated points taking the damage instead.

The broken stakes retracting, the cloud became flesh and the child leapt at the Holy Knight like a goblin, screeching and clawing at her face before swinging around to her back, wrapping white little legs around her neck and wildly stabbing a bone knife on her head in vain, the dagger constantly breaking and rebuilding under her hand.

Wilhelm took the opportunity to strike with a downward swing, and Zakura held up the waster horizontally to block. It gave Meili the opportunity to switch targets and morph her hand into a whip, lashing it at Wilhelm's face. The latter leaned back to dodge, and the Holy Knight quickly thrust the point of her weapon towards the child atop her. The wyrmm swung her body backwards, the wooden sword missing her chin, and released her prey, flipping in the air once before landing on all fours. The old butler struck the woman three times in the chest in lightning-quick swings while she was distracted before his opponent took up the aggressive stance and struck back with her own swings, causing him to back away.

Like the opportunist she is, Meili went around to behind Wilhelm's back and lashed the whip to his unprotected rear.

"Vicious, uncanny, and opportunistic. The little one would be a tricky opponent to square up against." Crusch assessed, then her dignified mien contorted to show a bit of worry. "I would be concerned about presenting one's skill before an eventual enemy, especially in their territory….but I can't say I have the right to say so, considering I have welcomed such a person to my Mansion. It presents quite the dilemma."

Crusch nodded a few times, agreeing to an internal reflection before she turned to Rem, "You'll excuse me for now, Rem. At this hour, it would be time for me to take up a bit of sword fighting lessons for a while, with Wilhelm as my instructor."

Rem bowed courteously, "Rem will see you then, Lady Crusch."

The candidate turned to glance at the color of the glowing stone at the top of the door before addressing Rem again, "It seems quite a bit of time has passed since Emurdol Viandegroc's concluded operation. Why don't you ask Felis for permission to visit him?"

Immediately, Rem was all too eager to agree, "Yes! Rem shall! If you'll excuse me!" With sashaying hips, the little maid did her best not to look too excited to enter her beloved's room and watch him sleep once again.

As she walked past the doorway and entered the building, she heard something faint behind her. She wondered if she imagined it.

"Have fuuuuuuun~~"

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Peeking inside through a small crack of the door first, her eyes went wide in shock upon seeing her beloved sat up on the bed, his nude form only made modest by the blanket covering his lower half as he stared out the open window. Felis' assumptions were right. He did wake up far earlier than anyone had any good reason to from the 6-hour long and full-body procedure he went through, and that is all thanks to his unique constitution that defied common sense. The surgery even concluded an hour ago.

"Ser Emurdol!" She happily exclaimed, opening the door and entering in. "You've woken up!"

His head minimally turned to her direction, facing forward instead of the side where she is, but past his silver side-locks that hid his eyes from sight, she knows he's heeding her.

"Rem." A voice of relief said her name, one that missed her so. The corner of his lips curled in a very tiny smile.

"Yes, it is Rem." Softly, she replied as she closed the door behind her and approached him, nearly overwhelmed to tears. "Master Felix told me that the operation was a complete success, that you are now free of the Rot….and that you can finally speak again. Rem cannot express how wonderful that is to hear..."

With slight hesitation, she sat on the left edge of the bed, reaching over to move aside his locks just to get a look on his eyes. And her cheeks went red, her breath halting while her heart perked up a bit more.

He had become young.

Emurdol always appeared to be 3 decades past his actual age, further emphasized by the creases on his face that were born from the stress of being a Priest of the Serpent in an unforgiving world like Pandemonium.

Now, he reverted back to 2 and a half decades. More than most of his wrinkles seeming to have disappeared like any potential scars, a few lines lingering in-between his eyes and on either side of the bridge of his nose that only serve to present a rather spry and healthy young man. His orbs have lost their permanent glare that concealed the gentleness in them. They freely looked around the room and at her with the ease of a man who can relax, no longer having to worry about anything or losing his grip on the spell that kept him from dying to the Rot.

As the passionate and brightly-glowing green orbs turned to meet gentle and glistening light blue, Rem felt being drawn to them, hypnotized, unwittingly nearing her face to his own, further goaded when his left hand held her waist to pull her close.

Before the maid even realized it, she was already pulled to his lap and their lips had already met. And Rem was blown away by the amount of emotion she felt behind it. It was the most overwhelming kiss she ever felt, far beyond what she experienced from days prior. It felt as if she was going to drown in it.

His lips burned. His tongue burned. His hand burned. His skin burned. His love burned. He devoured her lips without restraint. And his tight embrace around her form served to heighten the increasing arousal of their intimacy.

Unable to hold it back, she moaned as her mouth was violated. Her attempt to explore every nook and cranny of her lover's mouth was easily overpowered, Emurdol's own fleshy appendage expertly slathering her own with a mix of both their saliva, both tongues coiling around each other. The feeling drove Rem wild.

Rem was about to suffocate, and she slightly struggled, trying to detach their lips momentarily so she could breathe. And he mercifully let her, parting their kiss with a loud pop before she took in precious oxygen, her tongue lolling out. She let out a cute mewl, feeling as if she had reached nirvana, and it was quickly replaced by the sound of a surprised squeak.

