Walter died.
For approximately thirty seconds, his heartbeat ceased, and his HP zeroed. Upon his death, the [Scales of Love and Lust] annulled because of its missed connection. Walter's numinous body was gone. His mana, his identity, divided and floated away from his body, like an unthinking zephyr.
Only a desperate wish pinned his spirit. HP was a terrible measurement of a person's health, represented by the lowest value of a body's systems. If left alone, Walter would remain technically dead.
"[Lay on Hands]."
Elin interfered with the progression of a lost life. She unknowingly left behind a tiny seed of HP, just large enough to restart the rhythm of his heart and remain unnoticed. That, by itself, still would have failed to revive him.
But he could hear her.
The sounds were ugly. When Elin usually swung her sword, it whistled through the air and gave off a ringing tone, like a lightly tapped bell. Now, all Walter could hear was the slashing of flesh, the crushing of bone, and the collateral destruction. A butcher's knife sounded cleaner. Her grunts and anguished screams made him flinch with sympathy. If he didn't do something soon, she would be wounded in a way that wouldn't heal.
His spirit resisted the return, like an uncontrolled boat sail in a storm. No, that wasn't accurate, the wind of the afterlife battled him directly. Something, or someone, prevented Walter from rejoining. The [Grimoire], the mass of magical knowledge chained to him, threatened to drag him away.
It was too coincidental, I'll admit. Both an agent of Ouroboros and a disciple of Gaia appeared to sway me. I get it, you want rules, and I can see their necessity. You can remove the [Grimoire], I realize it's not what I wanted, I just need enough to save her.
After Walter's prayer, what remained of the [Grimoire] was one page. With his soul freed, he snapped into his body with a painful jolt.
Walter understood the magic of the world. First, it was a 'soft' system without rules, but the source of untold suffering. Later, Aratron, the God of Magic, revised it into a 'hard' system, bound by rules, and it became a mere tool.
The [Grimoire], even in responsible hands, could not be tolerated in Eovamund.
"Elin." He coughed up blood, rolled over, and wobbled to his feet.
He shuffled, sliding along the walls, and traced the sounds of battle. By the time he found them, the Duke of the Rotting Garden and Elin smashed through a building.
Isekai and magic go hand-in-hand. Both are wish-fulfillment, and what's a good isekai without the protagonist getting what he wanted? No, that's not true, I'm back to being weak as shit, but I can say I'm getting what I needed.
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"[Magic Missile]!"
Ashes to ashes, Walter thought, what a fitting end for a vampire.
"Elin?" he asked.
She sat on her heels, and Walter nearly mistook her for being unconscious. The battle was rough. Her armor, parts of it outright missing, was beyond serviceability. Dents and scratches covered the entirety of it, and some parts were outright missing. Exposed skin sported bruises and scratches, and soot dirtied the rest of her.
Her hand hovering in the air, with her fingers twitching, proved her awake. Elin turned and dived at Walter before he could ask, 'Are you alright?' She tripped. Her face landed in his stomach, and she wrapped his legs in a hug. Too emotionally exhausted to cry, she knelt there and hiccuped. Walter hugged her head.
"Can we get the hell out of here, please?" he asked.
She nodded.
They limped out of the Necropolis and stumbled across the empty plains between the city and Camp Wolf, and they did not slow until the lights were visible. We've come full circle, Walter thought. When they got close to the camp, they finally passed out.
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Walter fluttered awake, and he looked up to see Elin's face.
He asked after a sigh, "Don't you ever sleep?"
She answered with a gentle smile, and her thumb stroked his cheek.
Elin looked horrible. Bandages covered almost a third of her skin, and some seeped with specks of blood. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Walter deduced she didn't rest and opted instead to watch over him. Under his head, he could feel gauze wrapping her thigh, too.
What an absurdly perfect woman.
“That happened," Walter asked.
"Yes," she said.
"I used magic."
"Yes."
"We killed a boss monster."
She nodded.
A beat of silence stretched between them.
"You died, Walter," she said, "I had to watch you slip away. Don't ever do that to me again."
"I promise." When silence weighed between them, Walter carried on. "You have to promise, too, or it won't mean anything."
Laughing caused her pain, so she controlled her breathing until she calmed. "Yes, I promise. Walter, we lost the scales."
"Good riddance," he declared.
"But, I feel further away from you without them."
Walter forced an evil snicker. "What is this, Stockholm syndrome? If you're worried you won't be able to tell I'm turned on, don't you worry, I'll make damn sure you know it."
She laughed again with desperate restraint. "Walter, don't joke, please! It hurts!"
"Who's joking? Hell, I might be turned on right now, you know!"
Elin clenched her teeth. "It's torture! Stop, damn you!"
They sighed, once their agonizing giggles subsided.
Walter took Elin's hand, the one still comforting his face, and kissed it. "I'm still exhausted. I'm going to nap a little more."
"Okay.”