Title: Nugatory: The Secret War
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a secret? To be hidden away, where no one knows who you are? Not the battles you fought, for sake of others each and every single day? To be considered nothing more than a myth to be thought of in passing? After being discovered by Killia with a head injury, warrior Samuel willingly follows Killia into the Rebel army and acts as his right-hand man in the war against the Lost Army. With his amnesia, he has no stakes in this war, so fights for Killia and the others. But he does have some memories, memories that centre on rare and long-forgotten myths and legends. Who exactly is Samuel?
Or; A bunch of skits of Killia and Samuel growing closer before Samuel's past comes back to haunt him.
Pairings: Slow burn Killia/Samuel(OMC) :3c
AN: Ok, let it be known from the beginning that this is 100% self-indulgent. Some creative liberties have been taken and I've added my own mythology and lore, but I have tried to keep things in canon, but it won't be a complete retelling of the game. Some scenes from the game, yes. But I don't want to retell the scenes from the game as fans of the series would already know what happens. I want to concentrate on creating new scenes. You surely understand the struggle.
This novel will primarily be in the point of views of Samuel and Killia, and will centre entirely around Samuel and his story. If that isn't your cup of tea, it's fine to back out now. I know and understand that OC centric stories aren't for everyone. And again, that's completely fine. Some readers just want to read about the in-canon characters, after all.
Another note is that this will be a long project. 30+ chapters. 100k or more words long. My god, I am going over the top with this project.
If you're alright with OCs clogging up the place, then I hope you enjoy reading~
Chapter 1:
A low thrumming in his ears greeted Samuel as he waded his way through post-unconsciousness. The dreary haziness of just awakening was always so confusing, especially after such a deep sleep. Though, he wondered when and where he had fallen asleep; his head thundered with a headache and his bed, if he could call it that, was rock hard and beyond uncomfortable.
And the left side of his face in particular felt hot and sticky, slick with something moist.
With a lot more effort that he was comfortable with, Samuel forced his eyes to open and was immediately assaulted with a bright light. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut. A bright light? It was never so bright in the underworld of the netherworld of Nugatory. Where exactly was he? Somewhere outside? He had to be. He couldn't be anywhere else. He was never allowed to be leave the caverns of Nugatory, let alone leave the planet itself.
What was going on?
A distant commotion of trampling feet and fearful voices prompted Samuel to peel his eyes open. His left eye proved more difficult, however, so he settled with peering through his hazy right eye. And he was not ready by the view that greeted him.
A barren…desert?
Samuel forced himself up onto his elbows as he cast a shaky, hazy gaze at his surroundings. Dry, sandy, barren wasteland. He had only heard of such things in text, in the meagre books that floated to Nugatory on the solar winds. But…why? How? Where?
He didn't understand…anything!
A warm, sticky sensation moving slowly along his jawline and drip onto his white, sleeveless vest that was cinched at his collarbone prompted him to look down at himself. His vest was splayed out to reveal his bare chest, and was splotched with drops of dark red. His blue pants had a tear or two, but relatively unscathed, as was his boots. So, he wasn't in a scuffle, that he was aware of.
But those drops of red. And what was preventing him from seeing from his left eye?
He summoned the energy to push himself into a sitting position and raised his left hand to press a palm against his left eye. He winced when he pulled his hand back and was greeted by a dark red substance.
Blood.
He swallowed back the rising panic as he forced open his eye. The relief he felt was immense when he was able to open his left eye. So, the bleeding wasn't coming from his eye. Where was it coming from?
Wait, his headband was down around his neck. The blood was dripping from his forehead. A head injury? When did he get that?
What happened?
Samuel was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when that commotion he heard earlier resounded, much closer. It was a horde of demons. One that appeared to be in a rush, and in a blind panic.
"The Lost Army is coming! Run for your lives!" one of them shouted as they rushed past him, offering little else but a second glance before they disappeared as quickly as they had come.
And that only added to Samuel's confusion.
