The Shinigami Realm was a dreary place, draped in a perpetual twilight that seeped into the bones of its inhabitants. The sky, if it could be called that, was a stagnant canvas of ash-gray clouds, swirling lazily above the craggy landscape that stretched endlessly in every direction. It was a world devoid of life and color, where time had lost all meaning—a place where even the concept of boredom had decayed into a sort of eternal, dull monotony.
In the heart of this desolate realm, Ryuk, a Shinigami with a skeletal frame and a wickedly grinning face, lounged atop a jagged rock. His bat-like wings, tattered and dark as the sky above, were folded behind him, and his long, bony fingers idly twirled a small, weathered pebble he had found on the ground. The Shinigami world was a place where even finding a pebble was a rare occurrence—an event, if one could call it that, in an existence where nothing ever happened.
"Another day in paradise," Ryuk muttered to himself, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that echoed in the emptiness. He tossed the pebble into the air, watching it rise and fall in a slow arc before it landed with a soft thud at his feet. A sigh escaped his lips, more a rasp than a breath, as he looked around at his fellow Shinigami.
They were all the same—lifeless creatures in every sense of the word. A group of them sat around a makeshift table, playing a never-ending game of cards. Their movements were mechanical, their faces void of emotion, save for the occasional sneer of contempt when one Shinigami took another's cards. A few others lay sprawled across the ground, either in a state of deep slumber or something that resembled it. Their chests rose and fell with an exaggerated slowness, as if even the act of breathing was too much effort.
It was all so... boring.
Ryuk's crimson eyes scanned the horizon, but there was nothing new to see—nothing that could break the endless cycle of tedium. He had lost count of how many years, centuries, or even millennia had passed since he had last felt any semblance of excitement. The Shinigami world was a place where time flowed like syrup, sticky and slow, dragging everything down into a mire of listlessness.
"What's the point of existing if there's nothing to do?" Ryuk asked aloud, though he knew no one would answer. The other Shinigami were too caught up in their mindless activities, too dulled by the endless sameness of their world to even notice his presence.
His gaze drifted upwards, beyond the bleak landscape, to the barrier that separated the Shinigami Realm from the human world. It was a thin, translucent veil—almost invisible to the naked eye, but it was there, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Through it, Ryuk could glimpse the world of the living, a place teeming with chaos, emotion, and—most importantly—life.
The human world was an enigma to the Shinigami. It was a place where everything happened so quickly, where every moment was filled with the potential for change, for something unexpected. Ryuk had always found it fascinating, but from a distance, it was little more than a tantalizing glimpse of what he could never truly experience.
Yet today, as he peered through the veil, something stirred within him—a spark of an idea, a flicker of mischief that slowly grew into a full-fledged plan. He knew what he wanted, what he needed. It wasn't enough to just observe the human world; he wanted to interact with it, to influence it in some way. He wanted to see what would happen if he introduced a little chaos into their ordered lives.
"What if..." Ryuk mused, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes narrowing with dark amusement. "What if I dropped a Death Note into the human world?"
It wasn't the first time he'd thought of it. In fact, the idea had crossed his mind on several occasions, but he had always dismissed it. Dropping a Death Note in the human world was a serious matter, after all. The consequences were unpredictable, and once it was done, there was no going back. But today... today, the boredom was too much to bear, and the temptation was too great. This time, he had an ace up his sleeve—a second Death Note that gave him a much greater sense of confidence in his plan.
Ryuk looked down at the two Death Notes he held, his grin widening. He recalled how he had come into possession of the second one. It had been by pure chance, really. He had been wandering aimlessly through the Shinigami Realm, bored out of his mind, when he happened upon one of his brethren—an old Shinigami whose time had run out. The ancient being had let his accumulated lifespan dwindle to nothing, too weary of their monotonous existence to continue.
Ryuk had watched with mild interest as the old Shinigami crumbled into dust, leaving behind nothing but his Death Note. It was a rare occurrence, and Ryuk, being the opportunist he was, had scooped up the discarded notebook without a second thought. Now, with two Death Notes in his possession, the idea of dropping one into the human world seemed less risky, more... enticing.
"Yeah... this could be interesting," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. The second Death Note gave him the perfect excuse to finally act on his long-held curiosity. After all, he still had his own notebook—no need to worry about losing it if things went sideways.
As he flew closer, the veil grew more distinct, and beyond it, the human world came into sharper focus. But instead of the towering cities and bustling streets of modern times, what Ryuk saw was a world from a different era. Rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with small, medieval villages where people lived simple lives. Stone castles loomed in the distance, their spires reaching towards the heavens, while smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of thatched-roof cottages. Cobblestone streets wound through these quaint villages, where merchants hawked their wares and knights in shining armor patrolled on horseback. It was a world that seemed untouched by the passage of time, a place where magic and tradition held sway over the lives of its inhabitants.
Ryuk hovered at the edge of the veil, his hand reaching into the pouch slung across his hip. The pouch was old and worn, much like everything else in the Shinigami world, but inside it lay something far more powerful than any mundane item—a Death Note.
Ryuk's fingers brushed against the cold, black cover of the notebook, and he pulled it out, holding it up to the light. The word "DEATH NOTE" was emblazoned on the cover in bold, white letters, a stark contrast to the darkness of the book itself. He flipped it open, running a finger over the crisp, blank pages. Each one was a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with the names of those who would soon die.
But who would be the first? Who would be the one to find the Death Note and unleash its power? Ryuk's eyes scanned the medieval world below, searching for the perfect candidate. He wanted someone interesting—someone who wouldn't just use the Death Note for petty revenge or mindless killings. He wanted someone who could truly embrace the power it offered, someone who could surprise him.
The villages were full of people going about their daily lives—peasants working the fields, merchants trading goods, knights training in the courtyards of their castles. But none of them caught Ryuk's eye. They were too ordinary, too predictable. He needed someone different, someone who stood out from the crowd.
His gaze wandered over the landscape, passing over the villages and castles, the forests and rivers, until finally, something caught his attention. It wasn't a person, not yet, but a place—a prestigious academy perched on a hilltop, its towers rising above the surrounding countryside like sentinels. This was no ordinary school; it was a place where young nobles came to learn the art of magic, where they were trained to wield the power of the elements.
"Interesting," Ryuk murmured to himself as he hovered above the academy, his eyes narrowing as he watched the students below. They were all so young, so full of potential. But which one would it be? Which one of these aspiring mages would find the Death Note and unlock its deadly secrets?
Ryuk hovered above the prestigious academy, his crimson eyes scanning the bustling courtyard below. It was a place of activity, full of young nobles dressed in elaborate robes, each marked with the colors of their respective houses. The academy was a world unto itself, a place where the elite of Halkeginia sent their children to learn the secrets of magic and the ways of nobility. From this distance, the students looked like tiny, scurrying ants, each one intent on their own business, their own dreams of power and prestige.
But Ryuk wasn't interested in just anyone. He needed someone special, someone whose life could be turned upside down by the Death Note, someone who would make things interesting. As he watched, he began to pick out potential candidates.