Emurdol turned his attention to her creamy and delicious neck, his knowledge of the human anatomy allowing him to target the jugular and trace it with a mana-infused kiss and lick. Rem's eyes glazed over in lust, shuddering and moaning under his attack. He could feel her heartbeat as he went downwards to her shoulder, removing the capelet-like covering of her uniform beforehand to grant him more access to her sensitive flesh, following the line where the blood courses through.

Stopping at the collarbone, leaving behind a liquid line of evidence in the places he ravished, his black ivory legs moved under the sheets before he lowered her down on her back on the bed and proceeded, targeting her carotid artery next. He followed the blood path that led to her head, endlessly attacking her skin. Gradually, he went downwards, leading to her chest and having his tongue graze one of her breasts. Her shuddering and moaning lifted to euphoric limits, her small body twisting and squirming in pleasure underneath him, all coherent thoughts inside her head wiped out to nothing except desire and an ever-increasing lust. Her breathing slowly became difficult to manage again, mindless and content as her lover had his way with her.

Once he was satisfied with her flesh, he lifted himself up from her neck, a breath of cool air making her shiver. He quickly returned to the kiss that was halted, taking her lolling tongue inside his mouth to greedily suck on it. It quickly escalated, devouring each other's lips with nothing on their minds but their beloved, grinding their tightly bound bodies incessantly, stirring the desire even further and trying to sate the hunger in their hearts.

The exhaustion eventually took over, and their hot moment of intimacy eased to a gentle pace and the two lovers parted their lips, finding unending affection for the other in their eyes.

With a pleased sigh, Rem said, "That was amazing….." Her hands moved, clasped behind his neck and now holding both his warm cheeks, taking a moment to admire how handsome he has become in her eyes. "You were already wonderful, but you only became even more wonderful. Rem is honored to be the first, seeing your new self."

Emurdol closed his eyes, reveling over her loving words and the subjective opinion of seeing his face being considered an honor. This woman truly loves him.

He hovered himself upwards, just slightly. His hair floating upwards since laying her down, he supported himself with his right elbow while his free hand held her own that was caressing his cheek. Giving the palm a loving kiss, infused with a bountiful amount of mana that made her sigh pleasantly, he then guided it down his body in-between them.

Over his chest. Over his abdomen…..and eventually….

Rem's eyes shot open, her hand grabbing ahold of something hard and phallic, reacting to her touch by quivering. The implications were quick to get into her head, but the arousal and embarrassment were not the first to arrive. Instead, it was the realization.

"You….you can feel." Without even meaning to, her heart throbbing wildly inside her chest in response to it, her hand began gently stroking what she's holding, feeling more of the evidence of his perfect recovery. "You're excited. You're excited by Rem…."

The discovery only served to make her even happier.

Every moment they have to make love, his body's response to their intimacy is limited and cold. His kisses and his embrace lacked something behind all the raw love and affection. It was quite prominent that even Meili could portray her affections better than him. She was told that his body's arousal response is hampered, and that the Rot is keeping it that way.

She believed him, but her self-depreciative tendencies held onto the belief that she could not possibly excite him, especially in a way that could bypass his bodily complications. And now, being wrong had never felt gratifying.

And now she realized why Felix suddenly informed her about the room being soundproofed. The possibility of their relationship developing to the point of consummation is now open, and it is happening now. It left her shocked, excited, and incredibly nervous.

There was nothing else Emurdol wanted anymore except for one thing, and Rem could see that just from his eyes as he looked at her, "I want you, Rem. I want to be yours."

Desire. Love. Greed. Affection. Devotion. Loyalty. Fear. Anticipation. Dread. And finally, Acceptance.

Multiple sentiments and an emotional oration , mixed and condensed into short and simple words, combined with the simple action of staring deeply into her eyes, and Rem was able to understand everything behind it. A feat only possible because Emurdol's kind are legitimately capable of such, and because the maid always watched over him. Here is a man that is swearing his vows, all of his being laid bare for her to see, and awaiting her answer.

A Marriage Proposal, a variation of the kind that only the people of the Underground knew how. To shed all barriers that made them greatly distinct and alien, stooping to the same level as their fellow man, and lay bare all of one's vulnerabilities and sincerity to the significant and treasured individual that will become the pinnacle of their path to peace and true happiness. In this very moment, he was no more a Necromagus nor the Hero of Pandemonium.

He's just a man.

Once again, Rem fell to tears. This time, however, this peak of happiness was the point that she knew will never leave her mind for the rest of her life.

"I do." Wiping her overflowing tears, she placed both her hands on his shoulders and reaffirmed her answer, with the clearest voice she could muster, to let him hear her own vow. "I do, Ser Emurdol. With all of my heart and with all of my soul, from now on and forever, Rem shall always be with you."

For the very first time since the day he brought his Mother to unlife and fell in love with his first apprentice, Emurdol's tears of blood were not preceded by a dark sentiment just as Rem and very few others have provoked. They were purely brought by nothing but the emotion of pure joy, the one and only thing his kind had ever wanted.

|||| « ҉ » ||||

All curtains drawn, Rem's clothes scattered all over the floor, the darkness of the room is only held back by the light of the time stone above the door, the glow of Rem's horn, and the loving gaze of Emurdol's green eyes.

