Ugh... my head... where the hell am I?
Ever-present throbbing pervaded his every motion, making it nearly impossible to move comfortably without bringing a fresh wave of pain. Metallic shackles rankled against his wrists and ankles, allowing him to dangle off of a wall like the first kill of a hunt.
A subtle breeze wound through his legs, causing him to shiver as he realized that he was left completely exposed to the elements, not even a sack cloth shirt to protect his modesty.
A bright line shone in his face, forcing him to open his eyes and then shut them to defend against the harsh beacon shoved against his senses. He grunted, and managed to slightly turn his head away.
SLAP!
He gasped, the ferocity of the blow more like a sucker punch than an actual backhand. His head was jerked in the opposite direction and his jaw dislocated, leaving his mouth gaping in a slackjaw expression.
A gauntlet shot out, from what he could see past the light, and gripped his jaw in an iron clamp. It righted his jaw with a singular, painful POP!
"How are his vitals? Is he fully conscious now?"
"Yes, my lord. He appears to be regaining consciousness at a steady pace. He should be fully awake within the next moment or two."
"Hmm... and what about the other one?"
"She should be awakening momentarily as well, but this one here should make for a fine conversation to tide you over until then."
The light turned off, and he was able to slowly open his eyes to gaze at the ones who had just spoken. The area was significantly darker than he had expected, and so it took his eyes a moment to fully adjust to the shadows which permeated his immediate surroundings.
There was, thankfully, some dim lighting to speed up the process, and he was able to see the back of a massive, shining form walking away from him towards a simple wooden throne.
It pushed a red cape that flowed over its left shoulder like a waterfall out of the way as it sat down and faced him. What surprised him the most was the sheer amount of Holy energy that emanated from it.
It was a reservoir of warmth that both soothed and set him on edge, and one that was both alien and familiar all at the same time.
It wore platinum armor that looked as if it could take a siege weapon to the chest and shrug it off without so much as a scratch. It was polished to perfection, to catch the most minuscule of light motes across its surface.
A deep blue crystal sat embedded in the direct center of its breastplate, and there were intricate designs etched into the armor itself to add complexity and decoration. This armor covered head to toe, and even the kilt it wore around its waist was plated with the same metal.
Its face was obscured by a full helmet, the eyes covered by a strange, waxy glass that reflected his own battered and haggard face right back at him. Whoever it was, they had an abundance of wealth and power to spare, if its outfit was anything to go by.
"Oh good, you're awake now," the figure spoke, towering over him even while sitting down on the primitive throne. "I kinda knew you were coming around, but it's always nice to see it for myself."
He said nothing, holding his breath so as to not anger the warrior in front of him. His mind was curiously blank on the details, but his flesh quivered from the memory of agony that his mind could not.
"Nothing to say for yourself? No 'Where the hell am I?' or 'What's going on here?' to help yourself out?"
Again, he responded only with silence.
The figure sighed and bent forward to let the dim lighting show him off better. He could detect that it was a male, if only because the deep and commanding baritone rattled his bones with each word.
"The silent treatment isn't going to get you anywhere, Nigun. I just want to talk. Besides, I'd say your friend right next to you is in deeper trouble than you could possibly be."
Nigun looked over reflexively, seeing the naked form of a woman in much the same state as he was. Her hair was wheat blond and cut short, barely reaching her shoulders. She groaned as she came to, flickering eyes showing irises of blood red.
Despite himself, his eyes wandered up and down her toned and admittedly beautiful form.
"Hey! Eyes up front here! Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to stare at a woman without her permission? Demiurge, if you would please."
"Gladly, my Lord," replied another voice off to the side, where Nigun couldn't see properly. A gloved hand tugged at his jaw and forced his eyes away from his prison mate.
"There. Now that's much better," the warrior said, rising from his throne and taking loud, booming steps that shook the room they were all in.
The warrior was an absolute giant of a man, a colossus so tall that he felt like a child before the Holy being, who's inner light seemed to baptize him.
It wasn't until he got closer, however, that he detected that the light seemed...off, for whatever reason.
He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but it seemed as if there was an ever present darkness tainting the light coming from the warrior, who he could confidently say gave off the presence of a Paladin , if his aura and armor was anything to go by.
"Now," the figure began, drastically dipping over to look Nigun in the eye. "I believe you and your friend have some explaining to do."
Nigun's throat was parched, and it took him precious seconds generating saliva just so that he could speak properly. He felt the hand holding his face release him so that he could speak coherently.
"I-I don't know what you want from me. I'm a man of great influence, I could get you anything you want–"
"Now now, my dear Nigun," the voice of a high-born noble came from the darkness, "We've already been over this. There is positively nothing in this life, or the next, that you could ever offer us that we would take."
"Ulbert," the Paladin said, standing straight again as soon as he heard the voice, "I told you, I've got this under control. I don't need your help."
"Yes, of course," the voice sniped from the tenebrosity behind the Paladin . "Touch Me, we both know this was never your forté, that's the precise reason why you asked me and my boy to be here… isn't that right, Demiurge?"
"Indeed, Father!" said the owner of the hand which held Nigun's jaw. "Any way that I might propel the grand designs of the Supreme Beings is an honor. I couldn't be happier to be here."
Those names! I've heard those names before! Why isn't my mind remembering any of this?!
"Ugh...Where the hell am I? What's going on here?"
Nigun desperately wanted to turn to see the newest voice that had spoken. That of the woman he had seen earlier. Even if he couldn't remember his captors for the moment, he could never forget the voice that was there.
My mind... something's wrong with my mind! These...these THINGS have tampered with it somehow! That's why I couldn't recognize her at first!
"CLEMENTINE, YOU TRAITOROUS BITCH!" Nigun yelled hoarsely "What are you doing here?!"
Clementine lolled her head about, as if she were trying to get a kink out of her neck. When her eyes fell on him, they instantly widened. Her cat-like face devolved into a ferocious snarl.
"Nigun?! You second rate spell caster, you're here too? Whoever you guys are, please just kill me now so that I don't have to deal with this moron's preaching."
Nigun could feel some of his old Holy fury coming back, the scar along his cheek pulsing with the vein that popped up on his forehead. "How dare you! It is because of ME that the Slane Theocracy has been able to expand as much as it has. The Sunlight Scripture and I have led the charge into enemy lands ever since–"
The Paladin coughed, cutting off their short argument. He had crossed both arms by this point, and seemed suitably annoyed by the entire conversation. Nigun wisely shut his mouth so as to not irritate his captor further.
Unfortunately, Clementine had either not noticed or not cared by that point. She gave him a sickly sweet smile as she continued.
"Ever since what, huh? Cat got your tongue? Loss for words? You're usually more lively than this, Nigun. Have you finally run out of gospel to preach at me, or anyone else for that matter. Boy, am I sure glad I got out when I could, because I don't think I could stomach another day with you–"
A gloved hand reached over to Clementine's mouth to cover it. When she made no signs of stopping her verbal taunting, even through the fabric, the owner squeezed with just enough force to get her to stop.
"Good initiative there, Demiurge," the high-class tone complemented.
"Thank you, Father. I aim to please after all," replied the voice Nigun took to be Demiurge.
The Paladin shook his head, and tutted of all things. "If we can stop now, that would greatly be appreciated. Now, where were we… ah, yes."
Nigun never saw what happened. All he knew was that one moment, the Paladin was staring at him. And then the next, there was a shining blade stabbed into the wall right next to his head. The edge was perpendicular to his neck.
His eyes bugged out of his skull when the Paladin gently pulled the sword along the wall, carving its fearsome length through the stone to rest against Nigun's jugular.
A single drop of sweat from his forehead dropped onto the edge, slicing in two against it.
"You've done some… terrible things," the Paladin said, resting the sword dangerously close to Nigun's vitals. "You've hurt people. Brothers, sisters, husbands, sons, wives..."
