Sitting up with a groan, clutching his head, Undead's gaze sweeps around him, looking for Alice. Yet there's nothing. The flat plain where he chose his shell, gone. The rancid stench of blood, gone. Alice… is gone.
Under Undead's frantic movements, something that is barely a bed creaks beneath him. Bringing him out of his frantic search, Undead once again, looks around.
Stuck in a remote cell, the only rays of light are shed through the iron bars in the wall; A bucket in the corner with a rancid stench and a skeleton chained to the wall. The bare minimum levels of comfort are given to such prisoners.
Before Undead could search for longer, a distinct oinking spread through the halls. Heavy thuds of footsteps and baited breaths mingle in the humid air.
The footsteps continue to get louder and not long after, a 'thing' with the head of a pig and the body of a man comes into Undead's vision.
The pigman walks up and down the halls, surveying each cell, paying no mind to the restless Undead. Before anyone could realise, the quiet clacking of heels mixed into the thuds. Their footsteps weaved into the pigs, trying to silence themselves further.
The quiet clacks eventually faster, so fast that it seems the person is sprinting. The steps are so loud that the pigman finally notices.
However, it's too late, a girl that looks like they're in their late teens dashes forward, pulling forward her rapier and piercing its throat in one smooth motion.
Swinging her blade against the wind to clean it of blood while the pigman collapses against the floor. Dust agitated as it rises up when it falls.
The girl looks down upon the pigman's corpse with disdain, kicking it away with such force, it reaches the gate of Undead's cell.
The jingling of keys, merging with the sound of its collapse, blood trailing in its path. Undead reaches for the corpse, the pungent smell of blood causes his throat to retch but yet he still reaches forward, searching the body.
Startled slightly at the sudden sight of an arm reaching out, she observes. Readying her sword, she slowly approaches.
Undead gropes over the body. Unaware of the gaze cast over him. Finding the key, now lodged into its thigh from the kick, pulls it out and unlocks the cell.
Looking over the man clad in armour, she can't help but feel like something is off. This man is breathing, his gaze is still clear, yet there is no warmth of life emanating from him. It's chillingly cold.
"Undead…? If you even fall under that category, it seems you still hold the clarity of life. How unusual…"
The girl mumbles out to herself, loud enough for Undead to hear. Causing his gaze to rise from the corpse, meeting hers. As he does that, the girl pauses, lost in thought before she begins speaking once more.
"Undead, if the voice of god still lingers on you, rise."
Just as she's about to leave, Undead calls out to her. Wanting an answer to the only question plaguing his mind.
"Do you know where Alice is?"
Alice should be dead, but there's this foreboding feeling that Alice is still alive. Not knowing that she is, just more of a feeling.
Stopping in her tracks, the lady casts a gaze over her shoulder. "Alice? I haven't come across anyone with that name during my travels."
After finishing all she needed to say, she turns and walks down the hall; vanishing as she turns the corner. Left on his own, Undead looks around his cell one last time. It's pointless however.
All Undead sees is the light seeping through the window, its rays resembling that of Alice's scruffy hair.
Step by step, Undead walks along the halls, moving his body in all sorts of ways to get used to it.
Cells identical to the one he was in lay in the hall, some in even worse condition than the one where he woke.
Following the path littered with pigmen corpses, Undead makes his way through the dungeon. After climbing a flight of stairs, brutal winds lash against his armour, yet it was the first wind he felt; violent as it was, it was freeing.
Just a few paces away from the stairs was that girl, staring out at the scenery. As if sensing Undead's presence, she turns around, a soft smile lacing her lips.
"It seems like God truly hasn't abandoned you. First, let me formally introduce myself. I am Jeanne d'Arc, hailing from Orleans."
As if blessed by light, her warm hair flutters behind her, her armour reflecting the sun only to increase how grand she looks.
Momentarily lost do words, staring a bit too long, does he finally talk. "I… am Undead."
A coarse voice emanates from his throat, yet it's still distinctly one filled with warmth.
"Undead? I asked for your name, not your race. Unless—"
Jeanne's voice trails off as she's lost in thought once more. However she quickly tosses useless thoughts aside, staring intently at Undead. Her dull, murky blue eyes boring into him.
"Such things don't matter right now, what does is that I carry on with my mission."
Jeanne pauses to think for a moment, bringing her calloused hand to her chin, resting her face on it.
After careful consideration, Jeanne asks. "Undead, do you remember your past? When you were alive?"
Alive? No, he doesn't. The first person he'd met was Alice, the first person he lost was Alice. The person he wants to meet the most, it's Alice.
"I do not remember my life alive, I only have memories of when I woke up."
Letting out a sigh, she talks with a slightly somber tone. "So your that kind of undead. But it matters not as I shall show you heavens grace."
Proclaiming proudly, she puts her hands together, looking at undead with a gentle smile.
"Undead, since you remember nothing, follow me while I travel this land for my mission. And if fate shall have it, your memories could return."
Struck speechless, why would someone you just met help a complete stranger? A rotting corpse at that! however, this could work out.
"I… will follow you."
Short, curt words are all that needed to be said, hearing that, a wide smile blooms onto Jeannes face. Swiftly turning away and marching forward so Undead doesn't see her shameful display, not waiting for him to catch up.
While she doesn't wait, her steps are slower, and less frequent. Undead, taking longer strides, catches up in no time.
"Now that you have chosen to follow me, it will do you good to know what my mission is. I was sent from my motherland, Orleans, to help find the source of the fog plaguing the land."
Walking atop a grand stone wall while they talk, Undead finally gets a good look at where he is.
"Fog?"
A ruined castle with vines encompassing the walls, intertwined with fallen rubble. Just above the castle's peak is the sun, unobscured by any clouds, resting atop it. No sight of fog, anywhere.
"What fog?"
The violent winds seeming to calm at such a scene. Undead, noticing that Jeanne is still walking, starts to pick up the pace. Reaching her side once more, he can't help but notice the subtle scent of light(?) wafting from her hair.
Now by her side, Undead's gaze can't help but fall onto her. As if the whirling winds reflect his non-beating heart, they pick up speed. Yet they go too fast. Too fast for an unbeating heart.
The wind doesn't stop, it can't stop. Jeanne's warmth is overtaken by something far more vile. Disgusting. Jeanne, sensing something off, stops in her tracks and looks up towards the 'clouds'.
"Helkai-"
A being of enormous magnitude sores high above the land, its shadows swallowing the land they stand on, the sun blocked out by its wings; each beat of them locking stones loose. Its scales, a deep, ominous purple that shimmers in the sun.
Its gaping maw opens wide revealing rows of teeth, each one sharper than the last. Inside its maw is a massive ball of fire, a heat so intense it feels like it rivals the suns.
The air shrieks, a fire so hot that even at this distance, Undead's armour feels like it'll melt into his skin. Jeanne isn't fairing any better, her body drenched in sweat, eyes spread wide.
Before Jeanne could even finish talking, the Helkaiser spits the blaze at her, reducing her to nothing more than ash right before Undead's eyes. He couldn't even move to help her. It all happened too fast. Now nothing remains.
Baring his sword against such a being, there's nothing he can do except swing. Yet his sword can't reach. The second person to show him kindness is… dead.
The Helkaiser, soaring high in the air, can't be affected by such hopeless swings. And with that, it readies another ball of fire and shoots it down at the hopeless Undead.