The Western Continent.The Barren Wastelands.Day 1 of Exile.
A full, grueling twenty-four hours had passed since Rudeus had violently jolted awake against the base of the petrified tree.
It had taken him the entirety of that agonizing day to finally, painstakingly finish creating a basic, rudimentary survival camp for himself. His muscles, though miraculously restored and completely devoid of the horrific, bone-deep lacerations inflicted by the Greater Demon General Dratkthar, still ached with a phantom, psychological exhaustion.
He was still trapped in a state of profound, disorienting confusion regarding exactly how he had physically arrived here. His last coherent, physical memory was lying in the dirt of the Artificial Dimension, both of his arms violently severed, staring up at the spiked boot of a demon preparing to crush his skull. He remembered the strange, impossibly serene voice echoing in his fading soul. He remembered willingly relinquishing control of his physical vessel to the enigmatic entity known as the Blindfold Man.
And then, nothing. Absolute, terrifying blankness, followed by the blinding, apocalyptic vision of his older, terrifying self—Emperor Blackheart—ruling over a burning world.
Rudeus stood in the center of his meager camp, wiping a thick layer of grey ash from his forehead. He looked around at the desolate, nightmarish landscape. The earth was a cracked, lifeless expanse of parched grey dirt, completely devoid of any green vegetation. Towering, bleached skeletal remains of unimaginable, titanic monstrosities jutted out of the ground like the ribcages of rotting leviathans. The air was perpetually thick, tasting of sulfur and dry bone dust.
Based on his encyclopedic, past-life knowledge of the visual novel's intricate geographical lore, the specific atmospheric conditions, the towering skeletal remains, and the oppressive, ambient despair of the environment perfectly, undeniably matched the in-game description of the continent known as the Barren Wastelands.
Rudeus let out a long, heavy, incredibly cynical sigh. He tilted his head back, his crimson eyes squinting as he looked up at the terrifying, unnatural sky. The sun was still entirely, horrifyingly devoured by the pitch-black anomaly of the Total Solar Eclipse, casting the entire continent into an eerie, perpetual twilight.
"Sigh. Why in the absolute, flying hell did that goddamn, overpowered Blindfold Man even choose to send me to this specific wasteland?" Rudeus complained aloud, his raspy voice swallowed instantly by the vast, empty expanse.
Even though he absolutely did not remember a single detail of what had transpired after he closed his eyes and let the Blindfold Man take complete, absolute control over his physical body, he implicitly, undeniably knew that the supreme entity was the sole reason he was currently stuck stranded on this notoriously nightmarish continent. It wasn't a random spatial displacement; it was a deliberate, calculated relocation.
But what deeply, fundamentally confused Rudeus, setting his veteran Vanguard paranoia into overdrive, was the sheer, unnatural silence of his surroundings.
Throughout the entirety of yesterday and the grueling hours of today spent gathering dead wood and striking flints, absolutely no monsters had eventually come out of the ash clouds to investigate his presence. Nothing had tried to ambush him. Nothing had tried to hunt him. The exact, horrifying opposite was true.
Absolutely no one had attacked him. No roaming packs of abyssal dire-wolves, no grotesque chimera variants, and not even the towering, legendary 'Giant Monsters' or 'Behemoths'—which was the specific, terrifying nomenclature the game used for the apex predators of this continent—had even bothered to show their faces.
It felt incredibly, disturbingly wrong. It was exactly like he had somehow, miraculously spawned into a 'Peaceful Mode' setting within a hardcore survival simulation.
'It's almost as if...' Rudeus hypothesized inwardly, his mind racing. 'It's almost as if the residual, lingering cosmic aura of that Blindfold Man is still actively clinging to my physical vessel, and that utterly terrifying scent is actively repelling every single living creature within a hundred-mile radius. They aren't ignoring me; they are absolutely terrified of me.'
Rudeus aggressively scoffed, physically shaking his head to dispel the unsettling thought. He couldn't rely on phantom auras forever. He needed to focus on immediate, practical survival.
He knelt down beside the small, crackling campfire he had painstakingly built from the dry, petrified wood of the dead forest.
He reached over to a small pile of strange, bulbous, slightly glowing grey mushrooms he had meticulously scavenged from the shadowed base of a massive behemoth skull earlier that morning.
Luckily for him, edible sustenance still technically existed in this hellscape. And since Rudeus perfectly, flawlessly remembered the specific botanical identification of these mushrooms based directly on the game's extensive crafting lore, he was not scared in the slightest. He didn't need to take any desperate, time-consuming measures to boil them repeatedly to avoid lethal toxins, because he knew for an absolute fact that this specific, grey-capped variant was entirely safe and highly nutritious to eat raw or roasted.
He carefully picked up one of the large, fleshy mushrooms, pierced it cleanly with a sharpened, heat-treated wooden stick, and began to slowly, methodically roll it back and forth over the open flames of the campfire.
The heat coaxed a strange, earthy, almost meaty aroma from the fungus.
"Ahh, this is the life," Rudeus muttered sarcastically, his stomach giving a loud, painful rumble of agreement as the mushroom began to sizzle.
"Sigh. Who the hell am I even kidding..." Rudeus corrected himself, a dark, cynical shadow crossing his handsome, ash-smudged face.
He was entirely, pragmatically right. He knew, with the cold, hard logic of a seasoned soldier, that this place was absolutely never safe. Even if the local roaming monsters and those legendary, mountain-sized behemoths weren't currently approaching him, it was only a matter of time before the residual aura faded, or a predator bold enough, or hungry enough, decided to test its luck. He still desperately, constantly needed to be on his absolute guard. After all, this was the Barren Wastelands—the graveyard of empires and the cradle of nightmares.
He pulled the roasted mushroom from the fire, blowing on it lightly before taking a large, ravenous bite. The taste was bland, slightly metallic, but it was hot calories, and his recovering body desperately needed the fuel.
