14xx/7/13

168 days ever since arrival…

What the actual fuck.

I woke up today to the sound of the door being banged like hell. I just endured a long, tiring march so I wasn't in the mood for games. So I tore the door open, preparing to give the motherfucker a piece of my mind.

Ever since I've arrived in this world of cum-guzzling eldritch harlequins, I thought I got the whole species thing nailed down. Whether they be as human as they come, or as monstrous as the demons in Tartarus, they all shared the same characteristic; at least a pretty face and a pair of female breasts (or more!) for some species.

This bitch in front of me took the concept in reverse.

I have no idea who her parents were and what they have done to anger Ilias so much, because Amira is an unfortunately simple yet horrifying mutation in the lamia gene pool. Her top half were fully green snake complete with forked tongue and emerald scales, while her lower half were of surprisingly attractive human legs.

I stared at her in disbelief for a full minute, until I found my strength to speak again. And that's where my woes began again.

Long story short, the reverse-lamia named Amira heard that there's a doll of immeasurable power and value hidden away in the local haunted mansion nearby, and she wanted to acquire it. Unfortunately, she was too weak to face off the undead, hence why she asked the Captain for someone that will help protect her throughout her journey. That person is me, and she was willing to pay handsomely for my services.

Just as I was about to decline her offer (Honestly, she freaks me out) she produced a simple scrap of paper from her panties with her tongue. Despite the abysmal condition of the paper, I recognized the writings anywhere. This was Sairento Hito's note! Couple that with her claim that she was once close to the hero Luka, I found myself accepting her request right then and there. Clues are hard to come by, especially verifiable one like this.

Next thing I know, she pulled out a small pouch full of Harpy feathers and told us to follow her (after breakfast) to the mansion.

Now, we were still early in the morning, so you'll be remiss to believe that the undead would remain indoor or asleep when the sun is up. But to my horror, the massive graveyard in front of the mansion was AWASH with corpses. Thankfully, the very few walking variants were far too preoccupied in recovering their mountain of truly dead sisters rather than interfering in our business.

The zombies raised a lot of questions for me, many were unpleasant. Why where they all women? Why do even in death they still looked like they were still freshly killed? Why do they all looks surprisingly attractive even in death? When a woman died, does zombification enhances their beauty? Why do they move so stiffly as if they were in late-stage rigor mortis but fluid and precise during combat?

Whatever is it, I hope I can find the motherfucker who raised them from the dead and have a few choice words with them. They have earned their rest, unlike me. Let them sleep. Let the dead remain dead.

Our main opponent during our excursions were ghosts. Or rather, a Monster Girl's interpretation of a ghost. Pretty face, bare breasts; a fixed mutation in every variable species of Monster Girls. A standard which Amira gleefully flaunted against by kicking the absolute shit out of every nosy ghosts, poltergeists and cursed dolls while hurling slurs so vicious that writing them down felt like a hate crime.

Aside from the presence of the ghost and zombies, the mansion looks surprisingly decent for its age. The white masonry is withered and grey, but not cracking at the seams. The blue roofing of the mansion despite its age maintained its structural integrity throughout the year. The glass windows were old and cracked, but not dirty at all. Hell, even the shrubberies were maintained properly!

The inside was a different beast altogether. Red and gold, as far as I can see. It reminded me so much of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, which employs the same colour scheme as liberally as they can. Walking through the abandoned foyer inspires the mind to disturbing musing. Is this what my home would look like, once everyone is dead and the name fell into disuse?

We entered a very spacious underground dungeon, its size rivalling even the London Tube. Signs of struggles and torturous ordeal were recorded plain as day in the stone walls and floors of the dungeon, even when the jail cells were empty. The chains look surprisingly recent, much to my displeasure. Someone is here long enough to change out the rusty chain with newer ones.

Ignoring my mounting paranoia, we found ourselves in a large underground chamber reserved for rituals. I have seen enough magic casted by Patchouli and Marisa to recognize the magical pentagram drawn inside a runic circle. Unfortunately, the runes were too smudged for me to read.

Amira was pissed. She said that someone has come here first and stole her prize. Not only that, it was recent too. So she ordered us to go and sweep the mansion clean, one room at a time. Contract is contract, so I followed her orders reluctantly.

One by one, we swept the room of hostiles. The zombies were surprisingly docile, almost terrified of us as they huddled in corners protecting their comrade's still bodies. What few corpses that I saw that wasn't walking has their skulls absolutely crushed to bloody pulps. A few zombies still has the guts to resist, but a bullet to the brain is a tried and tested method that never fails against a zombie.

Even fewer was the one that retained a semblance of sentience and memory, as one zombie I've met in one of the few guest bedrooms. She was slow and forgetful, but not truly stupid. She said that she met Hito twice, TWICE! The first time she said he was alone and grim, but determined and strong enough to escape this mansion. The second time he came back, was with a group, this time he looked sure and confident instead. He even drank the tea she offered!

Unfortunately, she has no idea where they might go next. At least her accounts corroborate with the note I received from Amira.

But in the end, our search was unfruitful. There was no sign of the artefact, Hito or even any kind of bandits that might give us information. Amira claimed that her information must've been false, so she asked me to follow her to Monte Carlo. I followed suit, thinking that along the way I might find more clues about where Luka is.

Monte Carlo, a city under control of the mafias. If the officials cannot find them, then the one who dwells in the darkness can. The village was akin to Nameless Slum, except the place was surrounded by high walls and has housing areas separated by high walls with plenty of narrow roads. Not to mention that the place while looks slummy, were built solid and intact. Adobe bricks and solid wood was the primary building material of this place. In short, it was a well-maintained little village build for the sole purpose of defending from sieges and attacks.

We took refuge in a local inn, which doesn't have separate rooms. Instead, all occupants slept together in a large hall. One of the occupants even remarked that it felt like a large sleepover. The air wasn't as hot as I expected, so I've assumed that they have rudimentary air-conditioning.

But I'll keep Sophie in rifle form for now. I didn't trust the innkeeper. Or the people around me.