The warrior leaned in close to Nigun's ear and whispered the next part. "Daughters. You and that woman have done some very, VERY evil things… and I can't just ignore that, you know."
He pulled the blade from its spot in the wall and rested it against Nigun's cheek. The former leader of the Sunlight Scripture could see his own yellow irises in the sword's surface recoil in terror at the weapon so casually laid upon his body.
"I've seen it all. Everything that you've done, from before the village all the way up to the village of Carne itself. It seems ripping one's memories out as we did can have some side effects, which is, unfortunately, temporary in your case."
Nigun's eyes darted around the room, landing on Clementine briefly, who looked amused and pleased at his current predicament. He refocused on the Paladin in front of him, and tried to think of something, anything that would get him out of there.
"I-I was just following orders," Nigun excused weakly. He sounded childishly pathetic, even to himself. "Everything I did was for my homeland! My own people! What right do you have to judge me for what I've done?"
Clementine snickered at that, only to choke when the domineering hand moved down to her neck instead. He took some minute pride in that.
" 'Only following orders'," the Paladin echoed. " 'For your homeland and people'..."
He retracted his exquisite weapon, which allowed the spell caster to breathe slightly easier.
He yelped when a gauntlet slammed into the already damaged stone, shattering it with an ease that only a god should have access to. The Paladin came uncomfortably close, shoving his helmeted face into his.
"Is that REALLY the best you can offer me? Don't you have any shame, or remorse, for what you've done at all? Did all those lives really mean so little to you that you could gut them like pigs, with the kind of smile you had on your face the whole time?"
The Paladin 's voice was deathly calm, and the saintly aura he exuded darkened still, becoming the color of pitch with ungodly fury. The stone cracked under his immense grip further, grinding into dust next to Nigun's head.
Some of the powder flew into his mouth, causing him to retch as it fell into his lungs. The warrior backed off then, giving the captain space to breathe and regain precious air to replace the foreign particles.
The Paladin shook his head in disappointment. "I was hoping...well, I'm not sure what exactly with you. I thought maybe if I could do this, if I could at least find the good in you..."
He sighed, the polished breastplate heaving in some unknown emotion. "I guess there really was nothing up there for me to pick apart. I saw it for myself, but I figured you'd at least feel something. Ah, well, time to move on."
He moved away from Nigun then, and the former captain watched as he planted himself in front of Clementine. The hand on her throat had been removed, her coughing fit having been completed unknowingly in the time of Nigun's brief but terrifying interrogation.
Yet to him, it didn't feel like an interrogation. If anything, it felt more like a reprisal of facts that had already been hashed over dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Though he was afraid to voice it aloud, it almost seemed a waste of time, something that should've relieved him, to be out of the clutches of the Paladin .
"And now we come to the woman of the hour," his captor said, breaking him out of his thoughts. To her credit, Clementine was placid, even serene in the face of such casual dominance and divine might. She pushed out her chest slightly, as if to entice the Paladin to come closer and observe what she had to offer.
"Who, me?" she asked coyly, her infamous sly grin leaping out at all in inattendance, including those who hid in the shadows. She gave them a half-lidded look that would have made Nigun roll his eyes if he wasn't so entranced like he had been before.
"If you really wanted an audience with me, you didn't have to send what's-his-name, the guy in the suit, to come grab me. You could've just come yourself."
"Very funny, but something tells me you wouldn't have come willingly. As much as I hated sending Sebas out to grab you underhanded like that, I knew it was either that or sending something with a lot less tact."
"Oh? How'd you even find me anyways? I made especially sure to cover my tracks as I fled the city. There wasn't so much as a thread of hair that I left behind."
The Paladin scoffed, and then tapped the side of his head twice in a gesture that Nigun didn't recognize. "Admittedly, that would've made it nigh impossible to track you down traditionally. But it wasn't the physical footprint you left behind, but rather, the mental one you left instead."
The she-assassin's naturally smug look faded as it morphed into one of confusion. Nigun was perplexed himself, unable to ascertain how she could possibly leave behind a mental footprint of any kind.
Wait...my captor said something about my memories…he couldn't POSSIBLY mean…
The Paladin paced in front of both of them, sheathing his sword to free his hand up for intricate gestures.
"See, Missus Clementine, everybody leaves behind a presence of some kind. Doesn't matter how sneaky or foolproof you think you are, but at some point, somebody has seen you, and all it would take back where I...where I came from was a single still image."
The former captain's mental gears were turning, producing a clear visual of what could've happened to have led to Clementine's capture. Evidently, the assassin was coming to the same conclusion that he was, if the way that her ruby-red eyes widening was any indication.
The Paladin continued with his line of explanation. "See, wherever you used to work has been keeping tabs on you, or trying to at least. The captain here doesn't remember, but he succumbed to our line of questioning quickly enough. Whatever else he couldn't tell us, we ripped out of his subconscious with a little bit of mind magic and coaxing. But the clearest image we were able to find in that addled head of his…"
"Was me," Clementine finished, her expression curiously blank. She seemed rather mild with the revelation. Though there was a slightly admiring twinkle in her eye, which confused the spell caster to no end.
"Bingo," the Paladin confirmed. "Finding you wasn't particularly hard once we had that. All our surveillance chief had to do was use some divination magic and then scry for anyone matching your mental image. Lo and behold, you're sneaking out in the middle of a massacre, and partaking in it yourself."
The assassin whistled appreciatively, which made Nigun's eye tick. "I'll admit, that's not too bad. I'd clap, but in case you haven't noticed, my hands aren't exactly free. I'm sure you're patting yourself on the back and all, but I gotta ask: why come after me of all people?"
"...Really? After everything you've done, you seriously have the gall to ask me a question like that?"
"Hey, I'm a busy gal and I got places to be! You can't expect me to remember every little thing I've done over the last few years."
The Paladin stepped away from them both, sinking back into the wooden throne with a thump. He said nothing for a few moments, most likely mulling over Clementine's response. He gripped the armrests of his seat so tightly that the wood splintered.
His Holy aura washed over them both, still tainted by the touch of his frigid anger. It only cooled somewhat when the shadows behind him darkened considerably, the light both revealing and obscuring someone standing behind him.
A gloved hand reached out and patted the pauldron of the warrior, the fingertips topped with steel claws that looked as if they could rend through castle walls with ease.
"Touch Me, my old friend," the voice said, which flabbergasted Nigun and, apparently, Clementine on the strange wording. "This has become rather exhausting. What are you aiming to achieve here? Allow Demiurge and I to commence our work already. I think it's quite clear that you won't accomplish anything further from this."
"You'll get your chance!" the Paladin snapped, "Just...just let me have this much at least, Ulbert. I want to do this. No, I need to do this."
The shadowy figure said no more, turning towards the former captain and assassin with glowing, hourglass-shaped eyes. It stared at them for a moment, as if in contemplation, before nodding to itself as if it had reached a conclusion.
"Very well, old friend. Progress as you will. But I will be expecting delivery of your promise, one way or another."
The warrior grunted, getting up and stalking towards the second prisoner with an almost predatory air. The Holy light of his inner core darkened even further to Nigun, who could watch only helplessly. Clementine, as per usual, kept a cool but entertained air.
"Done arguing with your voices in the dark?" she asked coyly, almost purring towards the end of her question.
It baffled Nigun to no end that she could stay so calm and collected during a time like this, that she could look potential death in the face and laugh.
But when he studied her closer, he observed signs that only a keen eye like his, honed over years of practice, could find. The way in which the muscles of her athletic shoulders tensed, and the way in which she clenched her fingers just hard enough into the palms of her hands to leave bruising marks.
Her breathing was so carefully regulated as to be consciously done, and though she wore her smug expression, her eyes zeroed in on the Paladin as if he were a tigerman, ready to lunge from the brush with battle ax overhead and cleave her from head to groin.
She must be absolutely scared out of her mind, Nigun thought, but he dismissed the idea as completely absurd.
