“I wanna go home,” I mumbled pathetically, curling around myself as I cried.

This world was a lot more fun when I wasn’t the one interacting with characters. When I wasn’t the one in danger. When I wasn’t the one having to make decisions and suffer the consequences if I stumbled even once in my plans.

Was I really just trapped here? Did I actually just get taken from my world? Did my body really go comatose?

Maybe this was just a comatose dream. Maybe this was just a dream, and I wouldn’t be hurt, and everything would be fine.

I would wake up, go to work, avoid talking to people, and continue wishing that it had been me that fell on the wood spikes in middle school.

The silence stretched.

“Well what do we do, then?” Uran asked.

“Fiona, do you still have Valentine locked up?” Herald asked.

“I-I don’t know. You’d have to ask Desmond,” I answered.

“Desmond,” Herald sighed, “He can’t get here. We’d have to go to the basement to speak with him, which isn’t ideal.”

“Or he could break through the floor,” I muttered, remembering a scene in the book where he did just that.

“This room is protected from attacks on all sides at the moment,” Nocta refused, “Though it would be mighty convenient.”

More silence fell.

“We could fight,” Jerald offered, arms crossed, “Hope to get back-up.”

Herald scoffed, shaking his head, “Who would come? We’re neutral with all countries. The Academy doesn’t have allies.”

I thought aloud, sighing, not noticing that everyone was listening.

“The only people I know who can beat his army without casualties aren’t even on this planet. Getting the realms involved is the easiest way to accidentally cause the end of the world. I guess we could pray to the angels, but what do I have that I could give to anyone from the Astral Realm? The easiest way to destroy Valentine’s army is to convince him not to fight at all.”

I sighed listlessly.

“I wish I could use the PA system. Telling him I’m about to fucking die of stress would at least buy us time.”

“Tell us what happened, first,” Dumble—I mean, the President asked.

I nodded, slowly standing up, using the wall as a crutch, “Yeah, sure. I was just walking to eat in the dining hall with Mercury and Pelias—Persephone’s brothers. Because of how caring they were, and how guilty I felt that their sister accidentally killed herself and they didn’t know, I, I don’t know. Something fucked up and I threw up blood. Pelias got Val before I could run and hide for a bit, and he confronted me.”

I swallowed, staring at the black tile flooring.

“He said I was going to die at this rate, and said that he would convince the chancellor to release me or expel me or whatever into his custody. Obviously I was fucking terrified, because that’s just code for being locked in a basement and experimented on for the rest of my life. So I said if he did, I’d tell everyone he was Valentine.”

My shaking arms dropped, reaching up and running through my hair.

“But the blackmail didn’t work!” I cried helplessly, frustrated and afraid.

“He agreed, and I couldn’t stop him to try and convince him otherwise, so I panicked. And then Herald called for me, and I didn’t know what to do, so I freaked out, and… and yeah. Healed Jerald and asked him to, to check the surroundings. I kind of hoped…”

“That he wouldn’t send an army of undead this way?” Herald asked dryly.

I nodded, looking up at everyone, “Yeah.”

Silas sighed, rubbing at his face, “I cannot believe how you would believe that trapping a notorious mass murderer and necromancer after telling him you would reveal his identity was a good idea.”

“I am stupid,” I said with great stress, “I-I can’t just make good ideas like it’s easy! I panic, and I do stupid shit, because I’m a fucking loser, so, so what was I supposed to do?! Tell me what I could have done! Please.”

I slumped back to the ground. Everything was spinning slightly, everyone a bit hazy around the edges.

Oh. Right.

I drank a lot of alcohol earlier, too, didn’t I?

Great.

“I think we should give her to him. It sounds like she brought this upon herself by allying with Valentine de Notos,” Lockheed suggested.

“How,” I said.

My voice was loud and flat. I stared at the two-faced blond bastard. So he would switch sides.

“Tell me how I, with no allies in this world and the knowledge that I was going to get killed if I was found out, could have done anything else in my situation. Anything except listen and rely on the only person who wasn’t actively planning to kill me. I had to let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to me just so I could make it here! Then I was so close to death for the next week that him not being around was equivalent to my death! What else was I supposed to do? Rely on fucking strangers and just trust that they were stronger than the fucking boogeyman? Then, then when he tried taking me, what else was I supposed to do? Go to people who would cut my head off before allowing me to explain? Or, no, I should go to people who Valentine could kill faster than they could even register what I said? Great.”