Rudeus chewed methodically, letting out another long, heavy sigh as he looked back up at the terrifying, eclipsed skies. Even though the celestial anomaly was inherently terrifying to look at, casting a suffocating, apocalyptic dread over the landscape, Rudeus had absolutely no other choice but to try and cure his crushing, isolated boredom by engaging in a twisted form of stargazing.
"Hmm...."
Rudeus leaned back, resting his weight on his palms, his crimson eyes tracing the jagged, dark edges of the solar corona peeking out from behind the black moon.
"...I really, truly miss stargazing with my dad," Rudeus whispered into the silence of the wasteland.
He was absolutely not talking about Raemond Blackfyre, the monstrous, abusive Grand Duke of the North who had sired his current body. He was talking about his true father. His father from his original, past life on Earth.
Daniello.
His dad, who had heroically, tragically sacrificed his own life, alongside his mother, throwing themselves into the line of fire to save Damien during the apocalyptic dimensional incursions that had ravaged their original world.
A sharp, agonizing pang of genuine grief pierced Rudeus's chest, a pain far sharper and more profound than any physical wound Dratkthar could have inflicted.
"It's just a massive, depressing waste that there are absolutely no familiar constellations of stars visible here in this sky...." Rudeus murmured, his voice cracking slightly with suppressed emotion.
He closed his eyes, desperately trying to project the memory of the night sky of Earth onto the back of his eyelids.
"....Ursa Minor. That's exactly right. I am Ursa Minor."
Rudeus smiled. It was a small, fragile, heartbreakingly genuine smile as he remembered exactly what his late father used to affectionately call him when they would lay on the roof of their ruined apartment building, stargazing through the smog of the dying city. Daniello had called his young son 'Ursa Minor'—the Little Bear—while declaring himself to be 'Ursa Major'—the Great Bear, always there to protect and guide the smaller constellation.
He missed that warmth. He missed the feeling of being protected, instead of constantly having to be the one fighting, bleeding, and surviving.
He slowly opened his eyes, the memory fading back into the harsh, grey reality of the Wastelands.
He shifted his position on the hard dirt, pulling the collar of his tattered Vanguard tunic up against the biting, unnatural chill of the eclipsed night. He laid down near the warmth of the fire, intending to finally close his eyes and force himself to sleep, to let his physically and magically depleted core recover.
But then.
-RUSTLE!
The sound was incredibly faint, barely louder than the shifting of ash in the wind, but in the absolute, dead silence of the Barren Wastelands, it was as loud as a gunshot.
-RUSTLE!
Rudeus's eyes snapped open. His veteran, frontline soldier instincts kicked in with violent, instantaneous precision. The lethargy of sleep vanished in a microsecond, replaced by a flood of icy, hyper-focused combat adrenaline.
He didn't make a sound. He didn't roll over. He simply reached out with agonizing slowness and silently, smoothly unsheathed the heavy, black iron Six-Flanged War Mace that he had kept resting within inches of his hand.
Rudeus absolutely didn't shout a clichéd, foolish warning like, "Who goes there?" or "Show yourself!" Doing so in hostile territory merely gave away your exact position and confirmed your state of panic to the predator.
Instead, he remained perfectly, terrifyingly still, keeping his crimson eyes intensely, sharply focused on the specific patch of tall, dead, grey grass approximately twenty yards away, which was repeatedly, erratically rustling.
Rudeus slowly, imperceptibly shifted his weight into a low, coiled crouch. With his free left hand, he silently picked up a jagged, fist-sized chunk of obsidian stone from the dirt beside the fire.
With a sharp, precise flick of his wrist, he threw the heavy stone directly toward that specific direction, aiming for the brush just behind the disturbance.
-THUD!
The stone hit the dead earth with a loud impact.
Rudeus waited. For an entire, agonizingly tense minute, absolutely nothing came out of the grass. There was no roar, no sudden ambush, no skittering retreat.
His eyes narrowed in deep suspicion.
Slowly, and with meticulous, predatory silence, placing each boot carefully to avoid snapping any dry twigs, Rudeus began to walk directly toward that specific direction. He held his heavy war mace raised in a high guard, ready to bring it down with bone-crushing force at the slightest provocation.
He reached the edge of the dead grass. With the heavy iron head of his mace, he carefully, slowly parted the thick, grey stalks to peer into the shadows, fully readying his muscles to attack—
But his crimson eyes widened in profound, absolute shock as he instantly, forcefully retracted his mace, halting his swing mid-air.
What Rudeus saw huddled in the dirt was not a grotesque, mutated chimera, nor was it a venomous abyssal crawler.
It was an ordinary, incredibly small, pure black wolf pup.
"What the absolute hell?" Rudeus whispered, completely bewildered. "Why in the world is there a literal, ordinary wolf pup all the way out here?! And infinitely worse, this is a completely normal, mundane type of timber wolf. It doesn't have any abyssal mutations, no extra eyes, no bone armor. How did it even survive this long?"
He lowered his mace completely, his combat tension bleeding away into deep, profound concern.
He slowly leaned in closer, reaching out his large, calloused left hand, and tried to gently touch the trembling, soot-covered black wolf pup.
As the dim light of the campfire hit the creature, his crimson eyes widened in alarm.
He saw why the pup wasn't running away. The small animal was bleeding profusely. There was a massive, deep, jagged slice tearing across the soft, vulnerable fur of its underbelly, leaking a steady, terrifying stream of bright red blood into the grey dirt.
"S-shit!" Rudeus cursed violently, his combat-medic training overriding his confusion.
He didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. He frantically, violently tore off the heavy, dark-grey combat coat he was wearing. He rapidly bundled the thick fabric and forcefully, but carefully, pressed it directly against the pup's ruined stomach, applying immediate, sustained, heavy pressure to the horrific wound to desperately try and stop the catastrophic arterial bleeding.
"Whimper..."
The tiny, broken pup let out a high-pitched, agonizingly weak whimper of pure pain as the heavy pressure hit its wound.
Rudeus completely abandoned his weapons. He carefully, gently slid his large, armored arms underneath the bundled coat and physically picked the fragile, trembling pup up from the dirt, cradling it against his chest.