No, she's watching him just as closely as he is her. They've already engaged in a battle of will I couldn't possibly keep up with.
To his surprise, he felt a bloom of shame within his chest, spreading throughout his being in a feeling he was all too familiar with: inadequacy. He was not given long to consider the implications of these emotions, before the Paladin spoke up once more:
"I think out of the first two prisoners that we managed to collect so far, you are the one who I expect to be the least sorry for what they've done."
Clementine scoffed at that, "Really? What gave you that idea? Was it the armor that I'm sure you'll be keeping as a souvenir? Or was it all the little playthings I had fun with along the way?"
"A monster like you deserves nothing but to be thrown into the darkest jail cell and then have the key thrown away… but there is one thing I would like to know, at least, before I sentence you both."
The Paladin stepped within the assassin's personal bubble, casting her in a dark shadow as the dim lighting warped around his armor, as if only his Holiness could provide the brilliance needed to show the way. Whatever wrath that had tinged his soul seemed to recede, becoming a pure beacon that drew Nigun in.
The former Slane Theocracy assassin was, likewise, completely enshrouded into the gloom of the interrogation room, a hole torn into reality by the weight of her sins and atrocities. She was a shade among the blackness, lit only by the shine of her stilettos as she extinguished the light of those around her in sadistic glee.
"Why…?" the warrior asked, his voice marked by a touch of sorrow, "Nigun I could at least see doing his duty, though I myself could never agree with it, but you had a chance to start over. You could've used your abilities to help the weak, to make their lives better. You could have helped so many others. But instead, you slaughtered them like pigs, with probably the most horrific look in your eye that I've ever seen. So before I do anything else, I have to know: Why?"
Clementine gave him a bored glance, the previous excitement washing out of her as her shoulders slumped.
"Seriously? You're one of those people? Heroes like you make me barf, going on and on about the 'greater good' or some similar crap. I'll admit, you caught me off guard with that one guy you sent to get me, but now I see you're just like the rest. But, I'll give you this much."
Her bored expression vanished, replaced by something far more fiendish. "I killed every last person that I did because I enjoyed it. No more, and no less. Every drop of blood I spilled, every stab I ever threw, every life that I snuffed out was because I wanted to. Nobody made me do it, and, unless somebody pays me pretty handsomely, nobody could ever make me do it. I'm the best at what I do, so I do it for my own enjoyment."
Nigun winced from the lashing of her declaration, and the way in which her breath grew haggard and how she pulled at the chains in cruel exhilaration. Her ruby red eyes seemed to intensify with the life-force of her former victims. Her smile was that of a prowling wolf, hunting innocent deer in the forest.
She was in every sense of the word a vicious predator.
The Paladin said nothing, becoming so still as time seemed to slow to a trickle around them. His breathing couldn't be heard, he had become so tranquil.
"Then I pronounce judgment upon you, Clementine of the Black Scripture," the warrior said.
His inflection wormed its way into the former captain's ears, bouncing around in his skull with each syllable. It felt as if the voice was being said from a thousand spectators from all around him at point blank range.
"From this day forth, you shall face punishment the likes of which you couldn't possibly imagine. For every life that you've taken, you shall receive all of their misery a thousand fold. For every drop of blood spilled, you shall recompense in full. Every lash, every curse, every touch of malice that you have dealt over the course of your lifetime will be brought to the forefront. May your bill be repaid one day."
Nigun shrieked, his vocal cords cracking under the strain of his agony as the utterance dug its claws into his psyche. His skin broke out into a sheen of sweat like through great physical exertion, and his fingers and toes curled so harshly as to resemble the claws of a bird of prey.
The black scripture member wasn't much better, though her cries of anguish were no more than whispers from the force of it all. Her once proud and vicious face contorted and seemingly aged decades. She slumped over once the Paladin had uttered his last word.
The former captain fell into the embrace of his shackles, allowing himself to catch his breath as rivers of sweat drizzled from his forehead. His scar throbbed like it had been freshly opened. He could feel tears bead the corners of his eyes, with a few falling and joining the puddle of bodily fluids beneath him.
"W-what did you just do to us?" he asked, once he had calmed enough to speak a coherent sentence without tearful shudders.
"Just a small taste of what's to come," the Paladin replied cryptically, returning to the wooden throne and easing himself back down. He interlocked his armored fingers and rested his head against them with an exhale. He said no more after that.
The hourglass eyes, which had watched everything that had just transpired with not a word, stirred.
"A simple, but elegant way to handle things, old friend. Truly, it is the work of a master that one can inspire such terror from mere words alone. Consider me impressed. It's not everyday that such an occurrence happens."
The warrior grunted, but continued his muteness. The hourglass eyes rolled themselves, shifting as the owner moved into the light.
The former Sunlight Scripture leader choked back an exclamation of alarm once he saw their secondary captor, who was as far removed from human as possible.
He was adorned in the finest clothing that money could buy, fabrics of rich and vibrant reds. His cape would have made royalty jealous, coming over thin shoulders and lined on the inside with the same shades of velvet as the highlights of his attire.
His bottom half was that of a cleanly trimmed goat, with immaculately shined hoofs and a pair of simple pants that cut off just below the knees. His vest and other aspects of his luxurious clothing possessed golden buckles to hold it all together, while skinny chain links hung off the corners of his mantle.
His humanoid, goat head held a lavish beau, placed between the wickedly curved, golden horns of a ram. He wore half a golden mask underlined with crimson cloth, and there was a great, beautiful rose pinned onto his left shoulder.
"Come now," the ba-folk look-alike said, "I am quite aware that my appearance may be troublesome for others, but I do believe I am at least owed the courtesy of a polite smile and 'hello'. Would you not agree?"
The former captain clamped his mouth shut, not trusting in his ability to speak clearly and without risk of offending the massive beast in front of him.
"This is a rather disappointing development. Regardless, I shall carry on. Touch Me, shall I begin with my work?"
The Paladin stood, who Nigun now believed to actually be named Touch Me. He wondered what kind of sick joke the Great Six were playing upon him at that moment, though his wandering thoughts vanished as the newly named Touch Me spoke.
"Do what you want," he spat bitterly, "I've done what I wanted here. I'm gonna go find Sebas, cause I have a lot of making up to do. Just make sure you do what we agreed upon, okay?"
The finely dressed ba-folk chuckled sonorously, caressing Nigun's sense of hearing. It was almost enough to make up for the mental assault that Touch Me had given him and the now unconscious Clementine.
The ba-folk never turned to look Touch Me in the eye, but he replied nonetheless.
"Do not worry, my valorous friend. All shall go according to our design. I shall so much as not lay a scratch upon them, you have my word."
The Paladin said nothing else, the noises of a heavy, metal door opening and closing was his only response.
For a moment, though his features were completely alien to Nigun, he could almost detect a sense of… worry from the powerful being, who stood around the same height as Touch Me. He straightened his back, and looked down upon the former captain, making him feel puny in his sight.
"Of course, I intend to inflict upon you a punishment that will make you wish for the gentle cuddle of a mace, or the surgical precision of a dagger."
The dim light of the interrogation room exploded in intensity, blinding the only awake captive. He essentially had to bury his eyes into his shoulder to escape the new onslaught.
The ba-folk hummed a merry tune, being joined by a tall, slender man, with pointed ears and dark skin. Much like the being directly in front of Nigun, he wore expensive clothing that would be the envy of anyone of influence. A metal tail swished behind him, and his glasses reflected the harsh light back onto the former captain.
The "man" pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Has it finally come time to enact your plans, Father?"
The ba-folk gave an inhuman smile. "Yes indeed, my boy. After today, the voices of the damned will never leave them alone. Let's see just how long they can last before they beg for mercy."
The monstrous being raised a single hand above his head, and snapped his fingers.
Nigun's senses were overcome with white, hot sensation, so overwhelmingly violent and sudden that he screamed himself hoarse. Even Clementine awoke to join his wailings, as whatever the being did took over them both.