There was a tall, silver-haired boy who moved with the confidence of someone used to being in control. His haughty demeanor and the way others seemed to gravitate towards him suggested he was someone of importance, a leader among his peers. Ryuk could imagine the chaos that might ensue if someone like him got his hands on the Death Note—someone with power and ambition, someone who could use the notebook to further his own goals.
Then there was a dark-haired girl, quiet and reserved, who stood apart from the others, her eyes focused on a book she held close. She had an air of intelligence about her, the kind of person who might study the Death Note, learn its secrets, and use it in ways no one had ever imagined. Her detachment from the others made her an intriguing candidate, someone who might wield the notebook with cold, calculated precision.
But then Ryuk's gaze shifted to a small, pink-haired girl standing at the edge of the courtyard, away from the others. She was petite, almost fragile-looking, with a face that was a mixture of determination and frustration. She held a wand in her hand, but as she attempted to cast a spell, there was a sudden explosion, sending a puff of smoke into the air. The other students nearby laughed, pointing at her with mocking jeers. The girl's face turned red with embarrassment, and she quickly hid her wand, her eyes downcast.
"Interesting," Ryuk muttered to himself. He could sense the anger bubbling beneath her surface, the frustration of someone who had been ridiculed and belittled for far too long. Unlike the others, she wasn't powerful or confident; she was an underdog, someone on the verge of breaking. The potential for chaos was immense if someone like her were to find the Death Note—a girl who had been underestimated and pushed to the edge, finally given the means to take control of her destiny.
But Ryuk wasn't in a hurry. He hadn't yet decided which of these students, if any, would be the recipient of his Death Note. He had time to observe, to see how they interacted, to gauge their potential for chaos. After all, the right choice could mean the difference between a little mischief and absolute mayhem.
He floated silently above the academy, his wings barely moving as he watched the students go about their day. He would keep an eye on this place, and see how things unfolded. The right moment would present itself, and when it did, he would know. Until then, the Death Note remained in his grasp, waiting for the perfect time—and the perfect person—to be unleashed.
Ryuk grinned to himself, the anticipation building within him. The Shinigami Realm might still be dull and lifeless, but here, in this medieval world of magic and tradition, something interesting was bound to happen. And Ryuk would be there to witness it all, from the first drop of ink to the final stroke of chaos.
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière hurried through the stone corridors of the Tristain Academy of Magic. The early morning light filtered through the high, arched windows, casting long shadows across the cold, gray floor. The air was thick with the scent of old books and the faint, ever-present smell of burnt magical residue—a reminder of countless failed spells.
Louise clutched her wand tightly, her knuckles white with the effort. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anxiety and determination driving her forward. Today would be different, she told herself. Today, she would prove them all wrong.
As she reached the door to her classroom, she hesitated for just a moment. The sounds of chatter and laughter drifted through the heavy wooden door, and her stomach twisted into a knot. She knew what awaited her on the other side—mocking smiles, whispered insults, and the same condescending looks she had faced every day since she first set foot in the academy. But she couldn't let that stop her. Not today.
With a deep breath, Louise pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room fell silent as her classmates turned to look at her, their eyes narrowing with barely concealed contempt. She could feel their stares boring into her as she made her way to her seat, each step echoing loudly in the quiet room.
"Well, well, if it isn't Louise the Zero," a voice drawled from the back of the room. Louise stiffened, but she didn't turn around. She knew exactly who it was—Guiche de Gramont, a handsome but arrogant noble who never missed an opportunity to remind her of her failures.
"Quiet down, Guiche," another voice chided, though it was more amused than reprimanding. Louise felt a pang of irritation as she recognized the voice of her so-called friend, Montmorency. Even those who were supposed to be her allies couldn't resist joining in on the mockery.
"Let's just get this over with," Louise muttered under her breath as she took her seat near the front of the class. She could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on her, but she forced herself to focus on the lesson ahead.
At the front of the room, Professor Colbert, a tall man with a balding head and a gentle demeanor, cleared his throat and began the day's lesson. He explained the principles of elemental magic, his voice calm and steady, as he drew diagrams on the blackboard with a piece of chalk. Louise listened intently, trying to absorb every word, every detail. She was determined to succeed, no matter how many times she had failed before.
"Today, we will be practicing basic elemental transmutations," Professor Colbert announced, turning to face the class. "This is a fundamental skill that every mage must master. It requires precise control of your magical energy and a clear understanding of the element you are working with."
Louise's heart skipped a beat. This was her chance—another opportunity to prove herself, to show everyone that she wasn't just a failure. She glanced around the room, seeing her classmates preparing their wands, their expressions eager and confident. She wanted to feel that way too, but instead, all she felt was a gnawing sense of dread.
"Begin," Professor Colbert instructed, and the room was soon filled with the soft hum of magic as students began their attempts at transmutation.
Louise swallowed hard and raised her wand. She focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the doubts that threatened to overwhelm her. She imagined the element in her mind—a simple flame, just like the ones they had practiced in earlier lessons. All she had to do was focus her energy, visualize the result, and let the magic flow through her.
But as she whispered the incantation, something went wrong. Instead of a controlled burst of flame, there was a loud crack and a blinding flash of light. A cloud of thick, gray smoke erupted from the tip of her wand, engulfing her in a choking haze. Louise coughed and waved her hand frantically, trying to clear the smoke from her face.
When the smoke finally cleared, the room was silent. Louise blinked, her eyes stinging from the acrid fumes. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she realized what had happened—yet another failure.
And then, the laughter started.
It was quiet at first, just a few snickers from the back of the room, but it quickly spread, growing louder and more mocking with each passing second. Louise gritted her teeth, her hands trembling with a mixture of shame and anger. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"Looks like Louise the Zero strikes again!" someone called out, and the laughter intensified.
"She can't even manage a simple flame," another voice chimed in.
"Maybe she should try turning herself into smoke next time. It's all she's good at!"
The words cut deep, each one like a dagger to her heart. Louise clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. She wanted to scream, to shout at them to stop, but she knew it would only make things worse.
"Enough!" Professor Colbert's voice rang out, silencing the laughter. He looked at Louise with a mixture of pity and concern. "Louise, please try again. Focus on the basics, and remember to control your energy."
Louise nodded numbly, too humiliated to speak. She raised her wand once more, her hands shaking as she tried to regain her focus. But the damage was done. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't push the mocking voices out of her mind, couldn't stop the doubts from creeping in.
The second attempt was no better than the first. Another puff of smoke, another round of laughter. By the third attempt, Louise was barely holding it together. Her frustration was boiling over, mixing with the humiliation until she felt like she was going to explode.
"Why can't I do this?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with despair. "Why am I always the one who fails?"
The rest of the class passed in a blur. Louise barely heard Professor Colbert's words as he moved on to the next lesson. All she could think about was the laughter, the sneers, the way everyone looked at her as if she were a joke—a failure.
When the class finally ended, Louise was one of the first to leave the room. She hurried down the hallway, her head down, trying to ignore the whispers and giggles that followed her. All she wanted was to escape, to find a place where she could be alone, where she didn't have to see the looks of pity and scorn in their eyes.