Lost Army? What in Hades was that?
Another large droplet of blood forced Samuel to close his left eye. Just as a shadow fell over him, forcing him to lift his head up and peer through one eye. Toward another group of demons. Another group he did not recognised. However, unlike the first, they were all menacing, all wielding weapons, and all glaring down at him with pure malice.
"Obey or die," the orc at the forefront sneered, offering little else in conversation.
Samuel could only stare back. "…What?"
That clearly wasn't the answer they wanted.
In response to Samuel's non-response, the orc raised his club over his head in preparation to bring it down upon Samuel. Unconsciously, he rolled onto his left side in a half-roll, propped himself up onto his elbows and hauled himself to his feet. He staggered back, his boots kicking up dust as he skidded back to put some distance between him and his attackers. His movements were sluggish and purely instinctual.
More of his blood splattered across the barren ground, but he ignored it. He was at a disadvantage with only half vision, and he had no idea how much blood he had already lost so may or may not be on the verge of passing out, but again he chose to ignore those minor inconveniences.
The orc appeared surprised that Samuel moved so quickly with such an obvious disability. And wasn't exactly thrilled that he had chosen to fight back.
Samuel hadn't a clue where he was or what was going on. But he knew when to fight back. And that orc made it clear that he wanted to fight. While fighting with his fists was not his specialty, he had little choice. Well, he could fight with his hands long enough until he snared himself a weapon.
"You dare to disobey the Lost Army?" That was structured as a question, but really it was a statement that the orc didn't actually expect Samuel to answer.
So, he wasn't going to bother.
Still, the impending battle wasn't going to be easy. Not when there were five of them, and only one of him. With only one eye fully operational. But he had to try. He hadn't the faintest idea what was going on, so fighting back was all that he knew to do.
The orc hefted his club from the ground and waved it menacingly of his head. "Prepare to die."
Samuel tensed. Especially when a sixth figure ambled upon the scene. Dark hair, dark clothing; he looked far too casual, comfortable on the battle. Was he part of this 'Lost Army'? Was Samuel about to have to fight six of them? Great!
"You guys' part of the Lost Army?" he asked, his voice smooth, calm, and as casual as his actions.
The orc, who appeared to be the leader of the small band, turned his attention to the newcomer. "You dare to disobey the Lost Army, too?"
"Indeed."
He then punched the orc in the face, which sent him flying backwards in a straight line. As the orc went tumbling backwards, he spun around to deliver a kick to the stomach of the imp while simultaneously grabbing a handful of a Sludge's face. With the imp rocketing skyward, the mysterious martial artist pivoted on his heel, hurled the Sludge directly into the second imp. And then stood still, to stare directly at the last standing orc.
The second orc took a moment to look in the directions that his teammates were sent in and turned to look over at the mysterious stranger.
It took a second to for them to realise what had actually happened.
Samuel, himself, was in awe of what had happened. That guy…he was good. He was on Samuel's side?
The last standing Lost soldier began to back up. "N-now, let's talk about this," he began feebly.
The skilled stranger, however, wasn't interested. "No, I don't think so." And he punched him in the face, sending him in the same direction he had sent his teammates.
With that, he turned and began to walk away.
"W-wait," Samuel called out as he stumbled forward, struggling to stay upright on his feet as more blood dripped from the wound on his head.
The other demon stopped in his steps, rather unexpectedly. "What?" he asked as he turned only his head to look over his shoulder.
"Thank you," he said. "For helping me."
The stranger looked away. "Think nothing of it." He began to walk away again.
That really should have been the end of it. He helped him against a group of enemies. Samuel thanked him for his said help. Exchange done and over with. Yet, as he began to walk away, something within Samuel propelled him to follow.
He was lost. Alone. Injured. He didn't understand where he was. What was happened. How he was injured. Absolutely nothing made sense.
Not even the innate knowledge that this stranger was safety.
"Why are you following me?" he asked, not tersely nor coolly, but certainly not kindly.
"Because I don't know where I am."
