Hunter of Zero (Bloodborne/Familiar of Zero) ch. 10

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The moment the golem revealed itself, Louise's familiar and his wife leapt out of the window to confront the threat. Meanwhile, Agnes swiftly escorted Henrietta and Louise to a safe room to wait out the chaos. But Henrietta, driven by urgency, pushed past Agnes and her guards, determined to witness the aftermath for herself.

When she reached the field where the golem had struck, her heart sank. Craters marred the ground, remnants of fallen earth constructs littered the area, and nobles and commoners alike were being tended to. Her eyes locked on the Headmaster, who was speaking with his staff. The sharp sound of her heels against the ground heralded her approach.

"Your Majesty!" Osmond called, startled. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine," Henrietta replied, her gaze sweeping over the scene. "How many are hurt?"

"Only a few suffered grievous injuries, thank the Founder," the Headmaster said, dabbing his face with a towel. "Most attendees had already dispersed instead of remaining seated together."

Henrietta's eyes sharpened with resolve. "I can help heal them. Bring the injured to me."

Gasps rippled through the nearby staff.

"Your Majesty?" Osmond asked, clearly taken aback.

"I would be a poor princess if I could not tend to my own people," Henrietta said firmly. Osmond exchanged a glance with Colbert, who nodded before stepping forward to begin organizing the injured into a line.

Henrietta turned back to Louise, who stood silently, staring across the field. Following her friend's gaze, she saw Louise's familiar approaching, his wife close behind.

"Master," the Good Hunter announced curtly, "the golems have been dispatched. Evetta and I would have pursued the main golem, but it was either that or let the chaff stab more people."

"No, no, you two did well," Louise said, shaking her head. "Can you help with the cleanup?"

The familiar inclined his head while Evetta offered a graceful curtsy. "As you command," he responded before turning to assist.

As they walked away, Henrietta stepped closer to Louise and smiled softly.

"You have a reliable familiar, Louise," she remarked.

Louise sighed. "When he wants to be. I think he's only behaving because his wife is around."

"Oh? Is he afraid of being punished?" Henrietta teased with a giggle.

"I don't want to imagine that," Louise said with a frown, though her tone lightened. She glanced up at Henrietta, guilt flickering across her face. "I'm sorry the Exhibition turned out this way. It was supposed to be a day of fun."

Henrietta shook her head gently. "This isn't your fault, Louise. It's Fouquet's."

"Fouquet?" Louise asked, blinking in surprise.

"Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth," Henrietta explained, gesturing toward the wreckage. "She's been on a thieving spree across Tristain lately. I thought the Academy would be safe from her, but it seems nothing is sacred to her."

Henrietta sighed, her expression hardening briefly before softening again. "We can talk about this later. For now, there are wounded to heal."

As the first group of injured arrived, Henrietta stepped forward to fulfill her promise. With a few carefully spoken words of magic, wounds that would have taken days to heal were mended in an instant. By the time she finished, exhaustion weighed on her, but a sense of fulfillment shone in her eyes.

"A thousand cheers for the House of Tristain!" Colbert called out, his voice ringing across the field.

"Hurrah!" the healed shouted in unison, their gratitude evident.

Henrietta dipped her head graciously, acknowledging their cheers, before turning to Osmond. "Headmaster, might we discuss this theft?" she asked, her tone serious.

"But, Your Majesty, are you not tired?" Osmond asked, concern flickering across his face.

Henrietta shook her head resolutely. "An attack was made on my people, Headmaster. Worse, it endangered students from other kingdoms as well. It would be poor form for a princess to let this go unanswered."

Osmond's lips curled into a faint smile of approval before he gave a nod. "You are most commendable, Your Majesty. However, my office is currently inaccessible until my staff verify that the central tower is safe to climb. We can find another room to discuss this matter."

"Let's," Henrietta replied with a firm nod. Osmond walked off. Henrietta glanced around looking for Louise and she found her sitting on a fallen rock, her familiar standing by her and by the looks of it speaking. 

"Agnes," Henrietta said. "Can you bring Louise with us please?" 

​+++

"It is obvious Fouquet is responsible for this," Osmond declared, his voice booming with authority. "What remains now is deciding what to do about it."

The Lecture Hall had quickly been repurposed into their war room. Osmond sat at the Lecturer's Podium, his presence commanding, while Colbert stood beside him, arms crossed in thought. Henrietta occupied one of the seats, her posture regal, with Agnes standing dutifully by her side. Louise and her entourage arrived last, the Good Hunter and Evetta standing at attention while Louise took a seat.

