The Hermit

by Magi the Writer

The Hermit, they're the first player to create an avatar in a world called Yggdrasil. Day in and out, Hermit played this game like it was their religion. Becoming an in-game hoarder and traitor of rare and exquisite items. However, with the end approaching, The Hermit awaits the last hour with a friend. Their guild master—Momonga, the undead king.

2. CHAPTER TWO: Renew

| The Hermit

Chapter Two:

Renew

Stunned,

It was the only emotion that Momonga felt within that moment. Left speechless as slowly, the confusion started to creep in—forcing his body to remain frozen.

How could he not?

Pin-prick orbs glued upon the sheep demon—of whom remained within their spot. Momonga was reeling from the unexpected revel of Hermit's voice. The skeleton took in the sombre smile, the one that was displayed upon the monsters round face.

Their plump lips never reached their eyes, fat tears cradled the demon's lashes. About ready to cascaded over and down their chubby cheeks.

Momonga's jaw parted slightly, hanging low he couldn't find his voice, the words that wanted to spill over—to say something, anything to his friend. Whether it'd be words of comfort, or scolding questions.

His thoughts were like static,

This unexpected action made it hard for him to think. To make sense of what The Hermit had said to the man. The annoying buzz that had muddled his usually organised thoughts were loud within his mind. Only adding to his scattered brain that refused to grasp the passing time.

The undead shuffled upon his throne. leaning forwards as the desire to caress his forehead—comb back his messy hair to express the strain the words that sat in his mouth left.

tingling and prickling upon his non-existent tongue, begging for release. To come forth—though that was rather difficult when he was fumbling. A single line, a sentence that plunged through his disarrayed garble was short and quiet.

'They… they talked,' And like a broken record, The Hermit's voice was played on repeat. Over and over within Momonga's head, he didn't know how to feel—what to feel.

Their name, Hermit's real, true name was foreign to the guild master's ears. Hearing the demon's voice for the first and last time. The title that slipped past the demon's lips. That spoke so clearly yet trembled with an uncertainty—a rushed vomit of a farewell.

A shiver ran down Momonga's spine, not from fear—but something else. Something distant and erratic; the undead… he was not use to this.

The room was silent, not a being dared to speak.

Ever since Momonga met The Hermit all those years ago...

The demon was mute, not a peep, not a slip of the tongue or the accidental press of a button. No matter how many times the male tried to convince them, begging them and bartered with the small monster.

Using their affinity for rare items and treasures untold—a simple trade. All the treasure the younger player desired for a simple sound.

But no matter how tempting the offer Momonga gave, The Hermit remained hush. A seeming ghost... and yet, the small demon expressed themselves in wordless actions and engaging messages. Showing their nature through gifts of plenty; this isn't what he was use too at all.

Momonga was comfortable with the small monsters reticent voice…

'Hermit—talked… their name, their real name… (YN),' Momonga balked. Saying their name—even in his head, it sounded strange.

It was an uncomfortable feeling for the male to even think about.

(YN), it wasn't a title he was used too—the name… it made him—the undead was arguably uncomfortable. It was like addressing a stranger; Momonga was used to saying Hermit. It was second nature to say Hermit, not (YN), (YN) was undoubtedly inessential to where they possible derived from.

For the necromancer, a lot to The Hermit was unknown.

He knew the basics, and yet—they revealed their name, such an important piece of information. However indubitably denied to answer many of his dying questions.

Such a big—yet unhelpful piece to the puzzle that was his friend.

The Hermit was always a strange anima; many times, Momonga told himself that he knows them. That the small demon trusted him just as much as he did them; but do they truly?

His grip tightened upon his staff. His bones straining around the metal from how tightly he clutched it. The thought itself had him raddled, and yet…

Momonga's eyes remained pointed towards the creature. Watching yet not truly present within the moment.

The said demon was as stiff as a board. Standing tall—well, as tall as the Monster could in their current form. The Hermit slowly cracked open their eyes, their mind was already wondering off to what they had planned for the morning.

Hermit fluttered their lashes. The tears that clung upon the thick strands fell, rolling down their plump cheeks. The small demon was quick to swipe them away with their sleeve.

Drying their eyes and staining their clothes quickly, Hermit's slim arms clung upon the weapon like their life depended on it. Fist's full of Polka's thick wool, the monster's bushy brows arched.

The bitter-sweet smile on their face shifted, coming to rest into a thin line. The Hermit's round eyes remained upon Momonga's skinless face.

'What the?' The voice within their head softly uttered. Startled as it was kind of an awkward situation in that moment.

The pregnant silence rung within The Hermit's ears, their pecan, brown eyes shimmered under the candle light of the chandeliers.

It was taking a while for the sleep-deprived monster to understand just what was happening. Their brows narrowed, plump lips sinking into a tiny frown of bewilderment.

'Wait,' Confusion rolling over like mist, Hermit blinked. 'What… I thought—the server...' They wondered over the obviously strange occurrence.

The Hermit was certain that the sight before them should've been black. A bright void from the headset that sat snug against their face.

Yet, the monster found themselves still logged into the game, playing beyond the time allowed. Faced with the saggy sack of bones that was their guild leader. He remained upon his throne Momonga's gleaming dot's were locked upon theirs.

'How is this possible?' The Hermit asked, cocking their head to the side, the monsters bangs shifted along their forehead. They continued, 'The server should have shut down by now, it's twelve o'clock.' Nibbling on their inner lip.

The Hermit didn't get it,

It made no sense in that moment for the demon. They knew the end was—is—were nigh?

But… here they are! Standing within the throne room, in the exact spot they placed themselves in, Facing the necromancer they've come to know and love, and within their grasp was the weapon that they adored so much.

'unless...' mind adrift, another thought crossed the sheep demons mind. Something simplistic yet nail-biting all the same. 'What if I saw the time wrong?' That problem itself had The Hermit flustered.

Though the more fitting word would be mortified.

'Th-that'd be horrible!' The Hermit cried in their head. The blood that flowed through their veins had drained from their skin. causing the chiffon-coloured flesh to turn a ghostly white,

'If that was the case, then—then!' Refusing to even finish that thought off. Hermit could feel their poor cheeks burning red—It's no question.

Momonga will start asking questions—he might even scold them for what they had done!

Taking an involuntary step back, it was a small action that didn't go unnoticed. The Hermit's heart sunk within their chest, horrified at what might come sounding from their friend's mike.

The Hermit gulped,

'Oh no, no, no! What if he starts to make fun of me?' Alarmed at such an idea, the demon believed it at first.

It was one of the many reasons why they never spoke. It worried Hermit that someone would pick away at how they sounded. Their lack of—or more like broken Japanese being a concerning factor.

That Momonga would point and laugh like some evil, cartoon character. However, the ridiculous thought was swiftly thrown aside by the many, many other worrisome conclusions that came to the forefront.

'But what if he gets angry? Gah! No, no—I can't handle that! An angry Momonga is a scary Momonga!' Hermit shivered. The few times they've witnessed his wrath… it was nerve-wracking.

The sheep demon was stressing over the older male's reaction. Slowly coming to the conclusion that they were regretting their decision to speak into their mike.

'Why couldn't I have just typed it?' the monster dreadfully bemoaned. It would have been much better then struggling to pronounce those words!

Wallowing under the weight of their choices; pecan eyes flickered to the direction of where the clock sat. They were desperate to confirm their suspicion—mostly to ease their anxieties.

but instead of seeing a digital clock with the top, right corner of their screen, there was nothing.

'What the? That—that doesn't make sense, where did the clock go?' An uneasy feeling prickled within Hermit's chest. Causing a pit to form within the centre, they tried to find it, but was gone!

In fact, The Hermit couldn't even find the usual visual frame that sit within their screen.

The usual emblem, user tag and map was gone! Hell, the skill list and location was no where to be found.

'Maybe… the game—maybe it's glitched?' They slowly thought out. Searching their mind for a sound explanation, something to explain Why these annoying but integral pop-ups were suddenly gone.

The demon swallowed the thick ball within their throat. The idea was kind of ridiculous to The Hermit. But it would make sense,

'If that's the case, then who knows what will happen… Should I contact a GM—or the support? But, what if I can't? Crap! How am I going to turn the game off?' Anxiously chewing the inside of their cheek, Hermit began to shift.

Swaying from one foot to another, they were riddled with worry.

'Right, just... lets figure out what I can and cant do.' Suck a deep breath in through their nose. The Hermit Reluctantly brought their arm from around Polka's waist.

'Hell I should check the notice board for any new posts.' The monster's thin finger tapped at the air, attempting to open the panel.

The sheep demon's gaze was locked upon the space where the creature expected the console to come. To materialise like the many times before, to show all that one would expect. However, it never appeared, the Hermit's breath hitched.

Round eyes widening—near bodging out from their skull as the dwindling hope to have an explanation, a notification of some glitch, or notice of an unexplainable update. A crazy and nonsensical thought—but none-the-less, it was something!

Hermit's sudden behaviour brought Momonga back to the waking world. Snapping him out of the thoughts that led him too nowhere. The skeleton narrowed his gaze upon the monster, barely noticeable to those watching.

His pin-prick orbs slowly drifted off from his comrade, the skeleton began to observe his surroundings. Trying to figure out Just what caused his friend to act the way they were.

' I don't...' words adrift, Momonga's sights lingered upon the NPC's who were knelt before them.

With their head bent to face the floor, each NPC hadn't moved an inch out of place. They were all left in their places—like dolls; his eyes moved upwards.

Taking in the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. It functioned as expected with the dim candle lightthat was set to glow a deep blue. The starry sky was as beautifully faux as ever, not a difference in the magical appearance.

Momonga's gaze fell, his sights shifted from the thick pillars of marble. His perceptive eyes couldn't spot a single crack or fracture with. The undead silently lingered upon the large banners that hanged from them. It was like before, the flags were still—not a flutter.

Peering down at the rolled-out carpet, it was still the same mahogany red that he's become accustomed too. However, it didn't take the skeleton long—just as The Hermit had discovered the enigma before them, so did the necromancer.

Momonga's gaze softened—he was befuddled.

"Hm?" Was the only audible sound he made. If he had skin, the skeleton's brows would have narrowed and his eyelids squinting from how hard he pondered to himself.

'Did they push back the server shutdown?' Lifting his right hand up from the arm rest, he moved his head. Peering at his elongated, bony fingers curiously.

It was a reasonable deduction, after all—it was a set time and date, one couldn't miss it. The notice was plastered through out the notice board, within players mail and even posted online. Though, against that, he and Hermit were still present within the server.