All the while, the two captors stood by and laughed, their eyes glittering with malice.
—-
Later that day
Nazarick Meeting Room
Momonga gazed around at his friends, settling into their seats and talking with one another. However, their conversations were more subdued than usual, members watching him out of the corner of their eyes, or what passed for eyes.
That was to be expected. He'd called for this meeting after all. Rather unexpectedly, might he add.
"Alright Momonga, we're all here. What's going on?" asked Punitto Moe, the Death Vine priest drumming his leafy fingers against the table.
"Yeah, is everything okay?" asked Bukubukuchagama further down the circular table.
Suratan took a massive drought from his cup of ale and then burped. "I'd hope so. I was in the middle of drinkin' when I got this call. Whassup, bossman?"
Momonga, as the leader of Ainz Ooal Gown and all the inhabitants of Nazarick, took his positon quite seriously. He would never call an impromptu meeting without an adequate reason. That it was spontaneous spoke volumes to how seriously he considered the topic at hand.
The air was electric with anticipation for what he'd say next. Their concern was heavy upon his neck, a weight that he alone bore. He took a deep breath, though he didn't need it, before speaking.
"Given the events that have occurred recently, I felt it was important to address this sooner rather than later. Lately, I've begun to notice that the NPCs are taking a more… vested interest in our lives." He ran the red points he had for eyes across each of his guildmates.
"More specifically, our lives in the Old World."
Immediately, the mood darkened.
With the help of Ra Ra Rasputin projecting a hologram through his optics, the entire guild saw CZ Delta's explanation of the "First World" theory:
"It is common knowledge among the other denizens of Nazarick that, when the Supreme Beings are not engaging their enemies across the Nine Realms, or in residence within Nazarick, they would depart to… Somewhere Else."
She raised her hands in front of her, and held them flat and parallel to the floor. One was at shoulder-height, the other above her head.
"We have very little knowledge of this place, or what transpires there, but it was commonly accepted to be the original home of all the Supreme Ones, thus making it a higher state of existence than the place Nazarick was built."
CZ wiggled the hand at head-level, as if to emphasize its location.
"Since this place is where our Creators all hail from, we call it 'The First World', and it mostly remains a mystery to us. The Nine Realms are collectively called 'The Second World', also called by my own Creator as 'Yggdrasil'." She wiggled her other hand, the one at shoulder-level.
"That would make this new land we find ourselves in 'The Third World'. If the rumors we've heard about the weakness of this world's residents are to be believed, it should be about here." The hand she held at head-height was lowered to roughly where her waist would be. "We are uncertain if there are any lower worlds."
CZ lowered her arms. "This knowledge is common across all of Nazarick's residents, from the lowest maid to the highest floor guardian."
Temperance the Core Spawn Seer spoke up, "Y'know, it's about time you mentioned this. My maid has been getting a bit too personal about that. Sometimes, I'm not sure how to answer her."
"Quiet, there's more," Rasputin said over the private messenger, and the recording continued:
"I was… not aware you were all so interested in such subjects," Momonga's voice said through the holographic memory.
"Any knowledge that helps us better serve our Creators is gladly welcomed, including knowledge of the First World." She paused. "May I make a request, my Lords?"
Ra Ra Rasputin's voice came, "Depends. What is it?"
"Lord Garnet and Lady Brisingr have briefly mentioned attending a place called 'College'. It was implied to be a place of learning, a place with difficult lessons." She seemed to grow more attentive, though her expression didn't change. "If you could enlighten me on what this aspect of the First World is like, I could use that knowledge to better serve Lord Garnet."
The gunslinger shook his head. "It's not my place to do that. Garnet created you, HE should be the one to tell you about where he's from."
"I have asked him. He seemed uncomfortable about the subject, like he was uncertain if it was acceptable for him to enlighten me on the First World."
The hologram faded from view, leaving CZ's final statement hanging in the air.
Garnet bowed his head to his guild leader. "Thank you very much, Sensei, for leaving that matter about my private life to me. I appreciate that."
"It's your business, my friend, and it should be up to you if she knows more about it. And THAT," he turned to the rest of his guildmates, "is why I called for a meeting. We have to discuss, as a guild, if our creations are allowed to know about our lives in the Old World."
Understanding nods went around the table, with a few faces looking uncomfortable at the subject.
"...you're wondering if we need to impose a gag order?" Punitto Moe asked.
"A gag order? The hell do we need a gag order for?" Nubo the ophanim replied. "I'll admit, times were tough for us, but I don't think we need to enforce an information blackout about it."
"Who's to say their curiosity is unwarranted in the first place?" Whitebrim shrugged, filing his nails. "We are their Creators, with a capital 'C'. To them, we are the divine, the essence of gods in the flesh. It's only natural that they're curious about where we used to disappear to every day."
"Except some of us didn't exactly have glamorous lives to share, Whitebrim," answered Ankoro Mocchi Mochi. "Not all of us could be successful mangakas, or esteemed businessmen, or even have a decent standard of living. Is that really the dirty laundry you want to be airing to them?"
Connaisdiam the White Dragon hummed in thought. "It's our personal lives we'd be sharing with them. In this, I agree with Ankoro. There are some stones better left unturned, some doors left closed. Whatever the circumstances that brought us here, who are WE to spit at the chance of a new, equal life for all of us?"
"Don't they deserve to know where we came from?" asked Jo-Bro. "They're living, breathing beings! They're not humans, but we made them, exactly the way they are! Seems shitty to keep secrets when they don't even understand half of what's going on here." He tapped the table with a claw to emphasize his point.
"Like you're one to talk! I don't see you spilling your guts out to the rest of us, Jo-Bro!"
"That's a crock of shit and you know it, Wish III! I'm an open book! The NPCs can ask me whatever they want, and I'll answer them honestly. It's far better a reward to give than nothing after they work themselves to the bone for us!"
THAT sparked a minor argument on that side of the table between his friends. That was not uncommon when it came to loaded issues like this in Nazarick. Oftentimes, Momonga might consider it a failed meeting if there wasn't some sort of productive discourse, or unanimous agreement, amongst themselves.
He allowed it to continue for a couple minutes, so that different sides of the argument might be fleshed out thoroughly. He'd rather he understood the totality of their thoughts, before he intervened.
Summoning a gavel from his inventory, he slammed it three times to regain order in the meeting room. His friends quieted down immediately, such was their respect for him. They awaited to hear what he had to say next.
Pride bloomed in his chest at how willingly they'd listen to his opinions.
Punitto stood, and Momonga gave him the floor to speak. "The way I see it, there's three options here," he held up three leafy fingers.
"Option one: total info blackout. Given that the subject matter has come up at all, I doubt this will hold." He looked around the table. "How many of you idiots have let slip aspects of your old lives to an NPC?"
A few raised appendages of some sort, while a few others looked contemplative, mulling over what they'd said. Some looked sheepish.
"...yup, that's what I thought. Cat's out of the bag, a blackout's not feasible at this point. Which leads to option two," he lowered a leafy finger, "lean into it and give them a crash-course in Old World history. All of it, so there's NO misunderstandings."
Ancient One looked contemplative for a brief moment, before looking across the table at a specific guildmate. "Grevious?"
The mgalekgolo looked uncomfortable at being called upon. "You wish to know if Old World history resides within the Library?"
Ancient One nodded.
Grevious Sin's body writhed as the worms that made it up adjusted their positions within his form, and as he answered, he began to look a little more confident.
"There are indeed 137 tomes on Old World history. Given our current circumstances, they are low on my priority list for Memorization." He tapped his head. "However, I do broadly know their contents, and they are sporadic and specialized in their respective subject matters, with no cohesive whole."
"Can you put together something more streamlined?" Punitto asked.
"I can create a 138th Master Tome that unifies their collective knowledge into a condensed, yet informative, treatise of the Old World. It will be available in approximately," his worms shifted again, "thirty-nine days, twenty-one hours, and eight minutes, assuming I focus on it exclusively, and begin immediately."