Standing up, I wandered up to Lockheed. A sword appeared in my hand with a swirl of magic. People shifted, but I held it handle-out to him. The blade cut into my hand, blood dripping to the floor.

He looked at me, face pale. I wondered what I looked like, right then. All I felt was tired and very, very drunk.

I’d been stressing nonstop since I got to this world. The alcohol only gave me the courage to say aloud what I was thinking.

“If you want to kill me because I punished you for being a prick to Indigo, go ahead,” I said flatly, “Take the sword and kill me, because if you try giving me to an obsessive and crazy fucking necromancer or the soul-stealing Fae I’m going to kill myself anyway. At least then my soul won’t be tortured for eternity or fucking destroyed or-or whatever the Fae do to souls.”

Lockheed remained silent. I turned, staring at Silas. I offered him the sword. His jaw was clenched, and he stared at me.

I huffed, turning and regarding the room.

“Whoever here wishes to give me up or send me to the Fae, feel free to take the sword and kill me now. Burn my corpse before you give it to Valentine, if you could.”

The room twisted oddly, and I found myself staggering. The sword dropped, cutting straight through the ground.

The next moment was loud. I stared up at Desmond for a long moment before realizing what had happened. Oh, oops. I cut through the protection the floor had. I remained on the floor, dizzy.

Everything went dark, two glowing red eyes focused on me. Oh. Did he take me deeper into the basement?

“May I?” He asked, gesturing at my hand.

“Sure,” I agreed tiredly, “It’s no use to me after it’s out of my body.”

Desmond’s tongue reached out, trailing my hand, eyes meeting mine, “Valentine escaped my hold. I apologize, Master.”

“Really?” I wondered, “What happened? Be honest.”

So Valentine was immortal, then. No way would he decide to duke it out with a vampire otherwise.

“He…” Desmond looked ashamed, “He drew his own blood in his struggles. It was very powerful, but I had to undo his binds to—”

I sighed, cutting him off with a wave of my free hand. So Valentine didn’t escape, he was released.

“Can you tell if someone is immortal by their blood?” I wondered curiously.

“He is not, though he is very close,” Desmond answered.

I hummed, relaxing, “Thank fuck. Okay.”

If a vampire drank the blood of an immortal, typically a few things happened. One, the vampire “ascended”, so they were able to go out in sunlight and do fun stuff like eat their natural food again. It got rid of the curse part of the immortality, really.

This happened for a variety of reasons, but mostly because the Fae—at the time, several tens of thousands of years ago if not more—still gave out paths to redemption. Obviously they realized that was a complete mistake and stopped doing it, but they couldn’t adjust the curse after it had been made. Which is what created the difference between ghouls and vampires.

Thoughtless, formless immortals with all the curses of vampires and little to none of the benefits. The vampiric curse used to be able to be spread similar to werewolves, but now the victims just turned into ghouls.

The second thing that happened if a vampire drank the blood of an immortal is that they regained their soul that the Fae had taken.

Meaning, essentially, all agreements made under law of the Fae were defunct, freeing Desmond from his responsibilities.

Which would suck, because while Orion was powerful enough to force the agreement between him and Desmond to not fade, I was not.

It wasn’t like I could just demand that Desmond give me a magical oath of the same agreement we had—vampires didn’t have magic or souls to bet on.

That was why the Fae had bound the cursed vampires to their laws in the first place.

I found it really interesting at the time. Now, as I was staring at Desmond in the pitch black of the basement, I kind of wished I had any sort of security.

More and more immortals were appearing around me, and I knew the tower of magic had several, too.

I bet I’d find the fallen angel soon, since he claimed he was “always around” whenever anyone asked where he’d come from. There was the winged Medusa-guy or whatever this world called them. The immortal mage that had the equivalent of a philosopher’s stone was at the end, too.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

… Who were the last two, again? Well Aphrodite was there, obviously, she wasn’t immortal. Who was the last one?

There were the leaders of the Fae, Demon, and Astral realms there. There was the fallen angel who Orion gave forgiveness to after falling for Aphrodite. There was Jerald and Valentine. The gorgon, Story. The mage guy, Percival. Aphrodite herself…

…

Huh. Whatever. I guess I’d find out.