Flexing his bones, curling and uncurling them—his eyes grazed over the many rings that decorated his fingers.

Many were there not for looks, (even if they added to his prestige) but the priceless jewels were there for the data that the items held. All integral items that kept him alive and assisted with the mundane game play that came within this world.

Momonga's eyes lingered on the bracelet that was strapped around his bony wrist. Fastened there as his glowing orbs dimmed softly with a fondness.

The purple amber was embedded into the leather strap, so simple yet quite powerful; he had The Hermit to thank for it though. The skeleton felt his non-existent heart fluttered as the undead turned his hand over, using his pointer finger to tap at the air, he tried to open his console. For an idea of what was happening,

'the admins would have posted something about this.' Momonga reasoned, it was obvious that something strange was going on, that something must have caused this. Though... The key word here is tried.

'Where is my console?' Momonga questioned promptly. His curiosity swiftly transformed into panic as his breath hitched. 'I can't use chat or call a GM, Either…' His jaw clenched—grinding his teeth slightly.

Everything that was needed for this particular need couldn't be access.

'If I can't pull up my console, then neither can Hermit!' Momonga's gaze swiftly saught out the small demon, his stare bore into them once his gaze landed on target. The thought may have been a quick call of judgement.

After all, Hermit may not be affected by this strange glitch. Though, after watching the sheep demon for a meer second… It was obvious Hermit was lost in their own little world. With Their slim finger repeatedly pressing the air; once, twice—thrice.

Over and over again, the frazzled look on their face told the undead all he needed to know.

Confirming his suspicions,

The saggy bag of bones was also quietly freaking out. It was just near impossible for his undead form to express the alarm.

'and if I can't contact anyone... then I can't contact Hermit either.' The thought was quite frightening as his fingers curled around his staff.

"What is going on!?" Momonga suddenly shouted aloud. Swiftly throwing himself off from his throne, His crimson orbs glimmered—shimmering brightly within his empty sockets.

He demanded answers.

The sudden bellow that came from Momonga had caught The Hermit off guard.

Ripping the demon from their own intrusive thoughts, they flinched back—the outstretched arm returned hastily around Polka. Holding onto it so tightly, it was a wonder the weapon didn't snap in half!

The Hermit wasn't expecting such a sound. Especially in that moment; from Momonga no less, the monsters round eyes widened. Snapping their head towards the undead, they stared up at the skeleton.

A nervous look broke out upon their face—pale and drained from colour, their Pecan eyes quivered—jittery as Momonga's powerful voice reverbed throughout the royal thrown room.

The demon felt ill, the unease the monster felt splintered into undoubtable apprehension.

'T-that's not Momonga's voice!' Hermit whimpered. The small demon was stuck, their pecan eyes remained glued upon the undead. They didn't know what to do! It was bad enough that something wasn't right.

Momonga's voice was different. It wasn't his usual, friendly voice.

It wasn't the one that'd come out from a crusty mike, crackling with a loud shout. This voice was clear, sound—like he was in the room, not across the world. And that, the voice that came from the skeleton was in fact,

Not the one they remembered.

It was deep. Commanding and hard-hearted—regardless of the blatant alarm within his tone. It wasn't Momonga's voice, it was strangers voice.

The room was swiftly filled with a tense atmosphere, it was so palpable—you could taste it.

But to turn a situation from bad to worse, a new voice had interrupted the stiff moment.

"What's wrong, Lord Momonga?" Trembling, Hermit couldn't think. All thoughts—the storm of emotions that left a pit within had halted.

It was quiet in their head,

The emotions that had swayed them evaded the sheep demon. Leaving their body feeling hollow,

The Hermit's gaze slipped away from Momonga. Slowly trailing to where the voice had come from; the bag of bones had the same idea.

Both players peered down to where the ominous voice derived.

It was apparent the stranger held a slight waver, terrified seemingly to speak Momonga's name. Their voice was gentle and sweet, nearing a whisper, it was feminine in all the right ways.

A white, fuzzy noise began—so quiet to Hermit's ears, at first—they didn't notice. They couldn't as where the voice came from… it was none other than where Albedo was knelt.

The black-haired beauty. Her head—that was once angled to burn holes into the carpet. Was now, lifted—glistening with trepidation as she stared up to the undead.

Wide-eyed, Hermit's vision was bordering hazy as their gaze strayed from Albedo to the line of servants.

The monster didn't know what to expected—wanted toexpect. But a fact was horrifyingly clear...

The NPC's were staring—their eyes locked upon Momonga as they remained knelt.

A shiver ran up The Hermit's spine—whatever repudiation the little demon held. The weak excuses that'd dismiss this-this impossible instance… They were all blown away as they witnessed the succubus tilting her head.

An action that wasn't commanded of her by Momonga nor was it some encoded response. She moved on her own, she was speaking on her own.

Like a hawk, the sheep demon watched as Albedo's lips moved.

"Lord Momonga?" She did it again, "Lord Momonga? Lord Momonga!" Her voice, with each call grew desperate—riddled with a pain that The Hermit couldn't understand. Their pecan eyes remained on the succubus, frighteningly entranced at the way Albedo's soft features contorted into a look of anguish.

"Is everything all right?" Calling for an answer, there was a short pause after those words.

Both Momonga and Hermit couldn't speak. Stunned to drown in the unprecedented revelry that was unfolding before them both.

Albedo stood up; taking Momonga's lack of acknowledgement to her onerous inquiry as an invitation—she flew forwards. Rushing to stand upon her heeled feet before the skeleton, the NPC practically glided towards the undead.

like a missile locked on target, Hermit's eyes trailed after the black-haired beauty, observing every movement Albedo made and tucking each frame into their mind.

Hermit couldn't understand!

'J-just how is she moving?!' The sheep demon question.

The succubus's gloved hand stretched out, reaching for the undead. The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor only added to the realism.

"Is there a problem?" She uttered swiftly, the unease that she first possessed may have been concealed by her troubled expression. However, Albedo's tone showed all, the way it had pitched as she stood right in front of him.

Gobsmacked, Momonga was just a head away from the pale demon. He subconsciously leaned back, pressing g against the support of the throne. The skeleton choked on his words; the small sounds involuntarily slipped from his throat, he had no thoughts.

Just like The Hermit, he couldn't understand; Albedo was so close!

His crimson orbs subconsciously trailed Albedo's figure, gawking at her like some frighten, teenage pervert—Momonga's trailing gaze soon laid on Albedo's chest. Taking in the perfectly plump mound's the white gown she wore covered most, however it showed enough as she tucked her arms under her rack.

Gloved fingers entertaining with the other, the succubus unintentionally caused her breasts to rise.

The frothing emotions within him came to a boiling point. His gleaming pin-pricks that sat within hollow sockets intensified to a blinding degree. Trembling about as the undead's jaw dropped, chocking upon a gaspy stutter.

A sudden burst of aura leaked from Momonga, the greeny blue rays had little particles of light chipping off, disintegrating into nothingness. The undead's eyes had dimmed to a point where one couldn't see them within his skull.

And just as quickly as the aura had eloped him, the light faded away. Leaving behind a moment of tranquillity as Momonga calmed down.

Quieting his mind and seemingly washing away his raging emotions, this allowed the buffoon of a skeleton to finally spit his words out.

Though not preventing him from stammering like a fool.

"H-Huh? The GM call function isn't working…" He slowly drew out. His eyes lifted away from Albedo's chest and to her face.

He was slightly stunned by the surprised look that shimmered within her golden eyes.

Momonga's voice assaulted The Hermit's ears as the small demon didn't know how to feel about it. But, it was yet another thing that freak the poor monster out.

Albedo's expression soon turned down cast as she let out a solitary sigh. Lowering her head in shame, the succubus relaxed her arms. Resting her hands in front of her thighs. She took a few steps back from Momonga, a beaten expression eased upon her face.

The black haired beauty lifted her head once again. Albedo's eyes didn't meet Momonga this time—showing her shame in this moment.

"Please, forgive me." Albedo spoke gently; Momonga's orbs honed in upon her mouth, watching as her thin, yet bottom heavy lips move. "An ignorant one such as myself has no answer to this GM Call you speak of," She explained mournfully.

However, Albedo's apology went through one ear and the next for the skeleton.

'Her mouth is moving!?' Momonga gasped in his head. The growing unease settled at the bottom of his empty stomach. He only now realised such a thing as Albedo continued to speak.

"If you allow me to correct this grave mistake, I will be forever grateful!" Moving quickly, her gloved hand was placed across her chest—placed where her heart should be. Her golden eyes shimmered, desperate for Momonga's 'supposed mercy.'

Though, all that he did was stared down at her,

'I'm talking with an NPC?' Were the words that echoed within his skull. His grip upon his staff lambdas he fixed his grip.

The Hermit on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

Unlike Momonga, they were still in the time-capsule that was their scrambled brain. Failing in every way as the trains that ran with their thoughts were derailed. Crashing and burning together in a hazardous pile of flames as it just kept getting worse.

Momonga flopped back into his throne. Sagging in his spot, slightly leaning to the side. His large hand cupped the side of his face, the light in his eyes dimmed.

'No way! There has to be some kind of error occurring.' Momonga stated, trying to figure out the mystery of it all, his gaze shifted to his companion. The one that's remained silent through this whole ordeal.

'Hermit hasn't moved or said anything since… the shutdown,' He felt nervous over that fact, part of him was being eaten away by the uncertainty that they were gone. He hoped not, but what are the chances of there being a glitch on their end of things?

The tip of this thumb rubbed the staff within his hand, taking a second to contemplate just what to do.

'Wait, no—that's not right.' Momonga's gaze narrowed upon the unseeming Hermit. 'They did move, I saw them trying to open their console. If that's the case then... they are here.' The skeleton recalled; over all relieved that at least he isn't alone in this.

'But why haven't they tried to reach out? Say something, anything.' A perplexing feeling began to sprout within Momonga's chest. He honestly couldn't discern that it was there, more preoccupied with the other troublesome emotions that was swimming about.

'Maybe the glitch is effecting more than what I originally thought,' stroking his pointed chin, his gaze shifted to the golden staff. 'I should figure out what works…' Drifting off in thought, he released the staff within his hand.

Knowing this would be a good indicator about just how far this glitch has effected the general swing of things. He watched the golden staff bob though the air, coming to a smooth stop, it floated—bobbing up and down, the skeleton hummed. Satisfied by the results.