Being the only one with a minor night vision compared to her beloved, she could only make out two green orbs in the dim staring lovingly at her, and she was left mesmerized by them, having nothing better to do and forgetting that she was naked.

They drew closer, seeming to be disappearing behind a pair of eyelids, and she felt herself receiving another kiss, which she returned carefully. With her horn out, she might end up hurting him, especially with the way she was clinging onto him as he hovered himself atop her with his knees and elbows.

For a few moments, they spent it in a loving and passionate silence, the wet lapping and the occasional pops aside, exchanging saliva, mana, and raw sentiment. When Rem's breathing was coming short once again, Emurdol noticed it and granted her relief, which he used the opportunity to pull her to a sit-up position.

He gently waited, staring at her lovingly through the dim lighting. When she finally got herself together, Rem placed hands on his shoulders and pulled him close to continue the kiss, enjoying the sensation of his lips passing her mana. His left hand around her back moved to slide a palm from the nape to the back of her waist, feeling the graceful curve of her figure.

She was truly beautiful, his mind acknowledged.

Repeating the strokes a few times, he eventually added pressure to his fingers along the movements, spreading them apart in strategic angles in order to land over rather sensitive pressure points, all while kissing her. Judging by the pleased moans she made, it was quite effective.

He only had one hand of flesh and feeling, the other likely rough and cold, only capable of holding up her petite form, so he had to put in a little more effort than the average lover.

Without breaking their kiss, his flowing hands slowly ramped up its massaging intensity, striking the right spots and causing a shiver to roll across her spine, reaching all the way to her head. Eventually, Rem was reduced into a mindless putty, releasing sweet moans and squirming in his embrace, barely able to keep up with his still-enthusiastic and passionate kissing.

Her groin was steadily becoming needy, wanting to be attended, and the fact that his manhood was literally rubbing against it as she writhed in his arms, barely giving it what it wanted, was driving her mad. As she moaned hungrily in the kiss, she grinded him, wrapping her arms and legs around him so tightly she thought she would end up snapping a few bones, but with his lack of aversion and reciprocating the action of tightening their embrace as well as the continuous, endless, and magical working of his amazing hands, she didn't stop.

Her tongue being gently sucked and played with his own, working in tandem with his fingers as if he had two separate minds that could manage both actions seamlessly, his left hand moved to give her front attention, tracing the line of her collarbone and the muscles surrounding it, his right arm keeping her pressed up against him as she grinded their groins together, increasing the growing dampness.

Her bountiful breasts were next, the hand stood on its fingers atop her collarbone and gently slid downwards on the right one, pleasing but equally tormenting as he purposely avoided letting his fingertips brush against the pale nipple. Her whiny moan was destructively adorable. Emurdol nearly lost himself just by hearing it.

But he held fast, taking advantage of his trained self-control to continue his ministrations, just so she can be prepared for what's coming.

He massaged her breast, gentle and lovingly, expertly. No handling or squeeze was the same and alike, unique and new each time, never touching her nipple, increasing its sensitivity as it perked up, furthering her frustrated torment as her moans became louder inside his mouth. She was definitely trying to voice out her demands, but he made sure she doesn't get to, keeping her overwhelmed in the kisses and the sensations.

This is starting to get a little more enjoyable, Emurdol noted.

As he switched to the other breast, he likewise gave it the same treatment, showcasing his rarely-seen flexibility as he kept his hand in a vertical angle. Rem didn't notice the discomfort this would have caused to a normal human, as she was reacting to the sensations the same way.

Oh, how he damned having a fleshless right hand.

He didn't let it last long, moving over to her stomach and pressing hard circles on it. He released her lips and kissed her nose before letting her lie down, panting and reduced to a putty, still unsatisfied and needy, her womanhood practically screaming for attention after being deprived from their grinding contact.

Her legs were hooked around his thighs, trying to bring their former contact back together, but she was further held down by a mind-blowing sensation of mana surging into her stomach from both Emurdol's hands, which struck too closely to her aching womanhood, and her vision instantly blanked.

The aftermath was Rem letting out an ecstatic scream that was louder than he would have expected, quivering and trembling before him as she held the sheets with a death grip, her horn disappearing as she basked in the afterglow, heaving oxygen in and out. Admittedly, Emurdol didn't mean for that to happen. Too much mana, it seemed.

Emurdol patiently awaited her to regain herself, his iron will allowing him to resist all urges to claim his prize and become one with the one he loved. He simply ran his left fingers up and down her right forearm, letting his mana flow into her system as he did.

Eventually, Rem regained bits of her mental faculties and was now able to voice out her long-awaited demand as she found his eyes in the dim, looking at him longingly. "Emurdol…."

His heart burned.

She didn't say 'Ser'.

"Emurdol….." She moved her petite hands to her entrance, spreading apart her lower lips, sense of embarrassment and shame gone for good, nothing left but desire. Results of that far too meticulous foreplay, "…..please…..put it in….."

By the Dragon, why is she just so fucking adorable?

Feeling himself to be in a teasing mood, wanting to see more of her neediness that was never ever prominent with her maid-like mannerisms, he felt inclined to give in to her requests in a different manner.