Flatfoot whistled. "That long?"
"The Old World had many contributing factors to its current state, before we were brought to this one. I will need to memorize all 137 existing tomes, before creating the 138th. Compiling it all by hand will take a fair amount of time, even for me."
"...which means it'll probably be too much for the NPC's," Bukubukuchagama said, "at least, all at once."
Punitto looked at Grevious. "It'll still be good to have a Master Tome on the subject, though. If you WANT to work on it, be my guest, but take your time. There's no need to rush or overwork yourself."
"Understood!" Despite what seemed to be a daunting project, Grevious Sin seemed quite happy to have it.
Punitto turned to the rest of the table. "Until then, that'll leave us with option three," he lowered another finger, "smaller, more specialized info on what they want to know, at the discretion of each of us."
"...you mean tell them what we want?" asked Bellriver.
Ancient One nodded. "Our created NPC's are perfectly loyal to us, their Creators. If we tell them to keep our secrets to themselves, they will most likely take those secrets to their graves."
"And even if we don't insist on such strict secrecy," Punitto added, "it's unlikely what we tell them will ever leave the bounds of Nazarick." He shrugged. "If the NPC's want to know the entire history of the Old World, they'll be welcome to browse that Master Tome, when it's done. I don't really see how that knowledge could be harmful, it's not like it's relevant to us here and now."
Garnet turned to Momonga. "What do you think, Sensei? Give them what they want?"
Momonga rubbed his chin. "In truth, I myself am uncertain of what merits revealing the past would have on them," he began slowly. "But I can say for certain that their curiosity will only grow as time passes. Whether we like it or not, these bodies we're inhabiting are ours now. For better or for worse, we must adapt to the changes in not only our biology, but our psychology. Some of us have taken great strides to adapt, while some of us are still growing."
He subtly glanced to Touch Me, who shifted in his seat. Ulbert smiled in gratitude at being recognized.
"Suffice to say, this is only a small issue among many, but one I consider no less important than the safety of our guild itself. Jo-Bro is right in that the NPCs are now people with their own agency. They serve us, but they still have independent thoughts and actions. Ankoro is also correct that some of us have pasts we feel are best to keep buried."
With his words, he could feel the collective will of the guild bending in his direction. Momonga smiled internally at this as he continued.
"This is why I'll agree to a, shall we say, 'answer at your own discretion' order. It is ultimately up to YOU to decide whether to reveal anything at all, or speak truthfully with your own NPCs."
He lifted his left hand, "On the other hand, I fully expect you to do your best to dispel any outlandish notions about ourselves that they create. Whether that be worshiping us as gods, or creating their own conclusions about where we come from. There's a time and a place for everything, but I will NOT tolerate us taking advantage of their naive nature. Unless it is conducive for guild business, they must be our equals."
Peroroncino nodded along with what he said. "He's right. They act like adults but they're… maybe not our children, but they're definitely our charges. Don't we owe it to them to lead them onto the right path?"
"Oh, I'm sure Shalltear wants to lead you down her path," shouted Dynamite.
A few chuckles broke out while the divine avian's feathers ruffled in agitation. Peroroncino grumbled to himself while Dynamite cheekily grinned at him.
Momonga sighed. "Either way, I hope you all act in their best interests. It is your past, so you decide how much is 'good enough' for them to know. If any of you need help, I am always here to guide. Don't act rashly, and DO NOT put any weird ideas in their head… or, at least try not to."
He paused, double-checking he hadn't missed anything. "That was all I had for today. This guild meeting is adjourned."
He swung the gavel with finality, and thus his guildmates got up and began to filter out. They discussed between each other how best to handle their personal NPCs, already detailing strategies on what info was authorized, and what info would be declared strictly off limits.
Punitto Moe and Ancient One didn't even haggle him. They simply left without much issue, talking pleasantly about their own duties for the rest of the day. Momonga tilted his head in thought, not missing the goodbye wave from Bukubukuchagama as she and Peroroncino left.
There's so much left to uncover. I wish I could still sleep, otherwise I'd go and sleep on all of this.
That was okay. He'd settle for reading a book instead…or he could visit the treasury.
Something told him he might need to go and talk to Pandora's Actor for a little bit…
—-—-
Later that evening
Ninth Floor of Nazarick
Demiurge found himself polishing off the statuary which lined that of his Creator's room. Much like the rest of the ninth floor, it was an opulent living space that held all the amenities that a Supreme Being could desire and more.
After all, what better to understand a Supreme Being than another Supreme Being?
The statues in question were that of grotesque, devilish abominations of grasping tentacles and gaping maws all around its hideous form. It was formed of polished gold, hand-crafted by Lord Luci*Fer himself.
While he knew that his purpose was not to actually clean the statues, as the maids themselves were more than capable, it was a task he wished to see personally to himself. There was a sort of mindless relaxation to the waxing and washing of the artwork, and it helped to set his mind at ease now that his master was home.
"There is no need to polish the statues yourself, my boy. Surely you would enjoy an evening of spending time with your dear old father instead?"
The resonant tone of his Father (he still shivered pleasantly to use the term) beckoned to him, indirectly commanding the demon floor guardian to stop and turn around. It was an order he would gladly follow.
He looked to his Creator sitting upon an elegant, hand-carved armchair, flipping idly through the pages of a thick tome. On the cover of it read the title, "Paradise Lost", and every so often Demiurge's father would smirk cruelly whenever he read a particular passage.
"Of course, my Lord," he responded automatically, "I just hate to see anything of yours appear so dismally in your presence. It is beneath Nazarick and you as one of its Lords."
The demon god chuckled, flipping another page. "Worry not, my boy. The maids exist for a reason after all. It is their sworn duty, and what have I told you about the usage of titles when we're here at home?"
"That such traditions are meant only to enforce our superiority among the general masses, and not among equals. It is a lesson I am attempting to internalize everyday."
"Very good. Now please, sit down and relax. Our task has been completed for the moment, and I believe I would like to hear your thoughts."
The clacking of his dress shoes accompanied the greater demon to an adjacent armchair, settling down into the plush furniture with a contented sigh. He took off his glasses and polished the lens between his clothed forefinger and thumb.
The crackling of a nearby marble fireplace set the atmosphere to that of a cozy feel, and just as he had been told in the past, he was already reaching for a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table which separated them.
He took a gentle sip, savoring the strong earthy flavors as he set the cup back onto its saucer. He fully sat back in the armchair, and interlocked his fingers together as he rested his elbows on the armrests. A comfortable silence ensued, punctuated only by the snapping of dried wood in the fireplace or the ticking of the grandfather clock situated along the wall behind Father Ulbert.
After another flip of the page, his Creator broke the silence.
"Tell me, my boy, have you any idea as to the specific purpose of the interrogation that happened earlier today?"
Demiurge felt a satisfied smile come over him at the simple question. It was a rather fun pastime that he and his father engaged in. It was bonding, in much the same way that Lord Takemikazuchi and Cocytus would while sword fighting, or how Lord Amanomahitotsu and Gore would in the forges.
"Lord Touch Me wished to engage with the humans so as to assert his power, as well as establish himself as the one true master of justice and goodwill. It was a, shall we say, matter of dominance for our upcoming reveal to the greater world at large."
His father smiled, flipping one last page in the book before clasping it shut with one hand. He set it down on a nearby nightstand before answering.
"Close, but not quite. While it was a matter of great importance to him, it was not of trying to assert himself, nor was it trying to lay down any foundational work for the journey ahead."
The floor guardian raised an eyebrow, taking the tantalizing information in stride.
Evidently, I have not been able to keep up with my masters as well as I have thought. Was there something that I missed?
"No, rather it was not a matter of the body or willpower, but that of the soul. Touch Me has lost more than you could ever imagine, more than any of us could, for that matter. This interrogation meant more to him than you could possibly know."
