Hello, lovely readers!
First and foremost, thank you for joining me on this creative journey into the world of fanfiction. I want to clarify a few things and set some expectations as we delve into my written stories.
The characters, settings, and elements from the original work that you may recognize belong to their respective creators. My stories are a labor of love, and I merely play in the sandbox they've crafted. No copyright infringement is intended, and I am not profiting from these writings.
While I strive to stay true to the essence of the characters and the universe they inhabit, please note that these stories are my interpretations. Sometimes creative liberties are taken to explore different angles, scenarios, and emotions that the original work may not have covered.
Occasionally, my stories may touch upon mature themes such as violence, romance, or sensitive topics. When such themes arise, I will provide appropriate content warnings at the story's beginning so you can make an informed choice about whether to continue reading.
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Lastly, thank you for being here. Your support and enthusiasm for these stories mean the world to me. Writing is a journey; I'm grateful to have you alongside me.
With that, thank you.
[chapter two]
The man's sudden appearance and quick interception of the knight's attack, aimed at a defenseless old villager, bewildered them. However, they quickly composed themselves and formed an encirclement around him, their weapons drawn and their eyes fixed on the enigmatic figure before them.
With luscious golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight and features that exuded an air of undeniable charm, his appearance seemed more fitting for a noble or a heir to high lineage. However, his attire contradicted this assumption, as he wore clothing reminiscent of a fighter's garb or something similar – practical yet adorned with intricate designs that spoke of craftsmanship beyond the ordinary.
Despite the possibility that this man could be a mere illusion or a trick of the light, Londes Di Gelanpo, a seasoned warrior, didn't entertain that idea for long.
His warrior instinct, or more accurately, his primal survival instinct, was urging him to distance himself as far as possible from the man. It was as if his very being recognized an aura of danger that transcended his understanding.
Londes's brows furrowed as he realized a crucial piece of information. It struck him: How did the man stop Erion's sword?
Erion's sword had been mere inches away from its intended target before the man's intervention, could mean the speed and precision of the interception had been superhuman.
The golden man's blade remained sheathed, untouched despite the tense confrontation.
As Londes's gaze shifted towards the man's sword, even his untrained eyes could recognize its immense value – a weapon of unimaginable worth, something he couldn't even dream of possessing in his entire lifetime. The hilt was encrusted with gemstones, and the intricate engravings on the scabbard hinted at a history that spanned generations.
The golden man's indifference to the brewing hostility and his intervention provoked the ire of Londes Di Gelanpo's superior, Captain Belius. The captain's voice dripped with authority as he barked, "Stand aside, interloper! Justice demands the end of everyone in the village!"
"Is this needless massacre justice?" The golden man's voice was like silk, soft-spoken and commanding, cutting through the tension-laden air. His words hung there, heavy with implication and a regal authority that he nor anyone else there could ever hope to achieve.
Londes glanced at their Captain and saw a mixture of emotions on his face – anger, uncertainty, and a trace of something akin to fear. Such charisma was not something an ordinary interloper could exude. It suggested they were in the presence of a ruler or someone of significant authority. The encirclement of armed villagers wavered, doubt creeping into their stances as they exchanged uncertain glances.
A seed of doubt had been planted, not only in Londes's mind but also in the hearts of the other soldiers. They couldn't help but question the blond man's true identity and authority. The dissonance between his regal demeanor and appearance was puzzling.
Could they be facing someone of great significance who had chosen to remain anonymous, or was there another explanation that eluded them all?
"It is a necessary action," Belius retorted, his tone rigid and unyielding.
"Surely there are innocents among them," the man's voice resonated, his gaze fixed upon the lifeless form of a child, a tragic consequence of the conflict.
"Collateral damage is an unfortunate consequence, but it's the price we must pay," Captain Belius responded without averting his gaze from the mysterious figure before them, his eyes showing a hint of conflict within.
"Such a pursuit of justice has turned into a tyranny of its own," the man's voice carried a sense of genuine sadness, as if he had witnessed the consequences of this kind of justice before.
"Perhaps you're right… Nevertheless, I am duty-bound to follow our orders," Captain Belius replied, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility and inner struggle.
The man paused briefly, seemingly lost in thought, before nodding in agreement with Captain Belius' words.
