disclaimer: not mine. either of them. yes, even the crossovers.

foreword: First of all, this chapter will be shorter compared to previous ones. This is intentional, as a lot more things will be revealed about this world. There will be answers, but they will raise more questions.

Oh yeah, this is also where it starts to get crazy. Brace yourselves.

Lazengann, OVERLOAD!

What the hell do you think this story is?

From Zero to Infinity

A Familiar of Zero / Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann crossover fanfic

Eighth Spiral: Collision Course

Ever since their arrival in Albion proper, Lordgenome's senses had been on high alert. From the part where he discovered Matilda's unfortunate condition up to now, the former Spiral Knight could only make calculations in his mind as the rented carriages made their way across the floating continent to their destination, the town of Newcastle.

"You've been deep in thought for some time now, Lordgenome," Louise observed. "And you've been on edge ever since we boarded the airship. What's wrong?"

"Nothing at the moment," the Gandalfr replied. "This carriage ride kind of reminds me of our trip to Tarbes, though."

Louise sighed.

"A lot of bad things happened there, and they would have been worse things if we hadn't intervened," she continued, shaking her head before turning towards the window to see the scenery roll by. "Don't tell me you have another one of those 'bad feelings'?"

Lordgenome chuckled before giving her a wry smile. "Someone I knew a long time ago told me about the big advantage of being a pessimist – you are either proven correct or are pleasantly surprised."

Louise gave a ladylike laugh of her own back. "Mother would never phrase it that way, but your point is a lot similar to how she deals with things. Except..."

"Look, let's not get distracted by that," the Gandalfr replied, cutting off the conversation at the pass before it would distract Louise's frame of mind any further. "I wouldn't approve of how she does things, but her heart is in the right place. What kind of parent wouldn't want her child protected from the world?"

"But... she herself said that..."

Okay, that was not the best choice of words. I'm starting to sound like I sympathize with that woman.

No, you don't, Derflinger said with an echoing laugh as the Core Drill – a necklace's pendant worn by Lordgenome – glowed a faint red. Well, it's par for the course that people judge themselves by their intentions and others by their actions, so...

The former Spiral King just shrugged.

I think you may have something there, Derf.

"I know," he continued. "I know it doesn't sound like she does, or if what she does is right, but for once, let's see things from her point of view. Goodness knows your mother the Duchess didn't get to where she was by being magnanimous enough to do that, right?"

Louise nodded.

"I knew it," he replied. "The Duchess probably thinks that doing that's another form of weakness, or she uses it when maneuvering against her foes – not against family."

Louise nodded again, and Lordgenome sighed.

"One of these days, I just might end up slapping her, just out of general principle."

It was supposed to sound like a joke, but neither master nor familiar laughed or smiled at the punch line. By then, no further words were needed – or spoken – as the carriage sped swiftly to Newcastle, the horses' hooves and the clattering wheels the only sounds it made as it traversed the macadamized roadways towards its destination.

Not so far away, a beastman sighed as he leaned over the sink, soaking a set of folded cloth in a basin of water for goodness knows how many times already. After folding it to fit his Master's forehead, he skulked purposefully through the halls of the large house that also doubled as an orphanage, only coming to a stop as soon as he entered the room where his Master was currently asleep in.

Two days now. Three tomorrow since this had happened to Tiffania.

He carefully placed the compress on the too-warm forehead of the girl who had given him the Lifdrassil designation, and made up his mind then and there.

Tomorrow he would look for people to operate the orphanage in Tiffania's state and his absence, and a healer who might be able to find out why his Master hadn't awoken since impaling her would-be attackers through with black tendrils that erupted from whatever miasma she exuded.

That was the question whose answers he could easily stomach. The questions of what those tendrils were – and why his Master wielded them – made him very uneasy.

As he returned to his room to pick up his set of knives and the list of bounties he needed to complete, Viral had a lot of difficulty admitting to himself that this was an escape from the inevitable, almost as if the peaceful existence he had known with these children and their caretaker Tiffania would soon be irreparably shattered.

"The healer will arrive here in two days, Mr. Viral," the caretaker he hired – a woman from the mainland named Jessica – said. "Our budget will not be in any trouble should you be away for around two to four weeks. Maybe five, if the healer says Miss Tiffania's condition is not so serious."