"Shh, shh. It's okay, buddy. It's absolutely okay, I've got you," Rudeus murmured, his raspy voice dropping into a soft, incredibly gentle, comforting cadence.
He leaned his face down, completely ignoring the dirt, the ash, and the blood, and gently pressed a kiss against the top of the pup's soot-covered head.
"Shh, shh. Stay with me."
Rudeus rushed back to the campfire, gently laying the bundled pup down near the warmth. He frantically began to rummage through the deep compartments of his heavy leather tactical satchel.
Since he had woken up yesterday, he had repeatedly, inwardly questioned himself regarding exactly why he still physically possessed this specific, enchanted leather satchel. He clearly, vividly remembered giving this exact satchel to Princess Veronica to carry before their suicidal sprint to the extraction portal. He assumed that the omnipotent Blindfold Man had somehow, miraculously materialized it and left it with him before departing the vessel.
But right now, Rudeus absolutely didn't care about the cosmic logistics of his inventory. He completely ignored the existential questions and focused the entirety of his being on saving the small, dying pup who was rapidly, terrifyingly losing its life to blood loss.
His desperate, frantic fingers finally brushed against smooth glass deep within the medicinal compartment.
He pulled it out. It was a high-grade, azure-colored health potion. But his heart sank. The vial was nearly entirely empty. There was only a microscopic, shallow pool of the glowing blue liquid remaining at the very bottom of the glass.
Rudeus sighed, a sound of heavy, desperate frustration, but he didn't give up.
He carefully popped the cork with his thumb. He gently, meticulously opened the trembling pup's small jaws and carefully dripped the absolute final, precious remaining drops of the restorative liquid directly into the pup's mouth.
He watched with bated breath.
The potent, high-tier magic within the liquid immediately went to work. The intense, erratic shivering of the pup's body slowly began to stabilize. The magical properties of the potion actively worked to rapidly coagulate the blood, sealing the worst of the jagged laceration, and simultaneously curing the severe, life-threatening fever that had been caused by the massive hemorrhagic shock.
Rudeus let out a massive, shuddering breath of relief, slumping back onto his heels.
"Just where the absolute hell did you even come from, little guy?" Rudeus questioned the sleeping pup, his voice thick with exhaustion and lingering adrenaline.
The pup, its breathing finally evening out into a steady, rhythmic rise and fall, let out a soft, contented whimper as Rudeus gently scooped it back up. He hugged the small, warm body securely against his chest, stood up, and carefully carried the exhausted animal into the small, makeshift canvas tent he had erected earlier.
It might seem incredibly, profoundly dumb to actively question a literal, uncomprehending animal, but Rudeus genuinely didn't care. His entire life, his entire grasp on reality, was already starting to get terrifyingly, hopelessly confused and unspooled after surviving the brutal execution, witnessing that apocalyptic vision of Emperor Blackheart yesterday, and now finding an ordinary wolf in hell.
He gently laid the pup down on a soft pile of dry moss inside the tent, pulling a spare blanket over it.
"Sigh. What exactly is happening to me..." Rudeus whispered into the dark canvas of the tent, staring at his own blood-stained hands.
"...I honestly don't even know what is real anymore."
***
The Barren Wastelands.Day 2 of Exile.
It was already late morning by the time Rudeus finally stirred. The unnatural twilight outside the tent was slightly brighter, indicating the passage of time.
Rudeus slowly stretched his heavy, muscular arms high above his head as he woke up, his joints popping loudly.
"Auggghhh..." Rudeus groaned, rubbing his tired eyes.
He slowly rolled over, looking down at the pile of moss beside him.
His eyes widened in sudden, spiking shock.
"Whe-where's that little guy?!" Rudeus exclaimed, his voice thick with sleep but laced with immediate panic.
The makeshift bedsheet of his spare blanket was completely empty. The pup was gone.
Rudeus didn't bother putting on his armor. He hurriedly, frantically scrambled out of the small canvas tent, his boots slipping on the ash as he rushed outside to desperately search for the injured animal.
He spent the next three grueling, agonizing hours methodically, frantically searching the entire, immediate vicinity of his established camp. He checked behind every petrified tree trunk, under every jagged obsidian boulder, and inside the hollow eye sockets of the massive behemoth skulls.
After three hours of relentless searching in the freezing ash, Rudeus completely failed to find a single trace of him.
"Sigh...."
Rudeus leaned heavily against the trunk of a dead tree, wiping a layer of sweat and grime from his forehead, his heart heavy with a profound, bitter disappointment.
"...Just where the hell did that little guy manage to wander off to with that kind of injury?" Rudeus asked the empty wasteland, pressing a hand to his chin in deep concern. Had a predator snatched it while he slept? Had it crawled off to die?
Suddenly, his enhanced hearing picked up a familiar sound.
-RUSTLE!
-RUSTLE!
-RUSTLE!
The sound came from a dense patch of thorny, grey scrub brush about forty yards away.
Rudeus didn't unsheathe his mace this time. He didn't drop into a combat stance. He simply let out a massive sigh of relief and began to walk briskly toward that specific direction.
He pushed the thorny branches aside.
"There you are, you little escape artist..."
Rudeus finally found the missing black wolf pup. It was huddled beneath the roots of a dead bush, shivering slightly, looking defensive and terrified.
Before Rudeus could even fully reach out his fingers to gently touch its fur and check its healing stomach wound...
The pup bared its tiny, razor-sharp white teeth and let out a surprisingly fierce, aggressive growl directly at him.
"GROWL!" Rudeus froze, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
"He-hey! Easy there, buddy! I am absolutely not here to hurt you," Rudeus said, his voice soft, calm, and incredibly patient. "Much less, I am the one who actually, literally saved your life last night. If I didn't forcefully wrap my goddamn heavy coat around you to stop the bleeding, you would have absolutely died from severe blood loss in the dirt, buddy."
Rudeus kept both of his large, calloused hands raised visibly in the air, a universal sign of surrender and peace, explicitly demonstrating that he came in absolute peace and meant no harm.
He stayed perfectly still, maintaining non-threatening eye contact, letting the wild animal process the situation.