His mana-infusing fingers traced over imaginary curve lines towards her womanhood, his skeleton hand doing the same as it gently gripped her left thigh, causing her to tremble once again. As soon as he reached it, he gently began caressing her wet entrance, teasing it and progressively allowing his fingers to slip inside, drawing a pleasing yelp from Rem.

"N….no….not…."

By the Dragon, she's tight. It only gave Emurdol further anticipation and incentive to just go ahead. In the end, he held himself back, allowing the finality to be as sweet and memorable as possible when it comes.

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster despite having no way to know how much he should limit his grip, his skeleton hand rubbed her thigh up and down, his mana flowing from the fingertips and into her system, sending even more mind-numbing sensations to his love in order to cover up the rough surface of the ivory. Judging by her reactions, his skeleton hand thankfully didn't hurt her.

"Ah…..ahn….Em…Emurdol….!"

Her love juices that had been flowing out in steady amounts were now overflowing, wrought from ministrations that were heavily backed by anatomical knowledge and a strong drive for exploration, wondering what might happen if used for non-violent or non-surgical purposes. From the looks of it, her sensitivity is only rising to impossible limits. Her moans were honestly getting louder and the more he listened to them, the more his lust to becoming impossible to control.

"Please….! Just put it in! Please! Emurdol….!"

It's honestly getting pitiful now, especially when she said that with tears in her eyes. Maybe he should finally relent.

And this time, however, Emurdol was truly hesitant. It never showed, of course, his expressions locked in stasis, holding true to his habits of never showing much despite his conditioning brought back to 100%. But when he hovered atop her once again, his eyes level with hers, his manhood prodding her entrance, she could definitely see it.

He's hesitating.

Is it okay? He asked her, not needing the words of the Void to convey such insecurities that were incredibly uncharacteristic of him. He's always so upfront and assured, unhesitant and straight to the point, never having second thoughts in the midst of things.

Seeing him like this brought her worry, indeed, but the immeasurable happiness she felt to be able to see this moment of weakness from him was what made her love for him blossom even further. She was put first. Her thoughts mattered more than his own. Does she want this? Does she truly wish to be one with him? To be with him, through hell and happiness, to have children together, to share everything together until they become old and grey?

Nodding once, beads of tears flowing out from her eyes, she gave her final answer, "I do, Emurdol. Rem's Soul shall always be yours, just as yours will become Rem's."

He closed his eyes, unseen red tears leaking out of the closed gaps, and his left hand interlocked fingers with hers. With just a slight push, her womanhood parted to welcome him, and with a slight bit of effort, he slipped through, her wetness granting him easy access, breaking her hymen and his entire length now filled her whole, stretching wide enough to accommodate him.

His real voice broke out, overwhelmed and unheard as Rem's scream drowned it out, a mixture of pain and pleasure resonating in her voice, and her free arm wrapped around his neck, her legs tightly clenching his waist as she had climaxed just by being filled.

She was so warm, and extremely tight. He nearly lost it right there, even his vision turned white, unable to describe just how orgasmic this felt. He thought he was going to melt from her heat.

As heavenly as it felt, her tight grip on him with her arm and legs showed that she's still adjusting to him, likely not feeling as much pleasure as he is, so he decided to remain still and be patient, making sure she matches his pace. He planted kiss after kiss on her lips, cheeks, nose, eyes and forehead. Each one was filled with affection, clear and obvious, and Rem gradually was able to regain herself and catch his lips.

Taking that as his cue, he gently pulled out, stopping at the tip of his length, and he pushed back in. The moans that came with it were like music. Repeating the motions as gently as possible, more strings of ever-so-sweet sounds came with it and Rem's back arched in response, pressing her breasts against his chest. The mere friction of both their bodies slick with sweat were too much for the both of them.

Emurdol tried his very hardest to not be hasty, making sure he gets to feel every sensation that existed in the moment as much as possible, from their tight embrace to the joined groins. Once again, she was incredibly tight, every thrust and exit was equally demanding and gratifying, as if her womanhood was making sure he doesn't get to leave.

The pace slowly increased, and the want only grew stronger. Rem parted their interlocked hands to tightly hug his head close, devouring his mouth of everything it had with only her tongue and lips, and the electrifying sensations of their shared joints only turned her brain into mush. Him continuously giving her mana at the same time only made it even worse, in the most heavenly way possible.

She eventually lost count after the 4th orgasm. Her delicious moans are now reduced to tiny mewls and other incomprehensible noises, mental state melted to nothing but a pile of loved goo, and her lover still continued thrusting into her, sinking into the deepest depths of her womb, his groans slowly getting audible, especially after each tightening.

Amidst the mind-blowing tightness of her climaxes, Emurdol only had a short moment to congratulate himself for lasting this long despite being his first time. And frankly, he's held back enough. It's time to let go.

Lifting his upper body up from her, his shifted his grip to her hips, and he stopped being gentle. He was now fully pounding his love into the bed. The new approach didn't go unnoticed despite her mushy state, and every rough thrust sent jolts of quivering pleasure racing through her womanhood and down her legs, toes curling in the process.

"Ahhn….a-ahn…nyaaa~ aaahhh…AAAAaaaagghhhH!"