But the academy was a small place, and there was nowhere to hide.
As she turned a corner, she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her ankle. Louise stumbled, her arms flailing as she tried to catch herself, but it was too late. She crashed to the ground, her books and papers scattering across the floor.
"Oh dear, did I trip you? I'm so sorry!" a voice said, dripping with false sweetness. Louise looked up to see Kirche von Zerbst, her so-called rival, standing over her with a smirk on her face.
Kirche was everything Louise was not—tall, beautiful, confident, and, most infuriatingly, talented. She was a gifted fire mage, and she never missed an opportunity to rub her success in Louise's face.
"It must have been an accident," Kirche continued, her smile widening as she watched Louise struggle to gather her things. "You really should be more careful, Louise. After all, we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Louise felt a surge of anger, hot and bitter, rising up in her chest. She knew Kirche had tripped her on purpose. She could see it in the gleam in her eyes, in the way her lips curled into that smug, self-satisfied grin. But what could she do? If she accused Kirche, it would only make her look paranoid and desperate.
So instead, Louise bit her tongue and forced herself to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ankle and the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over. She gathered her books with shaking hands, not daring to meet Kirche's gaze.
"Thank you for your concern," she managed to say, her voice tight and strained. "But I'm fine."
Kirche raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Louise's attempts to maintain her dignity. "Of course you are," she said, her tone patronizing. "You're always fine, aren't you, Louise?"
Louise didn't respond. She couldn't trust herself to speak without her voice breaking. Instead, she turned and hurried down the hallway, leaving Kirche's laughter ringing in her ears.
She didn't stop until she reached her dormitory, a small, sparsely furnished room that felt more like a prison cell than a place of refuge. Louise slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, her heart racing. The events of the day replayed in her mind, each failure, each insult, each moment of humiliation compounding until it felt like the weight of it all would crush her.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice breaking as the tears finally began to fall. "Why am I always the one who fails? Why do they all hate me so much?"
She wiped at her eyes, but the tears kept coming, hot and bitter. She sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs wracked her small frame. It wasn't fair. She had tried so hard and worked so diligently, but no matter what she did, she always ended up as "Louise the Zero." The name had followed her since her first year at the academy, a constant reminder of her inability to perform even the simplest spells. And the ridicule had only grown worse with time.
It had started with whispered insults, cruel words muttered just loud enough for her to hear. But as the years passed and her failures continued, the harassment escalated. The other students began playing tricks on her—hiding her books, sabotaging her assignments, tripping her in the hallways like Kirche had done today. And no matter how hard Louise tried to ignore it, the constant barrage of mockery and scorn chipped away at her resolve.
She had thought she could handle it, that she could push through the negativity and prove herself. But now, after all this time of enduring their cruelty, she was starting to crack. The anger and resentment that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long were beginning to boil over.
"I hate them," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them. The confession shocked her, but she didn't take it back. "I hate all of them."
The thought was like a poison in her mind, spreading through her like wildfire. She hated the way they looked down on her, the way they laughed at her failures, the way they treated her as if she were nothing. She hated Kirche and her smug superiority, Guiche and his cruel taunts, Montmorency and her false friendship. She hated them all with a burning passion that consumed her.
But most of all, she hated herself for being so weak.
Louise stared down at her wand, lying on the floor beside her. It was a symbol of everything she had failed to become—a powerful mage, respected and admired by her peers. Instead, it was nothing more than a reminder of her inadequacy, of the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be anything more than "Louise the Zero."
"I'll show them," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and resolve. "I'll show them all."
But even as she said the words, she knew it was a hollow promise. How could she show them when she couldn't even perform the simplest spell? How could she prove herself when every attempt ended in failure? The anger and resentment that filled her heart were nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Louise sat in the darkness of her room, the weight of her failures pressing down on her. She didn't know how she would do it, or if it was even possible, but one thing was certain—she couldn't go on like this. She couldn't continue to endure the ridicule and harassment of her peers, the constant reminder of her inadequacy. Something had to change. She had to find a way to prove herself, to show them that she was more than just a failure.
The first light of dawn crept into Louise's small, dimly lit room, casting long shadows across the cold stone floor. She lay in bed, her eyes open and unblinking, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the previous day played on a loop in her mind. The mockery, the humiliation, the anger—it all swirled together into a storm of emotions that left her feeling drained and hollow.
But today was different. Today, she had one final chance to prove herself.
Louise forced herself to sit up, her body aching from the tension that had settled into her muscles overnight. The familiar summoning ritual was a significant event for every student at the Tristain Academy of Magic, a rite of passage that would determine their future as mages. It was the day when each student would summon a creature from another world to be their lifelong companion and servant—a familiar that would reflect their magical abilities and character.
For most of her classmates, it was an exciting day, filled with anticipation and hope. But for Louise, it was something more. It was her last chance to shed the hateful title of "Louise the Zero," to prove to everyone—her peers, her teachers, and herself—that she wasn't a failure. She could no longer afford to be the laughingstock of the academy. She needed to summon a familiar so powerful, so awe-inspiring, that it would silence the mockery forever.
But as much as she wanted to believe in herself, doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind. What if she failed? What if she summoned nothing at all? The thought of standing there, empty-handed, while her classmates laughed at her yet again, made her stomach turn.
"No," she whispered fiercely to herself, shaking her head as if to banish the thought. "I won't fail. I can't."
She dressed quickly, her hands trembling as she fastened the buttons of her uniform. The fabric felt heavy against her skin, a constant reminder of the weight she carried on her shoulders. She strapped her wand to her belt, the slender piece of wood that had been the source of so much frustration and disappointment, and left her room.
The corridors of the academy were quiet as she made her way to the courtyard where the ritual would take place. The early morning air was cool, and a faint mist clung to the ground, giving the ancient stone walls an ethereal quality. Louise's heart pounded in her chest, the anxiety building with each step she took.
When she arrived, a few students had already gathered, chatting excitedly among themselves. Their voices were a low hum in the background as Louise took her place near the edge of the courtyard, keeping to herself as she always did. She could feel their eyes on her, the curious glances and smirks that made her skin crawl. But she refused to acknowledge them, focusing instead on the task ahead.
The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, Professor Colbert arrived. He was accompanied by the rest of the class, who filed into the courtyard, their expressions ranging from excitement to nervous anticipation. Louise watched them with a mixture of bitterness and envy. They didn't have to worry about failing. They didn't have to carry the burden of being a Zero.
"Good morning, everyone," Professor Colbert began, his voice warm and reassuring. He stood at the front of the group, his hands clasped behind his back. "Today is an important day for each of you. The familiar you summon will be your lifelong companion, a reflection of your magical abilities and your bond with the elements. Remember, this ritual is not just about power, but also about harmony and connection with your familiar."
Louise's heart sank at his words. Harmony and connection—two things she had always struggled with. But she couldn't let herself dwell on that now. She had to stay focused.
