4.3

"The duel is not acceptable. The stakes of this duel is not sufficient for the law between us." The interference is by a training master that always takes interest in these situations, normally to give chance to the loser challenging the bully to worm out the duel in time. This occasion should be the reverse, this meat of muscles is the one that dhould back out a dangerous duel. This referee steps themselves between her and the prick that called this duel. They were unsure if this would going to stop this fight, as once a duel is called - you have to follow through or call the end of duel. Finishing condition is normally until knocked out the ring, a concussion or a phrase of words. Words like; 'I submit', 'Call it a tied or 'Until next time'. A winner tends to never need to state thier win, unless they are bragging about it.

"This is easy." The duel pistols are aimed and bullets are fired, she only had to raise a little finger for the chains to wave and ricochet. The redirected fragments sparkle the flood at the shooters feet. She returns the liquefied gauntlets into a blade form, choosing a kartana over a fencing foils form. She changed posed in predictions of his aim, a finger at the pose to whip a sin chain to shield those around her. She has however not moved her place from shielding the doorway where Riddle and his living partner stood ground.

"If your going to duel. Duel with proper contract. Detail the win condition and the limitations of the duel ground. Only then will this be fair." Another speaking from experience, "Maybe we might not want his soul traded off so easy, evil clothus."

She was actually offended by the that, she only stabbed her blade tip at the floor again in such hiss. She had even thoughtlessly clawed her left hand in flexing her anger.

"I don't think she's a clothus... or at least not a typical one. She would even be a proper demon. It might actually be a corpse puppeteer in a husk." She at least released her left hand out of clasp, because... what the hell is a corpse puppeteer? She had even for that moment used her inner world to cycle any knowledge she had for such reference. She doesn't at the moment to find this information with the duel guy babbling nonsense at her. It was broken living languages, so she got the idea of what his saying at her. Clearly insulting. Yet it was so weird for her that, her reaction did nothing for her duel.

"I need to read on the living realms around here. Embarrassing to say but what is a corpse puppeteer?" She tilts looking back to Riddle at least, "Is that a post apocalypse mutant?"

"It is." He had that dead realm monotone that tells nothing of his opinions of her asking.

"What side realms are you from?" His partner voiced the perplexed notion.

"That's a long story." She tilts back to the guy expecting her to agree at something, "Broken living language... I haven't a clue what I was just told." She scratched under her fake mask for a moment, "But I am not agreeing to anything. I can however promise that I am not interested in souls. I know so many other creeps out there for that job. Not mine. I just lock them away." She leans more on her blade, "Also your not able to make the condition to duel me too. You see. You are like the last few. Locked with to many burdens." She tilts in a sad sigh, "How are you even able to stay an undertaker with so much weight in that heart? I wonder if your side of the realms even have an Ender." She prolonged her thinking, "Maybe this place of shattered realms has part of why the other universes are..." She shook at this, "I doubt that anyone here would."

There is so many turned heads, the equivalent of a crowd distracted with whispers among themselves. She perks in standing straight in hearing shuffled feet nearby, people kneeling before the queen. No. This wasn't undertakers. The sound was raspy and sickly. Half living, half dead. Smells it too.

"Prince of Clubs." This Clothus is a half ethereal being with floating flesh slabs or visible guts. Walking horror doctors diagrams. She snarls in such offense of seeing this guy. But like the textbook she read, the clothus are mistaken as damned. The ethereal parts are liquid darkness with flourished images within the air suspension puddles. This was exactly what the Ender mage queen had her hands tied in. Horrible things that are worse then demons.

"Don't you dare claim anything over mw and those I carry. You shall never have claim of my soul or the souls I burden." She hissed clear and straight with all Clothus. Her training with Enders wasn't for nothing, "Dare make any stake again my wishes, I will send you to court."

"That isn't a clothus." The little horror troupe make themselves comfortable at a training wall.

"Interesting that it states not in just covering for itself." Posing a gag member among the undertakers to voice. The one she is meant to duel makes four shots, but the point was setting up some sort of fighters boundaries.

"We are to reveal ourselves in true light. These shots are the marks of boundaries to fight within. Leaving is a submission of defeat. If I am defeated, it means I can no longer shoot my guns or speak coherent sentences. I am to give a nickname. If you are defeated, I want to be given a nickname that wad yours. What will it take to defeat you?" He reloads his guns to full rounds.