'The staff functions just like it did in the game, but I can't use my console… Contacting the administrators is impossible. And I'm not sure if I can contact Hermit…' Clenching his jaw, such a notion annoyed him. He didn't know just what this glitch has done.

'That's probably why Hermit hasn't reached out... it's because they most likely can't.' If his avatars had eyebrows, he'd narrow them at the news.

But its not like Momonga had a clue whether or not Hermit would utilise their mike again or not.

'They very well could have tried their mike... and it failed...' glaring at the staff that remained floating. It vexed the skeleton that they both were left in the grey.

'What should I do?' Momonga considered just what options do the two have as he placed his fingers curled around his pointed chin.

The Hermit on the other hand, they felt light headed.

Whipped-lashed by the abnormalities that came swinging. Over and over again, each revelation had The Hermit's delayed thoughts scurrying to come to a reasonable conclusion.

From Momonga's voice and all the bizarre things Albedo had done. Speaking with a voice she never had, the emotions she wore on her sleeves. Moving on her own free-will; none of it happened before.

Momonga came to a consensus. His crimson orbs reared past Albedo, staring down the line of servants—the skeletons gaze laid upon the only male servant within the room.

He called his name,

"Sebas!" Loud and powerful—the butler in question lifted his head at the sound of his name.

"Yes" was Sebas's immediate response.

Momonga turned his head slightly, looking away for a moment. His troubled thoughts were getting the best of him.

'Is this the right call?' Hesitantly, the action he was stringing together was messy and truly risky.

Hermit's heart had jumped to vicious pounding. Slamming against their chest veraciously, this wasn't apparat of the game—it never was!

'How are they moving?' The demon questioned; drowning within the own thoughts, their eyes pinned to the butler.

Watching but not present within the moment,

'None of us gave them a command—' Flicking their eyes towards the undead. Hermit's gaze swiftly returned to the butler. 'And their talking! I've never seen that! How is that possible? It can't be, it-it's—it can't!' The monster rambled to themselves.

Yet, here they were—still logged into a server that was meant to be gone. None existent; NPC's who were once puppets ran by AI—following along to the whims and pointless orders of the players wants and desires.

They now can move, they can talk and respond to questions, they have dialog that should be impossible to the current servers coding and they have emotion.

'It doesn't make sense—even if they updated the game, what's the point?' Spiralling—this unexpected change, Hermit's mind was like a tornado! Flying off the handle—a part of them was in denial. Thinking, desperate to believe that this was all just—just!

Breathing shakily, Hermit's grip on reality was slipping through their fingers. They didn't know if this was real, or if it was some glitch—hell it had more merit to just be some funky dream!

Momonga paused to ponder a moment of morality to what he was about to do.

'Is it okay for me to give him orders?' The skeleton truly was reluctant.

After all, these NPC's—characters that were crafted by his friends. How would they feel if they were to know just what Momonga was about to do?

'Ugh, just do it!' Momonga scowled to himself—this was more important at the moment. He knew his friends would forgive him this time. After all, it was important!

Otherwise, what was the point in signing up their NPC's to the guild?

"Sebas," Calling to the servant once more. The undead continued, "Step out of the tomb and confirm the surroundings around Nazarick." His voice, it was calm—not a tremor wiggled its way in.

Momonga's order was clear.

The male servant known as Sebas pushed himself up. Standing tall and proud within the clothes gifted to him.

The traditional, black butler attire was well fitted to his body. Form-fitting and showing a peek of his physic. His hollow face had the matching wrinkles and silver white hair to boot. Reflecting the age—or the more accurate term, the portrayal.

His hair was some-what short and well parted in the middle.

The Iron Butler had a well-kept beard that only added to his refined age. His hardy stare was amplified by his sagging brows—making his sharp eyes look narrowed.

The deep, baby-blues stared back at his master. His lordship, his king and overlord.

The silver-haired fox spoke with unquestionable resolve.

"Understood, Lord Momonga."

The skeleton nodded his head quietly,

To the NPC's within the room that witnessed the short action. They all believed it was a nod of approval, of acknowledgment for their undying servitude.

But in actuality, it was a pathetic action to show the undead's reluctance.

'I am doing it for Nazarick...' he reasoned, trying to convince himself of the reason.

Hermit's grip on the lamb within their arms went slack. Loosening with each epiphany that came hurling into the wildfire.

Their wide, pecan eyes had returned to Albedo's figure, stuck upon her like glue. The succubus who remained planted in front of Momonga. The small demon's gaze shifted, shakenly wondering towards the lined servants once again; the maids remained kowtow. Their once risen heads had returned to staring upon the carpet.

Not daring to stare any more than they have. However, the only male servant within the room—known as Sebas. He remained standing tall, his firm gaze locked upon the undead.

It worried the small demon greatly.

'Their moving too!' Such a thought had Hermit's raging emotions intensifying. 'What the hell is happening? Why are they all doing this—how?!' The Hermit felt like they were delving into insanity. Questioning, another terrifying thought.

Their stomach drop.

'What if they attack us?' Gulping, their fingers twitched. 'If they did—I doubt Momonga and I could win… With so many NPC's… from all sorts of players—mine especially,' gaze slowly drifting down to the floor.

The mulberry red carpet was looking quiet intriguing.

The uncertainty that they all won't go feral and attack at once was a gruesome phobia.

Regardless of the unlikelihood of that occurring, those sickening thoughts left images within the poor demon's head. It had them ripping the skin inside their mouth off with their teeth.

Gnawing away like how their unjustified paranoia was riddling their thoughts like an infection.

"Pleiades." Speaking once again, Momonga's quick thinking had his plan half figured out. "Go to the ninth floor and guard it from possible intruders." His voice rumbled at those last spoken words.

Sebas had bowed down to the skeleton upon the throne, with his arms laxed on either side of him. The Iron Butler began to wonder—leaving to complete his mission.

The Pleiades all stood at the same time, with backs straight, their hands were folded on top of the other. Placed in front of themselves, they rested against the skirts of their maid outfits. Their gazes were locked forwards, staring at the back of each head.

They were all lined in order,

Going from Yuri Alpha, Lupusregina Beta, Narberal Gamma, CZ2128 Delta, Solution Epsilon and Entoma Vasilissa Zeta.

The first maid—Yuri in the line spoke up.

"As you wish, Lord Momonga." Her voice was filled with poise as she was soft-spoken.

With smooth, pale skin that of a being like the undead. She had an astute aura surrounding her, with cool, grey eyes that were mono-lidded and wide-set. They were parried with silver glasses—her black lashes match the colour of her hair.

Pulling back into a low-hanging bun, a defiant, curly strand went against the code; the cobalt blue chocker was thick and tightly clipped to her neck.

An insurance to keep her head from falling off in the most inconvenient times. She, like many of her siblings—all wore a classic maid uniform. Spanning across many countries, her dress held hints of a matching blue.

All but the green gauntlets that occupied her lower forearms.

Yuri turned away—her sisters trailed after the cartrages to a train. Each excused by Momonga's order; the skeleton was left to think.

'The NPC's are recognising orders that aren't specified commands?' It was truly baffling. Momonga has seen advanced AI being used in video games before. He's played many of those games before as well—however, this game...

The server in which ran YGGDRASIL, It could never handle such a thing.

It wasn't designed too.

Bringing his hand back to his face—this time, Momonga's fingers curled around his long and jiggered chin.

'What in the world is going on!?' Exclaiming those words loudly in his head. His voice was whiney as he felt overwhelmed, confused and absolutely lost in this moment.

Even with a half-baked plan, he had so many questions. One he knew would not get answered just yet—or never at all!

The skeleton slowly lifted his head from his hand. His bony fingers curling into a soft fist from the missing object that was removed.

Floating a little ways away,

His gaze locked upon Albedo, of whom he soon realised had been eyeballing him this whole time!

Her golden eyes peered down at him through the jet-black locks that cascaded down her face like a waterfall. She wore a simple smile upon her thin, bottom-heavy lips.

Her droopy eyes never blinked it seemed—framed by thin lashes; Albedo left out the softest of chuckles. Her pale cheeks hold a slight tint—the skeleton swiftly looked away.

If he had skin, he'd be blushing right now.

'I have to contact the administrators somehow…' The bag of bones had already dumped his face back into his hand.

Even when the console refuses to function, he has to figure something out!

Flustered and trying to forget that Albedo was sinking holes into him. Though such a thought was easier said than done.

The Hermit who was seemingly forgotten by all, leered at the fleeing figurers of the Pleiades. Gaze trailing after them as they walked away; the sheep demon continued until their figures grew distant and soon out of sight.

They were eerily quiet. Which would—is normal—after all Hermit's never spoken aloud before within the game. And yet… until this very moment. This crazy night of twists turns, where the impossible became possible…

It is the last thing you would want from the entity,

…It's too bad that everyone was engross by their own thoughts to notice...

'If I can't use the GM call function, maybe I can use the message skill?' The undead wondered—tucking his head down to the side. His thoughts continued. 'But will a magic skill used to contact other players reach a GM?' It was an idea that seemed sound, at first.

However like one thing after another...

There's another problem,

'No, can I even use magic right now?' That was a very worrying thought. Momonga relied heavily upon magic, but if he can't…

"So, Lord Momonga." Albedo all but interrupted the undead trails of thoughts. One that led the man to slowly spiral.

The guild master lifted his head from his hand again—this time intrigued by what Albedo had to say.

The succubus's golden eyes became half-lidded, gazing upon his with a misty stare. Her lips remained curled into a soft smile; Albedo continued to speak.

"What shall I do?" It was a fair question. After all, the Pleiades all but disburse to do as commanded.

Momonga's orbs shrunk—dimming down to a dull glow. He rested his hand back onto the armrest.

"Let's see…" He uttered; the voice he never owned echoed though the hall. He wondered for a second—what should he have her do?

"Then. Come here," he ordered the older demon. Decided to fulfil an unspoken want, Albedo flinched. Standing straighter for a merger second—stunned that her want was actually fulfilled.

The woman quickly relaxed.

The small smile on her lips increased—spreading wider upon her face, Albedo's wings twitched from her increasing excitement.

"Yes!" Albedo swiftly replied, swaying in her steps—the succubus zoomed, filling the gap that stood between Momonga and herself.

Her eyes practically burned with her desire to be adjoined to her lord.

Albedo leaned down, bringing her face far closer than she did prior. Her confidence to do such a think sky-rocketing. The sudden movement had caused a weak gust of air to flow towards the seated skeleton.