"I understand," and the man's gaze was directed at them for the first time, his eyes seeming to pierce through their armor and touch something deeper within.
Despite the man's calm and relaxed gaze, they unconsciously took a step back, their grip on their weapons tightening. There was an aura about him that demanded respect, even as it ignited a primal fear within them.
"Then, I shall pursue the justice I'm bound to follow," he continued, his words deliberate and measured.
"W, w, which is?" Captain Belius stammered, unable to hide the mixture of curiosity and trepidation in his voice.
"To protect these villagers," the man's statement was clear, unwavering, and resolute.
When the man declared his intention, the atmosphere seemed to grow colder, reminiscent of the frigid winter they had endured not long ago. The biting wind seemed to carry an undertone of his words, chilling the very marrow of their bones.
"Knight Captain, I implore you and your company to retreat, or I shall attack with the intent to harm," the man's tone was as frigid as the atmosphere, each word like a dagger of ice.
Despite their years of training and unwavering discipline, the knights were shivering, not from the cold but from the weight of the man's tone. It was as if an invisible hand had reached into their core, unsettling their resolve and igniting a sense of vulnerability they had rarely experienced. Their armored forms felt suddenly inadequate in the face of an adversary who seemed more formidable than any they had encountered.
His gaze swept over them; it felt like they were being dissected, their thoughts and intentions laid bare before an observer who saw beyond the surface. Their armor and weapons seemed insignificant in the face of this enigmatic figure's presence as if they were mere trinkets in comparison to the power he exuded.
The knights exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of uncertainty and wariness. They were visibly shaken, and their facade of invulnerability cracked. The man's aura dominated even the most imposing of knights, rendering their once-unbreakable unity into a collection of fragmented fears.
With each passing moment, the sound of metal clinking against metal intensified—a symphony of anxiety conducted by the man's dominating aura. No knights wanted to stand their ground, for their bodies seemed to betray them, their armor becoming a telltale conductor of their fear, each jingle a note of their apprehension.
"Wi-wi-withdraw," Captain Belius stammered, his usually firm command reduced to a hesitant whisper, his authority crumbling in the face of this unanticipated force.
Sensing the urgency in the stuttered command, the equally shaken knights shuffled and moved, their disciplined ranks breaking apart like a ship caught in a tempest.
In a moment of shared realization, some knights took hurried action to expedite their retreat. There was no honor in this withdrawal, only an overpowering need to escape the presence that had unnerved them to their very core.
Metal pieces fell to the ground with muffled thuds, and the air was filled with the sharp sound of swords and shields being discarded as if casting away their symbols of valor and protection. The once-mighty warriors fled, their rushed footsteps mingling with the echoes of the discarded armor, a cacophony of defeat that faded into the distance.
Left behind, the golden-haired man watched their retreat with an unreadable expression, his aura slowly receding like a storm relinquishing its grip.
The confrontation had ended not in bloodshed but in a silent clash of power and will, leaving behind a village spared from the fate of destruction and a group of knights forever changed by the encounter.
The villagers observed the knights' hasty departure, their faces etched with a mix of relief and bewilderment. The abrupt shift from impending danger to newfound safety left them struggling to comprehend the sequence of events that had just transpired.
When the noise of the knights' hasty retreat had faded into silence, the man shifted his gaze toward the villagers.
"There is no need to fear. All of you are now safe," he assured them, his voice carrying a soothing and commanding tone that began to calm the anxieties that had gripped the villagers' hearts.
Torn between curiosity and caution, one of the villagers couldn't resist asking a question, their voice betraying a sense of wonder and uncertainty. "What, what just happened?"
A smile, warm and understanding, graced the golden man's lips.
"The knights have chosen to withdraw."
The disbelief was palpable in another villager's voice, their tone tinged with a mix of incredulity and amazement. "Really?"
The man's smile widened, this time carrying a trace of amusement as he replied, "Even the strongest resolve can waver when faced with the strong."
Unable to fully grasp the meaning behind their savior's words, the villagers opted to keep quiet, the weight of the situation still sinking in. The man's presence radiated an air of wisdom and experience, hinting at a perspective far beyond their own. His actions had turned the tide of the encounter, sparing their village from the jaws of destruction.