"My apologies for having stolen you from your job, Miss Jessica," Viral said, "but you were the only trustworthy one whose services I could call on in so short a time. I hope your father does not mind so much."

"It is no big deal, sir," Jessica replied. "My cousin Reina will cover for me, at least until Miss Tiffania is well enough to go back to work."

"Again, my most plentiful thanks," Viral said as he bowed his head, "expect me in a week."

"Godspeed, Mr. Viral," the newly-appointed caretaker said as she saw her employer off.

Viral didn't look back as he dashed away from the orphanage, away from his Master, away from these hard questions that he could never admit that was too frightening to answer.

Blinking hard to clear eyes that were by no means moistened by his fear and shame, the Lifdrassil surged forward.

Getting bounties was the only thing he could do to help his Master… for now.

"Welcome to Newcastle. Make yourselves at home, Chevalier and Knight," a servant girl said as Louise and her familiar walked into the rather opulent manor house. One acknowledging nod later, the servant girl quickly made herself scarce as the duo marveled at the decor of their guest room.

"I say, waiting room or not, Prince Wales knows how to make someone feel welcome," Lordgenome wryly declared as he did some stretches before lazing onto the couch beside his pink-haired master.

"How soon do you think will he be finished with his business?" Louise asked, and her familiar shrugged.

"I do not know," he answered. "Given what you've explained to me on the way here, Prince Wales is ruling Albion in all but name – his father's lost all taste for ruling and gradually passed on his duties to the heir."

Louise nodded. "Didn't one servant say that Prince Wales was at another city and overseeing the reconstruction of Albion after the siege?"

"Siege?" Lordgenome asked. "What siege? We were on the road overlooking all of Albion, there was nothing out there. No flaming wrecks, no airship battles, not even the smell of gunpowder."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Things are starting to look up, then. Princess Henrietta's letter will no doubt be more good news for the Prince – routing the rebels, and now this."

A knock on the door and the same servant girl peeked her head into the doorway. "Chevalier de la Valliere, the afternoon meal has been prepared for you and your companion. Please proceed to the dining hall."

"Well, there's dinner," Lordgenome said as he stood up and helped his master up. "Let's go."

As they exited the guest room, Lordgenome's sense of suspicion started to grow even further.

The moons were playing hide-and-seek in the dark gray clouds by the time Louise and Lordgenome returned to their rooms. Their host – the steward of the estate – said that Albion had been vacated by the invading forces for several weeks now. Apparently, Albion didn't have what they were after, and quickly withdrew, to the confusion of the citizens of Newcastle – who were just about ready to hunker down for an extended siege that never actually came.

As Louise slept in one of the guest bedrooms with Lordgenome watching over her, the odd feeling from before started to return to him.

Boss.

Derf, he replied. Something's not right here.

I don't know, Boss. Nothing looks amiss.

Looks... Lordgenome mused, and his mind returned to his time teaching his children about war.

"Take absolutely nothing for granted. Complacency breeds death."

So what is it around me that feels WRONG? What's causing me to do this? It's not mere paranoia, but...

Lordgenome carefully swept his eyes around the room where Louise slept peacefully, the dim light of the lamps flickering as he went from shadow to shadow, trying to find something that would still his uneasy feeling…

Nothing.

The only other sounds were Louise's breathing as her slumber continued.

He was about to head to the armchair, search inconclusive, until the sound of Louise coughing cleaved his reverie in twain.

Green eyes widened as he took a deep breath, the gears in his head turning as he chanced upon what could be the real reason for his unease.

Before he went back to sleep, he put a hand on the wall, and upon examining his palm by the lamplight, knew that his hunch was correct.

Something's going on here. Tomorrow, Louise and I will find out what it is exactly.

He quickly made himself comfortable on the armchair, knowing that with Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere being a diplomat from Tristain, they had some degree of immunity.

Too bad his suspicion that it would end up worth less than the paper it was printed on when morning came had just become a reality.

It was time for him to take on the mantle of the Spiral King once more.