Then, after a tense, agonizing minute of staring at each other... slowly, incredibly slowly, the terrified pup began to close its small fangs. The aggressive, defensive growling slowly faded into a low, uncertain whine.
Rudeus smiled warmly. Moving with agonizing slowness to avoid spooking it, he reached down and gently, securely picked the small pup up from the dirt.
He brought it to his chest, supporting its weight, and reached out to gently touch the top of its soot-covered head.
Instantly, driven by a lingering, primal reflex of fear and self-preservation, the pup snapped its jaws.
-BITE!
The razor-sharp, needle-like teeth sank deeply, painfully directly into the flesh of Rudeus's right index finger.
Rudeus didn't scream. He didn't flinch. He absolutely did not glare at the animal, nor did he attempt to violently shake it off or strike it.
He completely ignored the sharp, stinging pain of the bite. He just remained perfectly still, focusing his calm, unwavering crimson eyes directly onto the pup's face.
The pup, realizing that the massive human wasn't fighting back, wasn't yelling, and wasn't hurting it... slowly began to release its aggressive bite force.
The pup looked up at Rudeus's calm, forgiving eyes. It let out a soft, incredibly apologetic whimper as it realized it had attacked the entity that had saved it.
Then, with a gentle, tentative motion, the small black wolf began to slowly, carefully lick off the bright red blood that was welling up from the puncture wounds on Rudeus's index finger, an instinctual, canine gesture of apology and submission.
Rudeus's smile widened into a genuine, hearty grin. He used his other hand to gently, affectionately ruffle the thick, soft fur on the top of the pup's head.
"Good boy!" Rudeus praised warmly.
Rudeus then gently dropped the pup back down to the ground. He reached into his tactical pouch and pulled out a thick, high-protein strip of preserved beef jerky, leftover from one of the military sandwiches he had scavenged.
"Here, here! Come here, little boy! You must be starving," Rudeus coaxed, crouching down and offering the fragrant beef jerky in his open palm.
The pup's nose twitched wildly. It didn't hesitate. It gladly, ravenously snatched the meat from his hand and began to tear into it, letting out a happy, muffled "awooooo" of appreciation directed entirely at Rudeus.
Rudeus threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound carrying a genuine joy he hadn't felt in months.
"Good boy! Eat up!"
While the small, black pup was completely, entirely busy devouring the beef jerky that Rudeus had provided, Rudeus sat back in the dirt.
He focused his crimson eyes on the small animal. He was in an incredibly, profoundly good mood as he watched the pup eat.
A heavy, suffocating weight seemed to lift from his chest.
"Finally...." Rudeus whispered, a soft, incredibly relieved smile touching his lips.
"...I am not completely alone in this hellscape anymore."
***
The Barren Wastelands.Day 2 - Nighttime.
After that initial, tense bonding experience, the day passed quickly into the oppressive, eclipsed nighttime.
Rudeus was lying on his back near the crackling campfire. The small, black wolf pup had completely abandoned any lingering hesitation. It was currently curled into a tight, incredibly warm little ball, pressing its small body directly against Rudeus's side, actively seeking his body heat to ward off the freezing chill of the wasteland.
Rudeus had his hands linked behind his head, his crimson eyes focused upward once again, staring at the dark, ash-choked skies. He was engaged in his futile, nostalgic habit of stargazing.
Without looking down, Rudeus casually reached out with his left hand and gently, rhythmically began to ruffle the soft fur on the pup's head.
The rhythmic motion disturbed the sleeping animal. The pup slowly woke up, lifting its head and letting out a soft, sleepy whimper of protest.
"Sorry... I honestly didn't mean to wake you up, buddy," Rudeus murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. He still didn't look down at the animal, keeping his crimson eyes intensely, stubbornly focused on the empty, eclipsed skies above.
"Hey..."
The pup tilted its head, its ears perking up, almost as if a literal, comical question mark had popped into existence right above its furry head as Rudeus called out to him.
"....Did your father ever take you out and teach you how to go stargazing, too?" Rudeus asked, his voice thick with a sudden, profound melancholy.
He let out a short, self-deprecating sigh.
"I know... I know this might be an incredibly, profoundly dumb question to ask an animal, but..."
Rudeus finally turned his head, looking down at the small, intelligent eyes of the wolf pup.
"...I just really want to know if you actually have parents out there looking for you."
The moment the words left his lips, the pup's entire demeanor violently shifted. The small animal immediately lowered its head, tucking its tail between its legs, and let out a long, high-pitched, incredibly heartbreaking whimper of pure, unadulterated sorrow.
Rudeus looked at the trembling animal, and his heart sank. He let out a heavy, regretful sigh.
He instantly knew that he had accidentally, carelessly asked the absolute wrong question. He had aggressively poked at a fresh, agonizingly painful wound. Though it was a tragic revelation, that specific, sorrowful reaction at the very least implicitly confirmed that the pup did, in fact, have parents—and that something horrific had separated them.
"I'm so incredibly sorry.... for asking you that specific question, buddy," Rudeus apologized, his voice filled with genuine, empathetic remorse. He knew exactly what it felt like to be orphaned by violence.
Then, something incredible happened.
The pup didn't pull away. Instead, it slowly crawled forward and gently, affectionately nudged its wet nose against Rudeus's heavy tunic. It rustled its small head against his ribs, a clear, instinctual canine gesture intended to comfort him. It was as if the animal was explicitly trying to tell him, "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it. It's not your fault."
Rudeus felt a lump form in his throat. He let out a shaky sigh and then slowly turned his gaze back up toward the dark, eclipsed moon.
They lay together in the quiet, comforting silence for another seven minutes, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the wasteland.
Finally, Rudeus spoke first.
"Hey..."
The pup instantly looked back up at Rudeus, its ears swiveling as he called it again.
"...Do you actually have a name?" Rudeus asked, looking down at the small black ball of fur.
The pup stared at him for a moment. Then, with an almost human-like level of comprehension, it slowly, definitively shook its head back and forth.