Momonga became ridgid—hard like a board as he wasn't expecting such proximity. His jaw parted open—and once again, the Undead was left shocked.

'Whoa! She smells so good.' Was the first thing to cross his mind. The suddle floral scent had tickled Momonga's non-existent nose, it smelt nice. 'Wait, smell!?' Momonga stammered over this fact. 'There wasn't a function like that in Yggdrasil.' He stated.

And it was true, there was so much one could do with coding. However, the smell of which was an equally sad but thankful improvability.

So, the fact that this was new… and even possible?!

"Albedo. I'm going to—" Momonga had started to speak quickly. Garnering more of the succubus's attention, the skeleton's mind already fishing hypotheses that needed to be proven correct. His voice was quiet firm.

But, the undead skeleton was crudely cut off mid-sentence by an unknown voice.

"My Lord?" The stranger called aloud. Voice stern within their inflection, it was undeniably feminine. One that Momonga was quick to note wasn't as gentle or soft as the other NPC's.

It was clear that they were seeking the attention of their Lord. And at first, the undead was startled.

Momonga believed—no, thought that he and Albedo were the only ones left within the room. If he was being completely honest, he had thought that Hermit would have gone off to do something.

Even though the last time he looked at them, he wasn't certain whether or not they were even present!

But he had reasoned that if they were; Momonga had just assumed they'd be excited. Overjoyed by the opportunity to run wild and take advantage of this fortunate—yet bizarre occurrence.

However, it appears that the skeleton was severally wrong. There was someone else left, someone his brain searched for, and was swift in realising that the person he forgot was none other than Hermit's NPC.

Dawn Bringer.

'How could I forget she's still here?!' His orbs dimmed, honestly it was a wonder how. Though, to be fair on himself, he assumed The Hermit would have just taken her with them…

Sinking slightly within his throne. Momonga's gaze shifted from the awaiting Succubus—baited upon her breath, to where the angel stood tall.

He believed she was regarding him—after all, many of the NPC's had addressed him as 'my lord' or variants of it many times within this night.

But when his attention was placed upon Dawn, it was only then that it dawned upon Momonga.

Her gaze wasn't focussed on him.

Dawn's voice was hazy, out of focus and distant—it was like The Hermit was dissenting down underwater. Whether the small monster chose to ignore it or was far to occupied with the fears that drove their mind mad.

It was a mystery to behold,

Thin arms that weakly cradled Polka close slipped away from the slumbering lamb. Falling to their sides, the back of Hermit's hands slapped at their outer thighs. The small demon dropped the poor weapon whose peaceful sleep was tarnished.

Cracking open its eyes, the golden lashes framed it's broad, honey orbs that bulged out from the animals head. The lamb was horrified at the feeling of gravity taking it for a ride as the animal wriggled about. Kicking it's little legs as it bahhed loudly for help.

Begging its master to catch it—but the lamb's bleating fell upon deaf ears; the animal's back collided with the marble floor.

The thick wool that grew upon it's back took up the blow. Making the animal comically bounce as it landed onto it's back once again, only to flopped to its side.

Laying there stiff still for a moment; The Hermit was the opposite of the weapon. Knees weak, like Jello upon paper straws. The small demon chest tightened—like it was being bind by an invisible force.

Making it hard to breath, the monster was gasping for air. An ache began to form within their head, The pain began to quickly grow—swallowing their mind. The fatigue that came from a demanding job, three days of zero rest and the only thing within their stomach being the caffeinates concoction of drinks…

Hermit's mental fortitude was as deep as a grave.

With tears filling their pecan eyes, the dismaying feeling within their chest only grew like ice crystals. The sharp edges sending chills down their nervous stem. Hermit's plump lips quivered, dipping further down into a frown—causing the skin along their chin to crease.

Their entire body trembled as they sniffled. Whimpering back the terrified sobs that they choked upon, their empty hands tightened on their clothes.

Clutching the long sleeves tightly, they weakly spoke.

"M-Momonga… I-I don't… I don't…" Stammering upon their wavering words. They called for the only person they thought had answers.

'Momonga must... must have figured it out... he has to—he must!' Hermit thought, desperate for an explanation, for a reason... it's just, just too much.

But God, their voice—The Hermit's voice… it was different. Scorn, croaky and brittle as they lifted their arms. More than ever, they wanted to leave.

To escape this-this—

The Hermit felt cold—like the warmth inside them was sucked out by a ghost. Robbed from them as what was meant to be a sorrowful goodbye upon amicable term had changed.

Into what? That was left to be unknown; the small demon began to porously sweat.

Such a strange thing—from the time they found out about the shut-down.

They wished with all their being—nothing more than to stay. To keep playing until dawn came and went… but, not like this. They didn't want to be trapped to forever play a single game.

But they couldn't do anything—they couldn't open their panel to log off, they couldn't press the escape button upon their controller or keypad.

Something wasn't right, something had gone terribly wrong.

And with the many unreasonable anxieties that plagued them. The Hermit had very reasonable concerns regarding their IRL responsibilities.

"My Lord?!" Once again, Dawn called out—this time louder than before. It was obvious the golden angel was alarmed by the words their lord had spoken.

If the attention weren't truly caught, then it certainly was now.

The tall angel took a step forwards, along with another as her thin lips were tugged into a frown. Her icy blue eyes were locked upon the sobbing demon's figure.

"Hermit?" Momonga called out to his friend. His voice was of soft concern, partly from the uncertainty of whether he heard The Hermit correctly or not.

However, his mind just refused to let go of one thing.

And that tiny, simple, thing… The sound of their voice, it had caught the skeleton off guard.

Momonga may not have listened to Hermit's voice much—in fact he only just heard it! However, the skeleton was more than certain that the voice he heard before the shutdown, wasn't a match to the current one.

The Hermit's voice—or the one that came out from the small demon, was in a simple summary. Rough.

It was like they've just spoken for the first time in years.

His grip upon the armrests tighten to a fractioning degree, he was about ready to jump out from his throne. But he was honestly unsure of what to do, he himself was confused as to why Hermit was acting this way.

It was so out there in a reaction that he fell out from throne with how floored he was.

Albedo was swift to distance herself from Momonga's side. Taking a couple of steps back, she rushed to pivoted on her feet—the heels she wore tapped at the floor. Her golden gaze locked upon the small sheep; all focus was upon the small monster.

And the succubus was equally worried by The Hermit's sudden weeping.

'I-I… I—no, no, no! I have to get out!' Hermit wailed; their voice rung within their head. Clenching their eyes tightly to the point that it stung. The sheep demon didn't want to open them ever again, never again.

Afraid that if they did…

Gulping, The Hermit placed the palms of their hands against the side of their head. Knowing very well that the headset they wore would pop off with ease.

"My Lord, please tell us, what makes you weep?" Dawn's strong voice wavered—ever so slightly. Her usual hardy eyes were furrowed for a much different reason. The frow. That'd tug at her thin lips were a display of her concerns.

The angel's wings were rustled as the blond felt on edge. The prickling unease that conjured itself within her chest was reason enough.

"Has something displeased you?" Dawn's attempts were fruitless; but only added to both Momonga' and Albedo's apprehension.

'Just a simple push,' Hermit slowly thought. Their breathing ruggered and shaky. 'If I can't escape, if the game refuses to let me log out, cant—cant...' drifting off, it was becoming harder to focus.

Their vision narrowing into a tunnel, they continued with their rambling,

Their fingers—compared to most hands within Nazarick's the smallest curled. Pressing harder into the sides of their head. The Hermit couldn't keep their arms from shaking.

Alarm bells were blaring off within Albedo's mind.

"Lady Hermit, please wait! We beg you—please stop!" The black haired beauty pleaded. Albedo drew closer, barely walking past before pausing in her step.

Hermit's nails grew, inching longer as the sharp tips dug into their soft flesh—like razors. A small drizzle of blood dripped from the divits of where the small demons tips pressed.

'If I cant leave through normal means... then with a simple push...' The small demon swiftly pushed up, not waiting for a moment as their thin fingers ripped through their bangs.

The action had collected the thick strands of their hair with their thin fingers. Revealed the hidden forehead for all to see, showcasing for just a moment, three eyes that were scrunched closed.

The thick lashes were lined with fresh tears, dribbling down their face, the curtain that was their golden-blond bangs returned.

Blood oozed from the streaks that trailed after the monsters nails. The creature didn't even notice; Hermit's arms quivered, remaining high in the air like they were holding their prize.

The heart that beats achingly within their gilded chest, they cracked open their eyes cautiously after a moment of silence. The monster fluttered their lashes, batting away the tears that blurred their vision.

Hermit sniffled; the sheep demon was expecting to be met with the blinding light of their computer. The familiar, musty smell of Anzac biscuits and stale coffee.

To see the mess that was the organised chaos of their room; papers all over, pens hidden about the place, posters and weird fidgets they'd fumble with.

But instead of that, instead of the bland, familiar, safe room. The Hermit was met with the cool tones of the throne room. Blurred like watercolours. The throne room that held Momonga, Albedo and Dawn...

The shaking came to an abrupt stop.

The undead that abided uncomfortably upon his throne launched himself out of his seat, approaching rapidly.

His robes flowed with his movements, as the haughtily sound of clicking heels swiftly followed after.

Hermit's watery eyes slowly rolled towards Albedo, watching as the succubus wasn't far behind Momonga. She trailed after at the edges of the undeads robes.

The creature stopped breathing, hollow and empty. Their pecan eyes were void of the usual spark that lit their hues. They felt numb as time seemed to slow,

'W-what?' Hermit's throat clench. The heart within their chest paused simultaneously with the others. Their breath hitched—they were shaken down to their very soul.

They were still here,

Clenching their teeth, Hermit grinded the sharp maulers against the other. The cracking rumbled through the room as the creature slapped their hands back to their head.

The Hermit did so repeatedly, they kept throwing their hands up—over and over. Scratching up their face in the process with their sharp nails—

Again, and again and again,

Yet no matter what they did. How hard The Hermit slapped the side of their head until the soft flesh was a raw red.

How the blood that came from the wounds they inflicted coated their palms. Smearing within their hair, mixing into their tear-stained face. No matter how many times the creature tried to remove their head-set… They couldn't take it off.

'Come on, come on—get off! Off, Off!' Hermit chanted—over and over again like a mantra. The void within their body was alight—a blazing frustration had exploded.

How could something they loved so much turn into some kind of horror story?