Lordgenome awoke smoothly and quickly, his awareness washing over the guest room given to them by Prince Wales' servants, and the paranoia that had started en route to Albion returning in full.

Something is definitely wrong here, he thought. From the overly accommodating staff, Prince Wales' absence, to their inconsistencies in the stories behind the rebellion at Albion, to the most glaring thing of all: the only nobleman they had stumbled upon was the steward of the estate. Someone would have shown up the night before to confirm their appointment with the prince, so what would…?

The telltale crash of broken glass quickly cut off his train of thought and brought Louise out of her good night's sleep.

Before she could even wipe the sleep from her eyes, a coat was flung at her.

"What's going on?" she asked, still not quite awake, recognizing the Valliere crest on the coat as hers.

"Someone broke in here. Perpetrator's apparently… wait a minute," the Gandalfr said, trailing off as the truth of what had been bothering him crashed down hard.

Louise's bag was gone.

Brow furrowed in anger more towards himself than the person responsible for this theft, he gritted out a "follow me" to Louise as he strode out of the manor house himself and took off towards where the guards were chasing the thief, who was now running to the alleys and side streets of Newcastle proper.

Mere minutes into his pursuit, Lordgenome's pink-haired Master had caught up to him.

"Someone stole my bag?" Louise asked. "Oh, when I get a hold of that knave, I'll..."

"Save it," her familiar replied as they continued the chase. "Can you track what's in it? You can already guess what else is in that bag."

Louise's would-be reply died in her throat and erupted outward in a guttural growl of supreme annoyance as she realized that one of her prized possessions was in the bag taken: the secret grimoire.

Even Lordgenome had to move aside when he felt the malice roll of his charge in waves, augmented by the Void Magic she was using to track the stolen item – judging by the grip Louise had on her wand, she would probably chop off the thief's hand, if she was merciful.

She felt her grimoire move upward, and with a gesture towards the taller buildings, her Familiar was dashing ahead of her, crouching in front of her with his arms clasped in an impromptu foothold for her to jump onto the nearest rooftop.

It took Louise five steps before Lordgenome was at her side and running at her pace, the grimoire a beacon they were running after with unnatural focus.

When the beacon had a sudden change in altitude, both master and familiar slowed down to a stop, looking below as to where the grimoire was.

From a nearby stack of dried leaves, the knave sprang, apparently unharmed from the rather high leap just done.

"Hold on," Lordgenome said as he made a split-second decision to sweep his Master off her feet into a princess carry and leaping off the roof, Spiral Energy bursting from his feet to cushion his fall.

While Louise's focus on the grimoire overwrote her sense of danger during the leap, she did have something to say to her familiar after they hit the ground safely and were on the pursuit again.

"You have got to teach me that," she said, and Lordgenome answered with but a smile and a nod.

When they rounded the next corner, Louise felt the altitude of the grimoire changing yet again, and found that they were right in the middle of the city during the morning rush. Precious seconds ticked by as master and familiar took a moment to orient themselves. This time, it was Louise who sensed the grimoire's position more quickly, and pointed to the manhole near the end of the street.

Lordgenome's paranoia returned in full force as he fully expected the manhole to be something made of stone, yet when he touched cold metal, the feeling of utter wrongness came back. The matter of the pilfered grimoire came first, though, and he pried the covering open, heading into the sewer system of Newcastle ahead of his master Louise.

"It's somewhere here," Louise whispered as they moved through the shadows of the Newcastle sewers right after Lordgenome closed the sewer lid behind them, "and it's not moving."

"The contents of your bag will probably be ransacked and appropriated to the knave's fellows," the Gandalfr whispered back, contempt in his tone. "We had best hurry."

Louise willed her magic into a small orb of light to guide them, while her familiar made his eyes glow with Spiral Energy to see better in the dark. She could sense that the book was close by, but she knew enough about matters to not barge in willy-nilly. Gesturing to slow down the pace, they moved carefully across the passageways towards their destination.

With everything that had happened, Lordgenome's mind was working in overdrive. What was this place, and why does everything look so familiar?

It was the Gandalfr being lost in his thoughts and the sense of deja vu that was overwhelming him that nearly caused the end of both of them, because as they turned onto the final corner towards the grimoire, they walked right into a group of sword-wielding soldiers .