“Mm, I really am sorry, Master,” Desmond apologized, “The fear saturating your blood excited me far too much. I couldn’t think properly.”

I sighed. Why was he trying to convince me? I believed him. He was dumb as hell when it came to his hunger.

“Be honest with me,” I ordered without much thought.

I was busy trying to think of immortals to prevent him from getting near. The Fae King owned Desmond, so he wouldn’t offer his blood. The Demon King might, I didn’t know why he was so out of character sometimes. He was introduced as a pacifist but then did a bunch of war-hungry and violent acts, so I really didn’t know. Story was a sad and soft character who only really loved Aphrodite because she was immune to his sight and was kind to him, as a half-elemental.

Wasn’t he hiding somewhere in this underground? It was in his backstory that he’d only left the intricate basement going across the entire country of the Academy a bit before he met Aphrodite. Sadly it didn’t give an exact date…

Well.

“Hey, Desmond, can you smell those snake-people that turn others to stone?”

“Gorgons? Yes,” He said, “However I tend to avoid them. I am not immune to their sight.”

I hummed. Oh! So they were called gorgons, here.

“Is there any in this basement that are alone and avoid people?”

Desmond hummed, “What would you wish to do with them?”

I thought about it for a moment, “There’s an immortal gorgon I want to meet. He’s not like us, he’s a good person, so I was hoping to….”

“Gain more allies?” A dry voice asked.

I glanced behind me, seeing Doom Herald with a globe of light at his fingertips. Behind him were a lot of professors.

“Well, actually I was kind of just hoping to ask him about how to deal with the undead army. Because he’s like really old, and has a lot of knowledge we don’t,” I explained, flopping on my back to better look at them all, “He could probably tell us if there’s a way to cut the army’s connection to Valentine, since undead are easier to deal with when they’re not controlled. He’s a good person—like Silas and Jerald—so I’m sure he’d help. Even if he couldn’t help us with information, he’s powerful. He wouldn’t just let people die uselessly.”

Herald’s pink eyes focused on me for a long moment, “I wonder where you gain your information from, since you say you are from another world.”

I sighed, “Dude. Anyway,” I turned to Desmond, “Immortal snake-guy? Anyone like that down here?”

Desmond hummed, eyes focused on my hand, “Yes. He attacks us on sight, however, so I am unsure what you mean by good.”

I shrugged, “I mean Lawful Good on the scale of morality. As in has a strict moral code that aligns with this world’s version of righteousness and saintly behaviors. You’re considered Chaotic Evil. You don’t have any code you follow, and you generally do things that go against what is primarily called good in this world.”

“And what are you, that you would so easily take advantage of people such as Valentine and the vampiric students?” Dawn, the female professor, asked.

I glanced up, “Me? I’m chaotic good, leaning toward chaotic neutral. I don’t follow a code, but that in general isn’t a bad thing. Everything I do is to keep myself or others alive, and while my morals don’t align with good or evil values, I would never intentionally bring harm to anyone, even if they’re the epitome of evil or the paragon of good.”

Then I hesitated. Did my morality really matter? Why were they asking about that? We had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Should we really be talking about my world’s classifications for good and evil and everything in between? I think we have more pressing matters, like gaining more manpower.”

The professors all stared at me. They looked kind of like they were spinning, everyone fuzzy around the edges.

“What would you consider Valentine?” Dawn asked.

I thought about the answer for a long time, “He’s fucking crazy, but he’s True Neutral or Chaotic Neutral. His morals just don’t exist, so he can’t do things for evil or good purposes. In general, so long as you don’t fuck with him, he isn’t actually a bad person. Hence why he follows the law when it suits him and forgoes it when it doesn’t.”

“And me?” Herald asked curiously.

I stared at Herald. No way did he actually want the answer to that when everyone else was around, right? Lawful evil was still evil, Doom.

“Unless the professor or staff member in question is Lawful Good, I will not give my opinion on where they lay on the morality scale. From what I know, only Silas and Jerald match that description. Mostly because it is very rare to find people with such impressive morals.”

Herald’s expression darkened. Was he testing to see how much I knew?

