The whole day, the next night, and the next morning passed rapidly but pleasurably. Zarius and Corina barely left the bedroom; save to take care of basic needs and grab some food from the eternally bubbling pot.

  On one trip upstairs, Zarius spotted Wilson and Bradly sitting at the table, talking quietly – but that immediately ceased as he came into view. Wilson scowled at him, whilst Bradley just shrank further behind Wilson.

  “Ah. I know that look. Envy. That Grass Trainer had an interest in Corina, but presumably never acted on in – or never impressed her enough to do so.” Yveltal sounded amused, but there was a hint of caution in his tone that he expounded on a second later. “We must always keep an eye open around him. He may decide to do something against us. Mortals – especially humans – are jealous creatures.”

  I’ll kill him without hesitation, Zarius thought, if he tries anything against me. Zarius shrugged at the two men and turned back to descend to his den of carnal pleasure. Corina rolled to face him as he shut the door behind him and closed the latch.

  “Hey, let me in,” Lucien said at the door.

  Zarius groaned and sat up, extricating himself from Corina’s grip and sliding out from under her wings. Going to the door and flinging it open, he near glared at the Umbreon for intruding on his good sleep. “Yes?” he asked.

  Lucien glanced past him, then back to him. “It’s been a good chunk of time. I think the armored clothes are ready to get picked up.” He sat on his haunches and used a rear leg to itch up near his ear, and Zarius quickly stepped forward to alleviate the itch for him, scratching vigorously. “Oh yeah. That hit the spot. Anyways,” Lucien bared his teeth in a wide, Cheshire grin. “I want to fight something.”

  Zarius’ slight discomfort at being woken up vanished in an instant as the idea of killing, getting more life essence, feeling that sense of power over life and death from slaughtering pushed aside any prior feeling. “Let me go let her know,” he stated.

  “I heard,” Corina muttered as she sat up, wrapped in the single blanket. “His barking means you need to go somewhere. I should probably get a Quest or two done.” Her eyes glinted with a barely contained lust, “But whenever I’m around, let’s indulge more, shall we?”

  Zarius began slipping on the casual clothes he had, and as he sat down to wiggle into his boots he glanced sideways at her as she scooted back against the wall and began examining her wings. “I got a nasty look from Wilson, last…night? This morning? Not sure when.”

  She let out a barking laugh, “Ha! That guy, I swear. Been trying to make moves on me. He’s not…what’s the word…feral enough for my tastes.” She shrugged and leaned back, flexing her wings out and placing her hands behind her head, showing off her feminine assets. “Trainers who become what they are when they are older don’t change nearly as much. It’s why he’s got little tufts of leaves instead of body hair.” She flexed one of her wings, “It’s why I got these, and why you got those.” She said the last leaning forward and scratching Zarius behind his left ear, which felt really good to him and almost instinctively he tapped his foot at the sensation.

  “Come on, let’s go. Plus, you need to let the room air out,” Lucien commented as he turned and headed up the stairs.

  Zarius began to stand up to leave, but Corina grabbed him and quite unexpectedly pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips. Not a harsh, animalistic and feral desire, but something more tender. “That was fun,” she said, shyly as she batted her eyelashes. “I hope you stick around Dendemille for a while.”

  Zarius stood up and brushed her chin with his hand, “I’ll be around until I get that gold badge and the Apricorn. Then, I’m off to get another badge.”

  She sat up a little straighter at that, “Ah…not going to stick around?” she asked with a slight pout on her face. Overexaggerated, obviously.

  “Probably not,” Zarius replied. “I heard there’s a war brewing somewhere up north between Fiore and Sinnoh.” He licked his slightly elongated canines, “I want to be there when that all kicks off.”

  She smiled, “A warmonger, eh? Trainers going to war aren’t unheard of. It can pay a fuckload of coins as well.” She stood up and gently traced a finger under his chin, before she leaned over to grab her clothes and get dressed. “Well, I have my gold badge…and to be honest, this town…I grew up here. Been here my whole life.” She tapped her belt as she put it on, “It’s how I got this. Over two-hundred Quests.”