"So much for being careful," Louise groused as another group of soldiers emerged from the side, surrounding them.

"My apologies, Louise," Lordgenome replied, mentally chastising himself.

I don't know about this, boss, Derflinger added. We can always fight our way out of this if need be.

That's going to be difficult, Lordgenome responded as him and Louise were being marched through the sewer tunnels towards a large room. I'm going to have to secure Louise first before I can let loose… but what is going on here, with this… control room?

Both master and familiar's thoughts ground to a halt upon entering the chamber, because opposite them, and on a table, was a familiar face with blond hair and blue eyes, carrying a very familiar book.

"Prince Wales?!" Louise asked, her expression locked in complete surprise.

"One and the same," the man replied.

In the outskirts of Westwood, night fell.

A cloaked man entered the busy tavern, and gruffly asked for a glass of milk.

One of the drunks was about to taunt the man for his choice of drink, but in a trice, a knife pointed at his throat and drawing a drop of blood and whatever the drunk wanted to say seemed to float off into the wind.

As soon as the drunk backed down, the man in the cloak was left to his own devices. Yet, as he seemed to brood over his drink, his ears were working perfectly, catching bits and pieces of conversation relevant to what he was really after.

"…never liked that Lord Insen Mott, glad the bastard was taken care of..."

"…Newcastle fell. The Prince managed to escape with no one the wiser. No siege was made."

"…a siege would be useless, the Prince has nowhere to escape to…"

"…Even his ship was taken, it's just a matter of time…"

"…I heard they put up bounties for the rebel leaders…"

"…if I was half my age, I'd at least give it a try…"

Several gold coins on the table later, and the man in a cloak was gone.

He had business to attend to.

"So, what you're saying is that this whole 'Reconquista' thing is a drive to take back a country from what you call elves?" Lordgenome asked.

Prince Wales Tudor nodded. His "guests" were still in the chamber; the Chevalier was currently speaking with one of the scholars who had suggested the idea of using the book to lure in Louise and her familiar here. The Gandalfr, on the other hand, seemed to take the sudden revelation a lot more calmly than he thought. The rumor that he was from another world suddenly started to take on more weight as he tried to read the familiar's expression.

It is unnerving, truly, he mused as he continued to explain that he was simply a political pawn deemed expendable, which led to the rebellion that ousted him. He may look like a boy in the cusp of adulthood, yet his eyes are that of a man that has seen a lifetime's worth of experiences, and then some. Those who know me as the Prince of Albion avert their eyes. This Lordgenome… does not.

"And because you were more concerned about your people than your political capital, you decided to step down?"

Wales nodded again.

"My informants told me that Cromwell and his thugs planned to make me an example to the other countries, which is why we escaped. Typical brute – speaks with platitudes but when he has what he wants, changes his mind."

"No honor or chivalry at all, agreed," the Gandalfr concurred.

"What a piece of work, that Cromwell person," the voice in Lordgenome's pendant added. "Even hearing about him already makes me hate his guts."

I can't believe I'm agreeing with a glowing drill-shaped pendant who says he's the soul of the magic sword Derflinger, Wales thought. "Speaking of informants, you deserve my thanks. Mott was virtually untouchable due to his ties with the royalty."

"I'm not the one you should thank," Lordgenome said. "My Master insisted on doing the job herself."

"If I may say so, it was one of the more beautiful things I witnessed."

"Bringing life back to Tarbes, as well. It's a fait accompli for you and Chevalier de la Valliere," Wales continued. "I suppose the time has come for you to ask the question that needs answering the most, eh, Gandalfr?"

"What do you need from Louise and myself?"

"Direct to the point. Admirable," the Prince replied. "I need you to assist us in leaving Albion. My ship has been taken by the rebels. Clear the ship and get us in there, and consider your mission accomplished."

"Fair enough," Lordgenome said. "I'll take it up with the lady."

"That's all I'm asking for," Wales replied. "By the way, did you know that there were no lights in this place until a few nights ago?"

That question stopped Lordgenome right in his tracks.

"That's also why I brought you here. I'll probably have to ask for your answer when all is said and done, Gandalfr."