He turned around to face him. "You're on Blood Parch."
Hah. How ironic. A parched wasteland, stained with his blood. Still…
"That doesn't mean anything to me. I don't know this Blood Parch."
The other demon rested his knuckles on his hip and regarded him quietly for a moment. "What do you know?"
Samuel wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. "…I don't know."
"Your head injury?"
Yeah, he must be quite the sight; white hair stained with dark red blood, half of his face drenched in it, his light blue and white clothing smeared with dirt, and yes, even more blood. What a pitiful mess.
Samuel reached up with his hand to clutched at his forehead. "I don't know how I got it."
"I see," he muttered with a sigh. "Amnesia, then."
Amnesia? That would explain a lot. How far back did it reach, though? And, rather unfortunately, he didn't know how he got it if it was indeed the case.
Samuel sighed, his shoulders sagging forward with a sudden bout of exhaustion. "…I don't know."
A stifling silence stretched out between then and Samuel had the very real fear that the other demon would just turn on his heel and leave him on his own. And with the sudden weight of his situation crashing down upon his shoulders, he didn't have the strength to follow.
He…truly had no idea where he was or what happened to him. Blood Parch? He had never heard of such a netherworld. The only world he knew, the only one he was allowed to know was his home world; Nugatory.
What happened to him?
What…was going to happen to him?
"…Fine."
Samuel snapped head up, unable to hold back his surprise. And his relief.
"You can follow me," the incredibly generous stranger continued, if a bit awkwardly. "Only until your memories return. Which will hopefully be soon."
Samuel nodded his head, readily agreeing to those terms. "Thank you."
His words of gratitude seemed to startled the stranger for a moment. "…Do you at least remember your name?"
Oh, that much he was certain of. "Samuel. You?"
"Killia."
Something twitched in the back of Samuel's mind. "…Killia…?"
Killia arched an eyebrow. "What?"
Samuel managed a smile as he pressed his palm firmer against his forehead. "N-nothing. I won't be a bother. I promise."
Killia reached out to grasp him by the upper arm suddenly, and it was then that Samuel realised that he had been slowly leaning to the right. "Take care of that head injury first."
"Ah, right."
… … … … …
Clipboard in hand as he sorted through inventory, Samuel sat atop of the counter of the kitchen area dedicated solely to the preparation and cooking of curry. Of which was considered a true delicacy in the pocket Netherworld, especially if it was prepared by none other than Killia, the trusted (and rather reluctant) leader of the Rebel Army.
Who of which stood by the opposite counter, preparing said large pot of curry as the two of them talked idly.
A lot had happened since Samuel met Killia. Meeting the Overlord of Gorgeous, who practically dragged Killia into her pocket Netherverse (which, ultimately, turned out to be a good thing), which, of course, caused Killia to drag Samuel with him because he wasn't about to let some crazy demon get him somewhere alone.
Soon after that, they met the Overlord of Scorching Flame, Red Magnus. Then Christo, the overlord of Certain Giant. Then poor little Usalia of Toto Bunny. And finally, the latest member of their rapidly growing army, Zeroken, whose home world was unknown.
With each event that Samuel observed, and each battle he participated, he learnt more of this Lost Army and the war that was raging across the Netherverse. It had been occurring for quite some time, long before Killia had encountered Samuel.
Which, honestly, surprised him; he knew none of it.
It made him wonder; how long had he been away from his home netherworld? Had he wandered throughout the netherworld before he suffered that head injury and following amnesia? And that led to the question; why was he roaming about, away from his home world?
He didn't like to let him mind dwell on that for too long, though.
Compared to everyone else, his problems were minor.
"Our forces are increasing every day," Samuel mused allowed as he flipped through the pages on the clipboard. "At this rate we won't need to hire anyone; they're coming to us."
Killia nodded his head idly as he attended to his curry. "We might need to increase the Netherverse Investigation fleets by a spacecraft or two."