"True Light gives you a time limit or else it will draw as a tie. This is due to my inability to hold a stable fighting form. You must disarm me, remove my hands or lose my only weapon outside the boundaries. I will not accept interference, as such - this duel ends as undesired. If I am defeated, I will give a nickname. If I win, I will accept a nickname from only you. It must not have any strings attached. You will regert it if I find it tainted. I will know. You can't fool a book keeper." She steadies herself, "We should at least try to keep this humanoid shaped. I don't think you can fight my other forms." She rolls a joint, "I will try to stay sane for you. Sorry if I hiccup. I know that scares folks."

"Sorry, a hiccup?"

"Yep." She steps right into the boundaries. Her meek weak form looses the illusions. She is taller and thin. Stick like things that were seemingly glued in a resemble of human shape. Rolled pages of dripping liquids and there a lot of questionable floating organs within the nesting of a toso. There old damage that is clearly visible, like the fragile brittle stomach area. The clear cut through the right shoulder. Importantly of all, the fake mask is gone, replaced with a brittle clay of broken parts. It has many dents, creaks that leak the liquid and a massive chip out the chin. Above the left eye was gouged a blade cut, the metal still actually stuck there, seemingly melted into her mask.

Yes, she was holding her breath. This was the time limit. She wasn't going to waste precious time with letting her attacker take in her form.

"You really are a broken husk." Shouted as his battle cry. He makes a step forward in going for her. Yet the alignment law was in affect, his lifeline is a sin chain he tied to himself earlier. He uses his free fall in shooting more. She clearly isn't immune to these laws too, her feet standing on sin chains. He smirks at shooting those instead. Some weak chains break but nothing that deters her from following through her methods of attack.

"Wow, now this is a fight!" Undertakers looking down into the fall of hell, watching her diving to met this fight earnestly.

Now it was a fight, using sin chains to stand or swing for blows. She makes it so graceful looking, a dancer in ceiling fabrics then a dirty fighter. The shooter had to reload but lost one of his pistols to the drop. It actually fell in her pocket but for the time being, it was 'lost'. He was able to use the sin chains to crush her good hand, making her loose some breath - flexing her form slightly a moment. She defensively felt that pain. They were at this pause of a draw, staring at each other for scheme to have the other lose.

It's the movement of the sin chains that had them both startled. As for whatever reason, the chains were moving them away or outside the boundaries that was set for this duel. She knew it was interference by some undertakers. She could not exactly have the breath to state this to her fighter duelest. Putting both at danger of the sin chains acting more and more strange. She began to move in climbing up and she gave the obvious hint for the prick to follow. Gladly his not stupid and makes his climb up. She finding the metal chains clinging into her, judging the names of the souls within her pages. She was slowing in how swamped of metal sinner chains she was having to carry. The gun shooter makes it up above her and was a prick enough to continue shooting her from up there.

She stops climbing for now, letting bullets fly and these chains to make hole of her. She holds her breath, waiting for this torment of judging sins, doubts and burdens to settle over her. She certainly lost sight a while, dazed in the darkness.

Yet its exactly the reminder. Darkness. She looks back at it, not with pain or fear. No. She wasn't afraid like she use to be. Her values she learnt in being a undertaker under several high titled Enders... she can't forget how comfortable the abyss had welcomed her broken soul.

"You have to breath!" Such a mundane state of observation. His voice was full of more fear and panic then she had. She didn't just breath, she chuckled. She can see again, how she held these sins and burdens so tightly. But really, these things don't matter to the scales she works to. For that, she wasn't relate if these things. She let's the chains go. Giggling to herself of forgetting she can be. She doesn't fall. She wasn't falling to hell. She was to relaxed for that.

"Aww, you worried about me?" She voiced with lifting out the void gate, "I figured out a lot of things. So you should be more worried about yourself." She back to the undertakers ground, within the duel boundaries. She rolls her joint and her sword blade swirls with the notion. She crouched down, only at poking the fighter woth his last pistol. She had even put the blade to his neck, "Do you?"

"Never!" He slaps the blade and shot het stomach point blank. She felt that. Blood oozing for sure. She had to cough for a bit, cleaning the air passages for a bit. But she still leaned over the gun man, still baring several chains between fragile pages and putting this weight down on this man. She can't say it again, the blade posed back to his neck again. She has her right hand holding her gut.

"Dusker! Call this a tie." Several undertakers making shouts of this nature. Clothus are also saying things that could work to harm her further. One of course made a suggestion of attempting to read her runic marks on her.