Several minutes passed before the former Spiral King was brought back to reality via a few light taps to the face by his worried Master.

"Lordgenome, are you back with us?" Louise asked.

He shook the startled expression off his face and turned to his Master; to him, the word was but a mere formality, as Louise had considered the Gandalfr a mentor and colleague.

"What happened?"

"You were out of it for a moment right after Prince Wales left to organize the evacuation," she replied. "Anyway, I have some good news for you. You know about the grimoire we got ourselves into this mess for? Prince Wales returned it to me."

She punctuated that by bringing forth the worn volume that had contained all of the spells Louise needed.

"While you were talking with the Prince, one of his aides told me about this, the Founder's Prayer Book," Louise continued. "They say that this is an artifact that descended from the Founder himself, and is not only a chronicle of his impossible feats, but a guide on how to achieve and possibly exceed them."

"The researcher told you all that?"

"Yes, and look – another passage of the Founder's deeds has appeared!" she answered excitedly, turning the page and pointing at the text…

He stopped in his tracks.

Louise's spell on me allows me to interpret the writing in this world, he thought. But the passage in the book is in my language! How did this happen?

I forgot that you are also a man of knowledge, as well as action,Derflinger replied in response to his wielder's shock. Right now, though, I think we need action more than knowledge. You can worry about that once you've accomplished your mission.

My apologies. It seems revelation upon revelation has piled up on me considerably, Lordgenome thought back as he read the passage.

"And the Founder, wielding the Void and leaving thunder and nothingness in his wake, set upon the fortress of the Dragon Maiden, besieging her battlements and stilling her voice with the power of the Void..." Lordgenome began.

"No words did he utter, just the thought of stillness and a pointing of his wand ended the Dragon Maiden's reign. Her voice and power gone, she was set upon by her former subjects and imprisoned."

"That sounded rather disturbing," Louise mused. "Don't dragons have magic in their voices?"

The researcher – who was nearby – nodded. "The magic of the dragons faded through the eons after Brimir's appearance. It's not clear if it was Brimir or the elves that caused it, those events are lost to our history – another reason why Cromwell began Reconquista."

Louise and Lordgenome nodded.

"It would be nice to try that spell out," she mused, and the researcher obliged her by casting a small fireball in the corner of the room.

The Void mage stepped forward, pointed her wand towards the small fireball hovering within arm's length, willed her magic to spin, and with a sudden jolt of that strange yet comforting feeling of casting Void magic, snuffed out the fireball.

"Interesting," Prince Wales said, looking at what had transpired before him with a calculating eye. "You two may be an even bigger help than I originally thought."

Why am I feeling nostalgic all of a sudden?

The Lifdrassil could not help but ask himself that question as his feet touched the cobblestones of Newcastle.

It had taken him days of much effort to get to this point: find a Reconquista supporter, have him spill his guts, then move onto the next one. While Viral had gathered a fair amount of incriminating evidence towards someone known as Cromwell – as well as an unknown benefactor – he was nowhere near understanding what Reconquista wanted.

At least the bounties for his targets were rising as he went up the ranks – Reconquista had a nasty habit of hiring the worst of the worst to do their dirty work for them. Ignoble means for a noble end, Viral thought as he paced through the city streets, trying to look for any contact person or overhear a rumor for his next bounty.

A nearby crash would turn out to be his big break, as two brawling mercenaries started a fight at a bar that ended up spilling onto the streets. Taking a spot among the onlookers, Viral eyed the combatants, and their weapons that looked too new for their disheveled selves.

For all my bad luck as of late regarding my Master, it seems it evens out with my ongoing hunt, he wryly admitted to himself as the fight wound to an end.

"You're not going to be of much help if you punch like a girl," one of the mercenaries said as he lifted up his fallen foe. "Especially when we're just about to have this place all for ourselves."

"How soon are we to starting the campaign anyway?"

As soon as they start walking away, the Lifdrassil clenched his fist, and Viral felt a faint stream of power flow through him.

I know it pains you when I do not use my power for so long, Master. I hope that will change soon.

He grinned as his footsteps left no sound, allowing him to subtly trail the two mercenaries as well as listen in on their conversation.