  “You asking to come with?” Zarius asked, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of having another Trainer to travel with, and one that he could spend evenings with under the stars or in hidden hollows during the day.

  She just grinned, “You said it, not me. But you need to get that Apricorn, like you said. My advice? You’re a Dark Type. A graveyard is going to pose little threat, even if you are below the level I’d suggest.”

  “Thanks for that,” Zarius said.

  “Having her around for pleasure will be quite memorable, I am sure. But do not grow too attached, as we will eventually ascend – she will not.”

  That put a slight damper on Zarius’ mood, but he didn’t let it show in his face. Nodding, he left the room and headed upstairs to join Lucien. The main hall was empty, and he stopped by the Quest board on his way out, looking for anything that would be in or around the graveyard. One Quest stood out to him, and he snatched it.

  “Wanted: Trainer to deliver my mother’s ashes to the family tomb. Reward: 10 silver coins. Come to the Duke’s estate and ask for Benedict.”

  “Seems easy enough,” he muttered as he read it aloud to Lucien.

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  “Delivering ashes? Easy enough,” Lucien said. He began padding faster toward the tailor’s, forcing Zarius to fast walk to keep up. “Come on! I crave battle!”

  They reached the tailor and Lucien stayed outside while Zarius went in. The tailor was present, and she immediately made a face of disgust, “You reek,” she commented. “Like stale sex and sweat.”

  “Well, that was what I was doing for the past day and a half,” Zarius commented.

  The woman’s face paled ever-so-slightly, but she just nodded and pointed at the table to his right. “Under the white cloth. You paid up front, so our business is done.”

  “Any discount for repeat customers if I need more repairs?” he asked.

  “If you bathe before coming next time,” she retorted, waving him to the outdoors. “Get dressed outside. I can’t have your stench in here.”

  Zarius gathered up the gear which looked pristine – almost brand-new like when it first manifested on him. He also noted the slightly bulkier chest, forearms, shins, thighs, and back where metal plates had been sewn in. Joining Lucien outside, he stripped down in the street – not caring that people were staring at him.

  A few younger women giggling and pointing, whilst a few had impressed expressions, filled him with a sense that he hadn’t had before. A delight in being admired. No, he had experienced it once before – when he was chosen as the sacrifice. A privilege everyone in the cult craved, as they all desired to go and serve the gods in the afterlife.

  Slipping on all his clothing, he packed away the travel clothes and made sure his sword, bracer, trainer belt, backpack, and money pouch were all situated. To his delight, he also saw that the torso of the now-armored clothing had small slots, and he was able to fit the three antidotes and four potions into the slots for easy access. They even had a bit of padding so that they wouldn’t break as easily if they were crushed.

  “I should tip her a bit more,” he stated. “Hang out here for a second.” He slipped inside the tailor shop, left a stack of five silver, and said, “For the bonus bandolier!”

  The woman gave him a slight smile, but kept her nose wrinkled, and shooed him away.

  Lucien led the way toward the center of town and the estate that was up on the hill. People parted way for him – perhaps due to the scent the woman had mentioned and he had grown blind to at this point, or perhaps because he cut an intimidating figure. Deep, black clothes with crimson edges along the seams. The sword of deep black with a blood-red crystalline eye, perhaps. Or even the ears that he refused to cover with the hood, given that he had the Trainer Belt on full display across his chest, crisscrossing the opposite direction of the bandolier.

  He was met by two guards at a small ditch – a pithy excuse for a moat between the top of the small hill and the outer walls of the large estate. “Hold, Trainer.”

  Zarius held up the Quest slip, “Here to talk to Benedict. Got a Quest.”

  The guard nodded and went over the small, two-foot-long platform extended over the pit, and knocked on the wooden door. A panel slid open, there was a hushed conversation which Zarius did not care to listen to in the slightest – instead tracking the eyes of a few of the young women who had followed him. Not stealthily in any way.

  Lucien glanced back where he was looking. “Ah. More possible mates.”

  Zarius just cracked a smile and chuckled, “They wouldn’t survive,” he stated.

  “Reminds me, how did Corina heal from your repast?” Lucien inquired.