"I can organize a party of my men to track Fouquet down," Agnes offered. "She used her golem to escape, and we can follow the tracks. However..." She hesitated. "We do not have any mages among us."

"Your muskets will be no match for Fouquet," Henrietta said gently but firmly.

Agnes looked away, her jaw tightening in frustration.

"Your Majesty," Colbert interjected, his tone cautious, "you did bring an entourage of nobles. Could they not be sent to assist in capturing Fouquet?"

Henrietta paused, choosing her words carefully. "They...are servants of the state. They cannot be sent to perform such tasks."

In truth, they were bureaucrats, completely useless in a fight.

"Might I ask what was stolen?" Louise asked. 

​"It was an artifact," Osmond explained. "In my youth, I had encountered a great dragon I could not overcome. Until someone intervened. It was a man in green, carrying a great staff. With it, he had fought the dragon off with it, causing great destruction." 

"What did it look like?" Henrietta asked. Osmond stood, glancing around for chalk. He found it, and began drawing it on the board. 

"This," Osmond said. 

[SPOILER="Staff of Destruction"][/SPOILER]

The Good Hunter stared, his expression incredulous. behind his mask "You're joking."

Osmond shook his head solemnly. "No. I am not."

Colbert narrowed his eyes, studying him. "You seem familiar with this," he observed.

"Because I am..." The Good Hunter paused, his tone growing grim. "That weapon makes your destruction spells look like mere parlour tricks. Its rounds can wipe out entire armies."

He turned sharply to Osmond. "No wonder it took down your dragon."

"It was rather inspired, I must say," Osmond mused wistfully, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The Good Hunter's expression darkened, his tone sharp. "Well, this 'inspiration' is very very dangerous." He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but firm. "Did it have any of the ammunition left?"

"Oh yes," Osmond replied casually. "The Green Man had a box of it."

The Good Hunter's eyes widened, his voice rising with urgency. "We need to find it. Now."

"Why? What is inside of it? These rounds?" Colbert demanded, his face etched with both curiosity and concern.

The Good Hunter exhaled deeply. He took off his hat and lowered his mask. He marched up the Lecturer's Stand and drew a symbol onto it. "Did it have anything that looked like this?" 

Osmond peered. He nodded. "Oh yes. It had a black and yellow sigil. I thought it was the sigil of his House." 

"It is not. It is a warning sign," The Good Hunter explained. ''Inside those rounds is a material so unstable, so volatile, that when triggered, it causes an explosion unlike anything you've ever seen. It doesn't just destroy buildings or kill people nearby. It erases everything in its path. Entire cities, gone."

Colbert frowned, his mind trying to grasp the scope of what he was hearing. "What sort of material could cause such destruction?"

"It's an element that when split releases energy on a scale that's hard to comprehend. This same material will also poison the land for decades. If Fouquet took plenty of it, then she has enough power to obliterate this kingdom two times over."  

A heavy silence fell over the room. Colbert stared, sceptical. "This...this sounds unbelievable." 

The Good Hunter shook his head and sighed. "Then I will show you all." 

Before Colbert could say anything, or anyone else, they were whisked away. 

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Colbert blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the searing brightness. The world around him was vivid, almost too real, yet utterly alien. He realized, with some disorientation, that he stood under a blazing sun yet he was indoors. Or so it seemed. Glass walls stretched around him, offering a view of a sprawling city below. The horizon dominated with gleaming towers, their surfaces reflecting golden light. Above, the faint hum of unseen vehicles filled the air, blending with the soft rustle of wind.

Laughter drifted into his ears. It was the laughter of children. He turned his head, searching for its source, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Henrietta stood beside him, her gaze wide with wonder. Her eyes darted to the strange objects around them. A large flat panel hung on one of the walls, displaying vivid images of a beach. Children played in the surf, their movements fluid and lifelike. Yet it wasn't a painting. The image moved, alive, like a window into another world. She hesitated, then took a cautious step toward it, her hand reaching out instinctively.

"What…is this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Los Angeles," said the Good Hunter, his tone grave. "The year is 2077."

Louise let out a startled yelp as a woman walked straight through her, her translucent figure vanishing without acknowledgment. Osmond, unconcerned, stared openly at the woman until Henrietta shot him a disapproving glare.

"Don't bother talking to them," the Good Hunter said. "You're in a vision. They can't see or hear you. Now, watch. Look to the distance."

Louise nodded hesitantly, her curiosity overriding her fear as she wandered around. Her ears perked when a voice spoke nearby. Strangely, she understood him, though his accent was unfamiliar.

"Well, back when I was in the Marines," the voice said, "they told us that if they ever drop a really big bomb, you'd wanna do this."