Lordgenome shifted under his cloak, gripping the dagger given to him tightly as he and Prince Wales Tudor's men ghosted across the sewers of Newcastle and into the underground airship docks where the ship they planned to take in their retreat was currently tethered.

With known hand signals, the Gandalfr motioned for the soldiers to take up their positions, and as they moved between the shadows, Lordgenome took a moment to think about his talk with the Prince a few hours before…

"I'll need one or both of you in the advance party," Wales said as soon as Louise left his room. "And given how you are the familiar, I'm sure you want to keep Louise safe, so you'll have her stay with me."

"That's true," Lordgenome said. "I've done my share of wet work, so you don't have to worry about me."

"What about your Master?"

"I'll talk to her," the Gandalfr said, "she'll agree that this is the best way to go about it."

When his eyes returned to focus, one of the shadows moved to form the agreed-upon sign.

The Gandalfr gave the signal to begin, and in rapid succession, he and Prince Wales' men leaped from the shadows, plunging daggers into hearts and cracking necks before the guards knew what came upon them.

It took less than a minute for all the guards around the Arc of Tudor to be discreetly eliminated from their posts. After Lordgenome made a gesture with his free hand, the Prince's men immediately went to work, changing their outfits into that of the guards around the ship.

Several Reconquista patrols passed by and were none the wiser of this infiltration, and paid the price when a certain mint green-haired familiar picked them off, one by one, to ensure Prince Wales' evacuation would proceed as planned.

Two patrols in and the first group of Wales' men showed up, led by the scholar who helped Louise – into the hold they went, in anticipation of the rest of them.

After another two patrols passed by, the second group came, this time led by Prince Wales' secretary.

Two more patrols passed by after that, but no one came.

Three.

And then four.

Five patrols in, Lordgenome started smelling something unsavory.

After getting one of Wales' men to cover for him, the Gandalfr walked over to the Arc to air his concerns with the person currently in charge – and that would be the scholar.

"You," he said as he walked up to the person concerned, "what happened? Why is the Prince taking so long?"

"Right before we left, the Viscount returned. He said that he had some top secret intel that the Prince should look after. Prince Wales said he'd be here in a few minutes, what is taking him?"

Lordgenome's face fell. "Someone got to them," he replied, then put his finger to the wind. "They haven't gone that far, I can still catch up to the Prince and the others. Listen..."

"Charles."

"Charles, if the Prince, Louise, or myself have not returned in half an hour, take charge and pilot this ship back towards Tristain."

"But sir, I..."

"...You got me?" the Gandalfr said, eyes glowing in red spirals.

"I got you, sir… and godspeed. Bring the Prince back here for us," Charles said as the familiar turned away to initiate another pursuit.

A look back and a nod was all Charles got in return before the Gandalfr was off.

"You heard the man!" Charles announced, an odd yet resigned strength filling his voice. "Fire up the windstones, we're going to blow this snow cone stand!"

At this time, being Lifdrassil has its perks. Morbid they may be, but they are still perks. I don't have the luxury to choose.

After placing another Reconquista operative head into what Viral called his "bag of void", Viral continued the hunt – he was so close to finding a noble responsible for the sorry state of Albion.

Not that he cared about Albion, but his Master did, so that made it his concern as well.

What his greater concern was adding an honest-to-goodness noble onto his list of growing bounties. A noble on his bedpost would be enough to pay for Jessica for the duration of his Master's illness, whatever it was...

"We did it, the party's just about to start," the Lifdrassil overheard as he was about to turn a corner. "Cromwell has the girl and the Prince. We're going to give those elves the payback they deserve now."

"Hah, when we breach the holy land, I'm going to do so much energy potions, then I'm going to rape so many Elven bitches. I look at my pocket watch – five o'clock? Man. Time to rape me another Elven bitch," another mercenary said.

"Yeah," still another mercenary said, "five o'clock, elf raping time."

"Too bad that elf bitch in Westwood has a freak for a bodyguard. I'd shove my-"

His statement was never finished as in a fury of blades and roars, the mercenaries were cut down into chunks by a murderous Viral.