"Now," Professor Colbert continued, "the summoning ritual is simple. You will step forward, focus your magical energy, and recite the incantation. Trust in yourself and in the bond you share with the magical world. Your familiar will come to you."
He gestured to the open space in the center of the courtyard. "Who would like to go first?"
As expected, Kirche von Zerbst was the first to step forward, her every movement radiating confidence and grace. Louise watched her rival with narrowed eyes, her heart seething with resentment. Kirche had everything Louise lacked—beauty, talent, and the admiration of their peers. She never failed to remind Louise of her shortcomings, always with a smug smile on her face.
Kirche raised her wand, her expression serene as she began the incantation. The words flowed from her lips effortlessly, her voice carrying an authority that commanded respect. Louise clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched.
There was a flash of light, and a circle of fire appeared at Kirche's feet, swirling and crackling with energy. From within the flames emerged a creature, its body covered in bright red scales that glistened in the morning light. It was a fire salamander, a rare and powerful familiar that was the envy of many mages. The creature hissed softly as it curled around Kirche's legs, its eyes glowing with a fierce intelligence.
The class erupted into applause, several students whispering words of admiration and congratulations. Louise felt a sickening knot form in her stomach as she watched the scene unfold. Kirche's success was a cruel reminder of her own failures, a confirmation of everything she feared.
"Of course Kirche would summon something like that," someone whispered behind her, the words laced with both admiration and condescension.
"Probably the best familiar anyone will summon today," another voice added, and Louise felt her anger flare.
She had known this day would be hard, but watching Kirche bask in the admiration of their classmates, with that smug smile on her face, was almost too much to bear. The jealousy gnawed at her insides, and she had to bite her lip to keep from saying something she would regret.
One by one, the other students stepped forward, each summoning their own familiars. Some were impressive—a griffin, a manticore, a majestic phoenix—but none quite matched the fire salamander's sheer presence. Louise watched in silence, her bitterness deepening with every successful summoning. Each new familiar felt like a personal attack, a reminder that she was the only one who had never succeeded at anything.
Finally, it was her turn.
"Louise de La Vallière," Professor Colbert called, his voice cutting through the noise of the courtyard.
Louise felt a wave of nervousness wash over her, but she forced herself to stand up straight and walk to the center of the courtyard. She could feel every pair of eyes on her, waiting, anticipating her failure. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let the fear take over. This was her moment. This was her last chance to prove them all wrong.
As she raised her wand, the whispers began.
"Do you think she'll summon anything at all?"
"Maybe just another explosion."
"Or worse, nothing. It's Louise the Zero after all."
The words were like daggers, each one piercing deeper than the last. Louise's vision blurred with a red haze of fury. She could feel the anger boiling within her, a dark and dangerous energy that threatened to consume her. But she didn't care. Let it consume her. Let it give her the strength she needed to finally succeed.
With a voice that trembled with both desperation and determination, Louise began the incantation. She poured every ounce of her magical energy into the spell, willing it to work, begging for it to succeed. She imagined a powerful, awe-inspiring creature emerging from the magical circle—something that would make everyone gasp in wonder, something that would finally erase the name "Louise the Zero" from their minds forever.
But as the final words left her lips, nothing happened.
No flash of light. No swirling of energy. No familiar.
Nothing.
Louise stared at the ground, her breath caught in her throat, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But the seconds ticked by in silence, and the realization slowly sank in.
She had failed.
The courtyard was deathly silent for a moment, and then, as if on cue, the laughter started. It began with a snicker from Kirche, then spread like wildfire through the crowd. The sound echoed in Louise's ears, mocking her, crushing what little hope she had left.
"I knew it," Kirche said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Louise the Zero strikes again."
"She couldn't even manage a puff of smoke this time," someone else chimed in, and the laughter grew louder, more vicious.
"Maybe her familiar is invisible!" another voice called out, and the crowd erupted in raucous laughter.
Professor Colbert stepped forward, raising his hands to quiet the class, but the damage was done. The laughter continued, the insults growing bolder with each passing second. Louise's chest tightened, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the rage she had kept bottled up for so long finally exploded.
They were mocking her. They were laughing at her. They thought she was a joke.
"I hate you," Louise whispered, her voice trembling with fury as she looked around at her classmates. But they didn't hear her, didn't notice the way her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white.
"I hate all of you," she repeated, louder this time, but still drowned out by the laughter.
The anger surged through her, burning away the last remnants of self-doubt. It wasn't fair. She had tried so hard, had wanted so desperately to prove herself, and they had all just been waiting for her to fail. They wanted her to fail. They reveled in her humiliation.
Kirche's laughter was the loudest, her voice dripping with disdain. Louise's eyes locked onto her rival, and something dark and twisted blossomed in her heart. It wasn't just anger anymore—it was pure, unadulterated hatred. She wanted to wipe that smug smile off Kirche's face, to make her feel the same pain and humiliation that she had felt for so long.
The world around her seemed to blur, the laughter fading into a dull roar as Louise's vision tunneled. All she could see was Kirche's face, that infuriatingly perfect face, and the rage that consumed her thoughts.
"Enough!" Professor Colbert's voice finally broke through the fog of anger, but it was too late. Louise was already lost in the darkness, her mind filled with thoughts of revenge, of making them all pay for what they had done to her.
"Louise," Colbert called gently, his voice tinged with concern as he approached her. "It's okay. There's no need to be upset. We can—"
But his words were cut off by the sudden, intense glare that Louise directed at him. Her normally soft, pink eyes were hard and cold, filled with a malevolent fire that made the professor take an involuntary step back.
"I'll show you," Louise hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll show all of you."
But as she stood there something dark began to take root in Louise's heart. The laughter and jeers of her classmates faded into the background, replaced by a cold, simmering hatred. She let her mind be consumed by the overwhelming desire for vengeance.
The humiliation was too much to bear. She had been ridiculed, mocked, and treated like a joke for far too long. The anger she felt was no longer just a fleeting emotion—it had become something deeper, something far more dangerous.
She wished death upon them all.
In her mind, she saw each of their faces twisted in pain, their voices silenced forever. She didn't just want them to suffer—she wanted them gone, erased from existence as if they had never been. The thought was intoxicating, filling her with a twisted sense of satisfaction. She had never felt anything like it before, this cold, calculating hatred that wrapped itself around her heart like a vice.
As the laughter around her continued, Louise made a silent promise to herself. They would pay for this, every single one of them. Kirche with her smug superiority, Guiche with his cruel taunts, Montmorency with her false friendship—all of them would suffer for what they had done to her.
She would find a way to make them pay, no matter the cost.
The class watched her in stunned silence, unsure of what had just happened. Even Kirche seemed momentarily taken aback, her smug expression faltering for just a second as she noticed the change in Louise's demeanor.
But then, as if snapping out of a trance, the mocking resumed, though this time it was more subdued, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. The students began to whisper among themselves, casting nervous glances at Louise.
"Louise," Professor Colbert said gently, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder. "That's enough for today. Let's get you back inside."
But Louise didn't respond. She couldn't. The only thing she could feel was the seething hatred that had taken root in her heart, growing stronger with every taunt, every laugh.
