The Traveler and His Necklace (Resident Evil 8/Re;zero) (Planeswalker OC) Novella (2023)

Jeremiah carefully moved through the desolate village, his senses heightened by the stark transformation that had befallen the once tranquil place. The atmosphere hung heavy with disarray and fear, casting a somber veil over what was once a bustling community. Broken wood and torn structures bore witness to the violent onslaught that had ravaged the village, leaving behind a haunting reminder of the terror that had unfolded.

The streets, once filled with the sounds of laughter and the creaking of old carts, now lay eerily quiet. The emptiness, accentuated by the abandoned and crashed carts, amplified the sense of loneliness that permeated the air. The absence of life was palpable, as if the very soul of the village had been shattered.

Jeremiah's keen eyes caught sight of shattered windows and splintered doorframes, remnants of desperate attempts to fortify against the relentless onslaught. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the primal odor of the wolf-like creatures that had brought chaos upon the village. It was a scent that spoke of untamed wilderness and instinctual menace, a stark contrast to the scent of domesticated dogs that once accompanied the village life.

The stench, carried by the wind, seemed to reverberate through the stillness, adding to the unease that gripped Jeremiah's heart. Each gust brought with it a chilling reminder of the terror that had unfolded within these humble streets, a reminder that the village's peaceful facade had been shattered.

Jeremiah paused, his gaze scanning the surroundings, taking in the wreckage that lay in disarray. The broken windows, the overturned furniture, and the lingering air of fear told a story of lives disrupted and shattered. It was a stark contrast to the slow pace and old-fashioned nature that once characterized the village. But even amid its imperfections, there had been a sense of normalcy—a rhythm to life that, despite its flaws, provided a comforting familiarity.

Now, the village stood as a testament to the frailty of that fragile normalcy, a reminder that even the most idyllic of places could succumb to darkness. The casual abuse and drunkenness that had stained the village's reputation seemed trivial in comparison to the devastation that had befallen it.

Jeremiah couldn't help but reflect on how drastically things had changed within a mere day even though he knew it was coming. It still was a shock the once vibrant community had been transformed into a desolate wasteland, haunted by the remnants of what once was. The disheveledness, the scent of blood and wolf, and the overwhelming feeling of terror served as constant reminders of the village's vulnerability and the desperate need for resilience.

Jeremiah concealed himself among the dense foliage, his gaze fixed upon the village square where Ethan Winters had just arrived. The planeswalker's heart ached as he observed the weary figure before him. Ethan's face bore the marks of desperation, etched with lines of exhaustion and fear. Eki, the enigmatic presence that whispered in Jeremiah's mind, remained silent for a moment, allowing the weight of Ethan's plight to sink in.

His dirty blonde hair was matted with sweat and specks of dirt, clinging to his forehead in disarray. The journey through treacherous terrain had taken its toll, leaving his face streaked with dirt and smudges, the evidence of a man fighting against unimaginable odds. The weariness in his eyes spoke volumes, reflecting a turbulent mix of confusion and determination.

Ethan's attire, once clean and presentable, now bore the marks of his arduous journey. He wore a beige jacket that had seen better days, its fabric dirtied and torn in places. A medium gray zipper hoodie peeked out from underneath, its once vibrant color faded under the strain of countless trials. Every thread of his clothing seemed to tell a story of endurance and survival.

Jeremiah's attention shifted to Ethan's hands, weathered and marked by his battle for survival. A large cut on his hand, hastily bandaged with a makeshift cloth, spoke of recent encounters with barbed wire fences and sharp edges. The makeshift bandage was a temporary solution, a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood until a more substantial remedy could be found.

Eki's voice finally broke the silence, her tone laced with intrigue. "Look at him, Jeremiah. The embodiment of desperation and resilience. His every movement, his very presence, speaks of a man fighting against the odds. What do you make of that which you waited for?"

Jeremiah's voice carried a hint of empathy as he whispered his observations. "He is a survivor, bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. His bruised exterior reflects the trials he has endured, while his eyes betray the flickering ember of hope. Ethan Winters is a man driven by a desperate quest, guided by forces beyond his understanding."

Eki's mischievous tone returned as she chimed in with curiosity. "And what of his destination, Jeremiah? Why does he draw your attention as he navigates this twisted labyrinth of fate?"

Jeremiah's voice held a mixture of caution and determination. "He carries a key, Eki, a key that may unlock the secrets that shroud this village in darkness. I am drawn to him, for his journey intertwines with the delicate threads of this cursed place. As the tapestry of fate unfolds, I must uncover the truths hidden within."

Eki's voice danced with mischief. "And what of your own intentions, Jeremiah? Are you a mere observer, or will you be drawn into his fate, entangled in the web of his journey?"

Jeremiah's expression hardened, his voice tinged with caution. "I walk a delicate line, Eki. Miranda's watchful eyes cast their gaze upon me, and the loyalties within this village are as fickle as the shifting winds. But my instincts guide me, urging me to protect the fragile threads that bind this world together."

Eki's voice purred with intrigue. "Oh, the dance of uncertainty, how it thrills the heart. Will you take action, Jeremiah, or remain a mere shadow in this intricate game?"

Jeremiah's gaze never wavered, his resolve solidifying. "The time for shadows will soon come to an end, Eki. As the night deepens, I shall emerge from the veiled corners and play my part. The lives entwined in this village's tapestry deserve more than mere observation."