"You!" Her blade posed at this clothus, "I will gut you from end to end. You are to never read. Especially a Clothus like you. I will not even interference with the law of krama or revenge that follows from that stupid idea." She had to breath a little, a little burning from true light searing her back.

"Likho." The undertaker under her hissed, it must he his luck to picked that.

"Oh boy... your an idiot." She tilts down at the undertaker, "If that's what you want." She let's him go and steps out the markers, "You have fun with that. You choose the nickname." The undertaker on the floor is still being pinned on the floor, "Idiot gave himself a nightmare." She sighs, putting the blade away, "Don't eat the poor man." She shouts backwards and for sure the old lady has only one eye slowly draws looking up.

"So here's a dilemma." She posed her hands closed and uses them pointing around, making action to her reason, "All my nicknames are literal." She steps right to the living prince, "You are the only one here... that can send a nightmare back to the realms of dreams." She danced this about and the poor kid doesn't understand. She directed that the old lady that stepped out of her is this nightmare, and that the living lad is the only one to sort that out, "Of course, that's temporary. Because... well now it's thier nickname now. They will be plagued by it until he gets rid if the nickname." She tilts that the kid was in a day dream, she tilts to Riddle. Riddle flinched for once. She dusts off her shoulder in putting her mock look back on, finished touches of a mask being on top of rhe previous one. Riddle attempts to push his partner away from her.

"Oh..." He punched into his hand, "Your nicknames are the story content. He stolen a character name. Now the character is real." She palms her face but whatever assumptions this kid made seems ti work for the better. He laughs and looks at the nightmare creation. In his assumptions, it disappeared now. It actually filtered through law of veils. As any dream creatures are ghost visitors, even this realm. Riddle doesn't have the pull to stop his partner walking into the training room. Gladly the kid knows not to be laughing at clothus, he was even backing away in how gross they look to him. After all, his living eyes can't see the ethereal aspect of a clothus. For him, they are floating organs and bones. He had even to hold back a gag reflex.

"So, these are clothus. They are to never enter the realm you live at." She helps Riddle pushing the kid to safety, "These lot are not only name stealers. They can enslave you by your sold. Laugh and break you for the sheer sport of it. And..." She manages to get them both through a gate Riddle made for them, "They nasty in tricking you." The gate closed and the sound of a car drove past. She was real, soild and totally prevented him being ran over. She looked like her old undertaker form. Her tight dress was a corpse bride veil and she was pale as the dead gets.

He vomits right on the spot. She pats his back in helping him feel better. She noticed how Riddle was so defensive in putting a sword at her back.

"If she was going to let me die, she would have let the car do it." The blade isn't moved a inch. A few gasps and gagging pass. She helps him sit on a bus stop bench, "Ugh..." She felt his temp and sighs glad his going to be fine.

"The living can't see what the dead do." She leans back on the bench, "This is law. Just as you can see Riddle while among the living. You can only see him when the veil is thin. This term veil is complicated but key thing to learn." She posed a open palm in making the gun appear, passing it backwards to Riddle, "Veils are in many ways. There is a veil between life and death. But there is other examples. Being awake and sleeping is a normal one." The gun disappeared for the living prince but it was just because Riddle pockets it, "Veils have tears in them from time to time, causing accidents. But that isn't threatening. If a curtain was was torn, Riddle would be as solid as you are." She tilts looking around this living world. Another modern age sort of time, nice tvs and interesting technology access. Nothing complex like crystal or robots. She looks at the living lad as he was trying to understand her point.

"Why are you telling me this?" He wonders.

"I was in your place. Once." She crossed her arms at holding her torso, "I was a living person with a dead spirit partner. A partner to an undertaker. I had to learn too. Learn what I can't see. The clothus are a great example of why you need to rely on Riddle. You can't see their rank or the shadow that covers and completes their form. Clothus are mistaken as shadows of rhe damned, by the people of the afterlife. They can't see the floating organs and stuff." She shivered at that, "I have always hated them."

"Wait, that's what you see?" Riddle leans having to ask that really close to his partners eat to be heard.

"Yeah, they looked horrific." It seems now the two have learns something out of this and without a doubt - made since of any past issue the living prince had before.