'Get the fuck off! Why can't I take my head-set off!' Hermit's distressed grunts rung out, growing louder and becoming a slur of incoherent curses that slipped past their lips.

"My Lord! Please—stop!" Dawn pleaded aloud, desperate and fearful—she was on the verge of screaming.

The angel was the first to arrive. Coming to a swift stop before The Hermit, the taller woman practically dropped to her knees.

Catching the creatures writs in her hands, her grip was firm. It was the only thing she could think about doing. To halt her lord from harming themselves more than they had, Dawn's actions coming swiftly.

The angels' blue eyes zipped all over the smaller creature. Taking in all the small nicks and tears, the trembling of their lip. Dawn was riddled with concern, she just didn't understand—she just could not understand.

'What had caused this?

The bridge of her nose creased as the monsters round face—ever so perfectly chubby was ruined by the scratches that they had inflicted upon themselves. Plump cheeks that were stained with the cascading river of tears, sticky from the red that kept rushing out from their wounds.

Beads of sweat that made them appear feviours, The angel gazed lingered upon the small demons quavering, pecan eyes.

So full of frustration and fright, uncertainty and confusion.

The skin wasn't the usual lively chiffon white that was exsensentuated by the light dusting of bronze. But it was a sickly pale tone—like they were petrified.

And their hair—the short, wisps of platinum blond hair that held golden hints. Thick yet floofy like strands was a mess. The bangs were out of place as the surrounding strands were frizzy.

Damp from where the sheep demon had torn off parts of their scalp.

"My Lord—please, what causes you to act like this?" Dawn was desperate to discover the problem that had placed such distress upon her lord.

The sight before the angel broke her to pieces and rattled her to her core.

Hermit was ridged, stuck in place. They were frozen, eyes wide—about the sizes of plates. The acrid stinging was so harrowing—they felt their chest giving out.

They couldn't breathe, their heart refused to pump the blood within their vein. The small demon's throat had clenched upon nothing, sealing itself shut—so tightly, even if they wanted to breath.

They couldn't,

The Hermit's clouded vision slowly trailed from Dawn's face. Gazing at the angles shoulders and along their arm. Landing upon her hand that gripped their wrist so firmly.

They felt all semblance of reality crumbling.

'W…warm…' Hermit stammered. The voice within their head was barely audible. 'H-her hand…' Gawking at the white glove that covered the angel's arm.

'I can feel it... I can feel the fabric!' It was like they were burning as the monsters mouth felt dry.

'How is-is—how is that—this p-possible!' The Hermit cried out in alarm, unable to even think of a tangible answer. A scenically explanation as to how and what was happening.

With a chocked whimper, the smaller demon began to squirm, trying to rip their arms away from Dawn's grip. Freaking out that—they can feel the warmth in her gloves.

"L-let me go!" Hermit voiced their demand. The crack going unnoticed—they were horrified at the implications of her touch.

But the Angel refused, her thin brows narrowing as she didn't tighten her grip. Leaving it as is, her wings stretched, enclosing upon the monster as a way to provide comfort.

But it only did the opposite.

Hermit shoved their arms forwards, ramming the palms of their hands into Dawn's chest. The angel's breath slipped from her lungs. Her eyes widened at the unexpected impact as the bones within her chest crumbled—splintering off into flying fragments from the force.

The sickening sound resounded though the royal throne room. Dawn felt the shards of her rib cage piercing her lung's as her grip upon the monsters wrists faltered for a moment.

Hermit wrangled their small wrists free from the Angels hold. Stumbling back from how hard they pulled, the monster didn't expect to get free so easily. But none-the-less, the sheep demon fell to their bottom.

Momonga and Albedo who were so close to the two came to a swift stop. Heads barely following in the direction the angel was flung too. They watched as Dawn's body was like a missile of a blur—only coming into vision when her back was slammed into one of the marble pillars.

The contact was deafening—the crumbling stone tumbled; drowning out Dawn's wheezy cry that died the moment the air in her lungs were stolen.

Her body left an imprint within the stone as the impact spat her back out.

Dropping to the floor, Dawn laid their unmoving. Drowning within her own blood as the crimson liquid bubbled from her thin lips.

She could already feel the blossoming bruises taking present upon her skin. The warm liquid swiftly filling her punctured lungs was dreadful. She couldn't find the strength to cough it up, but the need to greedily suck the air around her in only caused another problem.

The ringing that squealed within the angels ears left her dazed. Her conscientious was slipping in and out; Dawn was well aware of the command, the risk that came with grabbing the frighten monster as she did.

'Please...' her mind weakly drew out. 'F-forgive me... I... I have...' Dawn struggled to think; what other choice did she have? Within this moment, her Lord is acting irrationally. Seemingly frighted by something that she couldn't comprehend.

Something so dangerous—she couldn't see it. She failed to sense any shift, any new presence.

'I failed...' Dawn laid there, the sweltering pain inside her body was crippling.

Her white wings twitched, flaring pathetically out in response from upon the floor.

Albedo gasped; her own gloved hand moved to cup over her mouth. She took in the frightening sight of another servant laying upon the floor. Left breathless, and near defeated by an overlord, from a simple shove no less.

'This is what a fraction of a supreme being's power looks like…' Albedo couldn't help but muse. It's horrifyingly clear the type of physical prowess The Hermit clearly holds. 'Such a feat...' She continued.

Even under distress, The Hermit isn't a force to be reckoned with…

'How frightful,' Albedo shivered. But a gleeful smile grew upon her thin lip behind her hands.

Crying, the small demon skittering back, flailing—kicking and pushing themselves away from everyone. The Hermit's already short breathing began to grow unsteady.

Latching upon their hair, The Hermit grasped a fistful with white knuckles. Such a pitiful attempt to ground themselves, to gain so e semblance of sanity. They hissed through bared teeth from how hard they grasped at the roots.

Momonga was left speechless for a moment.

What could he say!? There was too much occurring within this moment; He just witnesses his comrade attacking their own NPC!

'What the hell?!' The skeleton screamed, 'What is wrong with Hermit? This is… is unlike them, their—they're never like-like this!' Crimson orbs moving towards the said monster, they were sobbing loudly.

Quivering on the floor like a frightened child. They were shaking their head vehemently—their little ears smacked against their head from the force.

Momonga's fingers curled into a fist,

'What do I do? What do I say—they're crying!' Momonga's thoughts devolved into ruin. Just what is he to do when his friend is freaking out!

'Do I go over? No! Don't be ridiculous, they'll end up attacking me... gah! What do I do? What can I possibly say to them?' Momonga ranted, his frustration building as his gaze bore into the curled up monster.

Watching as his comrade, his friend...

But that strange aura had returned, washing over the skeleton once again. His body clenched, snapping straight as the shimmering light slowly died out as fast as it came over the undead.

Washing the skeleton of all earthly hysteria. Momonga relaxed within his spot—mind cleared as he shook his head.

'What is wrong with you?' The skeleton rhetorically asked himself. 'Hermit—(YN) is petrified and your here worrying about yourself?' The undead's empty chest blazed with a heat—angered at his selfish thoughts.

The Guild master was pulled from his thoughts as he felt something gently batting the side of his robe.

Flicking his crimson orbs down, his gaze locked upon Polka.

If he had eye lids, he'd blinked as both their gazes were locked upon the other. The Hermit's weapon stood beside his leg. It's honey orbs peering at the undead expectantly.

It was a moment of silence communication, it didn't take Momonga long to understand.

"I see," The skeletons deep voice drawed out as he slowly nodded his head. His gaze swiftly returned to the demon upon the floor.

The sight sent a painful ping somewhere within his chest.

"Hermit," the skeleton called out. But the monster didn't reply.

"Hermit," Momonga spoke louder, using their username once again. His voice was calm, collected even—privy to the emotions he once felt. He couldn't help but flick his gaze towards the angel that laid upon the floor.

'Crap,' The undead cursed, his gaze narrowed at the unconscious blond who was obviously low on health. 'I have to get someone to heal Dawn immediately… otherwise,' Gulping at the implication of his drifting thought.

It was obvious if he let anything happen to Dawn, Hermit would never forgive themselves—much less him.

His attention switched from the Angel as Momonga lifted his head to Albedo. Her gaze had remained upon the defeated angel.

"Albedo, call upon Hermit's N—Servants immediately," Momonga ordered. Swiftly correcting himself as his tone was stern. Quietly conveying the urgency of the situation, the black-haired beauty jumped.

Startled out from her own cauldron of thoughts by the unexpected call, immediately her golden eyes were removed from Dawn.

Her hands moved from her lips as her gaze landed upon the undead, she nodded her head swiftly.

"Of course, Lord Momonga." Bowing quickly, she lifted one of her gloved hands. Pressing her slim fingers to the side of her temple, Albedo's gaze hardened slightly.

Focused upon Lord Momonga's orders, the desire to complete them was aboslute.

Momonga slightly nodded his head, grateful for the succubus's compliance. The skeleton returned his focused towards The Hermit.

His crimson orbs dimmed at the sight; their bundled form, grasping desperately upon themselves for any form of comfort. A way to ground themselves from the hysteria.

Momonga drew a breath in—though how he did so was a mystery. He slowly made his way towards the small demon. Careful to not startled the obviously anxious creature anymore than they are.

Hermit's ear twitched, pointing in the direction where they heard the sound of his footsteps. Their petrified gaze snapped towards Momonga, staring at them as the tears kept rolling down their cheeks.

Staining their sleeves wet and dying the pastel colours in a watery red.

"Momonga… s-stay away!" The small demon demanded, their tone trembling—stammering over their words. The Hermit tucked their knees closer to their chest as their pointed nails burrowed deeper into their scalp.

The small demon felt woozy as the only sobering feeling in this nightmare was the pain.

The way their nails dug into their skin, tearing away at the soft flesh. Near ripping out their platinum locks from the roots; Hermit's breathing was increasingly laboured yet all at the same time shallow.

'This is—how is this… it has to be a dream—a horrible nightmare—yeah, I'm hallucinating.' Sparling, they began to weakly chuckle.

'God, I really should have listen to Momonga—I should have used this time to rest.' Slowly rocking themselves back and forth, their laughter grew gradually.

'I shouldn't have pushed myself at work, now I'm having some-some—I don't know!' Becoming louder as it sent shivers down the spines of those within the throne room.

The monster took a sharp inhale of air through their clenched teeth.

"…(YN)," Momonga reluctantly called them by their real name. The name was empty upon his non-existent tongue, but at the moment. He hoped it would somehow catch their attention beyond the fright.