However, it didn't take long for another villager, emboldened by curiosity and gratitude, to raise a question that had been on all their minds: "Why did you save us?"
The man's gaze, serene and unfathomable, met the villager's gaze. "As I mentioned, I was ordered to protect all of you."
The villagers exchanged intrigued glances, a silent conversation passing between them as they tried to decipher the layers of meaning beneath his words.
The enigmatic figure before them had not only thwarted the knights' assault but had offered them a glimpse into a world where choices and allegiances were not always as they seemed.
Sensing that his response had only deepened their curiosity, the man offered them a gentle smile before turning his gaze upwards. As if addressing an unseen presence, he spoke aloud:
"Perhaps Lady Walpurgisnacht would provide a clearer explanation."
Resembling ducklings following their mother, the villagers looked up, eager to understand what was to come.
In that instant, a figure descended from the sky, a vision of beauty transcending mere mortal standards. Expressing someone as merely an otherworldly beauty would be an understatement; exuding an aura of divinity, a true Goddess of Beauty. The air around her seemed to shimmer, as if touched by her very presence.
While a delicate veil hid half of the Goddess's countenance, the exposed expanse of her skin was as pure as newly fallen snow, and her clothing that gracefully traced the contours of her form radiated an undeniable allure. Her eyes held a depth of wisdom and kindness that seemed to reach into the very souls of those who gazed upon her.
A subtle pity settled among the villagers as they realized they couldn't fully witness the Goddess's true radiance due to the veil that concealed part of her face.
"I'll take it from here, Geraint. Good work," the Goddess's voice was like music, a harmonious melody that held both power and grace.
The man named Geraint inclined his head respectfully, his demeanor shifting from enigmatic guardian to deferential servant in the presence of the Goddess.
The villagers exchanged awestruck glances, their amazement mingling with a sense of humility in the presence of such divine beings. As they looked upon the Goddess, a profound sense of reverence filled the air, and the mysteries that had unfolded before them only deepened. They awaited her words, hoping that the answers they sought would finally be revealed.
[ x ]
Recognizing that her appearance might be overwhelming for effective communication, Walpurgisnacht opted to wear a veil that her proxy had prepared beforehand. The delicate veil concealed part of her countenance, allowing the villagers to gaze upon her without being entirely overwhelmed.
"I'll have to express my gratitude to my proxy once it becomes active again," she mused softly, her voice carrying a sense of introspection and appreciation.
She paused, her thoughts shifting to the nature of her proxy. "Speaking of which, referring to it as a 'proxy' feels rather impersonal." Her mind began to churn, seeking a more personal way to refer to the entity that had acted on her behalf.
With a snap of her fingers, an idea struck her like a bolt of inspiration. "I should give it a name," she murmured, her excitement palpable.
Walpurgisnacht began pondering over a suitable name for her proxy, her gaze drifting upwards as if seeking inspiration from the heavens. "Let's see, since we share a connection, it's only fitting to share some name similarity," she mused aloud, her words a reflection of her thought process.
Walpurgisnacht… night.
"That's it! I'll call her Eve from now on!" Her voice held a sense of triumph as she settled on the perfect name, a name that carried both significance and a sense of kinship.
Just as she came up with the name, a familiar voice called out to her, breaking her reverie.
It was Geraint.
As Walpurgisnacht looked down, she was greeted by a surprising sight. Other than the traces of metal pieces and swords that littered the ground, the knights who had threatened the village had vanished.
"He must have driven the knights off through intimidation alone," she concluded, her voice carrying a hint of admiration for Geraint's capabilities.
According to the game's lore, Geraint's personality was kind-hearted, talkative, and curious. His tactic, subjugation by intimidation, was a sign that her Geraint inherited the same essence. The consistency between the game's narrative and Geraint's actions was a testament to the accuracy of her design.
She then realized this outcome was preferable, as no more blood had been shed due to his efficient handling of the situation.
"But I have to give him credit; he acted so swiftly," she remarked to herself, acknowledging the effectiveness of his actions.
Both Walpurgisnacht and Geraint had arrived at the scene simultaneously. While she took to the skies, Geraint chose to run, considering it a good warm-up.