She went through another orgasm and she threw her head back as she screamed. This time, Emurdol lost it. His movements increased, now thrusting into her like his life depended on it, the headboard of the bed banging loudly against the wall, the prospect of being heard from all over the mansion entering his thoughts, and he couldn't care less anymore. Rem pushed her hips against him in rhythm, sensing his incoming climax, her entire body demanding that he release it all inside her.

And he finally did, all of the accumulated pleasure that he had held back for the last hour and a half finally free from its restraints, pushing him over the edge and he groaned in full volume, resonating alongside Rem's cries as warm filled her womanhood, thick ropes of his seed dumped deep inside her, his thrusts gradually slowing down until he finally stopped, finally realizing his exhaustion.

Silence returned to the room, only disturbed by heavy breathing from the two lovers. Emurdol pulled out and turned into a black cloud for a half-second just to make sure he didn't jolt the bed as he materialized next to her, brushing aside her blue locks wet from her sweat.

As the afterglow subsided, the chill of the room became noticeable. Rem retreated to the nearest source of warmth, rolling to her side to cradle herself in Emurdol's chest, and he obliged her silent request, wrapping an arm around her back as she soaked in his heat.

She nuzzled his chest, giving it light kisses, and held the silence for a long while. Eventually, she decided to remark on it. "That…was amazing." She whispered, looking up to his glowing green gaze in the dim, "…..where did you learn to do that?"

He responded in a way that even he knew was uncharacteristic of him: an awkward smile and a shrug.

She giggled, reaching up to caress his cheek. He released a pleased sigh, his eyes hidden under his eyelids as he leaned to her touch, his left hand reaching up to hold it and give a rather chaste kiss. The most modest display of affection compared to everything else.

And he finally said it, in the very way she never expected ever since she had caused its loss.

"I love you, Rem."

He professed his love to her, the simplest of all phrases, packed with every single bit of sentiment he could ever muster together in 4 words, and Rem fell to tears.

|||| « ҉ » ||||

After a second round of lovemaking later, with Rem taking the lead midway, the two lovers simply sat together on the bed. Emurdol leaned back against the headrest, Rem leaned back against his chest in-between his legs, flanked by his skeletal knees pointing up on either side of her, her horn sprouting out in order to remain conscious just for some small talk.

Or rather, she simply wanted to hear him use his voice some more. "Ser Emurdol?"

She's using the 'Ser' again. Hmph. He peered at her face, betraying none of his amusement, "Mm?"

"Did your Mother do the same to the one she loved? Was she….skilled with her hands as you?"

"Hmm….." He turned to look at the wall, and he did his best to not think about what's going on in the background while he spent his time consummating his relationship with his love. "….even for me, my own Mother's sexual life is something I would never discuss to anyone."

The maid immediately blushed crimson, suddenly feeling like the stupidest being in existence for her phrasing, "Y-you're wrong! Rem didn't mean to ask it like that! It was just—I mean, is—"

"Sshh." He placed a finger on her lips, and he placed a small kiss on her horn, sending a pleasant tingle across, "It's okay." He slid his skeleton hand under her own right hand, and she simply interlocked fingers, playfully rotating their wrists side to side.

He smiled gently, passing her mana from there, "Mother simply laid bare her heart and soul to Father, and he returned every single sentiment she gave him. They consummated their relationship built upon years of trust and companionship between two natural enemies, then conceived me in her womb. My people would have celebrate their union if they were present."

Rem smiled, laying a hand on her belly. The prospect of the two of them following after his Mother's footsteps brought a warm feeling in her, "Ser Emurdol….do you think….Rem might bear a child….?"

Immediately, Emurdol wrapped his arms around her, warm and tight, the feelings of love emanating like a cloud. "That would make me the happiest man ever."

That happiness flowed into Rem, making her feel as if it were her own. Tears fell freely from closed eyes as she held his wrist tenderly, "Meili might get cranky if she hears you say that."

"Whether it's one child or more, Meili will always be the first. And I will love them forever." He retorted, the tone of his euphoria unending, "My Meili will treasure her sibling. She will. For there is joy to be found in loving someone weaker and more fragile than you."

She allowed herself to fantasize about it. A year from now, Emurdol and herself, with rings in their fingers, sat on a bench, and in his arms was the most precious little existence that ever lived, cooed over by a grown and taller Meili as she stared at its face.

If she couldn't be anymore happier, she hoped to be wrong again the next time she asks herself.

A click emanated from the door. Both heads turned to face the source, and rays of light broke into the dim room as it opened just slightly, a silver head followed by the body of a little girl wearing black long sleeves and black shorts entering through before closing it behind her.

From the brief exposure before the light was gone, especially with the limited lighting provided by the time stone atop the door that shined on her white head, Rem noticed that Meili's cheeks were very bright red before the dim concealed everything except for the glowing olive green eyes.

In other words, the wyrmm was at the door, likely the whole time.

Rem's face turned bright red from the implications in the dim, glad for the darkness to hide it from sight, only to immediately lose hope once she remembered the two in her company were raised in darkness.

She is left worried and concerned, wondering why did she enter the room as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Rem watched as the pair of green orbs approached gently, seeming to glide in the air instead of a typical up and down rhythm, footsteps silent, and the sound of a long sleeve shirt unbuttoning, being undressed and dropped to the floors crossed her hearing. She felt the bed shake as it received a new occupant, knees sliding closer before a small hand place itself on her cheek and a soft kiss is given to her horn, making her gasp.