Louise turned, spotting a man kneeling next to a girl, his arm extended, thumb raised. She mimicked the gesture, her brow furrowing with uncertainty.

"If the cloud is smaller than your thumb," the man continued, "you run for the hills."

A little girl standing beside him tilted her head in confusion. "And if it's bigger than your thumb?" she asked.

The man's expression darkened, a shadow of fear crossing his face. "They told us not to bother running."

Louise shivered, a chill creeping up her spine despite the warmth of the sun. "Do you think it's going to happen?" the girl asked.

The man's haunted look lingered for a moment before he forced a comforting smile, ruffling the girl's hair. "I certainly hope not. But us cowpokes, we take it as it comes, right?"

The girl hesitated, then smiled back, though her concern was evident. A round of laughter from inside the house pulled her attention. She glanced toward the doorway and brightened. "Can I have a slice, Dad?"

The man chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. "You know what? Let me see if I can rustle you up a slice."

Agnes wandered through the house, marveling at the strange lights, the moving images, the clothes unlike any she'd seen before. She paused, her instincts prickling, as a bright flash lit up the distant horizon. It was blinding, unnatural. Light was supposed to bring life and warmth, but this light felt wrong. Her hand instinctively moved to the hilt of her sword.

Henrietta, sensing the shift, hurried to find Louise. She spotted her friend standing still, her thumb raised toward the horizon, staring intently into the distance.

"Louise?" Henrietta called, worry thick in her voice.

Louise didn't respond. Her focus remained on the horizon.

"All right, one piece of cake coming up for my favorite cowgirl!" the father's voice rang out cheerfully. He passed by, holding a plate with a slice of cake. Henrietta reached Louise's side and gently shook her shoulder. "Louise, what are you doing? What's wrong?"

"Is it your thumb or mine?"

​

Before Henrietta could say anything, a deafening roar echoed. The ground trembled violently beneath their feet, sending them stumbling backward. The glass walls around them rattled, then shattered into countless shards as a searing wave of heat and wind tore through the air.

Henrietta gasped as more flashes appeared on the distant skyline. The mighty towers, they all fell, collapsing under the blasts. 

All underneath a mushroom cloud of fire.

​+++

"NO!" Henrietta cried.

And then, they were back in the Lecture Hall.

Her knees buckled as if the sheer force of the destruction had struck her physically. Tears streamed down her face, her hands trembling as she clutched at the empty air. The city...she imagined the capital burning instead. Her mother, everyone, erased in the blink of an eye. She choked on a sob, her voice breaking in anguish.

Colbert stood frozen, his face pale, drained of all color. His lips moved soundlessly, forming words he couldn't bring himself to say. His sharp, rational mind, so adept at dissecting problems and offering solutions, was now overwhelmed by the incomprehensible magnitude of destruction. He lowered his head, staring at the floor as though the answers might be hidden in the grain of the wood.

Osmond leaned heavily on his staff. His face, usually weathered yet composed, was now paper-white, even paler than ice. His aged hands trembled, clutching his staff not out of strength but fear. A fear only a handful of things had ever induced in him.

Agnes, the stalwart Captain, crumbled in silence where she stood. Tears streamed down her face. Memories filled her mind, of a village long past burning to the ground. Colbert stole a quick glance at her, his expression heavy with guilt, but he said nothing.

Henrietta turned to her Captain, the woman she had always relied on for strength, and saw fear etched into her face. It was a terrifying sight. She turned next to the Good Hunter, her eyes desperate, searching for answers. He stood silently, his hand resting on Louise's shoulder. The girl stared blankly into the distance, her face void of emotion, as if still trapped in the nightmare they had left behind.

"Why?" Henrietta demanded, her voice cracking. "Why would you show us something like that?"

The Good Hunter's answered gravelly. "Because you needed to understand what we are dealing with. Be grateful, at least, that Fouquet only has miniatures compared to the larger ones. But even those, if she uses them, there will be no coming back."

The room fell into a suffocating silence. His words pressed down on them like a weight too heavy to bear. No one spoke. No one moved. The horrors of the vision lingered, clawing at their minds.

Henrietta sniffed, forcing herself to calm, though her body still trembled. "The capital must be warned. Fouquet must be found at all costs."

"There's no need," the Good Hunter said sharply. "Evetta and I can go after her. Right now."

"Then go!" Osmond cried, his voice breaking with desperation. "In the name of everything that is holy, go!"

The Good Hunter didn't move immediately. Instead, he knelt beside Louise, gently shaking her from her stupor. "Louise?" he called softly.

The pink-haired girl's empty gaze slowly shifted toward him, his voice drawing her back to the present. She blinked, her lips parting slightly.