She didn't immediately join the fray because she had concealed her face with a veil and got sidetracked while finding the perfect name for Eve, her proxy. Her musings on a name had led her to linger just a bit longer, enough for Geraint to take swift and decisive action.
In short, Geraint managed to chase the knights away from the village so swiftly that her assistance was unnecessary.
Walpurgisnacht felt a twinge of disappointment that she didn't have the opportunity to showcase her magic. Still, she understood that it couldn't be helped. Her focus had shifted to the villagers' reactions and her evolving connection with Eve.
"Well, not everything. Geraint is leaving the diplomacy to me," she murmured.
[ x ]
The village chief's home had a simple interior that spoke of modest living. The wooden door creaked open, revealing the gentle glow of flickering oil lamps that cast dancing shadows on the well-trodden earthen tiles of the floor.
The air was filled with the comforting crackle of the hearth, nestled against one wall. Its warm light and inviting heat created a cozy atmosphere within the humble abode.
A wooden table and a couple of chairs stood at the heart of the room, their surfaces smoothed by years of usage and the passage of time. These simple furnishings told stories of shared meals, discussions, and moments of solace.
As Walpurgisnacht entered, her presence seemed to blend seamlessly with the room's ambiance.
Through her telepathic connection with Geraint, she directed him to heal the villagers' injuries, aid in relocating the deceased, and patrol the nearby vicinity for any remaining threats. Additionally, through this telepathic link, she instructed the Stone Knight to return the rescued siblings safely to the village.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," the Chief's voice broke the silence as he took a seat opposite Walpurgisnacht. His wife stood behind him, her weary appearance a testament to the years of hard work she had dedicated to her family and village.
Not long ago, the Village Chief and his wife had been diligently tidying up their home, seemingly embarrassed by its initial state of disarray. It was as if they believed the condition of their home could somehow affect her negatively.
Walpurgisnacht found herself needing to offer reassurance on multiple occasions, assuring them that there was no cause for concern.
Now that everyone had calmed down, she looked at the older couple before her. The Chief had a weathered face, dark skin that spoke of hours under the sun, and a muscular physique that told of laborious work.
His white hair was a testament to his age, but his worn cotton shirt was clean and didn't carry any unpleasant odors. His tired expression made Walpurgisnacht estimate him to be around forty-five. However, the past half-hour events had aged him more rapidly.
The Chief's wife appeared to be of a similar age, her once-beautiful figure and features worn down by years of farm work and the responsibilities of life. Wrinkles covered her face, and her black hair was unkempt, matching her somber demeanor even in the presence of sunlight.
"Please, help yourself," the Chief invited, gesturing toward a crude-looking cup that he placed on the table.
Appreciating their dedication to boiling the water, Walpurgisnacht accepted the cup graciously, her movements regal and composed.
"Thank you for your hospitality," she replied, her voice carrying a sincerity that matched the warmth of the hearth.
The Village Chief and his wife, watched with stunned amazement, almost holding their breath as the Goddess brought the cup to her lips. The delicate curve of her throat moved gracefully as she swallowed, a simple action that seemed to hold a touch of otherworldly elegance.
A soft smile curved the corners of the old couple's lips, their expressions a mixture of awe and wonderment. In this quiet moment, the boundaries between mortals and the divine blurred as they bore witness to a fragment of the beauty and grace that the world held, embodied in the being before them.
Walpurgisnacht set the cup on the table and realized that she hadn't removed her veil.
"I apologize. I mean no disrespect for not revealing my face. I hope you'll understand that I won't remove the veil during our discussions in your home," she continued her tone gentle and understanding.
"Your comfort and privacy hold great significance for us. We would never presume to request anything that might cause you unease, our honored Savior," the Chief spoke with a blend of respect and deference.
The Chief's wife nodded in agreement with her husband's response.
"I genuinely appreciate your understanding," Walpurgisnacht replied, her gaze resting on the Chief and his wife, filled with a sense of gratitude that transcended her divine nature.
"Your gratitude is unnecessary. In truth, we should be extending our thanks to you. Without your help, we would all be dead by now. You have our deepest thanks!" The Chief's words were earnest, and he bowed deeply, a gesture that conveyed both reverence and gratitude. His wife followed suit, mirroring his respect.