As the chunks fell, a bloody note slipped from one of the mercenaries' cloaks, which the Lifdrassil caught expertly – and when he read the text on it, the truth of Reconquista came to him.

He turned and ran towards the cathedral… but not before bagging all the heads he just got.

Halfway through, he saw lights come from within the cathedral, and decided to hurry up.

Damn it.

Damn it.

Damn it.

Those two words drummed like a mantra in the head of the man named Lordgenome, designated Gandalfr of the Void by the lines carved on his hand.

Lines that were in the shape of a spiral now, as he tore pell-mell through the steadily-emptying streets of Newcastle, hot on the trail of his Master Louise.

Will you stop punishing yourself? Derflinger asked. You made the right call with limited information. The Void will not be at optimal strength if you do not call upon it with doubts in your heart.

Louise counted on me and I blew it!

Put it aside. She needs you. And you're not going to be able to help her if your Spiral Power isn't working right!

Damn it!

Lordgenome began to leave a trail of glowing red drops in his wake as the trail led him though several side streets until he made it to a church on a hill.

Trap.

He moved forward.

TRAP!

No time for subtlety, you can sense all the magic here, Derf! Lordgenome added as he moved in, chambered his leg, and made a grand entrance by smashing the door in with a flying kick.

"Rejoice, young man!" the man at the altar said. "Your arrival came just in time. I had just asked the question if there was anyone who objected to this union."

At first glance he could see the Viscount holding Louise close, and in the light of the full moon spread out over all of the glass windows and ceiling of the church, Lordgenome was able to easily make out the familiar clouded eyes Louise had.

No wonder she wasn't replenishing my power... and I've seen that mind control magic somewhere.

His eyes narrowed. "Unhand her."

"By whose authority? You, a mere familiar? I am Louise's fiancé, and I am merely making this formal."

"You lay your slimy fingers on her, you bastard, and you're definitely going to regret it," Lordgenome gritted out.

"I don't think so," he said, and a flash of lightning whipped out from near the columns, almost hitting the Gandalfr if not for a last-moment dodge to the side.

"I'm going to make you dance, first," the Viscount said, and a barrage of lightning bolts from multiple directions signaled the beginning of his assault.

From there, it was all the Gandalfr could do to try and avoid serious injury, boosting his movements with Spiral Power as much as he could. Multiple targets, all using the same spells, he thought as he continued evading. Some kind of replication ability?

Looks like it, Derflinger replied. The lightning is too elemental for me to safely absorb. If I try to, you will probably take a nasty shock.

It's worth risking. Can't make an omelet without breaking any eggs! the former Spiral King thought, committing to the plan before making his move, backing up to the rear of the church.

Several bolts came roaring towards him, and Lordgenome bellowed out his word of power.

"OVERLOAD!"

A red drill erupted from his right fist, spinning as it caught the lightning and molding the current into a drill shape. His hair standing up on end, the Spiral Power user grinned and slammed the lightning drill into the ground, causing currents to lash out every which way, the chaotic mix of energies blindly striking the first target they found.

Good work, you took out everyone. Lordgenome? Damn it, you took the brunt of the blast!

It took the Gandalfr a few seconds to reorient himself only to see the Viscount and the mysterious priest looming over him.

"You were a lot more entertaining than the Prince," the stranger said. "But not entertaining enough. Jean-Jacques, finish him. I have to report to my superior."

"Whatever you say, Cromwell," the Viscount said, saluting the priest named Cromwell as he teleported away. Wardes turned back to the Gandalfr and brandished his wand-sword, preparing to stab this nosy familiar through the heart, but hesitated for a moment when he saw the defiance still blazing in the young man's eyes.

Villains love to talk, Lordgenome thought as he checked for how much Spiral Power he had left available to use. It wasn't much; the good news was that his proximity to Louise started to refill it, but the bad news was that it wasn't refilling fast enough, probably some spell Wardes used as some sort of familiar counter.

"What does Louise and the Prince have to do with Reconquista anyway?" Lordgenome coughed out as he subtly gathered his wits to make a move away from a possible lethal strike.

"Still going on with that nonsense, eh?" Wardes asked back. "Well, since telling a secret to one who will soon die does not count, let me tell you. We're going to the Holy Land, we're going to use Albion to launch our offensive, we already have the blood of an Albion noble for our cause..."