Demiurge bowed his head in understanding, "I see, so then has Lord Touch Me done this as a matter of regaining what he has lost spiritually? I may have an idea of what it could be, but I cannot be too certain."
"Oh? By all means then, my boy, do share your thoughts with me."
"As I recall when we first arrived in this new world, Lord Touch Me expressed the desire to find his wife and child, whom I believe did not arrive with us, or at least not in the same exact location. Is it possible that this interrogation was a form of cathartic release, at being unable to find them?"
Father Ulbert said nothing, gazing at him with such intensity and calculation that he nearly squirmed in his seat. He made sure to avert his eyes, so as to not accidentally send the wrong message.
"You are correct, in a sense," the demon god finally said, "This entire interrogation was nothing more than mere grasps at controlling his new reality, at maintaining some semblance of normalcy. His family is not dead, per say, but rather… out of his reach, at least for the moment."
His head snapped back up to meet his father's eyes, studying each and every word that came pouring from his divine mouth. Already he was connecting the dots, a trail of breadcrumbs that his Creator saw fit to leave behind for his feeble mind to grasp.
Slowly but steadily, a more clear image of what would come developed in his mind's eye, and he couldn't help but to grin at what his father was implying.
"I...I understand it all now! Well, as much as a being such as myself could, but truly! The depths of intellect and planning each and every single one of you can accomplish is inspiring."
Father Ulbert said nothing, giving a small smile of encouragement and gesturing for him to go on. So he did, and gladly.
"Lord Touch Me is reconciling with himself for his loss, so that he might better rule Nazarick as one of its true masters! As expected, his iron will is staggering, and that he could still declare himself the Supreme Being of Justice and Honor is awe-inspiring."
"Oh? And where do you foresee the next series of events going from here?"
His master's question spurred him, and he felt giddy with elation at the way in which his father was leading him to the barest formation of his ultimate plans.
"Now that we know that the humans are of no consequence to ourselves, we can strive forward with Lord Bellriver's plans. I understand that Lord Punitto Moe has stated that it should be placed on hold, but the fact that the recent destruction of E-Rantel has all gone according to your design has proven to me that matters have only become more subtle."
"Subtle, you say?"
Demiurge nodded, a self-pleasing grin coming over his face as he was reaching the final conclusion his father had laid out for him.
"Based on Lord Momonga's report of the aftermath, the only natural conclusion, which the Lords of Nazarick had already arrived at days before I even thought of it, is that the Adventurer's Guild would send for aid from the royal capital of Re-Estize. From there, we could reveal ourselves as a neutral party and offer to help rebuild the city in exchange for an alliance, which we ourselves would control."
"Naturally."
"Rather than having to outright beat the kingdoms into submission, we work from the shadows, slowly undermining the authority of each kingdom until they're practically begging us to take over and fix their flawed, human institutions."
"Indeed, my boy, the pride I feel in you being able to at least comprehend a portion of my final plans is beyond words. You are undisputedly one of Nazarick's finest."
Demiurge preened, already mentally prepared to deliver the last piece of information he could glean from his father's divine machinations.
"Not only are Lord Bellriver's wishes to dominate this world completed, as he so wished with Midgard in the Second World, but Lord Punitto's wishes for discretion are also fulfilled. It is the best of all worlds! And all the desires of the masters of Nazarick will be fulfilled in one way or another."
His breathing slowed, and he had to readjust the glasses which rested on the bridge of his nose so as to prevent them from falling off. Lord Ulbert, the demon god of Nazarick, the scourge of the nine realms of the previous world, gave him a soft, paternal smile of pride in him.
What I have been able to glean is but merely the faintest hint of the surface! To know that the Lords of Nazarick have already planned ahead so far that I can't possibly see the end is staggering. I wonder just how deep their plans truly are? Have they planned decades? Centuries? Why, I wouldn't even be surprised if they had planned ahead for thousands of years!
His inner monologue was interrupted by the clinking of a saucer and tea cup, his father raising a pinky finger as he softly sipped on the high-grade drink. He then raised the vessel towards Demiurge, an obvious toast to his son's accomplishment.
"My boy, the moment I created you, I knew that you would go far in your service to us. To see the fruits of my labor perform so marvelously, and to explain so well but one facet of Nazarick's goals has inspired in me the greatest of jubilations. Well done indeed!"
They spoke no more for some minutes, the floor guardian basking in the praise of his Father, and his Father staring into the fireplace all the while. Yet, something picked at the corner of his consciousness, a nagging feeling that he'd had ever since the pleiade CZ Delta's report to him and the other floor guardians.
Though something else entirely told him not to go and ruin the moment, his curiosity was winning out, and he was already asking his question before he could stop himself.
"Father… what was the First World like?"
The atmosphere, to his shock and gratitude, did not change drastically. But now there was a hint of curiosity and...foreboding that he did not understand.
…almost like his question had been expected.
His father turned slowly from the fire, tilting his head towards the demon lord. "My boy, whatever could have inspired a question like that? You've never expressed a desire to learn where I've come from before."
The demon god's tone was painfully neutral, but there was no trace of malice or anger behind it. Only genuine interest as to his son's thoughts. He even crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands into his lap. Demiurge took that as a good sign.
Something...something has caused this reaction in him at the mere mention of the First World. What secrets could he be harboring that I can't even begin to guess at?
He inclined his head as he carefully chose his next words. "The pleiade, CZ Delta, recently gave me a report on her mission to the city of E-Rantel with Lord Momonga, Lord Ra Ra Rasputin, and Lady Ariel. There were some very interesting details that caught my eye, and I… well, I wished to ask you a question, if I may."
His father nodded, the soft look he harbored never going away. "I understand. Go on and tell me what it is you want to know."
"CZ Delta recalled an anecdote that Lord Ra Ra Rasputin saw fit to share with her, and he spoke of a world ravaged by war and pollution, caused by 'human recklessness'. I wished to know your opinion on the First World, and what your experience with it was."
The crackling of the fireplace was all that responded, as his father looked off to the side in deep thought. He gently stroked the goatee that was growing from his demonic features before he finally answered.
"There is...not much to describe about my home. I can't really imagine what Rasputin told CZ exactly, but I will say that he was correct in that regard. My world, the place where I went to everytime after spending time in Nazarick, was well and truly FUCKED."
Demiurge was taken aback at the crude usage of language. His father pressed on before the floor guardian could comment on it.
"My world...it was no better than the fires and brimstone of Hell itself. People dying right before your eyes in the street, while those who were supposed to protect and serve the populace doing no more than sweeping pungent corpses out of the way, so that our daily lives could continue. It was the absolute worst way to live."
In his mind's eye, Demiurge was already seeing chapels of melted obsidian, as rivers of magma burned the damned while lesser demons stoked the flames with white-hot pitchforks. He saw the streets running rampant with scenes of cataclysmic war as the skies above rained apocalyptic fire.
And now he imagined his beautiful, glorious masters standing above it all, the forty-one coming each and every day to oversee the hellscape of human arrogance. He could see warriors like Lord Takemikazuchi and Lord Suratan cutting bloody swathes through human forces, reveling in the carnage of battle.
He envisioned mages like Lady Dynamite and Lady Tempest Aizawa tearing open the heavens themselves to bring down divine fury upon the worthless humans, as they tried in vain to fix a world they could never even begin to repair.
But it was the image of his father standing at the right hand of Lord Momonga, the king of the gods of Nazarick, as they worked eldritch magic and rewrote the laws of reality itself. He could see his father being the magical shield of hellfire that Lord Momonga would need, tearing through human mages as they came in droves, just to be eviscerated in the blink of an eye.
And it would be each and every day that his masters had left in the past, to reach the culmination of human sin. They would wage eternal war, for what purposes he could only vaguely pick out, but war nonetheless.
He shook himself out of the daydream, realizing that his father was giving him a concerned glance as he had lost himself to his fantasies.