Eki's laughter echoed in Jeremiah's mind, a whisper of ancient secrets. "Ah, the mortal who dances on the edge of fate, embracing the unknown with each step. How fascinating it is to witness the unfolding of such a story."

The stillness of the village was abruptly shattered as the lycans emerged from the shadows, their lupine forms weaving through the debris and broken structures. Their arrival carried an otherworldly energy, a strange blend of human and wolf, as they prowled with an eerie grace. Jeremiah watched from a distance, hidden among the ruins of a partially collapsed house, as the lycans moved with an uncanny coordination, their movements synchronized as if guided by some unspoken understanding.

Moonlight cast a pale glow on their fur-covered bodies, highlighting the powerful sinew beneath. Their snarls echoed through the night, teeth bared in a menacing display of primal aggression. Each lycan bore the marks of transformation, their human features twisted into a hybrid of man and beast. Their eyes, glowing with a feral intensity, betrayed their savage nature.

Eki's voice whispered in Jeremiah's mind, a mix of fascination and caution. "The dance of the lycans, a display of raw power and instinct. Their collective energy amplifies their capabilities, making them a force to be reckoned with."

Jeremiah's gaze remained fixed on the unfolding scene, his voice filled with a sense of urgency. "Yes, Eki, their pack mentality is evident. There is a primal bond that unites them, allowing them to coordinate their actions with deadly efficiency. It is this unity that makes them such formidable adversaries."

As the lycans closed in on Ethan, their instincts sharpened, sensing their prey. Eki's voice took on a mischievous edge. "Ah, the inevitable clash, Jeremiah. Watch closely as they test their strength against the intruder. Will Ethan Winters prove his mettle, or will he crumble under the weight of their relentless assault?"

Jeremiah's brows furrowed, his concern evident. "We shall see, Eki. But it is not my place to intervene in this encounter. Ethan must face his own trials and find his own path through the darkness. If he does not succeed then he never was the Ethan I expected and is below my interest, Our focus lies elsewhere."

With that, Jeremiah started to retreat, his movements careful and calculated. He knew that the attack of the lycans on Ethan would be a test of the wanderer's resilience, an opportunity for him to prove his worth. As he distanced himself from the unfolding chaos, Jeremiah's thoughts turned to the larger tapestry of fate that enshrouded the circumstance of the village.

Eki, true to her mischievous nature, seized the opportunity to provoke Jeremiah further. "If Ethan Winters holds so much of your interest, Jeremiah, why do you turn away just as things get fascinating?" Eki remarked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. "Why head towards the farmhouse, where many of the villagers have fled?"

Jeremiah rolled his eyes, knowing Eki's penchant for encouraging reckless behavior. "You know very well why," he replied, his voice laced with caution. "But that will not occur for several hours, if all has remained the same."

Eki's voice danced with a hint of amusement. "Ah, no doubt things have diverged somewhat, given the butterflies whose wings we have witnessed flapping for quite some time. Time has a way of altering the course of events not held to a Gospel but diverting branches of destiny. But worry not, dear Jeremiah, for you have your reasons."

Jeremiah nodded, acknowledging the unpredictable nature of fate. "Indeed, Eki, the tapestry of fate for this village is yet to fully unravel. My intention was to arrive ahead of Ethan, for I am somewhat known in the village. Miranda has welcomed me, and Heisenberg, in his own way, has shown a passing interest that prevents him from taking my life."

Eki chuckled mischievously. "Miranda hopes, you can turn the great clock back, which you've yet proven. Where heisenberg no doubt he believes you to be malleable, someone who can provide him with the freedom he seeks from Miranda's clutches."

Jeremiah shook his head, then began contemplating Heisenberg's hidden motivations. "Yes, I suspect he desires to propose a deal of sorts. I am surprised he hasn't made his move yet."

Eki's voice held a note of intrigue. "Perhaps the lords wished to test your resolve, to see what you would do in this crucial time."

Jeremiah nodded, a steely resolve in his eyes. "Indeed, Eki. What comes next may challenge the reputation I have established here. But we have managed to navigate these treacherous waters thus far, have we not?"

Their conversation faded into the depths of Jeremiah's thoughts as he made his way towards the farmhouse, Jeremiah moved through the wheat fields, his steps cautious and deliberate, as he made his way towards the house near Luiza's. The golden stalks swayed gently in the evening breeze, whispering secrets that only the wind could understand. The distant howls of the lycans served as a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked nearby.

As he approached the house, Jeremiah's keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of life. The windows were dark, and the silence that enveloped the dwelling heightened his sense of unease. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and turned the rusted doorknob, pushing the creaking door open.

The interior of the house was still and empty, the air heavy with a sense of abandonment. Jeremiah's heart sank as he confirmed that Elena and her father were not present. It was not the outcome he had hoped for, but he had prepared himself for the possibility. Eki's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the intricate web of fate that governed their lives.

"I suppose you were right, Eki," Jeremiah murmured to himself, a hint of resignation in his voice. "The butterflies have indeed flapped their wings, altering the course of events."

With a somber expression, Jeremiah made his way back to the front of the house, where he knocked gently on Luiza's door. The sound reverberated through the quiet street, followed by a moment of suspense. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Jeremiah found himself face-to-face with Julian, who stood before him, gun in hand, wariness etched across his weathered face.

Jeremiah raised his hands in a gesture of non-aggression, his voice calm and steady. "I mean no harm, Julian. I seek only information and perhaps a moment of respite."

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