  Zarius shrugged, “Not sure.”

  “I extended our Mending Darkness to affect her. And Trainers are naturally more durable than regular humans, with innate healing capabilities. A broken leg might take half a year at the longer end – a Trainer would recover from such an injury in a month.”

  Zarius’ attention was brought back to the front as the door opened and a man in his mid-twenties, dressed in fine clothing which put the townsfolk’s simple attire to shame, stepped across the slight, wooden bridge. “Ah. I am pleased my Quest found someone who wished to take it up.”

  Zarius tapped his foot, “Benedict, I’d guess?”

  The man nodded and held out a wax-sealed, clay vase. “This has my mother’s ashes. Please take it to the sepulcher that is decorated with the wings along the top vestibule, and the bronze, vertical gate.” He held out a key in the other hand, “This will let you unlock it. Please re-lock it behind you.”

  Zarius took both items and setting his backpack down pulled out his clothes to securely wrap the jar, and he put the key in one of his bandolier’s slots. “Understood.” He stood up and shouldered the backpack again. “One question though; why not do it yourself?”

  “I’m busy,” the man curtly replied. “And…well…you know…”

  Zarius narrowed his eyes, “I know what?”

  “Right…new Trainer in town,” The man sheepishly replied as he glanced at one of the guards who just shrugged before resuming his bored pose. “Well…the Pokémon in the graveyard don’t like men. And the closer you get to the center where the big mausoleums are – like my family’s – the more dangerous it gets.”

  “Right then,” Zarius muttered. “Ghost Types that hate men. Got it. Anything else I should know?”

  “There have been some scattered reports here and there about grave robbers – but nothing substantiated. The Pokémon tend to deal with that ilk. They are vengeful, after all. Some of them.” The man sounded spooked, but also assured of his words. “I would not be surprised, however, if some of those slain were undead.”

  “Come again?” Yveltal asked in his mind, and Zarius said the same words aloud at the exact same time.

  “Undead? You’ve never heard of them?”

  “No,” Zarius replied, again, entwined with Yveltal.

  Lucien shook his head, “I have.”

  Benedict pointed to Lucien, “Seems like your companion knows, if that bark was any indication. But, for you, Trainer sir, I’ll explain. When people are killed by Ghost Type Pokémon and not put to rest come back to unlife – so we call them undead.” He shuddered, “We mostly stick to the outskirts, unless one of the more prominent family members dies. Then we ask Guild Leader Mary to step in, and she…well…she comes and goes with ease.”

  Zarius nodded, “I’ll return when the deed is done.” He turned and headed down the hill towards the outside of town – the same gate he had left from before, from which he would hug the wall going north until he got to the small path he had seen from above. The one leading to the graveyard, and the Apricorn-bearing tree guarded by a Shaymin which only Trainers could see.

  But as they walked, Yveltal was speaking. Filled with an incensed rage. “What devilry is this? The corpses of the slain risen once more? It is a travesty! Xerneas’ power corrupted in some way. Perhaps Mew was involved – no, that doesn’t make sense. Lugia has some control over Life, but it is a small sliver and we are not near a Storm-filled coastline. Regigigas, perhaps, if that bastard woke up. One of the outer gods, the Deoxys, perhaps? Or even Ho-oh.”

  Zarius knew most of the gods’ names that Yveltal was tossing out as he thought aloud and inside Zarius’ head all at the same time. Lugia, god of storms and some ocean life. Regigigas he had never heard of, and the same went for Deoxys. But Ho-oh, everyone had heard of that god. The god whose feathers were capable of raising the dead. “Ho-oh seems most likely,” he commented.

  Lucien shook his head and his ears twitched, “Who cares? We get to fight something new.”

  “Something without life essence,” Yveltal said back with vitriol. “Apologies, my anger was not directed at you. But these undead…slain by Ghost Types and brought back to a facsimile of life.” There was a firm resolve to his voice as he spoke, and his intent resonated with and surged through Zarius’ mind. “We will kill these undead wherever we find them. Death will greet them, as it has all before. But when we kill them again…they will stay dead. I guarantee it.”