"Apologie, Father," Demiurge said, "I was merely enjoying the idea of the glory you must have partaken in with the other forty-one. I understand that it was quite vicious, if CZ's report was anything to go by. But with your power, I'm sure that it was no issue whatsoever."
The baphomet demon said nothing, returning his attention back to the fire with a somber look. He did not look his son in the eye, but his words reached him nonetheless.
"...I wish that I could have altered events for the better," Demiurge's father muttered, "I wish I could have been somebody else, anybody else, for that matter. To think in order to save our world, it had to be destroyed first... I believe the appropriate phrase would have been 'long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light'."
The cryptic wording of his Creator puzzled the floor guardian to no end, and his metallic tail coiled around the legs of his seat in response.
Ulbert shook his head, like he was shaking off his thoughts. "Whatever the case, Grevious Sin is compiling a new Tome containing the sum total of the Old World's history. Knowing him, it will be dense as a brick, but informative. I'm sure it can answer many of your other questions, once he completes it in forty or so days."
Demiurge's eyes lit up. "The Supreme Being of Knowledge is gracing the Tomb with such a text?!"
"Indeed!" Ulbert smiled. "If your curiosity compels you hard enough, you can attempt to plumb its depths…but knowing Grevious, it will be a difficult read, one only the determined can manage."
…mayhaps I should do some research on the world that once was, so that I might understand my Father's sudden change in mood. I will also need to confer with the others, to see what more they themselves have been able to learn from the other Supreme Ones.
But for now, he was content to spend the evening with his father, and lounge in his demonic glory.
—-
Meanwhile
Elsewhere in Nazarick
She's not here right now… holy crap, I can FINALLY take a breather!
And so Peroroncino did just that, sliding down the door to his room as he let out a sigh of relief. His pairs of wings fluttered against the door, thumping it in a manner akin to knocking. His heart felt as if it was going to beat out of his chest, and his long, luscious locks of hair tumbled across his shoulders like cascades of onyx.
His golden apparel jangled as he shifted, jewelry that would have made his friend, Beast King Mekongawa, jealous. The finest and most lustrous armor was all he would ever take, to amplify the beauty of his avatar to envy-inducing heights. His dove-white feathers were graciously maintained with a new skincare routine he had to invent himself.
As he found out, shampoo could only go so far when trying to clean a divine Thunderbird like himself, after all. Unfortunately, proper feather care was the least of his concerns, especially after just a few minutes ago.
He had been mostly minding his own business, washing away some of the dirt that he had accumulated while taking a relaxing flight in the airspace above Nazarick. He had always wondered what it would be like to fly, and ever since he had first arrived in the New World that he and his friends found themselves in, he had indulged that curiosity every chance that he could.
Once he returned, he had made a beeline for the bath house, finding it oddly empty of any other residents save for a small card on a nearby towel cart that read "enjoy!"
Enjoy? Enjoy what? Where is everybody else? The avian had pondered, quickly undressing and wrapping a towel around his mid-waist until he reached the soothing and bubbling waters of the natural hot spring.
A bar of soap and a wash cloth had already been laid out for him, along with a few sprinklings of red rose petals and the scent of lavender in the air. He raised a feathered eyebrow at that, but mostly shrugged it off as an unoriginal prank from his friends.
The deafening silence of the bathhouse had already set him on edge, but what he found even more bizarre was that there were no other maids there to attend to him. At the very least, there should have been one or two should he have needed their help.
Though for that matter, shouldn't Jo-Bro be here too? Or Variable Talismen?
"Oh! I see you got started already without me, my Lord. I suppose I'll just have to make up for lost time."
The bar of soap slipped out from between his talons when he heard the coy and very feminine voice come from behind him.
He slowly turned, half dreading and half excited to see just who it was, though in the back of his head he couldn't mistake that voice for anyone else.
His suspicions were confirmed when he saw it to be his personal NPC, Shalltear Bloodfallen.
Her hair had been let down from its usual ponytail, trailing behind her as she walked towards the bath in nothing but a linen towel. Her pale skin was like freshly fallen snow, and her short but confident stride would have made him drool in the past.
She gave him a mischievous smile as she caught him staring, placing a hand on her hip and giving him a knowing look. Her blood-red eyes slowly admired his lithe but muscular form as well, and Peroroncino felt a flush of masculine pride and shame at that.
"I take it you approve? If you think I look this good already, just wait until I actually take this off."
His beak fell open at her brazenness, only for him to mentally kick himself because HE was the one who made her that way. He could feel the tips of his wings stiffen and spasm as he fought to get his emotions under control.
"Shalltear!" the avian archer squawked, coughing to cover up his verbal mistake. He shook his head and patted his cheeks to calm down before he spoke again.
"Shalltear, it's, uh, great to see you. I, um, take it you want the bath to yourself?"
He felt unnaturally shy, like a schoolboy trying to hand his crush a card on Valentine's Day. He wasn't sure if birds could actually sweat, but he knew that if he was as he used to be back in Japan, he would've been sweating bullets.
Shalltear covered her mouth and giggled, giving him a bashful side-eye at his seeming joke. He laughed along, unconsciously patting the spot next to him as he gripped the rim of the hot spring. Small cracks appeared in the smooth sandstone.
She took the cue, sashaying her hips with every step, undoing the tiny pin that held her towel together. It fell off without a sound, and Peroroncino's eyes honed in on her petite form, eagerly drinking in every detail that had been meticulously sculpted.
NO! BAD Pero, BAD! You can't do this to her, YOU'RE the one who made her this way!
But he remained rooted to his own seat, unable to get out of the water and hightail it out of there as quickly as he could. Instead, his eyes were fixed to the True Vampire, his beloved creation.
She sank into the water, sighing as the warm water caressed her form and as she rested against his chest. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He dared not look down, afraid of what he would see, so he focused on the top of the vampire's head.
Her long locks intermingled with his in the water, only possible because he had sunk into the water up to his upper chest once Shalltear had joined him. From what little he could see, her eyes were closed, and she seemed well and completely at rest.
Huh...this is actually kinda...nice…
In the past, her attempts at getting his "favor", as she had called it, were far more forward and wholly inappropriate. There were even times she would invite him back to her room to help her test out the vampire brides that she had been "playing with".
Each and every single time he had managed to come up with a different excuse, to escape the burning core of embarrassment within him everytime he looked upon her. He recalled all the thoughts he'd had over the years, how his friends would joke that Shalltear would be his only real chance with a woman.
Now that he was here, and that she was real and breathing and soft to the touch, he found himself more than ever being slammed metaphorically in the face with every remark and passing snide his guildmates had made.
The dreams didn't help either, but that was an entirely different problem.
The True Vampire budged, leaning even further into his downy chest with an airy moan. She lifted her hips and slid over his legs all in one motion, planting herself squarely on his lap.
The avian archer's heart stopped, his hands trembling as he gripped with both hands the sides of the spring, cracking the sandstone even more.
"S-Shalltear! This isn't the greatest place to do this! Somebody could walk in and catch us!"
His thrilling, bird-like tones cracked, making him sound like an actual rooster. His eyes widened as the smaller vampire began to grind against him. Her eyes were still closed but now she was smiling.
"Perhaps you're right, my Lord… or would you prefer 'Daddy'?"
"Oh, absolutely NOT!"
"Why not? Some of the other floor guardians and created have taken to calling their Creators by parental names… unless you're not looking for that kind of relationship?"
Peroroncino would have given anything to be swallowed by the earth in that moment, to escape from his creations' advances. Another part of him screeched to not move a muscle, because wasn't this something he had always wanted?
You absolute MORON, one half said, you have a total babe in your lap and you want to run AWAY? Are you out of your mind?!
She doesn't have a CHOICE in this! the other half argued, Everything she wants and needs is because of ME! She's a goddamn walking fetish when she DIDN'T get to decide that! IT'S NOT RIGHT!
Yeah, cause Yua's totally here to be jealous and judge you, RIGHT?