"Please, lift your heads," Walpurgisnacht urged gently, her voice carrying a reassurance that matched the calm atmosphere of the room. "As I mentioned before, my assistance was not without its terms."
The Village Chief straightened.
"Then, let's get straight to the point."
[ x ]
Upon her arrival, the villagers had expressed curiosity about the motives behind their actions.
The questions puzzled her. She was unaware that exhibiting kindness towards others was considered an unconventional practice in this world.
Fortunately, Geraint picked up on her bewilderment and stepped forward to provide his support.
"Our actions were not without purpose," Geraint explained, gesturing towards Walpurgisnacht.
"Lady Walpurgisnacht will discuss our recompense through your designated representative," he added, his words carrying a tone of diplomacy and formality.
Geraint's swift and well-considered response gave her ample time to contemplate the compensation she should seek. As their gazes met, Geraint offered her a subtle smile that carried his support and reassurance, a sentiment she mirrored with a smile of her own.
"…Lady Walpurgisnacht?"
"Oh, my apologies. My thoughts wandered for a moment. Could you please repeat what you were saying?" Walpurgisnacht said, realizing that her momentary distraction had caused her to miss the conversation.
"It is no problem. We appreciate everything Lady Walpurgisnacht has done for us and would like to know how we can repay your kindness," the Chief reiterated, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and curiosity.
Please don't concern yourselves with that. I am content to be of assistance.
However, recognizing that her altruistic approach might not align with the norms of this world, she opted for the most conventional route.
"How much can you pay me?" she inquired, her tone direct and businesslike, an acknowledgment of the expectations of compensation that were prevalent in this realm.
The Chief and his wife exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and uncertainty. They hadn't expected such a question, and the idea of compensating a divine being was a concept that they found perplexing.
"We would not dare deceive our Savior. I do not know how many silver and copper pieces we can gather if we collect them from everyone, but I believe we can muster up at least three thousand copper pieces," the Chief responded, his tone sincere and filled with a sense of responsibility.
Oh, they employ a currency system similar to that in the game, Walpurgisnacht noted, recognizing the familiarity of their currency system.
As the Chief spoke, Walpurgisnacht's thoughts drifted back to the village and its residents. She remembered the faces of those who had perished – capable individuals whose loss had left a void in the community. If she were to extract funds from the meager savings of these impoverished villagers, it would inflict severe hardship upon them.
I can't accept their money; it would weigh heavily on my conscience. I must come up with an alternative solution, she thought determinedly.
In that instant, a brilliant idea dawned upon her.
"Money will not be needed."
"Eh!? But… but why?" The Village Chief and his wife exchanged a look of astonishment, their words a mix of surprise and confusion.
Walpurgisnacht lifted her hand gracefully, signaling that she had more to add. "Geraint and I hail from a distant realm. We have only just arrived in this land and possess scant knowledge of its customs and ways. Instead of seeking monetary recompense, I wish to gather all the insights you can share about this realm."
Her approach was intentional, a way to spare herself from the moral dilemma of taking from those who had already suffered while also addressing the villagers' sincere desire to reciprocate her generosity.
The Chief and his wife exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they absorbed her words. In their gazes, gratitude and understanding mingled.
"I understand," the Chief finally said, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and appreciation.
His wife nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a similar sentiment.
[ x ]
The burial ceremony occurred in a nearby communal graveyard, enclosed by a dilapidated fence. Several circular stone slabs were etched with the names of the departed, a simple yet poignant memorial to those who had passed on.
The Village Chief stood at the head of the gathering. His weathered face was etched with grief. He offered a prayer, his words seeking solace for the departed spirits and comfort for the living who were left to mourn their loss. The villagers stood in somber silence. Their heads bowed in respect for the fallen.
The sheer magnitude of the casualties and the shortage of helping hands rendered a complete burial impossible. Instead, a collective effort was being made to ensure that every soul was given a resting place, even if it meant making difficult choices about how to divide their limited resources.
While Geraint's willingness to help was acknowledged with gratitude, his offer was politely declined. The villagers saw the act of laying their friends and family to rest as a deeply personal and intimate affair, one that they wished to carry out themselves.