"We certainly have enough money to do so." Samuel let the papers drop to the clipboard as he let it balance on his knee. "Hm. Can I make a small suggestion?"
"What is it?"
"Well, why don't we turn one of the smaller Netherworlds we've been investigating into a refugee camp?" Well, one where they've already beaten the snot out of the overly aggressive overlord at least. "With the brutality of this war, potential allies may be bolstered with the knowledge that their underlings and people will at the very least have a place of refuge should anything go wrong."
Killia tapped the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot as he reached for the curry powder. "That's not a bad idea. We need to be careful, though. They could also become targets of the Lost Armies."
Every netherworld was a target at the moment. "Another excuse to get our Rebel Army out and about. And out of the Pocket Netherworld. Some of them are starting to get cabin fever."
"True. Let's run it past Christo. I'm sure he'll agree, though."
Samuel sat silently and watched as Killia continued to attend to his curry, idly, wholly absentmindedly adding curry to the pot of slowly bubbling of food. He arched an eyebrow as he continued to add pinch after pinch of curry powder, and knew that if he didn't interfere, they may have a spoiled pot on their hands.
And they couldn't have that.
"Killia," he said as he leaned forward and struck him light with the clipboard, startling him out of his reverie.
"Hm?" he uttered, finally turning to look at him.
"I think that's enough curry. Unless you're going for the curry equivalent of lava this time."
Killia blinked, quickly turning to look at his hand and then back at the pot. He winced, immediately pulling his hand back and setting the powdered curry down. Pushing it away. even. "Oh."
Samuel leaned back, tilting his head to the side questioningly. "You ok?"
"Yeah," he replied immediately, dismissively, as he set about trying to salvage the curry so that it was sweet enough for everyone, Usalia especially, to eat.
Samuel, of course, didn't believe his response. "You're thinking about Goldion, aren't you?"
Killia didn't immediately reply. He seemed content to busy himself with his cooking task, so Samuel continued to sit silently, boring a hole into the back of his head as he waited for a response.
Finally, Killia uttered a sigh. "A little."
That wasn't a surprise. It was quite the shock for him. Imagine the demon that took him in as a force protégé becoming the dreaded General Bloodis.
"I've been meaning to ask you; have any of your memories returned?" Killia suddenly asked.
An abrupt change of subject, huh? Well, Samuel couldn't exactly blame him to want to change the subject. He had been forced to reveal fragments of his own past recently. A past that seemed painful. That was evident in his voice, and in the suppressed expressions on his face.
Knowing the Killia that Samuel knew today, he found it difficult to imagine that he would be the Tyrant Overlord of such a violent and bloodthirsty Netherworld like Cryo Blood.
"I'm not sure," Samuel replied with a sigh. "To be honest, there hasn't really been time for me to do much thinking about it."
Well, that wasn't exactly true. There had been time. He had been thinking about it. A lot. Unfortunately, nothing he had encountered was familiar. Nothing. None of the faces. None of the names; of both demons and netherworlds. Absolutely nothing was familiar.
There just wasn't much he could actually talk to Killia about it. Not without sounding like a gibbering fool. Besides, from what he could remember, he had been forbidden from mentioning the name of his home world; Nugatory. To anyone. And there was a good reason for that.
He…just couldn't quite remember what that reason was.
There was a library hidden away in a corner of the Pocket Netherverse. He has spent a few hours scouring the books. Some were interesting, some not so much (Seraphina had an…interesting taste in books). But the books he had read had absolutely nothing about Nugatory. Neither do the maps, both past and present.
In short; he didn't know where Nugatory was, let alone how to get back to it.
He…needed to. He needed to get back…to the others.
Somehow.
Samuel hopped off the counter and clasped his hand on Killia's shoulder, granting him a friendly smile. "With my amnesia, I have no stakes in this war that I am aware of. But you do. So, until my memories return, I guess I'll just have to fight for your sake. If my memories never return, well, that's fine. A small price to pay, I suppose. After all, you were kind enough to let me tag along until my memories return."
However long that may be.