The Hermit's ear flickered at the sound of their name, they fluttered their clenched eyes open.

"Yeah…" Hermit shakily mumbled, drained of emotion; a far contrast to how they were cackling beforehand.

Momonga slowly knelt upon the floor, no fast movements as he shuffled closer to their side.

He was well aware of the risk he was taking. Just as The Hermit did to the angel, they could do it to him—and he knew for a fact. He was no tank; he'd fold like a wet blanket the moment he was even brushed by the small demon's hand.

"What is the matter?" He asked, trying to calm the monster who quivered. The sight alone was breaking, he hated to see his friend like this.

He just couldn't understand how this was their reaction.

"It's… this is a dream…" Hermit mumbled; a ghost of a smile soon twitched to their plump lips. "T-this—I—yeah… yeah just…" They felt like they were drowning.

Murmuring weakly their vision was going in and out, turning dark as Momonga froze.

"Hermit…" The skeleton muttered, staring down at them. He was stunned to near silence at what the small creature had just spoke.

"I need… I-I need to wake up now," the small demon drifted off. The smile upon their plump lips only widened. Blankly staring off into nothing, the demon slowly began to lean towards him.

"Wake up… ple...wake… up…"

Watching as The Hermit's pecan eyes rolled up, his arms swiftly entrapped the small sheep demon as the frightened monster was out cold.

Enveloped within his lanky arms, Momonga let out a relieved sigh. His body slumped around his comrade as he shifted his hold on the small creature.

Drawing the monster in even more, the undead's crimson orbs lingered upon their peaceful features.

If he had eyebrows, he would have furrowed them.

'Just what have you done?' Momonga questioned as he brushed back Hermit's bangs. Smearing away the damp strands, the tips of his bony fingers grazed the creases of the creatures eyes.

Filling their lungs to the fullest, (YN) breathed in deeply—the steady increase of the sweet yet musky scent filtered through (YN)'s nose.

They couldn't help but drown themselves in it like an alcoholic. The gentle odour tingling at their mind, a kooky smile pulled at the corners of (YN)'s thin lip. The smell that clung upon the pillow that they laid on was a familiar one.

So distant to their memory, yet they took another, deeper breath. Finding a tantalizing tranquillity from it—something they hadn't felt in a long, long time. Their heartbeat was slow and steady.

They felt nothing but a placid mass within the warmth that embraced them. Body melting within the plush cushion, the need to mould themselves deeper within, to become one with the pillow to reach true serenity.

(YN) sleepily hummed in delight as their body felt heavy like lead. Yet loose like cotton; the motion they've been through in their life had come to a complete stop.

Blunt fingers gripping around the cover, holding it softly within their hand like a child. (YN) didn't bother trying to figure out how they returned to their bed from long before.

But they were just thankful that they fell asleep under the sheets. Instead of drooling all over their desk like many times before, (YN) tried to fall back to sleep. Too delve within the heat that cuddled them and to lose themselves in a past-time that had eluded them for so long.

When was the last time they slept in?

Their mind seemed to halt, crackling like ice at the answer to the unspoken question. It was an obviously mournful fact...

'…Mom,' (YN) thought mindlessly. The grip they had upon the sheath tightened to a knuckle white. It was a wonder why the fragrance was so intimate…

It was a moment of melancholy,

'The dream before was quite weird,' (YN) noted. Their mind swift to move on to something else. They didn't want to think about it; recalling how the game continued beyond the end time, but the most bizarre thing was the way the NPC's started to move on their own.

It was kind of funny and wonderful—yet feverish and nightmarish all at the same time. They were well aware of how obsessed they were with the game.

But to conjure something so lucid? Quiet peculiar,

'But...' (YN) sighed. Slowly sobering up from the haze that hanged within their mind. 'The end of the server had passed,' They sagged.

Having no more tears to shed dew to exhaustion; yet their throat clenched tightly. Dry and taught—(YN) didn't move from their spot.

Riding the rythmatistic rise and fall of their warm pillow.

"Hhmm, my darling Hermes..." A sudden voice hummed gently, speaking just above a whisper. The unfamiliar, feminine inflection startled (YN).

The strangers' fingers that were brushing through their (HC) hair, persisted on.

(YN)'s body tensed up under the stranger's touch. The feeling of their long nails were like talons that held dull tips, continuing to ghost over (YN)'s scalp. Massaging the surface and brushing out their hair, the stranger paused.

"You awaken, I am glade—you had worried us all." The woman murmured softly, relief was in her tone.

'Who the hell is that!?' (YN) cried, it was a sobering question as alarm bells screeched within their mind. A stranger, someone unknown—who didn't belong was touching them in their bed!

"We all believed you had fallen ill..." There was a slight pause—the worry in the intruders voice was an obvious one as she continued to speak. "Oh goodness, how could we have allowed such a mistake to occur." The woman's tone was reminiscent of a concerned mother.

A dismal chuckle swiftly slipped from the stranger's lips.

"I feared the worse," she whimpered. The stranger continued to gently scratch (YN)'s scalp once again. An action to help sooth her obvious concern; it was like she was oblivious to the fear that she caused (YN).

But the voice—It sounded so scarily familiar to (YN), yet so distant it was like a forgotten ghost.

But no matter, it frightened them to no end. Even if this woman was concerned or not, a point still stands tall. There was a stranger within (YN)'s home. In their bed and touching them without permission while they slept.

Who knew what else they did,

(YN) tensed up under her touch. Their once laxed body, suddenly became stiff, the warm blood that ran through (YN) turned ridged and cold.

Swiftly releasing the fabric that they clenched upon tightly—as if it burnt their flesh. (YN) scrambled to remove their head from the pillow they laid on.

"GAh!" A startled grumble of gibberish slipped from (YN)'s lips. Spilling out from the dread that riddled their bones, (YN) was desperate to distance themselves.

Their (EC) eyes snapped to stare at where they believed the stranger was located.

But it was only then, did (YN) realise that what they were clinging onto. Wasn't their decrepit pillow they've slept upon for years, with its busted sleeve that was sloppily sown together.

But it was the intruder,

"Wh-w-wh—ooo!" (YN) stumbled over their words, horrified at the pervert who hid within the shadows. Their loud and unintelligible screech had the stranger stretching her hand out.

The pale skin and long nails painted a dark purple had startled (YN). The unexpected action had them scrambling out of the strangers reach.

Crawling backwards, (YN) kicked their legs trying to move quickly, but the silk sheets provided difficulty to create distance. Their heels slipped and slid upon the sleek sheets from their bare feet.

"H-Hermies!" The stranger stammered aloud, (YN) all but ignored her words as they parted their lips.

"I-I—What do you think you're—" (YN) continued to shout, stammering over their tongue, their eyes remained locked upon the weirdo.

Swallowing thickly, (YN)'s trembling vision peered through the moody lighting of the room.

Seeing though the darkness, the piercing eyes of the uninvited guest who was sat on the other end of the bed shone past the gloom.

(YN) felt their breath hitch, recognizing the stranger almost instantly.

'H-how is... this cannot be real,' (YN) fearfully thought. The colour of their skin drained, turning into a light grey. Disbelief had them quivering, their mind instantly named just who was sat in their bed.

Their (EC) eyes continued to rake the woman—Oni—NPC up and down. Taking in every recognisable detail that they themselves placed.

The Oni was disguised within her human form. With deep purple hair—long like a flowing river, the strands were straight. Not a single curve within or a fraying hair out of place. It was styled like a jellyfish with curtain bangs framing her face.

The demon had pale skin, close to white parchment; she had a set eyes that were almond shaped and slightly parted from each other.

Her thin brows were furrowed at the moment, causing slight creases within her smooth skin. (YN)'s gaze was drawn to the Oni's eyes, entranced in a bizarre cage. The demon's gaze held an intensity that (YN) has never seen in a person.

The woman's orbs were like garnet—her cat-like pupils were a bright, golden yellow. A nod to her demonic features—though the large horns that protruded from her head was an obvious sign.

Her eyelids were dusted with a rouge pink eyeshadow framed by full lashes. Luscious in every way, it flared off to the side.

With a shaky breath, (YN) struggled to shift their gaze down to the woman's pointed chin. It was long with a button-nose that had a concaved bridge. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, barely noticeable as the flesh was lightly powdered with a rosy blush.

(YN) gulped as their eyes drifted to her small, bottom-heavy lips. Noting that the demon had them parted slightly. The corners were pulled into a distressed frown, the glossy lipstick was coloured a violet purple.

'That—that's my-my—how? Why is Rika in my bed?!' Horrified at the sight. It had (YN) questioning their hole stance on the reality they were in.

How is a demon, an Oni that they created. Crafted by hand all those years ago here—in their bed? It must be some trippy dream!

"I must've…" (YN) mumbled under their breath, drifting off into their thoughts as they continued. 'I've lost my mind.' They whimpered.

Staring blankly off into the Oni's eyes, (YN) was really regretting their decision to brush off Momonga's concerns.

'Perhaps... if I did take Momonga's advice... I wouldn't be here, I'd be at home. Wallowing in my sorrows right now.' Because now look at what happened!

A horrible shiver ran down (YN)'s spine, their mouth turned torrid; what are they to say to this!?

"Oh goodness, my poor Hermes…" Rika spoke gently, she couldn't understand her darlings behaviour as of late. "Do not fret," She hummed. Her voice never reached an octave higher.

Placing a hand forwards upon the mattress, Rika began to crawl upon the bed, slowly approaching.

The maroon chimene she wore was short, reaching her mid-thigh. The nightwear showed off everything underneath. All the dips and curves; the tattoo upon her chest dipped between her breasts and around her throat.

Her garnet eyes remained locked upon (YN)'s figure, watching like a cat within the bushes.

(YN) tensed, yanking their legs closer to themselves, their hand swiftly rose up. Halting the NPC in place, Rika froze—not daring to move any closer.

"I-I—hang on!" Voice wavering, (YN)'s head had begun to spin, sparling—they felt nauseous.

'I-I—my dream… T-that was real… No—no way… th-that's ridiculous! How can someone get sucked into a game? I'm still just dreaming. Yeah… dreaming.' Taking a shaky breath in. (YN) blinked owlishly; their tone shifted from frightful to a higher pitch.

Thinking with a shaky laugh, they concluded what they were seeing. What they were experiencing was as simply put, a dream.

'All is just… just a dream…' Feeling the corners of their lips twitching. A weak chuckle slipped past (YN)'s lips; their tense body melted—easing up as the anxiety that had a strong grasp upon them washed away.