Meili then turned to her father, staring back into eyes that were filled to the brim with happiness, happiness that he could not contain all on his own and wishing to share it. With her. She held out her brown hand to him, and he interlocked fingers with her without a second wasted, filling the void of her unfeeling grasp with warmth.

"Meili."

She closed her eyes and sighed, content and fulfilled.

With this, finally hearing her name by the mouth of the person who gave her a second life and the chance to enjoy living, Meili found Peace.

Even though she planned to be the one to have her father express all of his special feelings to Rem, Meili was rightly more than annoyed that the demihuman cat boy beat her to it, having done so in a far more beneficial fashion compared to her planned-out schemes, but she can understand that it was outside her control, anyway. Being happy for them is enough.

Since they finally acknowledged each other's feelings in the most blatant way possible, it's now time for her feelings to be acknowledged in her own way.

"Rem." She parted her shared hold with her father and moved her brown hand to Rem's other cheek, staring deeply into questioning and nervous blue eyes, "Did you accept Papa's proposal?"

Rem stared for a half second before she nodded, sincerity clear, "Yes. Rem shall become your mother now."

The wyrmm smiled impishly, "My cute and favorite maid." And she quickly closed the distance of their lips, drawing a yelp from Rem.

For this intimacy, she released a few barriers and let her small tongue slip into Rem's mouth, exploring it all over before meeting the quivering little flesh inside, dominating it. At the same time, she passed her mana through their lips, drawing some sweet moans.

Lasting the kiss until Rem was struggling for breath, Meili parted to grant her relief, both their tongues lolling out and still connected with a string of saliva.

Panting for breath and overwhelmed by the suddenness of the questionable situation, Rem struggled to form words, "Wh…..what….what are you doing…?"

She smiled impishly again, and she spoke in the most seductive tone she could muster, one that not even Elsa could match. "You have Papa's mana. Lllllots of it." And she kissed her again, her hands slowly gliding from her cheeks to her breasts, beginning to drain Rem's mana mixed with her father's own in minimal sips, hoping to make this last as long as possible and outperform him in pleasing her.

It won't be as frisky as her father's, but she had been studying ways to make Rem know her next partner well for the next couple hours without needing to have sex. She is reserving her purity for the man she'll soon love, of course. Now she's dying to show them off and make her favourite maid moan her name until she falls asleep.

She is going to enjoy this, and she intends for her new stepmother to feel the same way.

Besides, Meili Sinnuldel is not a normal little girl. Never was, never were, even before the girl whose surname of Portroute was found by Elsa in the forest. With her Father's added influence, societal norms will only mean something if she deems them so.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Damn it!" Raeburn cried out, stomping his foot and nearly shattering the cement of the roof he and the four-armed skeleton stood on, the latter having recently stomped the head of the last Shinobi while he had them locked in his grasp, having revealed to be just another clone. "None of them were the original."

Mother stood still, both pairs of arms hanging by her side, sickles and krises held tightly, and motionless as a statue, her light-eating robes bellowing from the wind due to the high elevation. She sent him a calculated reassurance, relayed to the Souls surrounding them and passing to him.

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or not." Raeburn replied to the deceased Supreme Sin. "We were supposed to wipe them all out with the original, not delay the inevitable. They'll come back just like you said, but with a different strategy. I doubt it's gonna be this easy next time."

It won't be a farfetched assumption to say the Shinobi will not leave any witnesses the same way the Witch Hunters do. Reinforcements? Possible. Get hostages involved? Likely. Assault the Karsten House just to eliminate their target, whether covert or overt? He doesn't even want to think about it. Assuming the worst kept him and other people alive in his experience after all.

But at least they have a moment to rest. While doing so, he can start planning and preparing for the next encounter.

"I guess we can grant ourselves a chance to relax….for now." He gave his club a light tug and the chains retracted into the voluminous depths of his flanged mace, the steel kanabo slamming loudly upon impact. "So, Wrath, where's Gluttony or Lust?"

Mother's reply was to turn her head in a mechanical fashion to his right, and a rather ominous message was sent to him.

"Sating?" That was all he could gather. Sating? Satisfying? Fulfilling? Whatever the Souls were trying to convey, the atmosphere around them had become grim. "What does that mean?"

The upper left hand moved, the rest of the body jarringly immobile, and its grip on the sickle shifted, letting the pinky and ring finger wrap around the hilt while the remaining two fingers and thumb reached up to move the oval plate that served as a mask aside, revealing the skeletal socket containing a pale blue pinpoint inside and a horrifying warning came out of its open grin.

"Explore at Curse Bane's risk."

He would later damn himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Grgh! Ergh! Agh! Fuck! This hole's so fucking tight! And with a face like that! Egh! Must'a been high-class, this one! Eh, boys!?"

"Grr! Hurry up already! I want my turn now!"

"After me, okay? I called the second dibs."

"The fuck you are! I'm the closest one here!"

"No! NOOO! I am! You oughtta bugger off before I make sure you don't get a turn even if I let ya!"

"Stay back or I'll shank ya, ya bastard!"