However, the effort of the movement, combined with its lingering weakness, caused it to lose its balance. The pup limped awkwardly and began to fall over toward the dirt.
Rudeus moved with lightning speed, his large hand quickly, gently shooting out to support the pup's body, stopping it from falling and hurting itself.
"I see...." Rudeus said softly, gently pulling the pup back against his side. He began to slowly, affectionately pat the top of its head, which the pup gladly, contentedly accepted, leaning into the touch.
Rudeus smiled, a bright, genuinely happy expression.
"How about I give you a name, then?!" Rudeus offered enthusiastically.
The pup immediately let out an excited, high-pitched "awooooo!" as a clear confirmation, its tail beginning to wag weakly against the dirt.
Rudeus laughed out loud at the pup's enthusiastic response, a sound that felt entirely alien in the grim environment. He leaned back, tapping his chin as he started to seriously think.
"Hmmm...."
".....Hmmmm....."
He needed a name. Not a pet name. A strong name. A survivor's name. A name that carried weight, history, and defiance.
Suddenly, his crimson eyes lit up with absolute clarity.
"Aha!"
The pup eagerly lifted its head, its ears fully perked, as Rudeus finally settled on a name for him.
"How about...."
Rudeus looked deeply into the pup's eyes, seeing a reflection of his own, battered soul.
"....Damien!"
"Damien V. Blackheart!" Rudeus declared, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable certainty.
The moment the pup heard the full name, it let out a joyful, resounding "awooooo!" as it enthusiastically accepted the title. It scrambled up and began to happily, affectionately lick Rudeus's calloused hands.
Rudeus smiled, a deep, profound warmth spreading through his chest as he saw how much the pup genuinely liked it.
'It seems he really, truly likes that specific name...' Rudeus thought inwardly, his eyes softening with nostalgic sorrow.
'...The exact name that belonged to me in my past life on Earth.'
'Damien....'
By giving the wolf this name, he was forging an unbreakable bond. He was passing on the legacy of the Captain who had died, ensuring that the name lived on, strong and defiant, in this new, terrifying world.
Rudeus slowly turned his head, looking back up at the terrifying, eclipsed skies.
"That's exactly right..." Rudeus whispered into the dark, accepting his new reality, and his new companion.
"...Your absolute, undeniable name from this moment onward is Damien V. Blackheart!"
***
The Barren Wastelands.Three Weeks Later.
The survival in the Barren Wastelands was a brutal, unforgiving crucible. But Rudeus was not a pampered noble; he was a Captain reborn. Over the next three weeks, he adapted. He scavenged. He hunted the lower-tier abyssal crawlers that dared to approach his camp, using his heavy mace to crush their shells and harvest their meat to feed himself and the rapidly growing wolf pup.
Three weeks after their fateful meeting, Rudeus and Damien had finally managed to march their way toward the extreme northern border of the wasteland, entirely thanks to Damien's incredible, instinctual tracking help, of course.
Rudeus honestly didn't know the exact, geographical coordinates required to reach the frozen North. But when he simply asked Damien to find the coldest wind, the highly intelligent wolf pup confidently bit the hem of Rudeus's trousers, tugging him firmly, and flawlessly led him on a direct, unwavering path toward the northern hemisphere. Their efficient, guided travel only cost them a mere four hours of walking to reach the geographical boundary.
"Thanks, Damien! You're absolutely the best tracker I've ever had!" Rudeus praised, using the pup's old name as an affectionate nickname as he vigorously, happily ruffled Damien's thick, healthy black fur. The pup had already grown significantly, the rich diet of monster meat accelerating its development.
They stood at the edge of a massive, dramatic geographical shift.
The dry, cracked grey ash of the wasteland abruptly ended, giving way to a sheer, towering wall of ancient, freezing white snow and jagged, ice-covered mountains.
Rudeus, clad only in his tattered tunic, stepped forward. He raised his heavy leather boot, preparing to take a definitive step up into the deep, freezing snowbanks of the Northern territory.
But... right before his boot touched the snow, he froze.
He slowly, deliberately retracted his foot, placing it back down on the grey ash of the wasteland.
A massive, incredibly visible question mark seemed to pop up directly over Damien's furry head. The wolf pup tilted its head, profoundly confused as to why his confident owner had suddenly, inexplicably retracted his foot and refused to cross the threshold into the new biome.
Rudeus slowly knelt down, gently picking up the heavy pup and cradling it in his arms. He looked the wolf in the eyes, his expression incredibly serious and deeply introspective.
"It's absolutely not the right time yet, Damien...." Rudeus explained, his voice low and resolute.
"...That's exactly right."
He slowly stood back up, turning his gaze to look out at the massive, impassable, blizzard-choked snow mountains looming in the far distance.
"It is entirely, fundamentally not my time yet to go there into the civilized world...."
Rudeus tightened his grip on the pup, his crimson eyes darkening as the horrific, traumatic memories of his execution resurfaced.
"...After so utterly, pathetically nearly dying from Dratkthar's bare hands back in that simulation... I violently realized a terrifying truth. I am weak. I am completely, unacceptably weak. I desperately need to prepare myself infinitely more than I thought."
He looked down at his own calloused, scarred hands.
"I need to stay in this crucible. I need to relentlessly, brutally train my body and my combat instincts until they are razor-sharp. I need to learn how to truly, independently defend myself and survive against the absolute apex predators of this universe...."
His crimson eyes burned with a sudden, overwhelming, fanatical resolve.
"....To save Rosetta."
He paused, a dark, cynical smirk touching his lips as he corrected himself, fully accepting the reality of the visual novel's brutal lore.
"No... to save Elsa. The undisputed, terrifying King of All Villainesses."
Rudeus smiled. It was a terrifying, predator's smile. He turned his back entirely on the snow-capped mountains and began to walk back into the suffocating, ash-choked gloom of the Barren Wastelands.
"From this exact moment onward, let's begin our true training, Damien."
"AWOO!" Damien happily, fiercely responded, entirely agreeing with whatever his owner and pack leader had just commanded.
***
The Barren Wastelands - The Deep Ash Plains.4 Days Later.