The monster shook their head, moving their outstretched hand to cup their forehead. The warmth that radiated from their skin warmed their hand.

"How ridiculous," (YN) mumbled. Finding their reaction to a simple dream amusingly tacky as their laughter grew a little louder.

'Here I am, freaking out over something so stupid.' A small smile twitched to the corners of their lips.

Rika's eyes rolled, trailing up and down—observing her sweet Hermes beguiled form with bewilderment. The purple haired Oni hung her head in shame, her fingers digging into the mattress.

'How… how can I let this happen?' Rika gripped, clenching her jaw. The growing need to tear at her own flesh was fierce.

(YN) let the air in their lungs out. Relieved at the idea that this was all just a figment of their imagination. They flopped, letting their arm fold as they laid upon their back. The fluffy duvet sinked—slightly swallowing them.

They stared up at the ceiling, taking in the black paint—it was like staring into the void.

Rika's lips tugged into a frown, glaring down at the sheets with ire.

'Hermes—their-their… laughing at me…' Rika's nose flared; she was disgusted, furious with herself. 'I could not—I failed them.' Realizing that her little Hermes was laughing at her incompetence!

'I allowed my precious Hermes to suffer, I failed to notice what ailed them!' She shouted—she failed her creator. It was her responsibility to ensure that the small creature was healthy. Happy, safe. She sworean oath that she'd never allow anything to happen to them…

It was her sole reason of existence! The reason she walks the material plane in the first place. To greedily breath the same air as them. To see them every day of every waking hour, to hear all the wondrous sounds they make, to speak to them with conviction!

'And yet…' Trembling, the overwhelming feeling of frustration and self-loathing was palpable.

Causing the older demon to tremble.

'I allowed something unforgivable to occur.' Rika growled within her head. Her mind worked against her, pushing fourth the memory of the exact moment when she was called from her chamber.

Sharp nails digging into the silky fabric, slowly ripping into the mattress, Rika's fingers reviled the stuffing within.

(YN) closed their eyes, resting them as they relished upon the crinkled bedsheets. Their racing heart was slowing down as the panic disappeared.

'Goodness, this bed.' Sighing, they felt blissful. 'It's so comfy… far better then the bed at home.' (YN) felt like they were in a zone of piece. Their mind drifted to that dingy mattress, it was worn down from years of use.

Flat with a caved centre—it was less a mattress and more like a smothered blanket.

(YN) began to tangle their fingers through their (HC) hair. The strands slipped through their fingers easily.

'I'll miss this bed when I wake up,' They whined. Pouting at the idea of returning back to their original bed at home. Or more accurately, waking up at their desk. With swollen eyes and red stress marks from the VR headset along with a stiff back.

'Though, now what?' (YN) paused, cracking open their (EC) eyes. They didn't know what to do, where to go—or even do anything at all.

'Should I just… I don't know, wake up?' Furrowing their brows in thought, their eyes narrowed. Gaze locked upon the dark ceiling.

The idea was weird to even think of.

'But, how can I wake up?' Pondering such a thing, it left (YN) feeling befuddled.

"Hermes…" The sound of Rika's voice shakily called for them.

(YN) flinched as their muscles turned frigid but quickly laxed as they hummed.

'Ah, yeah—Rika is here…' Sitting up from the mattress, they quietly reminding themselves that Rika was just a figment of their over-imagination, she doesn't exist.

Pausing, their eyes shifted to the Oni once again.

'Dreaming of my NPC's is kinda weird,' flicking their gaze down to the torn mattress. (YN) felt a little flustered. They really didn't want to be compared or even called a dwerp, but that's what they feel like.

Though another, more concerning feeling began fester as they started to sweat.

'On the other hand… maybe she will hurt me.' Gulping, (YN)'s body started to sag, it was like they were deflating at the thought. Quietly whimpering , they were more pouting then frowning.

'I sure hope not,' (Yn) concluded. A crude image of Rika and their human self had manifested itself within their mind.

Held rather tentivly within Rika's delicate, yet terribly imagined hands was their own lovely neck. Their usually dull eyes, jaded from the woes of life were cloudy for a different reason. The admittedly childish image they conjured had the Oni bellowing smoke from her nostrils. And the garnet gems that were her eyes were a full-blown demonic red.

Though, such a silly little sanario had (YN) pressing their lip flat. Silencing themselves forcefully as it was kinda funny.

This was all a dream after all.

'And either way,' (YN) stared. 'If dream Rika was going to hurt me, I'd just wake up.' Staring blankly into the void, they still would preferred not to be attacked by their own creation. Even if it was in a dream, that'd kinda suck...

"My dearest Hermes…" Rika's voice slowly drew out. Quivering and distraught, (YN) hummed.

"Please forgive me for my sins, I have failed you on many fronts." The purple haired woman continued, struggled to even speak. Her breathing was laboured as her sharp nails tore deeper into the mattress. Dragging her fingers further up the bed.

'Uh... what?' (YN) owlishly blinked their (EC) eyes.

The sound of tearing silk was torcher as Rika continued.

"To learn that I failed to… no, I noticed your change of behaviour… I notice long ago," Rika's voice dipped to a sorrowful one.

But (YN) was far lost in the confusion as they gawked at the woman.

"Yet with that knowledge, I did nothing to stop it. I made no attempt to ask, to discover the cause of that change…" Her voice strained, holding a whiner edge as her volume began to increase. Speaking louder as she lifted her head.

"I beg for your divine punishment—rid me of my past transgressions!" Rika cried—lunging forwards, her face came inches away from (YN)'s. Noses almost touching with the lack of distance—her garnet eyes glistened with tears.

Bubbling within the corners of her eyelids, and clinging upon her lashes.

(YN) jolted back, leaning away as much as they could.

Rika's dark hair slipped from over her narrowed shoulders. Hanging as she trembled, waiting for 'just' punishment over her crimes.

Though what crimes, (YN) holds no damn clue!

Their jaw just dropped, hanging upon congested words as they struggled to make a coherent sentence. How is one suppose to act when face with something so—so bizarre!?

"H-hang on!" Stammering over their words, (YN) was once again nervous, though this time. It is over what the NPC had just begged for.

They couldn't believe their ears!

'What the hell! Why am I dreaming something so weird!' Exclaiming such a thing loudly within their head. (YN)'s eyes near bulged from their sockets as Rika continued with her plea.

"Please, Hermes—punish me in any way you see fit! I do not deserve mercy!" She wallowed, her hands rocketing for (YN)'s shoulders. "Ruin me, but do not kill me! Death isn't a proper punishment; it is far too lenient for my frailer!" Rika's voice had turned deranged.

The intensity within her eyes, the wobbly mix of a frown and a smile was an intimidating expression. Not to mention the haughtily familiar ability to feel touch, it had (YN) on the brink of silently returning to the depths of nauseating hysteria.

'What the fuck!' (YN) yelped within their head—the terror in their words were as present as the sunrise. 'Is this really how I think Rika would act?!' A moment of pause rung within their head.

But the desperate plead for some weird form of repentance that came from the Oni was... interesting to say the least.

'Goodness, I know I didn't really write her to be like this... did I?' Reluctant to even consider such a thing. (YN) vehemently shook their head. Obviously horrified at what Rika was begging for.

"No!" They blurted firmly. "No way will I do that!" Rejecting the ranting woman desire. (YN)'s (EC) eyes exhibited their disgust at the idea.

'Haha, there's no way I wrote Rika—Rika the badass, player killer to be like-like this!" Feeling their cheeks burn, (YN) took a sharp breath in.

Watching as the intense look upon the Oni's features disappeared.

Taking on a visual of confusion, only to turn mortified at their decision. Rika's fingers curled around the torn mattress. Seemingly hurt by (YN)'s harsh rejection for their 'just punishment'.

Poor (YN) was sat within the puddle of their own existential dread, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Barely comfortable within this bed, they desired to change the dream they were in. Switch the setting and theme to something better.

Where, honestly? Who knows…. Maybe a beach, a village, the city, work, home—just anywhere else than here!

But they couldn't. Everyone knows dreams cant be changed, at least (YN) couldn't do something like that. They were stuck here like a stick in the mud.

'Damn it, why must my dream continue being this?' Huffing, their eyes narrowed—beyond annoyed that the fantasy continued on.

'Well, if I can't decide where I want to be at, I'll just—just… I don't know!' Feeling their lips dipping down into a frown, their brows furrowed further into an annoyed glare.

(EC) eyes focused more on Rika's bare chest, gazing at the tattoo that painted her skin. Pursing their lips into a pout, (YN) started to stare off into nothing.

Bitterly thinking about what they should do to get out of this moment.

"W-what? Why not! I—" Rika's eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish. The Oni started stumbling over her words. It was clear that she was frazzled. But (YN) wasn't having it, raising their hand back up, they swiftly quieting the demon.

With a twitching eyelid, (YN) took a breath in.

'Seeing as I have no choice in the type of dream I have, I'll be dammed if it's gonna be this weird!' Lightly clenching their jaw, they grumbled. Irritated by the fact that they had no control over the type of dream they concocted.

(YN)'s eyes drifted, glazing over the room they took in all the furniture, paintings and little nick-nacks from the game.

Each assembled carefully by (YN) a long time ago, with the dark wood and royal purple. The room was lit by blue candle light.

(YN) drew their arm back, crossing them under their chest as they huffed. A coy smile quirked at the corners of their lip.

'Well, seeing as I'm dreaming of YGGDRASIL and I can't change that…' Letting out a breathy chuckle. The small smile soon grew, turning into a bemused smile.

They were feeling quite mischievous within this moment.

'I wanna see how creative my unconious mind can get... Just how far will this all go.' (YN) sneakered. 'But first,' The cheeky glint within their (EC) eyes shifting. Taking on a serious hint as they continued—but this time speaking aloud.

"Rika, I am not doing that." Stating it matter-of-factly, they shook their head for added effect. Peering at the Oni who sat across from them in the bed.

She looked gutted at their words—like a puppy dog being kicked across the room.

Rika opened her mouth to immediately rebuttal what her darling Hermes had stated. Though (YN) wasn't letting the woman squeak another word out.

"Rika," calling out to the demon by name. She tensed up upon the bed, her garnet eyes trembled. "Just… Enough," Pausing with a sigh.

(YN) leaned forwards, dipping their head down slightly, they honestly couldn't believe how the Oni was reacting.