"Boys! Boys! Boys. Boys. Boys. C'mon! Aren't we all friends here? Ergh…! Egh…! Aren't we the only ones that caught this purty here? Means she's ours now…..! And don't worry…! You all'll get'a turn…! Share if ya wanna….! But don't be rough on her, okaaay….!? Don't wanna ruin her beautiful face when we take 'er home, riiiiight….!?"

The incoming prospects drove all the men into excitement, and a cacophony of twisted and sickening chuckles echoed among all of them in the back alley, melding alongside the sounds of groaning, the brutal and merciless slapping of flesh, and the heavy breathing of the others as they stroked themselves with newfound vigor, fantasizing being in the place of their leader having his way with their new toy, their impatience quickening their pace.

Their attention narrowed and tunneled, they were completely oblivious to the audible struggle happening at the rooftop of a nearby building.

A pair of metal arms held down Raeburn's arms, the other pair kept his mouth shut and his weapon away, his muffled roars unheard, unable to reach the ears of the men or the woman being violated. Forced on his knees, his upper body angled forward and depriving him of any leverage to escape Mother's iron cage, he was in turmoil, forced to listen to the horror happening at ground level and trapped in a twisted dilemma of his morals.

He only had four seconds to see what was happening. The only reason why he didn't act so quickly and dropped down into action despite knowing what was going on through the Souls before he could have a visual sight of it was because the 'victim' met his eye.

With a ghost of a malicious and hungry smile, she mouthed the words to Raeburn, expertly hidden in the vicious movements of her body being handled:

Don't. You. Dare.

With all the time he had to be shocked, Mother was able to grab him out of the roof's edge and drag him further away from it.

In a hellhole like Pandemonium, it would be a miracle for anyone to have normal standards, especially when you live outside protected Castles and domains that can help your mentality develop humanely. Horrible things happen almost everyday, everyone knows that. A dead child found on the side of the road would be regarded the same way someone's dog has died. A tragic loss, but inevitable. More of a burden than a future generation of the family unless they were taught to survive the cruel land from a young age.

But rape? Raeburn will not suffer even a single millisecond of such a horrible fate happening to anyone. Those who would do such a thing will be brutalized. He would be merciless, and he would be swift in dealing righteous justice. That principle has lived on ever since he became an Evil cult's enforcer and had the power to do so.

He should have killed those bastards down there. He should have ended their lives without hesitation, without even a second thought. They were not human. They were animals. Subhuman. Spawns of Lust. Irredeemable bastards.

…..

…..…..

…..…..…..…..…..

They were going to die anyway.

They are going to be eaten. A terrifying fate awaits them. Their just deserts is coming. They are heading straight towards their doom.

Yet he's having intentions of saving them in the back of his mind, it repulsed him.

The 'victim' did not need saving. But he was overwhelmed, cornered by his own principles. He couldn't stand seeing her being used like that. It sickened him. It disgusted him. He wanted to STOP IT.

But that woman allowed it to happen. She brought such humiliation and suffering on herself. That woman was a monster far worse than the men violating her.

She doesn't deserve mercy. She does not deserve saving. She deserved suffering that not even the bastards deserved five times over. She deserved to be damned. The sins she's committed and the depravity she brought…..

They both deserved to die.

And he can't do anything except listen to the horror, forced in this position thanks to Mother holding him down. The sounds…oh, the sounds. The woman was struggling, screaming, and the twisted jeers and insults and cheers that erupted as they toyed with their victim mercilessly was difficult to take in—not even a lick of empathy existent. With the capability of listening to Souls, lacking any sort of mouth to be silenced, endlessly describing the cruelty to his awareness, he is hearing twice the torment that was occurring.

An hour and a half later, those peaking groans of ecstasy about to reach its release suddenly warped into agonized screams in an instant. The sounds of grunts and heavy breathing turned into chokes and gurgling. The sound of slapping was replaced with the sound of flesh and bones being grinded and minced inside a large mouth.

Finally, Mother let him go, releasing his mouth and arms, dropping his weapon to the roof. Feeling violated himself after an agonizingly long time of listening to it, he lamely crawled to the edge of the rooftop once more, dreading what he'd see once he has a clear view, trying his best to believe that whatever the Souls are telling him, they are wrong.

And a paralleling sight greeted him. The blood-splattered woman was already staring up to him, having awaited his arrival, and she flashed him a beautiful, bloody smile, strips of flesh still hanging from her teeth, and she held the torn head of the gang leader in her hands, a large chunk missing from the forehead and exposing brain matter.

Beneath her form was a growing puddle of semen that was once forced inside her and now flowing down her legs. Surrounding that were the splattered entrails, organs, and liters of her preys' blood flooding the floors.

For all of his battle-hardened mentality, having taken lives and suffered more than a decade of torment from Pandemonium to this world, his stomach could not handle the entire brunt of it all.

As he expelled his stomach contents on the rooftop, he damned the world. Damned that such people existed. Damned that this had to happen. Damned that he was stupid enough to find out what's happening. And damned that it had brought Emurdol Viandegroc to this world.

Pandemonium's HELL has burrowed into this world, and the Hero will send it closer to its doom.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

He looked down on his precious angels sleeping together beside him with pride and love, giving each of their heads a gentle stroke of his left hand.