The training was absolute, unmitigated hell.
Four days later, Rudeus and Damien were actively, aggressively hunting massive, high-tier monsters deep within the ash plains to relentlessly train their physical limits, hone their combat synergy, and survive the grueling caloric demands of this harsh, unforgiving wasteland.
-SMASH!
A massive, armored abyssal crawler exploded into a shower of green ichor and shattered carapace as Rudeus brought his heavy iron mace down with bone-crushing force.
"Haaah... haaah... haaah!" Rudeus repeatedly, heavily gasped for air, his chest heaving violently, sweat pouring down his face and mixing with the toxic ash.
"Sigh...." Rudeus groaned, his arms trembling from severe muscle fatigue as he tightly clenched the leather haft of his blood-stained mace, leaning his weight against it.
Damien, his muzzle covered in green monster blood, quickly ran over to him.
Rudeus forced a tired smile and reached out to gently ruffle the wolf's head again, a silent gesture to tell his partner that he was perfectly okay, and that the pup absolutely shouldn't worry about his exhaustion.
Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet began to violently, terrifyingly tremble.
It wasn't a minor tremor. The tectonic plates groaned.
Rudeus's crimson eyes blew wide open in sheer, primal alarm. Without a microsecond of hesitation, he threw his body forward, physically shielding his own body in front of Damien, taking a defensive stance as the pup let out a terrified whimper behind him.
The dense, grey ash clouds parted.
Rudeus gasped in profound, unadulterated shock as he found himself staring directly up at three, absolutely massive, towering beings looming over him.
"Trolls?! Why the absolute, flying hell are they here?!" Rudeus screamed internally, his mind frantically scrambling for answers.
Based entirely on the rigid, canonical lore of the visual novel, Trolls were explicit, highly territorial creatures that absolutely, fundamentally shouldn't be spawning anywhere near here! They were biologically restricted to the deep southern swamps. But here he was, staring down death itself, glaring up at three towering, heavily muscled, grotesque Trolls, each of them gripping massive, spiked wooden clubs the size of tree trunks.
"THA-THAT'S IT! THAT'S OUR FOOD!" One of the massive Trolls bellowed, pointing a thick, filthy finger directly at the black wolf pup cowering behind Rudeus.
Then, his slightly larger, uglier brother replied, his voice a deafening roar.
"THAT'S EXACTLY RIGHT! THAT'S OUR GODDAMN, DELICIOUS FOOD! HOW DARE THAT LITTLE SHIT MANAGE TO ESCAPE US LAST TIME!"
"STOP YOUR IDIOTIC BICKERING ALREADY! JUST REACH DOWN AND GRAB THAT DAMN MUTT ALREADY! AND BEFORE YOU DO THAT, JUST SMASH THAT PUNY HUMAN GUY FIRST!" The third, heavily scarred Troll commanded, raising his massive club high into the air, preparing to crush Rudeus into a fine paste.
Rudeus tightly gripped his mace as he heard their guttural, booming conversation. As Damien repeatedly, violently trembled his small body against the back of Rudeus's boots, a horrifying, sickening realization violently struck him like a bolt of lightning.
'They recognize him...' Rudeus analyzed, his heart turning to absolute ice. 'They were hunting him before I found him bleeding in the brush.'
The realization crystallized into absolute certainty.
'So... these three towering bastards are the exact monsters who brutally slaughtered and ate Damien's wolf parents!!!'
Rudeus didn't shout in fear. He didn't scream a battle cry. He didn't cower.
He slowly, deliberately stood perfectly, rigidly straight up.
He was suddenly submerged in an ocean of deep, unadulterated, apocalyptic anger as the Trolls callously mentioned their intent to eat the pup, and as that horrifying realization fully struck his soul.
What formed the unbreakable, profound similarity between him and this small wolf pup was that both of their entire worlds had been violently shattered. Both of their parents had died horrifically from the hands of brutal, uncaring monsters.
A dark, terrifying, suffocating energy began to violently pulse deep within his mana core.
He slowly raised his left hand, pointing his open palm toward the three towering monstrosities.
Suddenly, jagged, pitch-black, vein-like markings began to violently, rapidly manifest and crawl across his skin. They erupted from his chest, spreading like a highly aggressive, conceptual infection, covering his neck, his arms, and his entire lower body, explicitly leaving only his face untouched by the dark corruption.
His eyes burned with a terrifying, absolute emptiness.
Then, guided by a deeply ingrained, profound muscle memory that belonged to the soul of a god, he effortlessly, flawlessly uttered that terrifying, absolute name.
"VOID DIVINE ART:"
"....BLACK DEATH."
The invocation was not a spell; it was a cosmic command.
Within a literal fraction of a second, the very fabric of reality at the base of the Trolls' feet violently shattered. Massive, jagged, ethereal black chains erupted directly from the dead ground, shooting upward like striking vipers, and violently, aggressively attacked the three Trolls.
"WHA-WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" The first Troll roared in absolute panic, dropping his massive club as he desperately tried to flex his immense physical strength to resist the chains wrapping around his legs. The chains effortlessly snapped his femurs.
"ARRGGGGHHHH!!!!" The second Troll unleashed a deafening, blood-curdling scream of pure, unadulterated agony as the jagged, ethereal chains violently struck and impaled his massive, muscular torso, pinning him backward against a petrified tree.
"YOU GODDAMN, PATHETIC HUMAN!!! ARRRRGGGHHH!!!" The third, heavily scarred Troll screamed in excruciating pain as the chains wrapped around his neck and arms, physically lifting his multi-ton body off the ground and crucifying him in mid-air.
All three of the towering, legendary monsters were violently, effortlessly forced to kneel to the ground, completely incapacitated and screaming in absolute agony.
But Rudeus completely ignored their suffering.
His crimson eyes were wide with profound, staggering shock.
"Wha-what the hell is this?!" Rudeus gasped, raising his hands. He stared in absolute bewilderment at his own fingers.
The color of his fingernails had completely, flawlessly shifted to a glossy, pristine, pitch-black manicure, exactly identical to the hands of the Blindfold Man.