As she allowed herself to be led away, her thoughts were consumed with one single, burning desire.
They would all pay. One way or another, she would make them all pay.
The heavy rain pounded against the ancient stone walls of the Tristain Academy of Magic, the relentless downpour filling the night with a steady, drumming rhythm. Every so often, a flash of lightning would split the sky, illuminating the darkened grounds in stark, eerie brilliance, followed almost immediately by a deafening crash of thunder that shook the very foundations of the building. It was as if the storm outside was mirroring the turmoil within Louise's heart.
Louise sat on the edge of her bed, her small frame hunched over as she stared blankly at the stone floor. Her dorm room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering candle on her bedside table. The flame danced wildly in response to the gusts of wind that slipped through the cracks in the window, casting long, wavering shadows across the room.
But Louise was barely aware of her surroundings. Her mind was consumed by a single, all-encompassing thought: revenge. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each memory fueling the fire of her hatred. The laughter, the jeers, the smug faces of her classmates—they were etched into her consciousness, haunting her every waking moment.
"I'll make them pay," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and despair. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging painfully into her palms. "No matter what… I'll make them pay."
The words felt hollow, empty. As much as she wanted to believe them, a deep sense of helplessness gnawed at her insides. How could she possibly make them pay? She was powerless, a failure, a Zero. Her magic was a joke, and she had no means to enact the revenge she so desperately craved.
The thought made her even more furious. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she just think of it and make it happen? Why couldn't she simply wish them dead and have it be so? The helplessness was suffocating, wrapping around her chest like an iron band, making it hard to breathe.
A flash of lightning lit up the room, and for a brief moment, Louise's reflection was visible in the small mirror on the wall. The sight of her own face—pale, drawn, and twisted with anger—sent a shiver down her spine. She looked like a stranger, someone consumed by darkness, someone who had been pushed too far.
The thunder crashed, and in that instant, Louise felt something shift within her. The fear, the doubt, the self-pity—they all seemed to melt away, leaving behind only cold, steely resolve. She couldn't afford to be weak anymore. She had to find a way to make them pay, to wipe those smug smiles off their faces once and for all.
But how? How could she do it when she had nothing, no power, no means to exact her revenge?
Louise's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement outside her window. It was quick, barely noticeable, but something had fallen from the sky, tumbling through the sheets of rain. She caught only a glimpse of it before it disappeared into the darkness below, but there was something odd about it, something that piqued her curiosity.
She stood up slowly, her heart pounding as she moved to the window. The rain lashed against the glass, and for a moment, she hesitated. But then, driven by a strange compulsion, she unlocked the window and pushed it open. The cold, wet air rushed in, making her shiver as she peered down at the academy grounds.
The night was dark, the rain making it difficult to see anything clearly. But there, lying on the grass just a short distance from her window, was something that hadn't been there before. It was a small, dark object, barely visible against the soaked earth.
Louise narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what it was. The lightning flashed again, and for a brief moment, she saw it clearly—a notebook, lying face down in the mud, its pages fluttering slightly in the wind.
A notebook? Out here in the middle of a storm?
Her curiosity got the better of her. She grabbed her coat from the back of a chair and pulled it on, the thick fabric offering some protection against the cold. Without a second thought, she slipped out of her room and hurried down the stairs, the sound of her footsteps drowned out by the roar of the storm.
The corridors were empty, the students having long since retreated to their rooms for the night. Louise moved quickly, her mind focused on the strange notebook. What was it doing out there? Who had dropped it? And why did it feel like it was meant for her?
She reached the door that led to the courtyard and hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open. The wind howled as the rain hit her with full force, soaking her almost instantly. But she didn't care. She had to see what that notebook was.
She stepped out into the storm, the cold rain stinging her face as she made her way across the courtyard. The grass squelched under her boots, the mud sucking at her heels as she trudged toward the spot where she had seen the notebook fall.
Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, and there it was, just a few feet away. Louise's heart raced as she bent down to pick it up, her hands trembling with a mix of anticipation and unease.
The notebook was small, and unassuming, with a plain black cover that was now smeared with mud. It felt oddly heavy in her hands, as if it carried some sort of hidden weight. She wiped away the dirt with her sleeve, turning it over to inspect it more closely.
It was just a simple, black notebook. But something about it felt… off. It wasn't just the weight, but something more, something she couldn't quite put into words.
She held the notebook close to her chest as she hurried back to the shelter of the academy. The storm seemed to intensify, the wind whipping around her, the thunder crashing with a ferocity that matched the tumult of emotions swirling within her. She reached the door and pushed it open, stepping into the relative warmth and safety of the hallway.
Louise didn't stop to think. She ran back to her room, her wet clothes clinging to her body as she burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, the notebook still clutched tightly in her hands.
She had no idea why she was so drawn to this object, why it felt so important. But as she looked down at it, a strange sense of anticipation filled her, as if this simple, unassuming notebook held the answer to everything she had been feeling.
With trembling fingers, she walked over to her bed and sat down, placing the notebook on her lap. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room as she stared at it, her mind racing with possibilities.
What could it be? Why had it fallen from the sky, seemingly out of nowhere?
Louise took a deep breath, staring at the plain black cover of the notebook resting on her lap. Something about it felt ominous, as though it held a secret too dark to be known. Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the last traces of mud, revealing the surface beneath. She turned it over carefully, and there, on the opposite cover, she saw it.
There, in bold, white letters were two words:
"Death Note."
Louise's breath caught in her throat as she read the words again, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. Death Note? What did that mean? Was this some kind of joke?
She flipped to the next page, her hands shaking as she scanned the text. There were instructions and rules written in a neat, precise hand:
"The human whose name is written in this note shall die."
Louise froze, her eyes wide with shock. The words were impossible, unbelievable. Yet, as she read on, the weight of what she held in her hands began to sink in. Each sentence seemed more absurd than the last, and she found herself shaking her head in disbelief. The idea that a simple notebook could possess such deadly power was ridiculous—impossible, even. She knew magic, real magic, and this… this felt like something out of a dark fantasy, too far-fetched to be real.
"This can't be true," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the relentless drumming of the rain outside. She turned the pages slowly, her fingers trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity. The rules were detailed, precise, as if someone had carefully thought out every possibility, every scenario in which the notebook might be used.
As she read on, she tried to dismiss it all as nonsense, a cruel joke left behind by some twisted individual. After all, who could believe that writing a person's name in a book could cause them to die? It defied all logic, all reason. And yet… there was something about it, something that gnawed at the back of her mind.
What if it's real?
The thought crept in unbidden, slithering into her consciousness like a whisper in the dark. She pushed it away, refusing to entertain the idea, but it kept coming back, persistent and insistent. What if this notebook really did have the power it claimed? What if, by simply writing a name, she could make someone die?
She flipped to another page, her breath catching in her throat as she continued to read. The rules were so specific, so methodical. There was a chilling logic to them that made her skin crawl. Whoever had written this had thought of everything—every contingency, every possibility. It was as if they had created a tool designed for one purpose only: to kill.