Even with Meili only wearing her shorts and nothing else the whole time, having displayed incredible self-control to be able to withhold herself from stripping fully naked during her intimacy with her partner, she is the most conservative compared to him and Rem, who were completely naked. Cuddled in her favorite maid's pillowy chest, content and happy in each other's warmth and presence, arms tightly wrapped around each other, he could not describe the sight before him with any other word except Peace.

The Peace his kind sought for and he finally found it.

….

….….…

…..it is being threatened. This precious Peace that belonged to him and his family is being challenged. Their consummation was just a distraction, for him and for his daughter, to relieve them both of all stress and to secure a future for their family. But now, the reality of the situation mercilessly came back at full force to his consciousness.

And he damned the world.

The demons hunting his daughter.

The injustice that haunts his friend.

The danger of fools that will imperil his family and everyone he cared about.

With these things at large, he can never enjoy this solace and share it to the ones he cares about. It will never rest. It will never stop. And it will never let go.

His sneer grew, and he trembled. Rage brewed in his heart, the unfairness of it all angered him. Every single time, in every effort he has to exert just to achieve a moment of rest, the world will never be let him be.

With his iron will, he composed himself and locked his mind to what's next. Giving both his angels heartfelt kisses on the lips, he morphed into an inky cloud, leaving the comfort of his precious ones, and seeped into the bathroom, preparing himself for the days to come.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

His gait was resolute, purposeful, and focused as he exited the building and into the backyard, crossing his arms behind his back and donning his traditional robes. His face betrayed nothing of his resolve, but his floating hair will serve as the only indication to that.

He found Pericus' apprentice there as promised, seated on a chair and enjoying a conversation with the old gentleman, Wilhelm. As the Holy Knight noticed his presence, she immediately stood at attention and beamed. "Lord Emurdol! Welcome back! It brings me joy to see you so well after your operation."

The butler turned around and bowed courteously with a hand to his chest, now finished with tutoring Crusch's sword skills an hour or so ago. "Congratulations on your swift recovery, Ser Emurdol."

He returned their sentiments with a nod. With the grim air around him, Zakurah immediately knew that her idol was not in a playful mood today compared to his daughter. His presence made her back straighten up even more, preparing for something she's not quite aware of, but she can guess what thanks to what Meili told her.

Her head turned quickly to see a trio arrive from the gates, walking very swiftly to their location with a purpose. The Holy Knight's concern lit up when he saw the haunted look on Raeburn's face and the bloodied robes Gluttony wore. They were also quite apart from each other, as if avoiding the other's space like a plague. The form of the four-armed skeleton beside her friend blurred, and was instantly at its son's side in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind following after it that blew his hair and robes back.

The remaining two took their time to arrive, but the urgency in their body language made them arrive a lot quicker.

"What happened?" Zakurah asked to either of them, demanding to know.

Raeburn took a sharp breath through his upper teeth and lower lips, staring deeply into space. "Shit happened." He pointedly looked at Sally's direction, glaring icily.

The latter merely inhaled a lungful of vapors into her artificial lung, unapologetic and unaffected by the recent brutality that happened to her and Viandegroc's shared vessel. Her usual seductive intonation betrayed no recent violent occurrence, "We have secured information regarding our possible foes, and I…." She exhaled the contained green cloud, fuming out of her nose and flying upwards to the air in a pair of smoky flapping wings. "….have fed."

Both Zakurah and Emurdol stiffened, reasons varying between the two. The former feared for the worst, thinking that innocent people were killed in the background, and she looked at the Hero in contained shock. The latter himself barely reacted, maintaining that stoic demeanor and crossing his arms behind his back, regarding the two of them silently.

The smell of semen, sweat and raw meat, the splatters of blood on the robes, and the immaculately clean skin that do not characterize a flesh golem fresh from a reported feast.

The look of blank horror that was clouded by the scathing glare on the boy's face, it tells Emurdol many hints. For a man that has seen battle in the arena for 5 years, he has seen something that has haunted him unlike anything before. His reactions were clear and readable: repulsed and indignant.

The three of them arrived together, which means they in proximity of each other when they hunted Meili's prowlers. This boy has definitely witnessed what Gluttony could do, but his indignance didn't align well with the aversive reaction normal humans would have towards it.

In other words, he was conflicted during the brutality of the feast instead of simply turning away and letting it happen. The boy did not like Gluttony's honeypot being utilized against scum, being used like a toy, even though the woman would have reveled in it and deserved every suffering that came with it.

He asked for the Souls surrounding him for confirmation of his summation, and he was correct.

This coming from a hardened gladiator warrior that has battled and taken lives for half a decade, Emurdol held down the urge to scoff.

Stoicism cracked, and disapproval clouded his mien.

"Tell me, Mace."

He stomped up to the average-height boy, leaning downwards and now at his face, sneering and overflowing with scorn like the eldritch voice in his head. Raeburn never budged an inch at the attempt of intimidation, standing his ground and meeting the Necromagus' glare with one of his own.

Lips moved, and he finally heard his murderer speak for the first time since their first meetings in Pandemonium, overpowering the scathing reverb.

"Why...do you sympathize for SCUM!?"
"Why...do you sympathize for SCUM!?"

Raeburn couldn't figure out for the life of him if the man was referring to the bastards that raped Gluttony, or if he was talking about the both of them instead.