He waited for the backlash. He braced himself for the agonizing, life-draining curse that had defined his existence in his past life on Earth.
But... absolutely nothing happened.
Rudeus didn't feel his life force seeping away. He didn't feel his lifespan aggressively draining into the void. His heart rate was steady. His body felt completely, perfectly fine. It felt powerful.
"Ho-how could this possibly be?!" Rudeus asked aloud, his voice trembling with deep, world-shattering confusion.
"My Black Death trait... it wasn't a biological trait at all. It is a goddamn, actual, deployable magical skill?!"
He clenched his black-manicured fists, feeling the immense, crushing conceptual power flowing through his veins.
"And infinitely worse... this apocalyptic skill absolutely doesn't even require a single drop of mana to cast?! How is that possible, since I canonically, biologically don't even possess a functioning mana core capable of storing this level of energy?!" Rudeus demanded of the empty air, profoundly confused as to how he could effortlessly deploy a world-ending skill without suffering catastrophic mana exhaustion.
"Haah..." Rudeus let out a harsh, ragged breath, running a black-manicured hand violently through his messy green hair.
The pieces of the cosmic puzzle finally, brutally snapped together in his mind. The realization hit him with the force of a falling meteor.
"Goddamnit!"
"GODDAMNIT!" Rudeus screamed at the eclipsed sky, completely ignoring the agonizing, pathetic cries of the crucified Trolls behind him.
"To think that this entire, terrifying power was absolutely never a goddamn, biological trait assigned by birth, but rather a supreme, divine skill! And here I was, living my entire, miserable past life on Earth, firmly, hopelessly believing that this motherfucking power was a terminal curse sent to slowly kill me!"
"Arrggghh!!!" Rudeus roared in absolute, primal fury. He reached down, violently scooped up a massive handful of frozen ash and snow, and threw it with devastating, bullet-like force directly into the face of one of the screaming Trolls, shattering its nose.
He let out a long, heavy, shuddering sigh, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ground together. His entire body shook with an ancient, suppressed rage.
He desperately, forcefully forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and began to exhale repeatedly, utilizing his breathing techniques to stabilize his skyrocketing heart rate.
"Hooohhhhh...."
Rudeus slowly turned his back on the screaming monsters. He walked back to where the terrified black wolf pup was cowering. He gently knelt down and carefully, securely picked Damien up in his arms.
Rudeus gently ruffled the pup's soft head, staring blankly over the animal's ears, his crimson eyes cold and utterly ruthless.
"To think that Erebin and Nesmeranda were actually, entirely right all along...." Rudeus whispered, his voice dripping with a dark, bitter venom.
"....That damn, crazy, psychopathic bitch of a Demon God, and her fanatical, goddamn Pope... they were actually right about the nature of the universe all along."
The ultimate, horrifying truth was laid bare before him.
"Those absolute, manipulative bastards... the cosmic entities known as the 'Administrators'... they were the true, absolute evils operating in my past life on Earth..."
"...Those cowardly, omnipotent bastards who perpetually hide themselves behind the sterile, glowing blue interface of the 'System'... they actively, deliberately suppressed my true power. They branded it a 'Trait' to ensure it drained my life. They were the entire, explicit reason why my life was so completely, utterly miserable and agonizing in my past life!"
Rudeus violently clenched his black-manicured fists around the haft of his mace. The sheer, cosmic injustice of it all threatened to consume his sanity. To think that the Black Death trait he had suffered with from when he get it after Mel's death in his past life was never a biological curse... it was a divine skill that had been deliberately, maliciously sabotaged and given to him in a crippled state simply to ridicule him, to suppress his potential, and to ensure he died a pathetic, tragic death, exactly as those sadistic Administrators had scripted and wanted.
He sighed again, a sound of heavy, unutterable sorrow, and looked up at the terrifying, eclipsed skies.
"It seems your heroic, ultimate sacrifice, Nicholas... it was all entirely, tragically for naught...." Rudeus murmured, his voice cracking as he remembered his fallen comrade.
".....To think you willingly, bravely died fighting on the front lines for them. You died to protect the remnants of humanity, completely, hopelessly without ever knowing that the very entities governing the system you served were the true, ultimate evils pulling the strings all along."
Rudeus let out one final, heavy sigh. He physically shook his head, burying the traumatic memories of his past life. He needed to focus on the present. He needed to exact vengeance for his current pack.
He turned his cold, crimson eyes back toward the three massive, heavily muscled Trolls who were still desperately, pathetically screaming and thrashing against the unbreakable ethereal chains.
Rudeus didn't scream at them. He didn't draw his mace to brutally, physically punch or bludgeon them to death.
He looked down at the small pup in his arms. He calmly asked Damien exactly what kind of severe, ultimate punishment they deserved for what they had brutally done to his parents.
"Hey..." Rudeus asked softly.
"WOOF?" Damien replied, tilting his head, looking up at his master with wide, intelligent eyes.
"...For you, what exactly is their perfectly suited, ultimate punishment, huh?" Rudeus asked, his voice deadly serious. "Because I absolutely want them to die and suffer exactly as much as they forced your parents to suffer."
Rudeus sighed as the pup didn't offer a definitive answer. Even the intelligent pup didn't possess the capacity to articulate the necessary depth of vengeance.
"Fine. If you can't decide, I'll gladly do it for you...."
Rudeus slowly turned his head. He locked his glowing, terrifying crimson eyes directly onto the three struggling behemoths. He glared at them with the absolute, uncompromising authority of an executioner.
-WOOOOOOMMM!!!
A massive, invisible, crushing shockwave of pure, localized conceptual pressure erupted from Rudeus's body. The three massive Trolls were instantaneously, forcefully forced to bow their colossal heads entirely down into the dirt as Rudeus effortlessly, flawlessly released his absolute killing intent, directly amplified and weaponized by the terrifying, conceptual power of his newly awakened Void Divine Art.
"ARRRGHHHHHH!!!!" The three Trolls unleashed a final, synchronized scream of absolute, mind-shattering pain as their very souls began to crack under the pressure.