"Bastard," Lordgenome muttered before a slap sent his face to the side, where he saw a motionless Prince Wales not too far from where he was at.

"...and the final ingredient, the blood of a Void Mage. Not just any blood will do for our plans for Albion, though."

"We require virgin blood."

The Gandalfr roared his rage and was about to throw a punch augmented by the last of his Spiral Power, but a bolt of lightning from Wardes' sword wand stopped him short, dropping him into a screaming, charred mess on the floor.

"And now, familiar, witness the future... right before you..."

Wardes' point of view suddenly flipped upside down as an arc of shining silver flashed in the moonlight bathing in the church.

"No, you won't," a voice lined with steel replied, "Not now, not ever."

Viscount Jean-Jacque Wardes' last moment was seeing the spot where his head used to be erupt in a gout of blood before both parts of him fell down in a heap.

The cloaked man who arrived at just the nick of time took measured steps towards Lordgenome, swiping downward with his arm to stylishly clean his cleaver off the noble blood he just made spill.

"This is impossible…" the now-familiar voice said after seeing the face of the man he rescued under the moonlight.

Despite being subjected to extremely powerful lightning magic, the recovering bond between an unconscious Louise and Lordgenome began restoring him to proper shape, and a hoarse laugh escaped from the Gandalfr's lips as he eased himself off the floor. "To think you would be the one to bail me out," he said, "you of all people should know that we do the impossible and see the invisible."

The cloaked man chuckled in response right after putting Wardes' severed head in a bag.

"It's what we do, My King."

"Hah!" Lordgenome laughed. "In this world I am no King. Just a man who carries the Spiral with him. Isn't that right, Viral?"

The cloaked man pulled down the hood, revealing blond hair, striking eyes and a grin of triangular teeth.

"That's right, sir. That's absolutely right. But here, I am not your vassal," Viral said, gesturing to his chest where the word for "Lifdrassil" was carved on it.

"What a coincidence," Lordgenome replied, raising his left hand where the seal of "Gandalfr" was likewise carved. "I am the same."

"Could this be destiny, sir?" Viral asked.

"No, but it could be someone's idea of a cruel joke. Is the Prince still alive?"

Viral nodded.

"We've outlived our welcome in this place. Time to go."

Words were not needed as Lordgenome and Viral returned to old habits, each picking up a hostage of Reconquista as they rushed out of the church and to where the Tudor Arc was waiting to take them to safety.

Louise Francoise Le Blanc de la Valliere opened her eyes.

"Was that a dream?" she asked no one in particular.

She looked around to see that she was in a ship's cabin, and that along with her familiar sleeping on a nearby char, was an odd-looking man leaning on the opposite wall, also asleep.

And as she saw clouds moving outside through a porthole, she gave the Founder a prayer of thanks for her familiar coming to her aid.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to her, the grimoire in her bag – the Founder's Prayer Book – began to shine once more…

Chapter 8 – END

Author's notes:

I already have a pretty good outline regarding where to go from here if I take the events of the Light Novel into account.

We KNOW when Lordgenome was summoned from the TTGL timeline (post quantum divide). Viral? That's the interesting question and the one that you need to be speculating on.

Yes, the fight scene is rushed. I kinda did this on a whim. It would be nice for some assistance. Also, I think I may have to switch the rating of this fic from T to M. Not sure about that, though.

Another thing is that in this story, Westwood IS in Albion, but Albion itself does not solely consist of the floating continent. It also includes the surrounding territories, as well as a few port cities. The town of Westwood is on the border of Albion and Tristain, with Tiffania's orphanage in the forest just outside of the town. (This also explains how Viral knows Jessica - he's been using the Charming Faeries Inn as a base for his bounty hunting while in Tristain.)

Anyway, I hope that inspiration and time for my next chapter will not be as sporadic as this one. Schoolteacher tasks, doing stuff in Spacebattles, playing Skyrim, engaging in Twitter fights, building Gunpla ("GUNPLA IS FREEDOM" - Meijin Kawaguchi III) real life, etc. are the cause, but I'll try to keep my updates consistent from here on out.