Among the villagers, Walpurgisnacht recognized the sisters she had rescued – Enri Emmott and Nemu Emmott. The siblings stood alongside the others. Their faces filled with grief. Their parents' remains were also destined for burial, a painful reminder of the toll that tragedy had taken on their family.
Though Walpurgisnacht possessed the power to command Geraint to bring the deceased back to life, she refrained from doing so. She understood death not as a finality but as a transition – a natural part of the cycle of life and the universe. This was an outcome of her exposure to the cosmic origins of existence.
She glanced at Geraint, curious about his response to her choice. As their gazes met, it was as if an unspoken understanding had passed between them. Geraint quickly grasped her thoughts, his eyes reflecting a mixture of respect and shared knowledge.
He shook his head ever so slightly and murmured, his voice a soft undertone amid the solemnity of the scene, "Death is a must."
Walpurgisnacht's smile was gentle, and she silently mouthed the words "Thank you" to her loyal companion.
She redirected her gaze toward the ongoing burial ceremony, observing its conclusion with a mixture of solemnity and appreciation.
[ x ]
The golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm and ethereal glow upon a beaten path that wound its way through the village.
The Goddess of Beauty strolled along the path, her presence radiant and captivating. Her luscious hair cascaded like a river of gold down her back, reflecting the fading sunlight in a shimmering dance. Every step she took exuded an air of absolute beauty and grace, her movements like poetry in motion.
Beside her walked a handsome blond man, his features chiseled and his demeanor exuding an aura of nobility. His hair caught the last remnants of the sunlight, creating an almost halo-like aura around him. His presence, though strong, was gentle and comforting, like a steady breeze on a calm evening.
As they walked, a soft melody escaped from the lips of the Goddess. She hummed a tune that seemed to be a harmonious blend of the village's everyday life and the secrets of the universe. The melody wafted through the air, intertwining with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the villagers going about their evening routines.
A faint smile played upon Geraint's lips, reflecting the tranquil happiness emanating from the serene atmosphere enveloping them.
Following a few paces behind them was a knight, his stone armor gleaming softly as it caught the fading light. The knight's presence was that of a stalwart sentinel, a guardian of honor in this picturesque moment.
Together, the trio moved leisurely through the outskirts of the village, the crunch of their footsteps blending with the gentle sounds of the village life around them.
The Goddess of beauty, the handsome blond, and the knight's steadfast presence seemed to weave a delicate harmony into the tapestry of the village as the sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows and painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
The serene ambiance shattered when Walpurgisnacht spotted the Village Chief and a handful of villagers hurrying towards them.
"Is something the matter, Elder?" she inquired, her voice carrying a touch of concern.
"Lady Walpurgisnacht, a group of mounted individuals, possibly warriors, are approaching the village," the Chief replied, his expression a mix of worry and urgency.
Aware that the villagers had recently faced a harrowing encounter with knights, she comprehended their visible trepidation.
"I understand," she said, her gaze shifting to where the Chief pointed.
The Village Chief and the villagers regarded her with apprehensive expressions, their hopes resting on her capable shoulders.
Walpurgisnacht offered them a gentle smile, a beacon of reassurance in uncertain times.
An opportunity to demonstrate benevolence without expecting reciprocation had presented itself.
"I will handle this situation without charge. Assemble all the survivors in the largest house. We'll remain here to greet them."
"Then, allow me to accompany you," the Chief insisted, his determination evident in his eyes.
After witnessing the unyielding resolve in the Village Chief's gaze, a mix of respect and concern welled up within her. The weight of his responsibilities was apparent, and she couldn't help but admire his unwavering commitment to their community.
With a solemn nod of her own, she silently conveyed her understanding and acceptance of his request.
The villagers swiftly assembled as directed, displaying remarkable efficiency despite their concerns. Her Stone Knight was positioned near the Chief's abode, a silent guardian ready to spring into action if needed, while Geraint stood beside her, a reassuring presence at her side.
Soon enough, a group of mounted individuals came into view, their approach raising questions of intent and purpose. As the sun continued its descent, casting longer shadows, the stage was set for a new chapter in the village's story.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story if you have time, from overall Impressions and writing style to suggestions. Please feel free. Be honest and constructive in your feedback. I genuinely appreciate your input, as it will help me refine and polish the story before finalizing it.
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Best regards.