Louise's mind raced as she considered the implications. If this was real, if this notebook truly had the power to kill… what did that mean for her? Could she really use it? Could she finally make those who had tormented her pay for their cruelty? The idea was terrifying, yet at the same time, it was intoxicating.
She closed the notebook for a moment, holding it tightly in her hands as she stared at the cover. The words Death Note seemed to pulse with dark energy as if the very book itself was aware of the power it held. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.
"No," she muttered, shaking her head as if to dispel the thought. "It's impossible. It has to be."
But even as she said the words, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was wrong. There was something about this notebook, something that felt… real. The weight of it in her hands, the precision of the rules—it was too detailed, too deliberate to be a mere prank. And the tiny spark of hope that had ignited within her refused to be extinguished.
Louise looked out the window, watching the rain pour down in relentless sheets. The storm outside was fierce, the thunder crashing with an intensity that seemed to echo her inner turmoil. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in a stark, white light, and for a brief moment, she saw her reflection in the glass.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. She looked almost ghostly, like a shadow of herself, caught between disbelief and the terrifying possibility that this notebook might be real.
She opened the Death Note again, her eyes scanning the pages, searching for something—anything—that would confirm or deny the truth. But the more she read, the more the tiny seed of belief began to grow. There was a part of her, deep down, that wanted it to be real, that craved the power it promised.
If it was real, she could finally have the power she had always lacked. She could take control, make those who had wronged her suffer the way she had suffered. She could erase the name "Louise the Zero" from existence and replace it with something else, something that commanded respect—and fear.
But another part of her recoiled at the thought. The idea of using the Death Note was horrifying and unthinkable. Killing someone, even those who had tormented her, was a line she wasn't sure she could cross. The notebook's power might be tempting, but it came with a price—a darkness that would change her forever.
As she wrestled with these thoughts, a crash of thunder shook the room, startling her from her reverie. The candle on her bedside table flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. The storm outside seemed to mirror the chaos within her, each rumble of thunder matching the pounding of her heart.
Louise clenched the notebook tightly in her hands, her knuckles turning white. The logical part of her mind screamed that this was impossible, that there was no way such a thing could exist. But the small, desperate part of her that had suffered for so long wanted to believe. It wanted this power, wanted the means to finally strike back at those who had made her life a living hell.
She stood up abruptly, the decision to act—or not to act—tearing at her soul. The rain continued to pour outside, the storm intensifying as if urging her to make a choice. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, but the tension inside her only grew.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with emotion. "What am I supposed to believe?"
She looked down at the Death Note again, the words on the cover seeming to pulse in the dim light. It was as if the book was calling to her, urging her to take the plunge, to test its power and see if it was real.
But how could she? How could she even begin to consider something so monstrous?
And yet, the faces of her classmates flashed through her mind—Kirche, Guiche, Montmorency—all of them mocking her, laughing at her failures, treating her like she was nothing. The anger that had been simmering within her all day began to boil over, her hatred fueling the dark thoughts that had begun to take hold.
She wanted them to pay. She wanted them to suffer as she had suffered, to feel the same pain and humiliation they had inflicted on her. The notebook promised her the power to do just that, to take control of her fate and bend it to her will.
Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and at that moment, Louise made a decision. She would test it. Just once. She had to know if it was real, had to see for herself if this power was truly within her grasp.
But who? Who would she test it on?
The question lingered in her mind, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. She could start with someone minor, someone she wouldn't feel guilty about, someone who had tormented her but wasn't vital to the life at the academy. Or… she could go straight for one of her tormentors, one of those who had made her life miserable from the start.
Her hands trembled as she considered the possibilities, the weight of the decision pressing down on her like a physical force. The storm outside raged on, the thunder crashing in time with her heartbeat, the lightning illuminating the darkness that had begun to consume her.
Louise knew that if she went through with this if she tested the notebook and it worked, there would be no turning back. She would be crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, stepping into a darkness from which she might never return.
But the anger, the hatred—it was too strong, too overpowering to ignore. It gnawed at her, urging her to take the next step, to seize the power that had fallen into her hands and use it to reshape her destiny.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she opened the Death Note to the next blank page. The clean, empty space stared back at her, waiting, inviting her to take that final step.
The candle flickered one last time, the flame casting a warm glow over the notebook as Louise reached for her quill. Her hand hovered over the page, trembling with the weight of the decision she was about to make.
Just as she dipped the quill into the ink, she hesitated. Doubt crept in, pulling at the edges of her resolve. But the storm raged on outside, the thunder rumbling like a distant drumbeat, pushing her forward, driving her to act.
With a deep breath, Louise steeled herself and began to write. The quill scratched against the paper, the ink flowing smoothly as she penned the name, her hand steady despite the storm raging both outside and within her.
When she finished, she stared at the name on the page, her heart pounding in her chest. She had done it. The words were there, written in her own hand, the name of the person she had chosen.
Now, all she could do was wait. Wait and see if the impossible has become real.
She closed the notebook slowly, her hands still shaking as she placed it on the bedside table. The storm outside showed no signs of letting up, the rain hammering against the window as if trying to break through.
Louise sat back down on the edge of her bed, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anticipation, guilt, and a strange sense of satisfaction. She didn't know if what she had done would work, didn't know if the Death Note was real or just a cruel joke.
But the possibility was there, and that was enough to keep her heart racing, and her mind spinning with the potential consequences.
If it worked, if the Death Note was real, then everything would change. She would no longer be "Louise the Zero." She would be something more, something powerful, something to be feared.
As she sat there in the darkness, the storm continuing to rage outside, Louise couldn't help but feel a small, twisted smile tug at the corners of her lips. Whether the notebook was real or not, she had taken the first step down a path she had never imagined herself walking.
And there was no turning back.
The first light of dawn filtered through the heavy curtains of Louise's small dormitory room, casting a dim, gray glow over the walls. She lay in bed, her eyes open but unfocused, staring at the ceiling as the events of the previous night played over and over in her mind. The storm had finally passed, leaving behind an eerie stillness that settled into the very air she breathed.
Louise had hardly slept. She had spent most of the night lying awake, the Death Note resting on the table beside her, its presence looming over her like a dark cloud. The words she had written—the name she had penned with such careful deliberation—now haunted her, a constant reminder of the terrible power she had unleashed.
But it couldn't be real. It was impossible. She had to have imagined it, convinced herself that the notebook was something more than just a collection of paper and ink. After all, what were the chances that something as fantastical as the Death Note could truly exist?
And yet… that tiny spark of belief still burned within her, refusing to be extinguished. What if it was real? What if the name she had written last night had indeed sealed someone's fate?
A cold shiver ran down her spine as she sat up in bed, her thoughts tangled in a web of fear and uncertainty. She pushed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the stone floor cold against her bare feet. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with the weight of what she had done—or what she thought she had done.
She forced herself to stand, moving to the small basin of water in the corner of the room. She splashed her face, trying to wash away the lingering unease that clung to her like a second skin. But no amount of cold water could cleanse the doubts that plagued her mind.