"The law of veil." She frowns, "I bet I am just book without writing. Sitting on this bench." She looks at the environment, "You're still all alone on dirty bus bench. That is the turth. Riddle is just a ghost. I am just book. That is reality." She watched him finally feeling not crazy. He leans forwards, "But it doesn't mean that we don't exist." She continued, "Even a ghost can screw your life and get you killed. Ghost can't touch you to kill you. But they don't need to. They can swarve a car or kill the engine of trains." She punched his arm, "Don't be careless in thinking your scot free from this. Your life is not just cursed with a undertaker tied to that ring. Your awareness will make you have dangers to things you use to be ingore of." She points a direction, "Like those little imps over there. They want to sell your soul to a demon Lord. They will kill you for your soul." He jolts instantly from the seat and she sits him back down, "Wow there. Why do you thing thst hadn't happened yet?" She forced him to relax, "Humans are incredible and ignore creatures. Those imps have always been here. So consider why you never had a problem even before Riddle was here to screw your life about."

"Is this a veil thing? like I can't see it." He asks.

"Bingo." She knocks his shoulder, "Imagine this, you having a bad day. So what would you be thinking about?"

"Ugh..." He is thinking to hard on this, "Maybe what I am going to eat tonight or catch up on my TV shows."

"Yeah." She giggles and tilts looks at the imps screaming. She watched the dream dwellers around here doing their jobs, "You watch a lot of Anime." She notes, "And cartoons."

"Ugh... wait. My imagination weaponsizes itself to fight things I can't see?"

"Its more then that. But...." She makes a funny brr with her lips. She finally just shutgs at this, "Sure. Your Imagination, even if your not focused, protects you from little things." She tilts in seeing a bus coming, "But the more humanoid folks are actually like Riddle. They are genuine demons, angels or something. They are there with a job you normally can't see. Nor will you need to care about it. That is unless the demon or angel was going to tamper with your soul. That you need Riddle. Riddle is your second layer of defense. Some people pray to God's or have dead relatives looking after them. You're special, you have this dead guy tied to you." The bus stops in front of them, "You heading home?"

"No..." He sighed annoyed.

"Hayto!" Someone getting off the bus. A living human wearing the typical chav kit. The Nike brand shorts and the hoodie. The expensive trainers that glow in the dark, such rich vivid colours that contradictory of the comfort light gery theme. They are around the same age, relatively.

"Tucker." Being helpless in being head locked and hair scuffed to the scalp, which really would hurt. Thrown to the floor in total disregard.

"Where's my homework?" Ah, the typical bully relationship. Tucker here whips Hayto into doing stupid things. Making the victim do homework or give up lunch. Worse was the bad mouth words or the belittling, "Oh." Tucker making a big mistake.

Took her glamoire form and opens in flicking pages. He sees nothing at went to go throwing her away. She stays stuck to his hand.

"Oh gods... What are you doing?" Tucker can't get her off, it seems like glue but this was her melting through him. She peels as many pages out of Tucker's back and suddenly had solid reality to her form. She bares her foot on Tucker laying along the floor.

"How dare you touch me in such a disrespectful manner! You do not pull a lady off her seat and throw her around." She leans kneeling him down, "I better hope you don't treat all people this way. You will never get far in life but behind bars." She gets off Tucker and stands as the adult here, "Go home. Leave." She stomps her foot his way and he scrambles in getting out of here, "So it's true. You have magic in your world too. It actually explains the training room."

"Wow... wait. Magic? what magic?"

"Don't." Riddle hissed.

"Seriously. Your going to let Tucker nearly kill Hayto?" She pushed Riddle away, "Don't touch me. I can interact with ghost folks. So can Mages. Living humans that bend rules. It's why Tucker can touch me. A human with no magic, can't." She pulls Hayto off the floor, "And your full of potential. It's why the undertakers are desperate for your soul too." She helps dust him off, "You can do things that you can't explain, on accident when you don't realize it. Naturally gifted." She backs off in being back to crossed arms as normal, "The type of veil energy that your soul is enhanced by makes you sought after by undertakers, death gods and maybe the weirdos like me. That energy is special and it is also pain. You lost your family. I guess. I not trying to pry. I just have so much experience in many types of energy and the places that energy shares from." She looks about the living lad, "I promise to never use your living name against you. Besides living names are special, demons can't buy a living soul. They make contacts to enhance your life, so they can take your soul in payment when you die. Angels are scary. I don't want to burst that bubble."

"Is this because of the Bible?" He asks ignorant fashion. She can only smirk and pat a shoulder. He had to just accept this.