Nicholas's eyes pried open. There was no difference in setting. The world of darkness within his consciousness had merged itself into reality. It hurt. Limbs hurt. Head hurt. Feet hurt. Everything hurt. These aching, burning sensations combined to form a massive intangible hammer that crushed his skull at random intervals. There was no relief, just pain.

The guild master felt several strands of rope looped around his wrists and feet, binding the limbs to cold poles. He felt a foreign, uninviting surface beneath him and at his back, a chair he assumed. His wrists and legs wriggled and strained against the bonds. Nothing came of the motion. He was stuck. Again. Waiting and waiting and waiting. More waiting. Nicholas was aware of what seemed like mufflers cupping his ears based on the smooth, silky sensation on the skin circling his ear. A band or something similar linked the two together. The guild master snorted, "The silent torture method? Really? I won't break from loneliness and isolation from the outside, alright?" He didn't hear the words being expressed out loud/ However, the echoing within his mental space was sufficient for the time being.

Time trickled on. Lives continued. Every life but his. Darkness was his best companion, his only companion. He tested the bonds. No luck.

At brief and random moments, his brain would dim in its processes, his thoughts slowing. His memories became more and more and more distant with every episode of this amnesia-inducing bout of mental obscurity. They drifted so far in fact, those segments of his life detached from his mind entirely. However, to his benefit, these abnormal periods of illness became less and less frequent before stopping in full. The guild master was left to his own devices once more.

Nicholas's memory had dulled. Whether the monsters in knight armour had roughed him up too badly or some nigh-impossible-to-attain mind power had been cast on his mind, he couldn't say. But Mind Mages were simply out of the question. If someone dared to tamper with his mind, a system notification would warn him at the least, not even accounting for the intrusive nature that, from what he has read, was quite jarring and uncomfortable.

But he knew one thing for certain, the ability to recall had started to unwind within his mind. How? Why? The guild master had no answer, merely speculation. He remembered something about a companion, two? The wisp of memory vanished. Despite the removal or corruption of many memories, the old man could recall most of his life without issue. The time spent training, settling down... And the death of his loved ones. Fate was an unkind mistress. The darkness persisted, leaving Nicholas no choice but to go with the flow, meandering, sifting through his past.

After what felt like centuries, the black screen crumbled, revealing an orange-tinged stone wall. The crackle of flames and soft murmurs in the background created a peaceful, tranquil lullaby.

"Why am I here again?" The trail remained cold. The thing was, Nicholas couldn't remember. He recalled coming to inspect the castle to deal with the necromancer threat but...everything else was blank. No matter how he wrangled and snatched at drifting snippets of history, every single one eluded him by the fingertips. Nicholas could just barely touch it, jumbled and nonsensical images appeared in his head. Three Morti Cavalero? "How silly," Nicholas snorted, "We killed them a couple decades ago in the crypts." He heard a voice call him over the din of the mental play within his head. The guild master surfaced to the present. "Yes?"

"Turn and face me." The whispers were silenced. Anticipation was thick in the air. He could tell, but from what? He stood up from the chair, casting a quick glance over his surroundings, noting the coils of rope in the corner. Nicholas did as he was told, revolving around to face the owner of the musical voice.

A small, stocky woman greeted his vision. Her nose was pronounced, having a distinctive downward hook. A small set of spectacles sat upon the ridge of her nose. An instinctive query rose to the surface, "What happened to your eyes? Why are they so red?"

The woman replied, "An experiment gone wrong, let's leave it at that."

Nicholas nodded, leaving the topic be.

She looked at two cloaked figures standing at her sides, "Are your inquisitive queries and doubts now sated?"

The two frantically bobbed their heads, and grimy, ashen-chocked voices replied, "Yes, Lord Mage!"

"Excellent," she levelled her gaze at the guild master, "Tell me about yourself!"

Stolen novel; please report.

Doubt weaselled into the back of his mind, warning him that this could be a trap. It was snuffed out immediately, he couldn't explain why, but he trusted the woman standing before him. And that was reason enough for him.

Nicholas obeyed, "I am Nicholas Corleone, Guild Master of the Adventurer's Guild, a friend of the King and citizen of Evesia. I am at maximum level with the class Berserker..." Words tumbled out of his mouth, exposing his deepest secrets and worries without so much as a worry entering his mind. It just felt natural, it just felt right, it just felt normal.