As she dressed, pulling on her uniform with mechanical precision, Louise couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The unease gnawed at her, a creeping dread that made her hands tremble as she buttoned her coat. She tried to tell herself it was just nerves, the result of a restless night, but deep down, she knew it was more than that.
The sound of distant footsteps echoed through the hallway outside her door, followed by muffled voices. Louise paused, her heart skipping a beat as she strained to listen. The voices were hushed, but there was an urgency to them, a note of alarm that sent a chill through her veins.
And then, suddenly, a scream pierced the air—a high, terrified sound that sent Louise's pulse racing. She froze, her hand hovering over the final button of her coat, her breath catching in her throat. The scream was quickly followed by a chorus of shocked gasps and hurried footsteps, the commotion growing louder with each passing second.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
Louise hurried to the door, her heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled with the latch. She threw the door open and stepped out into the hallway, her eyes wide with alarm. The corridor was filled with students, their faces pale and anxious as they gathered around a single point farther down the hall.
"What's going on?" Louise muttered to herself, her feet moving almost of their own accord as she pushed her way through the growing crowd. The voices around her were a low murmur, filled with confusion and fear.
"Did you hear? Something happened…"
"I heard someone scream…"
"It's Kirche's room… something's wrong…"
The mention of Kirche's name sent a jolt of fear through Louise's heart. She quickened her pace, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she neared the source of the commotion. The students were gathered outside a single door, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief.
It was Kirche's dorm room.
Louise's heart pounded in her ears as she edged closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside. She could hear the whispers around her, the frightened speculation as students exchanged hushed words.
"Did she… could she be…?"
"No, that's impossible. How could this happen?"
"She was fine yesterday… this doesn't make any sense."
Louise pushed her way through the last of the crowd, her breath catching in her throat as she reached the doorway. The sight that met her eyes made her blood run cold.
Kirche was lying in her bed, her body unnaturally still. Her skin was pale, almost ashen, and her eyes were closed as if she were merely sleeping. But there was something wrong, something terribly wrong. The air around her felt heavy, oppressive, as though death itself had settled into the room.
Siesta, the academy maid, was standing in the doorway, her face white as a sheet, her hands trembling as she stared at Kirche's lifeless form. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she clutched her apron as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
"I… I found her like this," Siesta stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't understand… she was fine last night…"
Louise's heart raced as she looked at Kirche, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a nightmare. How could this be real? How could Kirche—arrogant, confident Kirche—be lying there so still, so… dead?
Before she could process what she was seeing, a group of teachers and academy staff arrived, their faces drawn with concern. Professor Colbert was among them, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a look of deep worry. He quickly moved to the front of the crowd, his voice firm as he addressed the students.
"Everyone, please step back. We need to assess the situation," Colbert said, motioning for the students to move away from the door.
The crowd began to disperse reluctantly, whispers and murmurs spreading like wildfire as they moved back down the hallway. Louise found herself being pushed along with the others, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Kirche's room. The image of her lifeless body was burned into her mind, and with it, a single, horrifying realization.
It was the Death Note. The Death Note is real.
The thought struck her like a physical blow, leaving her breathless as she stumbled back to her dorm room. She barely registered the other students around her, their anxious conversations a distant hum in her ears. Her mind was consumed by the terrifying truth that had just dawned on her.
I did this. I killed her.
The moment she was back in the privacy of her room, Louise slammed the door shut and leaned against it, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.
She had done it. The Death Note had worked. Kirche was dead, and it was her fault.
Her legs felt weak, and she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as the full weight of what she had done crashed down on her. She had killed someone. She had taken a life, and there was no going back, no undoing what she had done.
But even as the horror of her actions threatened to overwhelm her, another feeling began to rise within her—a cold, menacing determination.
Louise lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen from the tears she hadn't even realized she was shedding. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and forced herself to her feet, her movements stiff and mechanical as she walked over to the small drawer where she had hidden the Death Note.
With trembling hands, she pulled the notebook out and stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. The black cover seemed to pulse with a dark energy, a constant reminder of the power she now held.
She had crossed a line, stepped into a darkness from which there was no return. But she had made a promise to herself—a promise to make them all pay for what they had done to her. And now, with the Death Note in her possession, she had the means to do it.
The panic that had gripped her just moments before began to fade, replaced by a cold, grim resolve. She had taken the first step down this path, and she couldn't afford to falter now. The power of the Death Note was real, and it was hers to wield.
Louise sat down on the edge of her bed, the notebook resting on her lap as she stared at it, her mind racing. The weight of what she had done was still there, but it no longer felt like a burden. It felt like a necessary step, a means to an end.
"I've already started this," she whispered to herself, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I can't stop now. I won't stop now."
She had taken a life, but it wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last. There were others—those who had tormented her, who had made her life a living hell. They would all pay, just as Kirche had paid.
Louise took a deep breath, her hands no longer trembling as she opened the Death Note once more. The pages felt familiar now, the ink on the paper a dark promise of what was to come.
A sudden knock on her door startled her, and she quickly shoved the notebook back into the drawer, her heart racing again. She stood up, smoothing her uniform as she hurried to answer the door, her mind already shifting back to the reality outside her room.
It was one of the academy's staff members, a serious expression on his face as he informed her of the day's announcement.
"All classes are postponed until further notice," he said, his voice grave. "There will be an investigation into what happened, but for now, please remain in your dormitory or the common areas. Do not leave the academy grounds."
Louise nodded, barely listening to his words as she closed the door behind him. Her thoughts were elsewhere, focused on the notebook hidden in her drawer and the power it represented.
The next few days would be different. There would be questions, rumors, fear spreading through the academy like wildfire. But Louise knew one thing for certain—she had the power now, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.
As the storm clouds of the previous night cleared, leaving a gray, overcast sky, Louise stood by her window, staring out at the academy grounds. The world outside seemed distant, almost unreal, compared to the dark reality that had taken root within her.
She had made a decision, and there was no going back. The power of the Death Note was real, and she would use it to make sure that those who had wronged her would suffer the consequences.
The day passed in a blur of muted sounds and distant voices, the weight of what Louise had done hanging heavily over her like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. She had spent most of the morning in her room, the Death Note hidden away in the drawer, yet its presence loomed large in her mind, refusing to be ignored.
Classes had been postponed, and the academy grounds were eerily quiet, the usual chatter and laughter of students replaced by a tense, uneasy silence. Rumors were spreading, whispers of Kirche's sudden death passing from one student to another like a contagion. But Louise barely noticed any of it. Her thoughts were consumed by the notebook and the power it held.
She paced back and forth in her small room, her mind racing with possibilities. What could she do with the Death Note? The power to end lives was terrifying, yet exhilarating. The weight of the decision she had made last night was still there, but it no longer felt like a burden. It felt like a door that had opened, revealing a path she had never considered before—a path of revenge, of retribution.
I could make them all pay, she thought, her heart pounding with the realization of what was now within her grasp. I could change everything.