Rudeus raised his black-manicured hand. He pointed his index finger directly at the beasts, and with absolute, cold detachment, he delivered his final, apocalyptic blow.
He spoke the incantation.
"Be completely, conceptually devoured...."
The black chains tightened, beginning to vibrate with destructive energy.
"....In Absolute Nothingness."
"Bye A Being Born From Everything."
The execution was instantaneous and absolute.
The three massive, multi-ton Trolls slowly, inexorably began to lose their physical cohesion. Their flesh, their bone, their armor, and their screaming mouths began turning entirely into swirling, chaotic clouds of pitch-black ash. Within ten seconds, the colossal monsters were completely, utterly erased from the physical plane, leaving absolutely nothing behind but three shallow craters in the ash.
The moment the spell concluded, a massive, catastrophic wave of severe, physical exhaustion violently slammed into Rudeus's nervous system.
His legs buckled entirely. Rudeus collapsed heavily onto his knees in the dirt, dropping his mace, nearly fainting from the sheer, unprecedented toll the conceptual art had taken on his physical stamina.
"Haah... haah... haah." Rudeus repeatedly, desperately gasped for air, his vision swimming with dark spots, his chest heaving as if he had just sprinted a marathon in full plate armor.
Seeing his master collapse, the black wolf pup immediately broke free from his arms and ran straight toward him, letting out frantic, concerned whimpers. Damien aggressively nudged his wet nose against Rudeus's cheek, trying to keep him conscious.
Rudeus forced a weak, exhausted smile. He reached up with a trembling hand and gently patted the pup's head.
"I'm alright... I'm perfectly alright, buddy. You absolutely should not worry about me," Rudeus reassured the animal, his voice a dry rasp. "I am just... incredibly, profoundly exhausted."
As his heart rate slowly began to stabilize, the jagged, pitch-black markings that had covered his body rapidly receded, sinking back beneath his skin. The glossy, black manicure on his fingernails entirely disappeared, returning his hands to their normal, calloused state.
He slowly, tightly clenched his hands into fists, feeling the normal circulation return.
'It seems... even though it doesn't utilize magical mana... I desperately, absolutely need to physically train my body's stamina infinitely more to sustain this power...' Rudeus analyzed inwardly, his tactical mind assessing the severe physical backlash.
'....That's exactly right. I need to relentlessly, brutally train this specific ability, and drastically increase my baseline physical endurance.'
He looked up at the eclipsed sky, his resolve hardening into unbreakable iron.
'I must master this power. I must master the Void Divine Art.'
***
The Barren Wastelands.Two Years Later.
The passage of time in the Barren Wastelands was marked only by the shifting of the eternal ash clouds and the brutal, unforgiving cycle of survival.
Rudeus spent the entirety of the next two years completely isolated from human civilization. He spent his days relentlessly, brutally hunting the most dangerous apex predators of the continent alongside Damien, forcing his physical body past its absolute breaking point to forge unparalleled stamina. He spent his nights meditating under the eclipsed moon, repeatedly, painfully activating and training the Void Divine Art, slowly expanding his threshold and his absolute mastery over the conceptual power of erasure.
Two grueling, transformative years later.
Rudeus, no longer a battered, inexperienced fifteen-year-old boy, but a hardened, terrifyingly powerful, seventeen-year-old warrior, stepped confidently toward the northern pathway once again.
He was absolutely not alone.
Walking faithfully, silently beside him was Damien. But Damien was no longer a small, trembling, injured black pup. The rich diet of apex monster meat and the constant, high-tier magical ambient radiation of the Wastelands had accelerated his growth phenomenally. Damien had grown into a massive, terrifyingly large, muscular adult Dire-Wolf. His thick, pitch-black fur absorbed the ambient light, and his intelligent eyes glowed with a predatory, highly lethal awareness. The massive wolf's shoulder easily reached Rudeus's waist, and he moved with the silent, lethal grace of an apex shadow.
Rudeus smiled warmly, a confident, predatory smirk touching his lips. He was no longer wearing the tattered, pathetic remnants of his cheap combat uniform.
He was currently wearing a massive, thick, incredibly warm and imposing fur coat, meticulously crafted entirely from the harvested pelts of massive, high-tier Mana Bear beasts he had personally hunted and slain with his own two hands. He looked like a savage, unconquerable warlord emerging from the mythic age.
"Let's go, Damien...." Rudeus commanded softly, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that carried the absolute, unshakeable authority of a true alpha.
"...Let's finally head toward the North. Toward the Arendelle Kingdom, and...."
Rudeus slowly, deliberately reached down with his right hand. He tightly, reassuringly clenched his thick, leather-gloved fingers around the heavy, scarred iron hilt of his trusted Six-Flanged War Mace, which rested securely in the weapon loop on his left waist.
"...To finally save Rosetta."
He paused, his crimson eyes narrowing as he looked toward the towering, snow-capped mountains in the far distance, fully embracing the overarching narrative of the universe he inhabited.
"No. To save Elsa."
His voice dropped into a terrifying, uncompromising whisper of absolute determination.
"To save her completely from her tragic, inescapable, canonical fate..."
"AWOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Damien, the massive black Dire-Wolf, instantly responded to his master's declaration, unleashing a deafening, blood-curdling, triumphant howl that echoed across the desolate plains, announcing their departure to the entire continent.
Rudeus smiled widely, incredibly satisfied by Damien's fierce, loyal response.
Rudeus then slowly lifted his head, turning his gaze away from the snow-capped mountains and looking directly up at the terrifying, perpetually eclipsed skies of the Barren Wastelands that had served as his brutal, transformative crucible for two years.
He took a deep breath of the freezing air, his chest expanding under the heavy Mana Bear coat.
"From this exact moment onward...." Rudeus declared to the empty universe, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable finality, completely shedding the toxic, abusive legacy of the Grand Duke who had sired him.
"....I am Rudeus Maximilian V.—"
He smirked, his crimson eyes burning with the power of the Void.
"....Blackheart."