'It's so embarrassing,' feeling a pinging pain within their brain. The growing need to massage their head was rising, to nurse the feeling away.

(YN)—if and when they had taken a moment to ponder what their NPC would be like. If they truly were alive, they honestly thought differently than this.

'It's honestly kinda off putting to see Rika acting like this…' narrowing their brows slightly, it's a large reason why (YN) felt so spooked—Rika is a beast on more than one front.

It was the way they desired her to be, something that could wipe out players within an instant. Leaving nothing in her wake but the treasures they held...

"Now, I want to know where Polka is." Shifting upon the bed, (YN) sat crissed-crossed.

'Let's start with something simple.' They mused, placing their hands upon their bent knees, (YN) hummed as their eyes wondered about the room.

This time, looking around more thoroughly as their (EC) eyes took in every minute detail that the cornered off section had.

Their eyes easily adjusted to the shifting of light.

'Huh, there's so much detail here… It's truly like I'm in the game and this isn't a dream..' Chuckling softly at the thought. Hermit quietly patted themselves on the back, rather proud at how they remembered the set up of Rika's room.

The painstaking hours that went into planning everything down to the last pieces of detail. From the colours, to the patters in the wood and the walls. Straight down to the set up of forgettable trinkets that served little purpose other than decoration.

With the main colour theme being black and purple, the furniture around the place was mid-century gothic. Not a light bulb in sight, only candles that seemingly never melt away. The purple undertones mixing in with the cool blue and dull white light.

It had (YN) feeling rather relaxed.

With a slight shrug, they fluttered their lashes as Rika stammered.

"A-ah," Forcing herself to relax, the Oni cleared her throat, continuing to speak. Though with a more confident tone.

"Polka is right behind you Hermes; it's been waiting for you, for quiet some time." The purple haired woman explained. Shifting upon her spot, she straightened up as she placed her hands within her lap.

Ignoring the torn mattress; like the term, speak of the devil—something gently butted Hermit's back.

Nudging them with its nose. A soft—yet sleepy bah sounded.

(YN) arched their back at the touch as they quickly planted their hand into the ruffled quilt, turning around.

"Seriously?" They gaped, surprised as their eyes landed onto the weapon who peered up at them. Staring back with its honey eyes. The lamb's little ear flicked, opening it maw as it yawned.

Showing off it's mix of dull and sharp teeth. The fleshy, pink tongue was forked like a snake as it closed its mouth. Laying its head down onto the bed, its gaze remained locked upon its owner.

Staring up at them expectantly, (YN) blinked. Stunned at how lively the animal appeared.

'Oh… uh, that's rather convenient.' They stated, surprised at the fact that Polka was just there. Waiting for them. 'Then again...' drifting their thought off; Rika's stifled chuckles caught their attention.

Turning back around, (YN) met Rika's crescent eyes.

"What?" They asked, curious as to what the Oni was giggling about.

Rika was swift to silence herself. With her lips sealed, her expression turned a warm, yet anxious smile upon her lips, she tilted her head slightly.

(YN)'s eyes squinted into a stern glance—they had to quietly remind themselves that they did in fact hear Rika laugh.

"I apologise, I did not mean to laugh—it is just… well…" The Oni paused, taking a second to think of her words wisely. (YN)'s gaze flicked up and down, taking in the woman once again.

They took a breath in.

"Don't apologise," Hermit stated gently. Returning their gaze back to the lamb that laid upon the plush seat at the end of the bed, it's head resting upon the wooden frame.

"You have a nice laugh…" Hermit slowly whispered, eyes hooded over and hazy.

A laugh—not quiet matching Rika's but so awfully familiar to it echoed. It was hard to desinuate between the two, it rung within their mind.

(YN)'s throat tightened—chest clenching as a burning began to sting at their eyes. They were reluctant, but slowly, (YN) laid their hand upon the animal's head.

Gently patting the lamb, a soft gasp slipped from (YN)'s lips, stunned at just how soft and fluffy the wool felt. The lamb's hooded eyes closed in contentment, leaning up into (YN)'s open palm.

'It's so… so contextual if that makes any sense…' Polka was relishing under (YN)'s touch, snuggling itself further against their palm. (YN) pushed their hand in further, playing with the thick stands.

A gentle rumble slipped from the lamb, voicing its pleasure as it's eyes slowly creased open. It's honey eyes peeked though it's thick, white lashes.

'Ah, why must Polka be so cute?' (YN) pondered with a mushy voice. Cupping the lamb's face, they brushed their thumb under their eye.

"P-please, that's far to kind Hermes." Rika's stammered over her words once again, her garnet eyes watching her darling.

She felt giddy at her creators words, finding the praise to be too much, even after all her short-comings.

(YN) brought their other hand to the lamb's face.

Scooting closer in the process, their knees kissed against the wooden frame of the bed. (YN)'s undivided attention was placed upon the weapon.

Their (EC) eyes traced over the lamb's features, taking in the creature with a childish wonderment.

'Is this… what wool really feels like?' Blinking at the thought they moved their hands. 'Most likely not... this is probably what my mind has come to think of.' Dragging them down the creatures neck, the thick wool grazing their palm.

It was such a strange feeling, soft yet bizarrely course—their hands made it to the lamb's back.

Their fingers sinking into the depths of the animal's hide. Hermit couldn't help but wonder, just how deep asleep they were.

'To be able to feel… to conjure up something so complicated as touch... not to mention everything else.' Their brows twitched, dipping down—(YN) wasn't sure just what to think. 'It's... Almost like—no.' Crinkling their nose.

(YN) dismissed that thought completely. Refusing to make that deduction a possibility, they ran their nails up and down Polka's back gently.

'Just what will I do in this dream?' Pondering over all that was possible, (YN) didn't know just what to do. 'I could explore—but where, I've been everywhere here in Nazarick and I already know what's in the Ten stages—I was the one to build it after all.' Letting out a dreary sigh, it was so hard to make up their mind.

"Neh, Polka." (YN) began to speak. "Just what should we do today, hm?" The corner of their lip quirked as the animal mumbled. Quiet happy with receiving pets, it's little tail swayed.

"Oh, you want me to cuddle you more?" They asked, not really knowing if the lamb even had an idea or preference. But none-the-less, (YN) continued to speak. "Silly, silly~ we can walk AND cuddle. So there's no need to stay here," Chuckling (YN)'s hands moved to cup the lambs face once again. Pulling it upwards and off from the purple Otterman couch, they leaned forwards.

Meeting in the middle, (YN) pecked the lamb on the forehead. Stuttering for a moment as the soothing smell of almonds and milk tingled their nostrils.

'Smell... I can smell too...' Taking a deep sniff, the mild scent was... well subtle.

"Hm. Come 'ere Polka," (YN) hummed. Hiding their unease with a distraction. They moved their hands from the lambs face, tucking their fingers around the lambs front legs. The animal perked up at the sound of their name.

Instantly wide awake as (YN) started to drag the animal—quickly lifting the lamb up.

"Oh!" (YN) gasped, their eyes widened a fraction as they peered up at the weapon who was now up in the air, held there within their hands.

The lower half of Polka dangling limply, the animal waited patiently for (YN).

'Polka's really light—I thought it'd be heavier.' (YN) shifted their hold on the lamb, pressing its back against their chest. 'I'm pretty sure Polka weighs over a ton... uh I think—it's been a while since I've had to check...' With a strained quirk of their lip.

(YN) settled the animal within their lap—like the many other times they had done within the game. Their arms shifted, coiling around the animal's waist.

The small smile on (YN)'s lips grew, blooming into a joyous smile. The lamb released a happy bah; slumping within (YN)'s arms. It melted within their hold as (YN) rested their chin on top of the lamb's head, between the curl of the animals horns.

They continued to breath in the lambs soothing scent—it was weirdly addicting. Whether it was from the astonishing ability to smell in a dream. Or if it was the fact they this was what Almonds and milk smells like.

"Hermes, if I may..." Rika spoke up, drifting off—waiting for confirmation to speak.

'Ah right, Rika is here... well I mean, this is her room technically.' Shifting on the bed, (YN) lifted their chin from Polka's head.

"Yeah?" Tilting their head, (YN)'s eyes rolled to pin upon the Oni's form. "What is it?" Rika straightened up, her garnet gaze locked just below her darling Hermes.

Staring at where the bed dipped from the added weight of Polka, a heartbeat of silence rung within the room before Rika parted her lips.

"Lord Momonga has instructed that we keep you on bed rest... for the foreseeable future." She had began, fiddling with her clothing. "You only just awoken, I—we worry that you may collapse again." Pressing her lips together into a flat frown.

Her thin brows quirked into a worried grimis.

'Ah...' Quietly drifting off in thought. (YN)'s brows furrowed, 'the continuity of this dream is kinda crazy.' Chortling slightly, their brows narrowed as an annoyed frown grew upon their face.

Rika continued to ramble on, expressing her concern.

"We are... we are uncertain as to what lead to your fainting spell... If it was to occur again—happen when you—" Rika's features continued to scrunch up, her fingers curling around the thin fabric tightly.

Her hands trembled, barely containing the strength to prevent herself from tearing the fabric apart.

"Rika," calling the woman by name. (YN) cut the Oni off as she flinched, garnet eyes fleeing up to (YN)'s immediately. The demon tensed as their gazes locked upon one another.

"I'm fine." Stating the fact plainly, (YN) continued. "And either way—that old, saggy sack of weathered bones won't keep me here." Laughing at their description of their friend. (YN) gave the Oni a pompous smirk, snuggling their chin back into the lambs head.

Rika's brows narrowed further, unconvinced and unamused by her Hermes declaration. She lightly bit into her bottom lip, she just didn't know what to do. She was left within a hard place, but it was obvious she came to a swift conclusion.

Especially when (YN) moved swiftly. Shuffling away from the middle of the bed. The bed rocked, quietly squeaking as they moved. The lamb within their arms swayed with the movements (YN) made, it was honesty unbothered by it as Rika's jaw parted.

"H-Hermes please," Rika stammered out. "Lord Momonga has stated—" she began, rambling on as she swiftly launching forwards. Her hands planted onto the mattress, crawling after her darling as (YN) slid down the edge of the bed, their feet planted upon the floor.

The thick rug that laid sprawled upon the ground was fluffy and a deep smokey grey. Soft under their bare feet, (YN)'s toes unconsciously curled around the fabric.

"Hm, now... where will we go?" Pondering aloud, (YN) swayed on their feet, giggling lightly. Rika's pleads were once again ignored as (YN) ran.