But even as she imagined the possibilities, a part of her recoiled in horror at the thought. This wasn't the kind of power a mage was supposed to wield. Magic was meant to create, to protect, not to destroy. And yet, the allure of the Death Note was too strong, too intoxicating to resist. She had tasted its power, and now it was all she could think about.
Louise sat down at her desk, staring at the drawer where the Death Note was hidden. Her fingers itched to open it, to hold the notebook in her hands and feel that dark power once more. But she hesitated, fear and excitement battling for dominance within her.
What am I becoming? she wondered, her breath catching in her throat. What have I already become?
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the sudden chill in the air, the way the light in the room seemed to dim ever so slightly. It wasn't until she heard a low, rumbling laugh behind her that she realized she was no longer alone.
"Well, well, well… I must say, you're quite an interesting human."
The voice was deep and gravelly, with a hint of amusement that sent a shiver down Louise's spine. It was unlike anything she had ever heard—cold, detached, and yet somehow filled with a twisted sort of glee. She froze, her blood running cold as the words registered in her mind.
She wasn't alone.
Louise's heart raced, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she slowly turned around, every nerve in her body screaming at her to flee. But when her eyes finally landed on the source of the voice, she was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak.
Standing in the middle of her room was a figure, unlike anything she had ever seen. It was tall, impossibly tall, with a gaunt, skeletal frame that seemed to stretch toward the ceiling. Its skin was a sickly gray, stretched taut over bones that jutted out at sharp angles. Its face was the most terrifying of all—hollow eyes set deep within its skull, a wide, unnerving grin that seemed to split its face in two, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth.
The creature's eyes, glowing a malevolent crimson, fixed on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold. And yet, despite its terrifying appearance, there was something strangely casual about the way it stood, as if it had every right to be there as if it were simply another student in the academy.
But Louise knew better. This was no student. This was something else entirely—something out of a nightmare.
"What… what are you?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling as she backed away, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. The figure's grin widened, its eyes narrowing with what could only be described as amusement.
"I'm Ryuk," the creature said, its voice a low, rumbling purr. "A Shinigami. A god of death, you could say."
Louise's heart skipped a beat, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was hearing. A god of death? The words seemed absurd, impossible, yet here it was—standing right in front of her, as real as anything else in the world.
"A Shinigami…" she repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper. The term was foreign to her, but its meaning was all too clear. This creature, this Ryuk, was somehow connected to the Death Note. It had to be.
Ryuk chuckled, a sound that sent a fresh wave of fear through her. "Usually, when humans use the Death Note for the first time, they're overcome with guilt. Fear. Some even go insane. But you…" He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You're different. You're not like the others. You didn't even hesitate."
Louise swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she tried to find her voice. "I… I didn't know it would work," she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I thought… I thought it was just a… a joke."
Ryuk's grin widened, if that was even possible, and he let out another laugh, this one filled with genuine amusement. "A joke? Oh no, my dear. The Death Note is very real. And now that you've used it, you're bound to it—and to me."
Bound? The word sent a jolt of panic through her. "What do you mean, bound?" she asked, her voice rising with fear.
"It means," Ryuk said, taking a step closer, his towering form looming over her, "that wherever you go, I go. The Death Note belongs to you now, and as long as you have it, you're stuck with me."
Louise's mind reeled at the implications. This creature, this god of death, was tied to her? How? Why? She had barely begun to process the reality of the Death Note itself, and now she was faced with this—a being from another world, claiming to be bound to her.
"But… why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why me? Why did this… notebook come to me?"
Ryuk's eyes gleamed with a dark, knowing light as he answered. "Because you were the most interesting human I could find. You, with all that hatred and anger simmering just beneath the surface. I dropped the Death Note into your world because I wanted to see what would happen. And you, Louise… you didn't disappoint."
Louise felt a cold shiver run down her spine at his words. He had chosen her—deliberately—because of the darkness within her. The anger, the resentment she had tried so hard to suppress… it had drawn him to her. She had been marked, singled out for something terrible, and she hadn't even known it.
Ryuk watched her closely, his grin never fading as he continued. "You see, most humans would be paralyzed with guilt after what you did. They'd try to rationalize it, make excuses, or convince themselves it was an accident. But not you. You're already thinking about what you can do with the Death Note, aren't you?"
Louise's breath caught in her throat, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. It was true—she had been thinking about it, about the power she now held. The power to make them all pay. But hearing it spoken aloud by this terrifying creature made it all the more real, all the more horrifying.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. But even as she said it, she knew it was futile. Ryuk could see right through her. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Don't lie to yourself," Ryuk said, his tone almost chiding. "You've already tasted the power of the Death Note. And now, you're wondering just how far you can go with it. How many more lives you can take. How many more people you can make pay."
Louise clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself. Everything he was saying was true, and that terrified her. But at the same time, there was a part of her that felt… exhilarated. The power of the Death Note was intoxicating, and now that she had used it once, the thought of using it again was impossible to ignore.
"What do you want from me?" she asked finally, her voice small and uncertain.
Ryuk's grin widened, and he spread his arms wide, as if to encompass the entire room. "I don't want anything from you, Louise. I'm just here to watch, to see what you do with the power you've been given. Consider me… an observer, if you will."
Louise swallowed hard, her mind spinning with the weight of everything she had just learned. An observer. A god of death, watching her every move, waiting to see how far she would go with the Death Note.
It was too much, too overwhelming. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a precipice, one step away from falling into a darkness she could never escape from. But at the same time, the power was there, right in front of her, within her grasp. The power to change everything, to take control of her life in a way she never had before.
And Ryuk was right. She had already taken the first step, and there was no turning back now.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Ryuk's gaze. "Fine," she said, her voice steadier now. "You can watch. But I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me."
Ryuk's laughter filled the room, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the walls. "Of course, of course! This is your game, after all. I'm just here to enjoy the show."
Louise nodded, the cold determination that had been building within her solidifying into something stronger, something more resolute. She had made a choice, and now she had to see it through. The Death Note was hers, and with it, she would make them all pay.
Ryuk's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he watched her, and for the first time, Louise felt a strange sense of power, a dark satisfaction that she had never known before. She had taken a life, and she would take more if she had to. She would not be "Louise the Zero" anymore. She would be something else entirely—something to be feared. She would be...
The God of the New World.
As the day wore on and the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, Louise sat by her desk, the Death Note in front of her, and began to plan. Ryuk lingered in the corner, his presence a constant reminder of the path she had chosen.
There was no going back now. The darkness had claimed her, and she would embrace it fully.
One by one, they would all pay. And she would be there to watch as they fell.
So, I was just chilling, rewatching some scenes from Death Note (because honestly, it's a classic), and this random thought popped into my head: "What if Louise from The Familiar of Zero had a Death Note?" At first, I laughed it off, but then I was like, "Ah Shit, here we go again," just like CJ from the beginning of GTA San Andreas. You know that feeling when an idea just won't leave you alone? Yeah, that. So I figured, why not? Why Don't I make the 100th FOZ fic (as if I hadn't made too many already)? So then I went over to my computer, started typing, and... well, this is what came out. Hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did writing it!