After several minutes of rambling about his life, the red-eyed woman raised a hand. His mouth clicked shut. "Whelp, guess my story bored her," he thought. A frown sidled onto his lips, "Did I displease her?" A gruff voice interrupted the thought, "Why do you care what she thin-" The sound was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

She turned to her compatriots, "The...spell isn't perfect. But it'll do." The two tilted their chin up and down vigorously.

The smile on her lips elongated, stretching muscles far beyond their normal manoeuvrable capacity. The tips of her mouth came in line with the bottom of her nose, nearly reaching her ears. An overly-sugary, sickly-sweet sound emerged from her mouth. "Of course gentlemen, there is one final test needed to ensure our little spy is up to standard. For both our peace of mind, of course."

"Bring her in."

Two, silver-plated, warriors entered the cell, dragging a woman behind them. The two newcomers were jolty and uncoordinated, dragging their legs from out behind them in a staggering, swinging walk. Their skin looked as if having a severe Vitamin-D deficiency. If not for the lack of fangs poking from their open, silva-pooling mouths, they would've passed for vampires. Their eyes were glazed over, pupils vacant of emotion, vacant of consciousness, vacant of the spark of life.

The woman and her subjects backed to the side, allowing the two zombies to walk past, dragging the limp, unresisting form of a leather-armoured girl across the cobblestone. The runes imprinted upon the leather were utterly sapped of mana, dull and inert.

If not for the sporadic opening and closing of eyelids, she would've passed for a corpse.

Reaching the guild master, still standing behind the seat, the two guards reversed their hold on the prisoner, moving her into a standing position, arms pinned against her back, not that she was trying to break out.

Nicholas stared, "I-is t-that m-my daughter?!"

"No, your girl had died in the spacial collapse, a wandering spirit possessed her body floating in the void and is using it as a vassal to sow havoc and destruction on this world."

"Of course." The guild master's mind whirled, a storm of emotions bubbling within his chest. Fear, worry, suspicion, acceptance. The part that agreed with the fact expanded, swallowing up all of the negative emotions. His frown remained but had softened into a more straight line.

"Take this!"

Despite not turning around, Nicholas caught the hilt of the sword at his back, flicking it into a forward position upon feeling the rough, circular indents of the sword. He looked down. Rows upon rows of skulls greeted him with an assortment of emotions from laughter to anguish to anger. The blade was pitch black, with a horned crossguard.

"Kill her."

A worry re-emerged within his mind. "Her?"

A pause. He heard rather than saw the three figures tense but he couldn't locate the source of their discomfort. "I meant the spirit, avenge your daughter and spare the world from this abomination!"

The worry eased into the void.

"Of course."

The woman flicked her wrist.

The young girl's muscles tensed, her posture straightened, feet now firmly planted upon the floor, longer propped up by the two undead. She shook her arms to free them from the grasp of the two undead to no avail. The girl looked up. Her mouth opened, and a single vibration from her vocal cords flew into the air.

A single word that shook the old man to his very core.

"D-dad?"

Nicholas didn't respond, simply drawing his sword back in preparation for the strike while placing a hand on her shoulder to steady the victim.

"Do it!"

A gasp.

Thunk.

Blood pooled onto the floor.

Silence.

Feminine cackling punctured the silence. It went on and on. After a few seconds, two, slightly less enthusiastic, toned-down chuckles joined the mix, fluctuating in tone.

"You are now ready fo-"

She never finished the sentence. The final few words hung onto her tongue as the head was flung off the shoulders, leaving behind a bloody stump squirting blood.

A red tidal wave crashed into the two hooded figures, leaving nothing behind. Their dying screams were engulfed by the mana.

Three bodies toppled to the floor.

Nicholas panted, his arms and waist still locked in position from which he had flung the sword. A massive ragged trench was present on his forearm, forming a red waterfall that cascaded to the floor.

[[Passive Regeneration] Activated!]

The wound closed seamlessly.

Giving the pink flesh a passing glance, his eyes darted to the girl's tear-stricken face.

The two crashed into each other, arms wrapping around each other's backs.

Quiet, muffled sobs lingered in the air. Drops of water fell to the floor. No words were exchanged. Their emotions communed. Even the world acknowledged the love, slowing down time to allow them to share this moment of peace and happiness just a bit longer.