“Regardless,” I tried again, “Focusing on morals is actively bad. When a skeleton army is about to kill a bunch of people. Right? So, so Desmond. Does he chase the people he attacks? The snake-guy. Story.”

“No.”

I sighed, looking at him. His gray hair looked black in the light, glowing red eyes focused intently on me. Before I could come up with another way to meet him, Desmond spoke.

“I do not believe you need to endanger me to find him, however,” Desmond mentioned, “The moment you started speaking of him, he started coming this way.”

I hesitated, “Oh. He can hear us. Well that’s… cool. Do you think he’ll help us?” I glanced at the professors, “Because I mean only I might be immune to his sight. So you should all probably leave before he gets here.”

Doom Herald was still staring at me with an intense look.

“What is my morality?” The tired professor asked curiously.

“I like you, I really do, but I literally just said I would not tell anyone what I thought of them unless they were Lawful Good. Also I don’t know your name, so I might not have any information on you at all,” I said, looking at the tired professor.

“It’s Raphael,” The tired professor introduced.

I inhaled the wrong air, coughing and spluttering. I had to sit up to find my breath.

“Seems like you do know me,” The fallen angel commented idly.

“Still won’t say, but fuck, man,” I managed, standing up and glancing into the darkness, “Jesus.”

“You won’t give the morality of a fallen angel?” Silas wondered.

I sighed, my attention focused on the darkness, “Guys why are you so set on this morality thing?”

“Because we’re trying to figure out how much you know, and whether we should give you over to Valentine de Notos or not,” The President commented as he walked forward.

How much I knew…? About… them? Why?

…

Maybe to see if I would be too dangerous to hand over to Valentine, right? To see if I had secrets that would harm the safety of others if it fell into Valentine’s lap? I didn’t know.

Whatever, I would answer their questions.

I sighed, gesturing, “Jerald got his injury from a black dragon named Thoros. Thoros was a golden dragon before the kingdom of Hartfell—a now dead kingdom—killed his mate. Now he’s black with purple eyes. He has three children, two forever unhatched, and holds great hatred of all kingdoms. He either enslaves or kills all humans on sight, torturing them. Jerald was still a hatchling when Thoros went on his rampage, killing Jerald’s parents.”

I moved on from Jerald, not wanting to get into too much detail.

“The President of the Academy, you used to be a Dark Lord known as Apocalypso. You’re a Lich in disguise, but you’re not a bad person, and every professor knows that you’re a Lich. The only reason you had such a wild name and backstory was because you were part of a kingdom of necromancers and liches. Sadly, you lost everyone, and, as per their wishes, revived them to forever serve their people. Once necromancy became outlawed, your entire country was destroyed, and you rebranded. Now this country is called The Academy, and you teach others about magic, allowing people to learn about non-abrasive necromancy practices by calling it soulmancy. You had to give up your army, but as they were there willingly, they held no ill will, and their bodies were laid to rest. Silas—”

“That’s enough,” The President said, raising a hand, “Everyone knows Jerald and I’s story. I do not wish for you to spill the secrets of others.”

I sighed, staring up at the Lich, “Then why are you asking me to give away their morality? That says more about them than their backstories do.”

The Lich hesitated, then nodded, “Yes, mayhaps. Professors, begin preparations to fight the army of skeletons. I will stay here with this lost soul to communicate with the immortal gorgon apparently wandering the catacombs.”

The darkness fell. When the Lich lit up the area again, he had dropped his disguise. Flaming purple sockets stared at me for a long moment, before turning to the darkness.

“Desmond, don’t look that way, and get out of here,” I gestured toward where both the Lich and I had been glancing toward for a while now.

Desmond vanished.

Sighing, I stood up, turning to face Story. When had I laid back down?

Turning, I saw a silhouette approach.

Jesus. I didn’t expect to meet four immortals today. The Lich sacrificed himself for his students in the story to finally destroy Valentine’s troops, which was really sad. I was trying to prevent that from happening, today.

After all, the President could stop the army immediately if he gave up the fact that he was a Lich.

“I do not see why I should help you,” Story’s voice was rasping and coarse.

It was described that he had starved himself in the underground of the Academy.

“Well, you don’t have to,” I agreed, watching the man appear.

Despite his rough voice, his appearance was young. He looked to be in his late thirties at most, the snakes that made up his hair mostly black and red, with a few white snakes amidst them.