"Your orders?" he asked quietly.

Louise hesitated for a moment, her breath shaky. Then, with a voice steadier than the rest of her trembling body, she issued her command. "Get her. Get her and that weapon back."

The Good Hunter stood, bowing his head respectfully. "For the honor of House Vallière," he said solemnly. He then turned to Osmond. "When I come back, I wish to see whatever you have stowed away in your vault." 

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Fouquet hissed as she lowered the box onto the table, her movements slow and deliberate.

She had fled to her hideout, a secluded cabin deep within the woods. It was a modest place, tucked away from prying eyes, perfect for someone on the run. Her golem had been abandoned miles away, its purpose served, and she had stolen a horse to make the final leg of the journey. At least now, the job was done.

"This job better be worth it," Fouquet muttered, sinking into a worn chair. Sweat clung to her skin, and her clothes were tattered, riddled with holes from the skirmish. She should have known. She should have realized the Familiar was dangerous, that he should have been isolated or neutralized from the outset. But she had underestimated him, severely so.

Still, it didn't matter now. She was alive, and the job was complete. She could finally go home.

Her eyes drifted to the box on the table, its presence almost mocking her. She felt her lips quiver. "All this for a simple staff."

A voice cut through the stillness, sharp and cold. "That staff is far from simple."

Fouquet's eyes widened in shock. How? She leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. But before she could move further, she felt the unmistakable chill of cold metal pressed firmly against her back.

She froze.

"Don't move," a female voice warned her. "And sit back down." 

She did as ordered. From the shadows, the Good Hunter stepped out, mask on and hat equipped. His hands were folded behind his back. 

"How did you find me?" Fouquet demanded, her voice cracking slightly.

"I cheated," the Good Hunter replied simply. "And you've been a very naughty girl."

Fouquet scoffed, though her bravado rang hollow. "Can you blame me? In this economy?"

"Don't play coy," the Good Hunter replied, taking a step closer to the box. Their gaze lingered on it before they leaned in to inspect it more closely. "Not opened. Good."

Fouquet watched warily as the Hunter touched the box, their hand hovering over it before it vanished, whisked away by a spell. Her eyes narrowed. Teleportation magic, perhaps? She couldn't be sure. That would be useful in spades. "You're talented," she said, her tone laced with venom. "Why fight for a noble who enslaves you, Prince?"

The Good Hunter turned to her, their voice measured. "Slavery implies unwillingness. Evetta heard her. Pitied her. That's why we're here."

"Heard her?" Fouquet blinked, momentarily thrown.

"You wouldn't understand," the Hunter replied with a shake of their head. Their tone grew sharper. "Now, you're going to come with me."

Fouquet's defiance flared. "I'd rather die."

"And leave poor Tiffania alone?" the Hunter countered smoothly.

Fouquet's sharp glare bore into them. "How do you know that name?" she spat. Her sister? She was her best hidden secret. Only she knew of Tiffania! But now, this Familiar, he knew? How?

The Good Hunter tilted their head, voice calm. "Trade secret. Now be a good girl lest Albion lose its last half-elf." 

Fouquet panicked. She thought of a hundred ways to salvage this, all of them fruitless in that threat. If he knew about Tiffania, he knew where she was. And everything would be for nought. Fouquet...no, Matilda de Saxe-Gotha felt her resolve crumble as she stared at the floor. Her voice was bitter, defeated. "They are going to torture me." 

"Hardly my problem," The Good Hunter replied. "Louise's orders were clear." 

"Of course, they were," Matilda spat. "The dog always obeys its master."

The Good Hunter tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. "Snide comment aside, you and your masters have no idea what sort of artifact you are stealing. But then again, I can hardly blame you. Halkeginia is like a Roadside Picnic. You lot see treasure when we drop trash." 

Matilda ignored his ramblings, and glared. Even at her lowest point, she refused to cave. "If I go with you, promise me that Tiffania will be safe." 

"Nothing will happen to her, I assure you, provided you be good," The Good Hunter promised. "She is interesting as well. Louise is a firecracker and she is a pleasant whiff of lavender." 

Matilda looked at him, disturbed at the description. "You are disgusting. Don't you dare talk about her like that." 

"I don't mean her body, pleasant as it is. No, I mean what she carries. Her wonderful little talent," The Good Hunter laughed. "But enough about that, and come along." 

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A/N: Imagine the utter horror if some Halkeginian lobs the Fatman around and considering how Fallout's radiation is way way worse, Halkeginia would be fucked. Now imagine if Halkeginia has other even shitter things like say a Virus Bomb from 40K.