Both halves of his inner self stopped, as if shocked at what the first half had just brought up. But it was enough to solidify his resolve.
He rose slightly above the water and gently grabbed the shoulders of the vampire, stopping her motions and making her squeak. She looked over her shoulder at him.
"My lord? If you want, we can skip the foreplay and just go straight to your room. It might be a good idea, from how 'excited' you seem to be."
The avian archer made very sure not to look down, but he did make sure to lock eyes with his creation.
"Shalltear," he started gently but firmly, "Now is not a good time. I'm worried that somebody is gonna walk in on us and that's not...that's not gonna be a good look for either of us."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "If you're so worried about being seen, I've already told the maids, and requested that none of the floor guardians come in. I told them we would be 'busy' for a bit."
"Shalltear, look, why don't we just go back to my room and we can just talk about this? I don't feel so comfortable where we're at right now."
She turned to face her Creator dead on, never leaving his lap as she did so. She crossed her arms and gave him a small pout.
"That's what you said last time, and all we ended up doing was watching movies. You said that there's nothing wrong with me, and I know that my very purpose is to serve you however you please. So I must ask again: have I offended you somehow?"
Peroroncino clicked his beak at that, his throat drying up as much as his list of excuses. The true vampire's look softened, and her eyes gained the trademark glimmer of tears.
"Whatever I did, I'll do even harder to make it up to you! Just tell me and I'll gladly repent! I already know that you've been avoiding me, but I promise that no matter what, the only thing that matters is your happiness and will!"
He shot up and dragged the vampire into a hug, silencing her cries and gently rubbing her back in a soothing motion. She froze, and fiercely embraced him just as much as he did her.
"It's nothing you did," he reassured, resting his beak against her hair, "I...I just need to get used to everything, you know? This is a hell of a transition from my old life to now."
Shalltear's stillness prompted him on, and now he felt the words spilling out of his mouth.
"I promise that nothing you've done is your fault. You could never be at fault, because I made you this way. Everytime I look at you…"
He held the floor guardians at arm's length, wiping away some of her tears. "I can't help but think that I'm making you do this. The way you feel and act and dress is because it's what I wanted for you. It's not right of me to do anything like you're asking, because it's technically not you that's asking."
She sniffed, and latched onto his right hand with her own. "Except this is what I want! I'm everything that I am because of you! I'm yours to use and it's for me to serve! Isn't that what you wanted?"
But he was already shaking his head in rebuttal, trying to diffuse the situation. He wasn't sure what she was to him, but he knew that as it was, with the way that he was feeling…
Now's not the time. I just… I just need to think this out some more!
"Shalltear, I-"
Click. Click. Click. Click.
The familiar sound of bone on stone echoed throughout the bathhouse, both Creator and creation shooting out of the water and grabbing their towels. Just in time, they witnessed the malformed and strange shape of his guildmate, Grievous Sin, stomping around a corner with his own towel thrown over his upper right shoulder.
Many of the bone plates and shards of various animals rested on his body, composed entirely of a hive of worms that slithered and wriggled against each other. A thin layer of mucus covered them, high-pitched screeches complimenting his heavy footfalls.
He had four arms that were all of a similar length, jutting from the same shoulders, and each hand possessed a differing amount of bony phalanges. His legs were digitigrade, ending in snowshoe-like feet of discarded talons and bunched-up sinew.
His head was the only portion of his body that was not a worm, four murky brown eyes swiveling in different directions to give him a full three-hundred and sixty degree view of his surroundings. His lower jaw split into two, the jawbones of two separate animals covering them and giving him an extra layer of teeth to utilize.
When he saw the Thunderbird Archer and True Vampire, all four eyes focused on the pair, his feathery antennae rubbing together in contemplation.
"Am I interrupting something?" The loremaster inquired innocently enough, though the first pair of eyes switched between vampire and Thunderbird constantly. His voice consisted of multiple pitches at once as the worms of his body joined in.
Shalltear moved to answer, but Peroroncino slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Nope! Nothing at all! Just talking with each other, you know, as we should," the archer said, his voice thankfully staying consistent despite his wording.
Grievous Sin's head tilted so far that it was almost upside down. "Your inflection of voice indicates that you feel nervous, which may or may not have to do with your interactions with Shalltear Bloodfallen. The twitching of your hand also betrays an unusual emotion that you're experiencing, brought on by a sudden flood of stress. Your reactions are most curious indeed."
"Uh…"
"It matters not," the loremaster decided, bypassing the Creator and creation and tossing his towel off to the side. He sank like a rock on the other side of the spring, some of the worms disengaging from his body and swimming in the warm water.
Thankfully, Peroroncino had grabbed Shalltear's hand and stepped out of the water, giving his guildmate a full run of the spring. He would have said goodbye, but the mgalekgolo had already leaned his head back and started snoring.
"Will Lord Grievous Sin be alright?" The True Vampire asked, throwing the loremaster a concerned glance.
"Yeah, he'll be fine," her master replied, sighing. "We all tell him to get out of the tomb and just enjoy the sun for a bit, but he refuses every time. Then he overworks himself and ends up crashing like this."
"...I imagine he can't drown, but it probably wouldn't be very comfortable to wake up with water in his lungs."
"No, no it would not," the Thunderbird chuckled, noticing that his hand was still connected to the vampire's.
He was tempted to hold on, to just see where it could potentially go. But then his inner consciousness came back with a vengeance, and he let go without another word.
With his newly-freed hand he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, listen Shalltear… I know that you...wanted to do more, and that's fine, but… why don't we plan ahead for another day, hmmm? I need to go lie down for a bit."
He pivoted on his feet, walking out of the bath house and attentively controlling his line of vision away from the vampire. It was because of this that he would miss the sorrowful smile that his creation shot his way, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek.
And now here he was, sitting with his back to the door and on the floor. He had dressed along the way, intentionally taking hallways that he knew would be barren at this time of the day. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his beak in between his knees.
It's been years by this point...why can't I just move on?
He relaxed his whole body, sliding down the hardwood until he was laying down on the plush carpeting of his room. He splayed his arms and legs away from his body, as if he was about to make snow angels.
He reached out above his head, his inventory space activating as he reached inside and tugged at what he wanted. He pulled out of the cloudy, violet-colored cloud a golden locket, polished to a shine.
What had made Yggdrasil more unique than other games of its generation was that it allowed a player to directly store their cloud and access it from in-game. This meant he could access anything from banking information, videos off of the new net, and, most importantly, personal photographs of his life.
Peroroncino had once heard rumors that apparently the headsets that players used could even copy their minds into the cloud, perusing the digital libraries with nothing but their own thoughts. It was a rumor that had persisted only in the criminal underworld.
He turned the locket over and over again in his golden laced talons, savoring the silky smoothness of the gold before pressing a button at the top to unlock it. It popped open with a subtle click, unveiling its contents.
Inside was a picture of a lanky man, not so thin as to blow over in the breeze, but not so muscular as to be winning any competitions. He had long, midnight-black hair that trailed down to his upper back, his face clean-shaven and with sharp features like a hawk's.
He was throwing up a peace sign, and had his other arm wrapped around a petite woman about a head shorter than the man. She was giggling in the photo, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as her platinum blond hair blew in the wind of a nearby air conditioning turbine they had walked past that day.
The woman held fine but delicate facial features, giving off a haughty appearance except to all those who knew her. Her short stature had made her the target of many jokes over the years, but nothing too demanding or overtly hurtful.
The Thunderbird archer brushed his thumb over the photo, savoring the memories that came with it.
I'm sorry Yua. I just… I just couldn't let you go, could I? Now, the only time I ever see you is in here, and out there.
He brought the locket to his heart, and sighed. "I'm sorry Shalltear. Everytime I look at you, all I can ever see is her. You don't deserve this. You never deserved this."
And while he knew the tears would never come, for he had moved past that point long ago, he still let loose a keening cry.