“Do you want some water and food?” I asked, “The underground won’t be safe for anyone, soon, depending on how long he gives the Academy to hand me over. You’ll need energy, if only to keep yourself safe.”

Slitted orange eyes focused on me. To my great relief, I was still able to move and breathe.

“Why would you call me here if not to use me?” He asked.

I shrugged, “I told them and I’ll tell you. I’m chaotic good. I don’t want anyone to be hurt, especially not the people I know of. Besides, I thought you were friends with the President?”

Orange eyes slid over, and he stared at the Lich. They stared at each other silently for a long time before Story looked back to me.

“Yes. That does not—“

“Okay, okay, stop,” I said, sighing, “It sounds really painful for you to speak. Here.”

Soon there was a floating ball of water. It was there using the light orb spell I’d seen Herald use. It slowly floated over to him. Story stared at it for a long time, casting many different non-circular spells on it before drinking gracefully. I only stopped adding water to it when he stopped drinking. My magic felt strained.

Clearing his throat, he spoke, the hissing rasp now smooth and calm, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Anyway, my sources say that the only way currently available to defeat Valentine’s army is to kill him, sacrifice me, sacrifice the Lich, or add people to the war that hadn’t been there in my… knowledge. I know that you mentioned regretting not helping out, so I’m giving you the opportunity to. As I am not the self-sacrificing type, giving me up isn’t an option.”

“Unless we prevent you from dying,” The Lich commented casually from next to me.

I hummed, glancing over. The Lich was only a few inches taller than me. He was facing Story, but looking at me.

“You’re right. With you alone, you wouldn’t be able to manage to keep me alive, but if Story agrees to sacrifice me, then I would be helpless.”

The Lich was neutral good. Essentially, the greater good was his niche. If he had to do the trolley problem, he would always sacrifice the lesser amount, regardless of its species. The author actually clarified that, too. The Lich cares for individual lives more than he cares for intelligent ones. So if twenty cats were in danger and he could sacrifice one human, he would sacrifice the one human.

Not that cats existed in this world. Most species were left alone due to the existence of beastfolk. Farming was only done with crops on Eros, not animals, so species that only existed because humans bred them or otherwise protected them didn’t exist anymore.

I looked at Story, looking down. His bottom half were feet. As he walked further out of the darkness, I saw matted gray wings stretching from his back. He looked very cramped.

Unlike the Lich, Story was not Neutral Good. Story was Lawful Good. He would sacrifice himself before he sacrificed others.

Having said that, if he heard me talking about him that means he heard everything that’s happened in the underground. He has no hesitation when it comes to sacrificing people who take advantage of others’ weaknesses.

“What do you plan to do with the evil you have entrapped?” Story asked me.

I thought, shrugging, “I only trapped Desmond because I had knowledge that an angel, Orion, would come down and trap him instead. I didn’t wish to see someone I liked be ordered to kill themselves after suffering at the hands of a righteous asshole. I don’t have any actual plans for him. If he’s around, I’ll use him whenever I need firepower. Otherwise I’ll probably just forget about him the moment I leave the Academy.”

Story thought for a long moment, staring into my eyes. I looked into his eyes, too. They were really pretty. Like the brightest orange of autumn leaves, or the most beautiful of sunset oranges. They weren’t outrageous like traffic-cone orange, the orange deep and soft.

“I cannot see how I would be of any help,” Story mentioned after a long moment, “But I am willing to help.”

I thought about it, shrugging, “You can’t see in the dark and you haven’t been using magic to see. You’ll be able to fight blindfolded, if you like? Otherwise you’re an excellent healer. I’ll be on the front-lines after healing Nocta and taking two mana regen potions.”

“Magical replacement potions,” The Lich corrected, “Mana is not a word, and nothing is regenerated.”

I sighed, “It’s just a term from my world. Mana is magic. The terms are interchangeable.”

“They are not. If you are going to be a student of my Academy, you will not be spreading around such a ridiculous term,” The Lich refused officiously.

I hesitated, looking up at the glowing purple of the Lich. A student of his Academy... he accepted me?

“Don’t look at me so hopefully,” The Lich scoffed, “I have not and will never sacrifice a student, regardless of how dumb they are in regards to personal preference.”